Page 21 of Rogue Villain

“I’m sorry. I needed time…” Emotion swells in my throat as tears fill my eyes and my breath hitches. “I knew that speaking with you would make everything more…real.”

“They wouldn’t let me in to visit you at the hospital. Family only or some crap.” He frowns at the screen, his familiar hazel eyes filled with intensity. “I triedsohard, Wren. That damn detective is a prick, let me tell you.”

I half snort, half chuckle at that. “He’s okay. He’s just…being really thorough.”

Matt sighs, running his hand through his messy brown curls. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks to you calling the police department.”

He deadpans. “What did you expect me to do? Sit on my thumb when you weren’t answering your cell?”

We share a smile, both grateful for this friendship we’ve had since kindergarten.

Matt’s forehead puckers. “Where are you anyway? Do you need a ride home? I’ll send the chopper if you need it.”

I shake my head. “No, I’m okay. I—I’m safe. In the city.”

He tilts his head in question. “Where?”

My mouth quirks with a wry grin. “Rogue in Tribeca.”

His eyes blow comically wide as his mouth opens and closes uselessly. I can’t stop myself from giggling at his priceless reaction.

“As in ‘rumored sex club to the stars’ Rogue in Tribeca?”

I nod as I press my lips together. “Mmm-hmm.”

Once Matt manages to recover, I am quick to reassure him that I’m okay, that I’m not in danger, and that I will meet up with him soon, along with the girls and Levi, before we say goodnight.

I stare at my cell for several long minutes after we’ve hung up, deciding almost on impulse to try to call Mom’s number. My heart sinks when it goes straight to voicemail, and I hang up with tears in my eyes and a lump in my throat.

Where are you, Mom?

My stomach growls noisily as I plug in my cell to charge, so I poke my head out of the bedroom door, finding the living quarters empty. Making my way toward the kitchen on silent feet, I shoot up a quick prayer that there’s cereal to be found because I wasn’t kidding before when I told the cowboy I’d burned water.

The galley-style kitchen is lit by some dim strip lighting running above the cupboards, and the only other light is from the cobblestone streets outside of Rogue. I step closer to the kitchen island, spotting a handwritten note that I quickly scan.

Takeout menus are in the third drawer. Bill everything to the club.

I found your lack of personal belongings disturbing. You’ll find everything you need in the studio to the left of the kitchen.

Stay out of my room, and I foresee no issues between us.

Mr. Burton

I scowl as I drop the note onto the marble island top.

Clearly, he’s a rude prick, too.

I’m bristling with anger as I slide open the third drawer and grab the first menu I see.

Luciano’s Deli.

The address is a stone’s throw from Rogue, meaning delivery should be relatively fast, so once I’ve ordered a meatball marinara sub—ensuring to usemycredit card at the checkout—I toss the menu back into the drawer and, with a dubious look on my face, walk into the studio off the kitchen.

It’s shrouded in darkness, but I find a light switch by the door, and flick it on, only for my jaw to drop.

“What the…”

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