The Black Sheep - Part 1: Greed by Tiana Laveen

Author:Tiana Laveen [Laveen, Tiana]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lion's Den
Published: 2025-02-11T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

Money and Books for Crooks

Grandpa Wilde walked inside his expansive greenhouse, placed his black and gold cane with a handle shaped like a goat head with sapphires for eyes, against a glass-paneled wall, and inhaled the fresh air. Flashes of light streamed from east, west, north and south, creating prisms of color. He walked slowly down the narrow aisles. Many of the plants were covered in a fine mist from the timed interior sprinkler system. He could smell the scent of wet earth. His groundskeepers had created the greenhouse to provide him with fresh flowers in many of the rooms of his mansion, as well as various herbs for the chef prepared meals. He stroked a cotton candy pink dahlia with a creamy yellow center. This was her favorite flower…

He gently caressed the soft green petals. He bent down to smell the beautiful flower. Sweet and rich. I’ll find you one day and bring you back home. No one can fill your shoes. Yes, I will, darlin’… In the near distance, the curled and spiked screams of a man who’d disappointed him rent the air. He leisurely exited the greenhouse, closing the glass door, cane in hand, and walked several feet in his backyard, then stopped. There, like a scarecrow in a cornfield, with his arms extended along a wooden post, legs bound, dangled Fred.

“How’s it going?” Grandpa asked as he investigated the bloodied and swollen eyes of a soon-to-be dead man. Fred remained quiet, blood dripping from everywhere it possibly could. No inch of exposed flesh unharmed. “Now, Fred, you’re not the only man to let prey get the better of you.” Grandpa shrugged as he briefly turned away from him. “That’s not necessarily a reason to die… Sometimes the cat becomes the mouse. We’re human after all. Naw, that’s not it at all.” Grandpa shook his head. “You mighta lost a finger, somethin’ small like that. A consequence to learn by, but nothin’ more. I sent you to do mere surveillance. Not confront my grandson, Roman. Unfortunately, he spotted you and dealt with you how he saw fit. Roman is a chameleon. He looks one way but behaves a complete ’nother. I have to remind so many of that fact.

“He’s a pretty boy with a killer instinct, and he’s a fuckin’ con artist, too. Tricky. One of the more surprising elements about that boy, is that he was a damn good Marine, and a mathematical prodigy. When he was merely seven years old, he was doing complex mathematical equations in his damn head. The man’s I.Q. is off the fucking charts. He was a terrible and rebellious child, but much of that wasn’t his own fault.

Make no mistake about it, he’s my black sheep. He sits in the shadows, away from the moonlight, and he plots his next move on how to attack the wolves and gobble them whole.

He maneuvers his life in the same way that he plays professional Poker. To perfection. Now I hope that you understand why I want him so badly.

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