Page 4 of Lords of Misrule
“Walk toward the wall.” I nudge him with the gun, and he takes a step forward. “All the way and keep your hands where I can see them.”
He takes a few more steps and then stops, at least smart enough to follow my directions.
“Turn, slowly.” I glance at Finn, but he hasn’t moved, and Hudson’s still rooted in place behind him.
Rowan turns around, looking demonic with his mask still on his face.
“You gonna get trigger-happy if I take this off?” he gripes.
“No.”
Just like Finn, he wears driving gloves. They’re distractingly fucking sexy on him. More so than Finn even. In part because he has really fucking nice hands. I would know. I had them up my skirt once while playing a ridiculously immature game of Seven Minutes in Heaven in my co-ed dorm sophomore year. He was drunk and high, so I doubt he remembers. I don’t expect the same recognition I see in Finn’s eyes, and I don’t get it.
Just a nasty snarl of his lip as his eyes drift over me, no doubt irritated that a woman in Christmas-themed PJ shorts, a lacy tank top with no bra, and a messy bun is ruining all of his better plans. Probably not the kind of person he expected to be threatening him with his own gun.
“Charlotte, is it?” His eyes drift back up my body, stopping briefly at my chest and then lifting to meet mine. “Why the fuck would I just walk away when you know who we are? What’s to stop you from running and crying to your sugar daddy upstairs?”
“If I wanted to tell him, I just had my chance.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“That’s my business. Your business is getting out of this house alive.”
A snort leaves him, and he shakes his head, his eyes drifting past me to survey the room while he thinks. I can see the cogs turning, trying to think of some way he can get out of this situation and still get what he wants. He’s used to having things his way. People falling in line to make him happy. He’s the captain of the hockey team and a silent figurehead on campus. He doesn’t have to use many words to get what he wants most of the time.
I use the opportunity to take him in and get a goodlonglook. Because Rowan is an ethereal sort of gorgeous. A cut jaw, slightly hollowed cheeks, lush lips, and an imposing brow that frames eyes that are a hauntingly pale gray. His forehead is damp with sweat from the mask and some of his dark brown hair curls over it.
“Give me the gun back, and we’ll go.”
“Do I look fucking stupid to you?”
He takes a step forward, a sneer marring his perfect face.
“Putting a gun to the back of my head makes you pretty fucking stupid.”
“Your gun. After you broke into my house.”
“Your house now?” His eyes light with the taunt.
“The house I’m staying in. None of this would have happened if you’d stayed at whatever frat party the three of you got drunk enough at to think this was a good idea. Who put you up to it? Some fucking bet on the hockey team?”
“Your fuckbuddy owes me money. Claims he doesn’t have it.” Rowan shares more than I expect him to after telling Hudson to shut up.
“And you told him these were here?” I ask, looking at Finn.
His eyes shift to the side, a half-shrug in acknowledgment. I shake my head, pretending to be disappointed but frankly a little amused that Finn and I think alike. Right before I think about what a moron Colin is for bragging about his money like this. Or going into debt to a fucking student. Or fucking one… Really it all fucking lines up for him. How he managed to get this far in life is a mystery. More brains than sense.
I need to get back upstairs with his cough medicine before he starts deciding the trip downstairs is worth it.
“Well, you’ll have to find a different way. Now get the fuck out.”
“What’s to stop you from calling the cops?” Rowan glances at me.
“You’ll just have to trust me.”
“Fuck that,” he spits.
“You don’t have an alternative. Get out. Go back to your party. And all of us can forget this.” I motion toward the door with the gun, my eyes shifting to it and back to him.
