Page 58 of Falling for the Grumpy Orc
Bogdan Ashvale.
The orc contractor spits mud from his mouth, his face contorted in rage. But beneath that anger, I see something else flickering in his eyes. Panic. Raw and unmistakable.
A surge of savage satisfaction roars up my spine and I growl at him with all the fury of a male protecting his female.
I press my knee harder into his chest, pinning him more firmly against the cold ground.
“Stop fighting, bastard!” I snarl at him, my tusks inches from his face. “You’re done for.”
Bogdan opens his mouth to counter, but he is interrupted by the high wail of a siren. Red and blue lights strobe across the trees as Sheriff Wolfsbane's patrol car pulls onto the property, followed by two morecruisers. The headlights cut through the darkness, illuminating us in harsh white light.
The sheriff steps out, his tall frame silhouetted against the cruiser's headlights.
“There’s another,” I shout over the sound of the sirens. “He ran into the woods, but I caught this one.”
Sheriff Adrian Wolfsbane turned his chin and said something to his deputies. Wordlessly, two of them ran into the woods, as silent as… well, wolves.
Bront Billings stood no chance against two werewolves hot on his trail.
Even from this distance, I can see the faint glow of his eyes in the darkness, that supernatural werewolf shine that makes night operations his specialty. The next moment, the sirens cut off and an eerie quiet descends on our merry little group.
"Banesman," Sheriff Wolfsbane calls out. "You want to explain why you're straddling Bogdan Ashvale like a prize bull?"
Before I can answer, Bogdan bucks beneath me, trying to throw me off. I press him down harder, my patience wearing dangerously thin.
"He tried to get away," I growl, dangerously close to losing control. "He was waiting by his truck while someone else was in the lodge, cutting the water pipes in the wall. I’m ready to bet the shirt off my back that it was Bront Billings running away."
Sheriff Wolfsbane approaches, his boots crunching on gravel. He looks down at Bogdan with cold assessment, then back at me.
"Get him up." The werewolf's mouth curves into what might generously be called a smile, all teeth and no warmth. “I got him from here.”
I haul Bogdan to his feet, keeping a firm grip on his arm. He tries to jerk away, but I shake some sense into him hard enough to make him wince.
"You’ve got no proof to back those accusations," Bogdan snarls, mud dripping from his expensive clothes. "I was simply checking on property near the Saltwater Lodge when this maniac attacked me.”
"At night? During a festival that the whole town was attending while someone just happens to cut the water pipes inside the Saltwater Lodge? The same lodge you tried to bully Cassidy into selling to you?" I tighten my grip on his arm, satisfaction coursing through me when he winces. "Try again."
He turns to Sheriff Wolfsbane with an air of authority and fake outrage almost deserving of an Oscar.
“He has no proof of what he’s accusing me of. I want to press charges for assault!"
Sheriff Wolfsbane winces at these words and a suspicious doubt furrows into my chest. But it’s short-lived as the radio on the sheriff’s shoulder crackles. The sheriff turns his chin to his radio and speaks shortly to the person on the other side.
“Turns out, we may have the proof we need after all.” There’s ice in Sheriff Wolfsbane gaze as he turns to Bogdan. “My deputy apprehended a suspect fleeing the scene.”
I turn to see Deputy Chemko dragging a familiar figure into the light. Bront Billings limps badly and his shirt is ripped at the shoulder, but there’s no mistaking the troll's blue-gray skin, glistening with sweat, his eyes darting frantically between the officers.
He looks utterly terrified. Good. He deserves it.
"It was all him, alright?!" The troll's voice rises to a panicked pitch as he points at Bogdan Ashvale. "Bogdan paid me to fake the inspection, but when his plan didn’t pan out, he paid me again to cut the pipes! Him, it was all his idea!"
Bogdan roars, lunging toward the troll despite my grip on him. "Shut your mouth, you spineless coward!"
"I suggest you keep real quiet, Ashvale." Sheriff Wolfsbane's voice cuts through the night like steel. He moves closer, his posture deceptively casual as he circles us. "I've been waiting for a long time for you to slip up. Didn't think you'd be dumb enough to show up in person."
For the first time, true realization dawns in Bogdan's eyes. The color drains from his face despite the mud caking it.
"You can't prove anything," he says, but his voice lacks conviction.
