Page 112 of Rogue

I raise my eyebrows. Yeah, I’m ready to end this now, while I’ve got my long-anticipated mark standing before me. But instead, I find myself asking, “In Shelby, you drove by a house on the corner and shot an innocent man reading a newspaper and minding his own business. Why?”

“A simple lesson in obedience. No one—my men, Franco, that little screwed-up town—dared defy me after that. It’s like cutting off part of a leg or an arm. What is that expression you Americans say?”

“Revenge is sweet?” Hell, even if it’s not, this Prick is going to pay.

“When the cat’s away, the mice will play. Fear, now that’s power. You don’t have to be around for people to obey you.”

“Like Veronica?”

His eyes narrow on me then gestures toward the man at the barrel.

“You can’t even keep a woman satisfied enough to stay with you let alone obey you. Guess she found herself a bigger, more powerful cat to play with.”

Someone muffles a laugh.

Men are so freaking predictable. Like their penis is their personal power tool. Damage a dick? With words, or . . . more? Well, you’ve met the wrong woman at the right time, now didn’t ya? Just ask the man still cupping his maimed gem.

Yep, insulting Novák’s manhood has the same effect as placing a torch on a bottle of hydrogen peroxide. BOOM.

His olive skin is flushed bright pink. He’s struggling to stay in control and not fall victim to little ol’ me and her taunts. The nunchucks, which he’s drawn out of his suit pocket, say otherwise.

And I haven’t yet gotten to the drum roll . . . I hold up my pointer finger and my thumb and separate them about four inches apart. “Veronica told me your dick is the size of a rubber eraser. That your men have thick, long dicks. They kept her happy while you were away.”

He turns and glares at the Pricks outside the cell.

Bingo. Let him stew over that for a moment.

I run my hand down my belly and slide it inside my panties. The hand I’ve tucked behind me mirrors the action, and I relax as my fingers wrap around the leather handle.

Come closer. Come to mama.“How about you step aside and send in a man who can get the job done, baby?”

Reverse psychology. Sabrina would be high-fiving me.

Novák snaps his nunchucks.

“What’s your favorite letter, Kylie?”

My eyes widen. I don’t dare ask why.YorF.U.I’ve been warned.

“Now that you mention Veronica. Know what one of your kind replied?”

I frown.My kind?I don’t dare look over at the silent man in the cell next door. Mr.F.U.

“A friend of yours, the man I caught with that whore.”

“Fire’s ready.”

I stare at Novák. Not really seeing him . . . all I can see is Jaxson’s face. “There’s worse,” he’d said.

Relax. Breathe. Don’t lose control. “I haven’t the foggiest notion who you are talking about.”

“Sure you do. Francis told me all about you two. You’ll never guess what letter he chose . . .”

My eyes widen.

Jesus. Oh no no no.

This is what Jaxson meant by “I’ve been through worse.” The Prick branded him. Burnt a letter into his skin. His beautiful body . . . his skin . . . branded.