As I sauntered over, I added a little sway to my stride. I planted myself right in front of the guy. His eyes lingered on all those gaps in the dress, his tongue slicking over his chapped lips with a lecherous grin. Ugh.
“I’m looking for money, Trent,” I said, giving him a sickly-sweet smile. “You owe the Nobles quite a lot, and you haven’t been paying up.”
A rush of murmurs and a little laughter spread through the crowd. Trent scoffed at me. “And they sent you to collect it?”
“Damn right, they did. Now are you going to hand it over or what?” I made a grabby gesture with my hand.
“Forget it.” Trent leaned back in his chair, propping his feet up on a crate. “I don’t owe the Nobles shit. I’m my own man now.”
I cocked my head. “I don’t give a crap about your delusions of grandeur. I just want the money you owe. Now stop acting like a pussy and pay up.”
That riled him up good. His eyes flashed, and the others fell silent. He kicked aside the crate and sprang to his feet. “Talk to me like that again, bitch, and you’ll be the one having delusions.”
I wondered if he had any idea what that even meant, because that threat hadn’t made a whole lot of sense. I sighed. “Well, if you want to do this the hard way, that can be arranged. But are you sure you want me embarrassing you in front of your dickhead friends?”
One of the guys let out a grunt of protest. Trent held up his hand, openly seething. “What exactly do you think you’re going to do, you trumped-up whore?”
I let another smile, much sharper, cross my lips. “Let’s not get to that. Imagine what your master will say if he hears that one of his lapdogs has forgotten who’s in charge? If that ego inflates any more, your head might explode.”
“I’m not a lapdog,” Trent roared. He reached into his jeans, and before I could blink, he was pointing a gun at me. “You’re going to die, bitch.”
Did he think he was the first man to ever aim a pistol at me? I eyed it calmly, my pulse only stuttering momentarily. 
I could handle this. I’d faced so much worse than he could imagine.
Trent jabbed the gun at me. “What do you have to say about me now, huh?”
I fluttered my eyelashes at him. “Now you’re a dog with a gun.” 
Wylder was probably intending to rush in here the second the asshole released the safety. But I had other ideas. He wanted to see what I was made of? I could kick plenty of ass all on my own.
Before Trent could react to my insult, I snatched his wrist and twisted so swiftly the gun tumbled from his fingers. As the men around him leapt to their feet, I finished him off by yanking him toward me—right into my knee, which happened to be ramming straight at his crotch. 
He started to crumple, and I bashed my elbow into his nose for good measure. The bone crunched with a spurt of blood. 
Oh dear, I’d stained this pretty dress. What a shame.