Page 125 of Wandering in Darkness
I laugh as I look over at him. “You’re so evil.”
He’s grinning, proud of himself. “I suppose even if you don’t, I will.”
“I’m not taking your money.”
“What do you think I’m going to do with it? You get it when I die anyway, but I’m not planning on dying for a long fucking time. So you might as well use some of it while you can.”
“I’m not taking money from you. Don’t even think about it,” I say.
“I do whatever I want, no matter what you say. How do you possibly think you’re going to change that?”
“Because I’ll refuse.”
“Get your ass on the ground and start shooting and stop pretending like you have a say in anything I do.”
“I’m going to have a say in which retirement home I’m going to toss you in if you keep acting like that. I’m going to put you in the same one your ex-wife is in.”
“Who made you so evil?”
“It’s from being around you,” I assure him.
After showing off my precious rifle and shooting a few rounds, I look at Grayson. “Want to try?”
“What if I miss?”
“Do something close, then, and even if you do miss, there are no houses or people for many miles. It’s very safe.”
Grayson hesitates before kneeling down. “Can’t believe you’re going to let me touch your baby.”
I grin. “Right?”
“Where’s the rest of the ammo?” Grayson asks.
I head over to the golf cart before realizing that I didn’t put any more in it. “Well, shit. I’ll be right back. It’ll take me a couple of minutes to get some from the car. Don’t talk about me while I’m gone.”
“I’m going to tell him everything embarrassing that you’ve ever done.”
“You’re just… so delightful, Arthur,” I say.
He cackles, and I drive off as fast as the golf cart will go. My dignity is clearly on the line.
I stop next to the car and trot over to the rear door. Just as I pull it open and reach in for the ammo, I hear a noise behind me. Quickly, I pull back a moment before something slams into the back of my head and darkness consumes me.
TWENTY-FOUR
CAL
When I open my eyes, my head is throbbing.
“What are you waiting for? Rub his fucking prints on it.”
“I am!”
I feel someone gripping my hand as I try to blink away the darkness and realize that some man I don’t know is forcing my hand around a gun. My instincts tell me that I need to keep this gun in my possession, but before I can take it, he rips it out of my hand.
“Bring her over here. Make him scratch her. We want it to look like there was a disagreement.”
That voice… it’s the one from my nightmares. That voice, which once made me feel so good when he showered me with compliments and made me feel like I was worth something, now makes anger ripple through me.
