Page 53 of R for Rough

“All right, let Colt and me take the lead on this one,” I proposed. “Madigan, you and Ryan make a show of getting Abel outta here with force, and we—” I gestured between Colt and me “—tell our boys we’re certain Abel is the guilty one, and now he’s getting punished for being a thief.”

Ryan let out a low whistle. “Fuckin’ A, that’s gonna be gorgeous.”

“Great plan.” Madigan nodded. “Just wait till Abel’s out of earshot. He might safeword if he thinks we’re pinning him as the guilty one.”

“Of course,” Colt replied.

Madigan and Ryan got right to it, with Ryan speaking loudly enough for Angel to hear him when he asked Jameson to “spot the girl” while he took care of “the issue.”

“No problem, buddy.” Jameson trailed closer toward Angel, who had her eyes narrowed. “Mind if I gag her? I think it’ll do Justin good too.”

“Man, that’s brilliant.” Ryan clearly approved.

Then he and Madigan walked right up to Abel and began removing his restraints.

“What’re you doing?” Tracy demanded.

“I will fucking run,” Abel snapped, his voice strained.

Sweet boy. He’d have his Daddy’s arms around him soon.

Abel didn’t run. He couldn’t. With both Ryan and Madigan flanking him, dragging him away, Abel could only scream and try to dig his boots into the soil.

“Please—fuck, no! No! Stop it! Daddy, please!”

Colt and I exchanged a nod before it was our turn. We strode over to our boys, and Colt spoke first.

“I guess you’re innocent after all, junior. Well—that ain’t right. You don’t know where the key is, but you withheld information about who does.”

“What’re you talking about?!” Kit cried out. “I told you everything I know!”

I inclined my head and eyed Tracy. “You’re a little liar just like Kit, boy. You may not have hidden the key, but you protected Abel.”

Tracy hitched his brows and threw a quick glance in the direction Abel had disappeared. “What do you mean?”

Colt chuckled. “Y’all can quit the act. We know Abel’s the guilty one. He’ll get his punishment now.”

Keeping my gaze firmly glued to Tracy, I watched a whole range of emotions flit through—nervousness, worry, confusion, and, of course, doubt. He didn’t jump into believing something right out of the gate. But he was worried.

“What kind of punishment?” he pressed. Then he stiffened and became guarded. “I mean—we didn’t sign up for punishments. We wanted to explore interrogation, not torture.”

Nice try, baby.

I laughed under my breath. “What’s an interrogation without punishing the criminal?”

He huffed a breath and couldn’t look away from where Abel had been taken, and it was kind of making me melt. All while the lingering Sadist in me was dying to read his mind, to watch the internal battle unfold. Because he was going to throw in the towel. I was sure of it.

I knew exactly how to push him over the edge too.

I turned to Colt. “Do you still have your knife?”

“Yeah, sure.” Colt brought out one of the knives he used for kink. It’d been dulled to the point where it was barely good tospread butter on a bagel, but you didn’t necessarily feel that when you were hopped up on fear and felt the blade against your throat.

I accepted the blade and closed the distance between Tracy and me in a swift move. A beat later, I had the knife pressed to his throat, and he choked on a breath.

“I don’t know why you’re so interested in Abel’s punishment,” I said, keeping my tone low. “Luckily for you, I’m in a good mood, so I’ll tell you.” I nipped at his jaw and felt him tremble. “They’re gonna push him past his breaking point very slowly, one tool at a time. Like this knife right here. Like a single-tail whip. Like humiliation. Until he begs for forgiveness and?—”

“Fuck, stop,” he croaked. His eyes welled up fast, and he squeezed them shut.

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