Rogue (Real Book 4)
Rogue: Chapter 3

Greyson

I flip my vibrating phone open as soon as I’m out of the building. “You might be wondering why you’re tied to a bathroom stall with this particular number on your cell phone screen,” I murmur into the receiver. “Well, you were about to do something that was going to cost you your dick. You were about to touch something you have no right touching, get it? You have a debt to pay. You have three days. Ticktock ticktock.” I hang up and smash the phone to the ground. Then I grab my other phone and dial Derek.

“Come get me.” I shoot off the address, then walk a couple of blocks and dispose of the phone before glancing up at the building I just left her in. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ FɪndNøvel.ɴᴇt website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

When Derek pulls over in a dark SUV, I jump in and open the glove compartment. I pull out my ticket, fake ID included. “Drive this to the warehouse. Stay put. Number twenty-four will be making a payment soon. How’s your wife?”

“Good. You get some work done?”

“When don’t I,” I say.

Melanie. I’d seen her before. Been watching her from afar. She’s the sort of girl you want to fuck, but I never knew how badly until I saw she was going to pick up one of my clients at that bar. By god, I knocked that man unconscious without even getting the payment. I just wanted him down because he sure as fuck wasn’t leaving with her. Nobody will.

I stroke my phone with my gloved hand and resist the urge to text her something. Anything. I’ve seen this woman go through men like I use phones. I’ve seen her leaving hotel rooms looking like a hot, blazing mess. I’ve seen her coming out looking perfect. I’ve seen her laugh, cry, I’ve seen her face in the women I’ve fucked, and I’ve even seen her in my dreams and when I wake up. What this woman wants is something I can’t give. But I’m pulled, twisted, knotted, used, and useless when I look at her.

I like watching her twirl and toss her hair, flirt around, cross her legs, curl her lips, look at her nails.

I like the way she hunts for her next man; I liked watching because somewhere, deep down, I knew I’d have enough, and her hunt would be over the day I decided to let her know I intended to be that man.

FUCK HER PRINCE CHARMING.

She’s getting me.

I’m halfway done. Twenty-four more names, and then Zero can be nothing. I shouldn’t have touched her, but I did. I should stop touching her, but I won’t. My guys, my boys, can never know there’s a little Achilles heel somewhere in my body and it has her name on it.

The only reason the guys can believe I’m close to her is because her name just happens to be on my list.

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