Wanted (Amanda Lance) - By Amanda Lance Page 0,16

in regard to my welfare. I always thought I got my creativity from Mom. I silently prayed that for the sake of Dad’s sanity, I was right.

“What ‘bout your Ma?” The sound of his voice interrupted my thoughts. I noticed his tone was back to normal, his accent much more diluted.

The mention of my Mom upset me without explanation. Maybe it was the many implications of death throughout the last few hours or just my constant attempts to avoid thinking about how much I missed her. Whatever it was made me angry enough to pick up the bottle cap from the floor and chuck it at him. Naturally it was off by about a foot and a half and bounced off the wall instead—not that it would have done any damage, anyway.

“She’s dead—but thanks for bringing up happy memories.” I sulked helplessly and pulled my knees up as high to my chest as I could get them with tied legs. I remembered my Mom’s passionate dislike of sarcasm and her frequent reminders of it being ‘the lowest form of humor…yada, yada, yada.’ I heard his low chuckle erupt from across the room.

“Are you…laughing?” I mentioned my dead Mother and this person was laughing? I wanted to claw his eyes out. Since that wasn’t an option, I reached around me for something else to throw, but the empty water bottles were just out of reach.

“What were you trying to hit?” His laughter grew louder, bubbling in the room around us and filling the kitchenette once again. It even overpowered the sound of the tools from below us until they shut off altogether.

I huffed and ground my teeth together. “You.”

His laughter increased until he actually had to clutch his stomach to keep from falling over.

I crossed my arms over my chest as best as I could, feeling uncomfortable by both his mocking and the fact that I very much enjoyed the sound of his laughter. It was a rich, fluid sound that was evenly tuned and entirely pleasant to my senses. It occurred to me that I was warped and should be deeply offended, but in reality I was only slightly cross.

“Shut up,” I demanded.

He managed to get ahold of himself long enough to stand up and open the solitary window. It protested with a loud crack and a piece of wood split from the panel. I was glad I hadn’t bothered with it.

His laugh had now devolved into a rumbling chuckle that came in with a warm breeze.

“Now I get that saying ‘throw like a girl.’” His face broke into a grin at my shocked expression. My last piece of patience had evaporated. And while I still wasn’t as disgusted as I should have been, I was no longer willing to shield my anger.

“Who do you think you are?” I spat the words out like sour milk. “You have no right to insult people, let alone kidnap them and worry their parents to death!”

He closed the distance between us and scrunched down, putting his weight on his heels. “I told you.”

“Excuse me?”

“I ain’t a nice guy.”

I smiled and lunged at him, putting as much weight as I could on my confined legs. While it wasn’t going to do any good, it took him by surprise enough to knock him on his backside. He put out his hands to steady himself.

“That might be true.” In all my nervousness, I still tried to laugh. “But you seem harmless enough.”

“You’re vicious.” He sat back down.

I attempted to laugh again. “I try.”

He opened his mouth to say something else but was interrupted by the sound of his name being called in the distance. The noise startled us both, but at least he seemed to understand the source. I could hear firecrackers going off one by one and the voices of the guys shouting loud profanities all at once.

Without explanation, he got up and walked away. Although it grossed me out, my curiosity was insufferable after about twenty seconds, so I lowered my head to the dirt-caked floor, just touching my ear to the surface. I heard heavy footsteps on the stairs, and the sound of doors slamming before I heard Charlie’s voice again. His voice was too muffled to make out the exact words, but knowing he was close-by gave me a strange sort of comfort. After a couple of seconds, I heard Polo cackling with laughter.

I sat up and tried to listen for more sounds. From the urgency in the voices, I gathered that

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