Page 35 of Revere: A Legacy Novel

“What was your name again?” Catherine asked the Ken-doll look-a-like.

“Matthew.”

She ignored how close he was to her, and how he pressed into her body like he was finding something he liked to feel. Instead, she flipped open the top of her clutch while it was down at her side, and waited.

From surface appearances, no one would think anything was wrong. Catherine preferred to keep it that way when drawing bad attention meant she might not be allowed back into a club.

“Right. Matty, they called you.”

“I was thinking …”

Catherine smiled sweetly. “I bet that’s a new concept for you, huh?”

His brow dipped. “What?”

Right over your head, pretty boy.

“What were you thinking?” she asked.

“I want another line of your shit, but preferably at my place, and straight off your back while I’m behind you.”

“That’s a no,” Catherine said.

Matthew pushed harder into her. “Come on. Don’t pretend like you don’t want this. Or is it like something else with you? How many zeroes attached to a one would it take to get a taste of your cunt, Catty? Three? Four?”

“More money than you will ever have.”

“I doubt that.”

“Don’t.”

“So you’re a fuckin’ tease, then.”

And that was Catherine’s cue.

She let him know she wasn’t interested. He took it further, and she had to slight him. All these guys acted the same way when put in that position. They got their pissy little pride hurt, so they had to hurt her. His hands came up to find her throat, but she didn’t even blink when he squeezed.

Catherine let her almost-empty clutch fall to the floor now that she had her small handgun tight in her palm. She clicked the safety off at the same she used her other hand to find the sharp, small switch blade at her thigh.

The knife went to Matthew’s cheek.

The gun went to his groin.

Catherine cocked back the hammer of the gun, and dug the tip of her knife into his cheek with a smile. “Now you get to learn a lesson, pretty boy.”

Matthew’s eyes went wide, and his fingers loosened on her throat.

She didn’t move an inch. Not her gun, or her knife. She didn’t look away from him, either.

“I’m neither your toy, nor your bitch,” Catherine said lowly. “I am your dealer. You want drugs from a pretty face, that’s what I’m here for. Anything else, and I’m going to take a pound back from you for it. You choose—your face or your dick.”

Matthew blinked. “What?”

“Face or dick. Choose.”

“You can’t do—”

“I can do whatever the fuck I want,” Catherine interrupted. “Choose, or I will do it for you. Keep your dick, and ruin your face. Lose your dick, and keep your pretty face. Don’t worry, all those zeroes in your bank will fix whatever happens, I promise.”