Page 80 of Rogue's Cross
Jared gestures to the blood. “It’s still fucking bleeding!”
It doesn’t help that the moron tied the belt underneath the gash instead of above it to stop the flow, but I’m not about to tell him that. It’s hard to believe that Waylon is the brains of this operation.
Waylon tosses him a towel. “Wrap that around it.”
“It’s dirty, dickhead.”
“You’re such a pussy,” I taunt. “I barely scratched you. Man the fuck up.”
Jared attempts to stand, but falls over, clenching his leg.
“Fucking bitch! Shut your damn mouth,” he screams.
“Why don’t you walk over here and make me? Oh, that’s right… you can’t.”
It’s too damn funny not to laugh.
Childish? Yes. Worth it? Also yes.
If looks could kill, I’d be dead. Both men shoot daggers at me with their eyes. Jared’s nose flares, and the look on his face promises retribution.
“I’ve had enough of your mouth, Skye. I’d really hate to cut out your tongue.” Waylon picks up my knife which is still covered in Jared’s blood.
My gag reflex chooses this moment to make itself known, but I force myself to swallow and concentrate on my breathing so I can continue to fuck with them.
“If you do that, I won’t be able to explain why your plan isn’t going to work,” I state calmly.
“Fuuuuck!” Waylon bellows and runs his hands roughly through his hair, pulling at the ends. “Spit. It. Out.”
“Don’t listen to her,” Jared snivels. “She’s just fucking with you.”
“Shut the hell up, J.” Waylon glares at him, and then turns his attention back to me.
“Tsk, tsk,” I goad. “I swear even Lloyd and Harry from Dumb and Dumber would make a better team, a smarter team. Wait!” I snap my fingers behind my back. “They did... they actually got the money. Sure, it was pure luck, but you get the point.”
“Last chance,” Waylon warns. “I’m not going to ask you again. What do you mean our plan won’t work?”
“Technically, you did ask again,” I say. Waylon clenches his fists and stomps toward me. “Okay, okay. Geez, you’re impatient. Your plan isn’t going to work because I’m not worth what you’re demanding. Hell, I’m not worth anything.”
Jared’s head snaps up from his computer screen. “But you’re his woman.”
I shake my head. “Do you see a property cut?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Jared asks, perplexed.
I watch as understanding fills Waylon’s eyes. He knows exactly what I’m talking about because he’s seen all the ol’ ladies wearing theirs at Purgatory. His face goes from shock to pure rage in a split second.
Might as well throw fuel on the fire and spell it out for those a little slow on the uptake.
“You really are a stupid mother fucker. It means I’m not an ol’ lady. I’m worth nothing. The club isn’t going to p?—”
Waylon’s fist connects to my stomach, halting my rant.
“That ought to sh?—”
Bang!
Both of our heads swing toward the door just in time to see it swing closed after slamming against the wall. Even though one eye is swollen shut and my other eye is blurry from overcompensating, I’d know the man shoving the door back open anywhere.