Read Dark Game (Merikh Book 1) for Free Online Page B

I’d never heard of it, either, and I didn’t exactly hang around with the highest class of people.
    Now Trevor deigned to look at him. “There are a great many things I know about the world that you don't, deputy.”
    Matt came back quick. “Like the best drugs for criminals?”
    “Enough,” Sheriff Beaks said, blocking whatever Trevor had been about to say. “I'm not interested in your drugs.”
    “Think about it, Carl,” Bill said, grabbing his boss's arm. “It's not illegal. And we're getting creamed.”
    “Listen to your man, Sheriff.” Trevor put the bottle down on the crate and removed the backpack. He handed it to one of his men and stepped back. “I can get you this in bulk. You give one to each man before they go out on a call, especially one of the recent calls, and you'll have this thing licked in no time.”
    The sheriff remained silent, thinking it through. I hadn't paid much attention to the local crime statistics when we were preparing for the job, but I knew from speaking to people at the bank that things weren't going well. Break-ins and muggings, once thought the reserve of the cities, were on the rise. Police on highway patrol had been beaten badly on routine traffic stops, one of them landing in a coma. Looking for someone to blame, people had turned to a community of squatters nearby that called themselves Littleton. It was a modest town of hippies and wanderers but it had become the focal point of Midway’s fears.
    “If I consider this,” Sheriff Beak said carefully, “how do I know you won't bring it up when elections come around?”
    “If I think it's a bad thing then it's a bad thing for both of us. I don't, though. I think this is the sane answer to an insane situation. Think of it in the same way you'd think of body armor, or new weapons.”
    “I want to see it in action first.”
    “You can't be serious,” Matt said, stepping in front of the sheriff. “We can't accept anything from him.”
    “I think the decision has been made, son,” Trevor said, a smile spreading across his face.
    “We've got open files on him, sir. Bribery and corruption, not to mention the Smith girl.”
    “Enough,” Beaks said. Deputy Matt held his tongue, but barely. “My mind is made up. Bill, show me what this can do.”
    The older deputy stepped forward, visibly restraining himself from leaping on the bottle. He picked it up and took off the cap as though handling a baby before lifting it to his lips and letting the ambrosia ooze from the bottle.
    About halfway through, he stopped and carefully replaced the cap, then put it back down. He turned to the sheriff with his eyes only half open, as though drunk.
    “The first time I tasted this was last year. Some guy at my kid's birthday party handed me something he called a dram. It was just a small test tube-looking thing with about a mouthful in it. Looked like pus in a tube, but it tasted like something out of a dream.”
    “How long is this going to take?” Beaks asked Trevor. “Looks like Bill just got stoned, which is counterproductive at best.”
    “Deputy Bill,” Trevor said. He waited for the deputy to turn and face him, then pointed at the crate with the half empty bottle on it. “Show us what you've got.”
    Bill's voice was still dreamy and faraway, but he put his hand flat on the crate. “That was a great night. Me and the missus had the best sex of our marriage. Darn near broke the bed.”
    “That's enough,” Beaks said, reaching out to grab hold of Bill's arm as the deputy pressed down on the crate.
    The crate was old but looked sturdy, a wooden box with metal reinforcing that would probably have remained intact for another hundred years before rust and rot finally collapsed it. Bill's hand pressed down and did the job with ease, bending the metal and splintering the wood until he broke through the lid. With his hand stuck in the crate he turned to the sheriff. “I cut myself.”
    “Shit, Bill, are you alright?” Beaks