Dukes of Madness (Royals of Forsyth University, #5)

by Angel Lawson

“...bring her back from the brink of death and all she cares about is that stupid cat.” A door slams, and another opens. “Where are you, you fucking—there you are. Stay still.” Rustling and cursing follows. “Come here, you little shit!” he says. “Don’t you fucking hiss at me!”

“Plus, she’s got my ink now, and that makes her mine. Oldest dibs known to mankind.”

“Kneecaps aren’t murder.” Remy raises his cup of coffee. “Atta girl.”

“Know what I think is funny?” I ask, offering a cutting smile. “The fact that men fail at fatherhood on such a statistically massive scale that there’s an actual term for it, but somehow it’s used to insult women.”

“She’ll come around, Nicky,” Remy says, looking too flippant. “She hasn’t pointed a gun at you in days.”

So help me, all of these bitches need a culty self-help podcast.

She raises an eyebrow, giving her toes a pointed wriggle. “Look, if we’re all going to die in some Royal pissing match then I’m going to play footsie under the table.”