Page 140 of The Deceptions
Every great ideastarts with time on my side. After the casino, I let Wilder guide me home under the guise that I wasn’t going to do anything drastic. Drastic? Me? I never!
I grin again when Wilder picks up the glass of whiskey I poured him from the kitchen. It’s innocent. Just a glass of unassuming amber liquid. There’s nothing in there that would make him sleepy. Nope. Not one bit.
I bite my lip with anticipation. Then, quickly wipe the expression away. He always says I give my feelings away with my expression. Well, not today, Keeper.
“You’re doing that thing again.” He lazily waves at me, narrowing his eyes.
Immediately, my face falls again. Okay, so I wasn’t that great at hiding what I did. Fine. He might suspect something. Like the three sleeping pills I put in his drink—so he doesn’t follow me out of the house and figure out my plan.
“What thing?” I ask innocently. I’d bat my eyelashes, but with the way he’s staring into the amber liquid sloshing around in his glass, he’s heavily suspicious of me.
“The smiling thing. Like you’re up to something. Listen...” he trails off, taking a large gulp of the drink. Sorry, Old Chap. You should never trust a bloodthirsty maniac with your drinks. I bet he’ll never forget this. It’s not like I usually drug my friends to make them sleep. But tonight is vital. He won’t leave me alone to plot my vengeance against an annoying gang leader’s son. And I need the alone time to achieve my goals. “You can’t go after Huxley.”
Well. Here I thought he’d not try to talk me out of it.
“Why not?” I reach for my drink and down it in one gulp. Luckily for me, I didn’t drug myself. Can’t have that. Although, some nights, it would be nice to actually lie in bed and sleep. Or dream. Or anything but stare at the ceiling and wonder how my life ended up here.
Wilder sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Mal, it’s Huxley. You can’t do anything drastic. It could cause a fucking war or some shit. The last thing Boss needs is fucking Franco trying to track his ass down.” He raises a brow. “Especially now when we’re so close.”
Right. No wars. Booo! I want war. Then, I can skin those three assholes alive without repercussions. Oh, well. Too bad, so sad. The plan is already in motion. No stopping me now. Wilder, my poor, poor keeper, has already ingested part of my plan. The next step? Well, I’ll be a gentleman and put my bestie to bed with a warm blanket.
Then I’ll go hunting.
Regardless of the consequences of my actions. Huxley will pay for speaking to my sister. Being near her. Handing her something. Even fucking looking at her. Meredith has always been off-limits to the people in the gang life. She’s stable. Anurse, working hard to get where she was. I’ve protected her as much as I could. Boss even gave her secret guards to follow her around and protect her from everyone.
But they failed, too.
They’re next on my shit list. But they claimed they didn’t see a damn thing that night. Not when she got off the late shift. Not when she went to the bar with friends and then left for home.
Huxley will pay for doing something to her. If he did, I guess. That’s the point of this adventure, though. Figure out what Huxley knows and what he potentially did to her. I’ll starve, stab, and bleed the answers from his mouth.
I just have to wait for my keeper to fall asleep. Any minute now, the drugs will rush through his system, and I’ll be free.
“You don’t even know if that asshole had anything to do with her disappearance...” Wilder trails off, looking my expression over.
“I’m aware, Old Chap,” I quip, sitting back in my chair with a sigh. “But they know each other.” And that’s enough for me.
“Meredith is a nurse. She knows everyone—even the doctors in town. She probably met him at the hospital or something.” He shrugs.
“Seems like you’re making excuses for the fucker.” I smirk when Wilder reels back.
“Fuck no. Fuck them. I’m just talking sense, okay? Because fuck knows you need it right now,” he grunts, tossing a hand in my direction. “You’re ready to storm the fucking castle with a half-cocked gun and no bullets. You do something to that fucker, then war will come. Mark my fucking words, Malic.” Oh, he full-named me. He means business. Poor guy. He doesn’t realize what’s yet to come.
“It’s a possibility,” I say, stroking my chin. “I solemnly swear.” I put up a hand, grinning.
I’m a very convincing guy when I want to be.
His face falls. Okay, maybe I’m not as convincing as I think I am. The fucker has no faith in me. It’s rude. In reality, he knows me too well. The second I get something stuck in my head, I hyperfocus until I achieve my goals.
“That’s it. I’m tying you to your fucking bed or putting a tracker on you. I swear to God, Mal. You can’t...” He sighs, slumping back into his seat. His head droops slightly, and his eyelids threaten to close with a huff. Exhaustion seems to suddenly pull him under.
“Sleepy, Wilder?” I hum, leaning forward so my elbows rest on my knees. “It’s all right, you can sleep now.”
Wilder eyes me up and down, narrowing his eyes to slits, barely able to hold them open. “Yes,” he slurs a little bit until his eyes close. “Fuck you do?” he groans, slumping into the chair further.
“Sorry, Old Chap,” I mutter, grabbing a blanket and tossing it on him as he lets out the first of many soft snores. Aw. He looks so peaceful and less defiant when he’s in the throes of sleep. Channel that feeling for later, Wilder. Because the moment you open your eyes and discover I’m gone, you’ll be on my ass quicker than… Well, anything.
I step back, taking the empty glass from his fingers. I almost feel bad for leaving him in this vulnerable position. Almost being the key word.
