Chapter Eleven

Two days of solitude. My punishment. While she was thankful to be out of the confinement of her apartment, she wasn’t sure why she’d been there in the first place. Apparently her honest admission to Rogue hadn’t meant much after all. It was disappointing.

As per usual, she was given little information when Aaron picked her up. He was taking her to the club. That was all.

Quinn had been at the club for the past hour in the same position, with her clasped hands behind her back and leaning against the wall. A few employees had come in, along with security, but no one really acknowledged her.

Until now.

“Hey.”

She glanced at the man behind the bar. She’d seen him a few times but hadn’t exchanged anything outside of a smile. He waved her over to the bar. Quinn was overly eager for any human contact.

“Quinn, right? I’m Killian.” He offered his hand, and she reached over, shaking it. “Have a seat.”

Quinn looked at the stools neatly tucked. It seemed so orderly that she hesitated to mess with the aesthetic.

“They’re gonna get used in two hours anyway.”

Right. She smiled, pulled out the stool, and sat. Quinn couldn’t remember the last time she’d gone to a bar. Date nights with Clay ceased to exist early on in their relationship, and without any friends, she never went out.

Killian lifted his chin. “I owe you a thanks.”

Quinn raised her brows, slightly confused. What could he possibly have to thank her for? This was their first time meeting. He must have read her confusion. He chuckled and spread his arms out, gesturing toward the bar.

“The prep work the other night. Came in expecting to do it all myself ’cause Misti was running late, and I found out you’d done it all. Saved me an hour’s time. Appreciate that.”

“Oh.” Quinn waved off the praise. It wasn’t something she was used to. “It was nothing.”

Killian snorted. “It was something, trust me. A huge help, so thanks.”

She felt the heat rise to her cheeks, and Quinn gave in to a smile, muttering, “You’re welcome.”

Quinn spent the next twenty minutes watching Killian and a few others set up for the night. She offered to help, but Killian refused. Instead, he made her a pink punch rum drink and made small talk. It was more conversation than she’d had with a stranger in a long time. Well, that wasn’t true. There was Elle from the bar.

That memory made her smile, and she briefly considered stopping by the boutique. It was fleeting. Elle had been kind but certainly didn’t want Quinn just showing up.

“Hey there.”

Quinn spun on her stool and immediately grinned. “Hi.”

Lil brushed her hand over Quinn’s shoulder, then pulled out the stool beside her and sat. “How are you?”

“Good, and you?”

“I’d be better if it was five thirty on Friday, but it’ll be here soon enough, right?”

Quinn remembered those days when she worked for the IT company. Having a schedule wasn’t everybody’s dream job, but it had been for Quinn. She enjoyed the structure, especially since her life had always been so chaotic.

“Do you have any plans for Friday night?”

Lil smirked. “A party.”

“Really? That sounds like fun. Like a fancy party?”

It had been forever since Quinn had actually gone to a party.

Lil chuckled. “The polar opposite of fancy. My husband, Gunner, is the president of Ghosttown East. The party is a staple every Friday and Saturday at the clubhouse.”

That was the last thing she’d expected to hear from Lil. From the way she looked and carried herself, sophisticated and almost elegant, Quinn expected cocktail parties and extravagant themed gatherings.

Her eyes widened. “The MC?”

“Do you know them?”

Quinn shook her head. “No, just heard of them from…” Her voice trailed, not knowing how much she should reveal. “Around.”

Lil smiled and nodded but didn’t push.

“Opposites attract.” Lil eyed her. “Kind of like you and Rogue.”

Quinn was in mid-sip of her drink and began to choke. She felt Lil’s hand patting her back.

“You okay?” There was a slight hitch in her tone.

Quinn cleared her throat with a sharp nod. Was her attraction to Rogue that obvious? This was mortifying.

“I just work for Rogue.”

“Oh, is that the route you’re taking here? Nothing going on between you two?” Lil arched her brows and chuckled. She rested her hand on Quinn’s knee. “If that’s how you’re playing it, then I’ll keep my thoughts to myself.”

What? Quinn found herself not only curious but desperate to hear what Lil had to say.

“No, tell me,” she blurted.

Lil smiled and turned on her stool, facing Quinn and resting her elbow on the bar.

“I’ve known Rogue for a long time. I have a pretty good grasp of how his mind works. Usually, Rogue feeds off fear and intimidation. Conflict and aggression are second nature to him. It’s part of his makeup. In his mind, nothing is off-limits. Not what he wants, not what he does or says. A true narcissist, and some might say, the most dangerous kind.”

Quinn felt her throat tighten. “What kind is that?”

“One in power. People don’t question or say no to Rogue. He doesn’t let them.” Lil cocked her head. “Three types of people in Rogue’s world. Those who fear him, those who fall in line and obey, and those whose blood is on his hands. You don’t fall into any of those categories.”

Quinn blushed and bowed her head. “I don’t think…you might be reading into it. I’m not with Rogue.”

“If you say so.” Lil shrugged with a small smile playing on her lips. She glanced down at her phone and stood. I’ve got to run.” She placed an envelope on the counter. “Kill, just make sure Trey gets these. Payroll.”

“You got it, Lil.” Killian grabbed the envelope, walking across the bar out of earshot.

“It was nice hanging out with you, Quinn.”

“You too. We should do it again.”

Lil stilled and glanced over at her. Quinn immediately regretted being so forward, so she held up her hand and laughed awkwardly. “You don’t have to. I was just…” She paused. “I’m sorry.”

Lil stared down at her, her face softening, and she dug into her pocketbook. She pulled out a card and a pen and scribbled something on the back. She slid it across the bar.

“It’s my business card, but it has all my info. You can call me anytime, Quinn. Okay?”

“Okay,” she said and watched Lil walk out the front door.

“Killian!”

Quinn jumped in her seat and looked across the room. Sloane was rushing to the bar in a frantic panic with Dahlia following close behind.

“What’s going on?” Killian darted his gaze between the two women.

Sloane, clearly out of breath, rested her hand on her chest. “I’ve been trying to call Keely for the last hour but can’t get through. Is there any way she’d be able to come in tonight to cover a shift?”

Killian shook his head. “She’s at the lake with her friends. Probably why you can’t reach her. Service sucks up there.”

“Shoot,” Sloane said, looking over at Dahlia. “I’ve called everybody. Even with you helping us, we’re still short a busser.”

Against her better judgment and knowing Rogue would not be happy, Quinn slowly raised her hand, catching Dahlia’s attention.

“I don’t have any experience, but I can definitely clear tables.”

Sloane grinned and waved her arms over her head. “Quinn saves the day.”

Quirky, oddball, and a tad bit strange. God, I adore Sloane.

“Yes, she does.” Dahlia waved her over. “Let’s get you a uniform.”

Quinn hopped off her stool and rounded the bar. There might be a punishment in her future from Rogue. But it was a risk she was willing to take.

****

These standing dates had been in place for as long as he could remember. Long before Sal Caruso, head of the Underground, stepped down and handed over the reign to Oz, they’d always gotten together. His boys. That was how Sal referred to Rogue, Trey, and Oz. Not having any biological sons, it made sense Sal would’ve taken them on. After all, they’d known and worked for him since they were kids.

“I like what you’ve done in here,” Sal said.

Rogue took a drag from the cigar and settled into the leather chair. He glanced around the room. Oz had newly renovated the den in his house. It had an old-fashioned flair with dark mahogany wood trim and floors. The tray ceiling was a nice added touch, even if it wasn’t Rogue’s style. The bar lining the back wall was custom-made, and it showed. Oz was always known for his attention to small details.

“Back in my day, we called this a parlor.”

Rogue smirked, grabbing his glass from the table. “Before electricity?”

Sal side-eyed Rogue with his signature scowl. Years ago, it was enough to get everyone to fall in line. It probably would still work if not for Sal’s lips twitching. The old man had softened a bit through the years. Once he’d handed the throne to Oz, Rogue, and Trey, he’d easily faded into his retirement. He’d earned it. Still, while he was removed from the life, Sal always wanted to be kept in the loop. And on some occasions, give advice.

“What have I missed?”

Oz walked across the room, offered Trey a drink, and sat in the leather chair next to Sal. His brother rarely shared too much detail with Sal. It was his way of protecting him. Something they all did. Though Trey was always a little more forthcoming.

“It’s been quiet. Got the deal with Killcreek running smoothly.” Trey sipped his bourbon. “We’re looking at locations up north to open a few poker houses.”

Sal furrowed his brows. “Thought that was East’s territory?”

“Not up north,” Trey said.

Sal chuckled and glanced over at Rogue. “Killcreek territory. Looks like you’ll have to use your charm to make that deal happen.”

Rogue glared at his old boss, feeling his blood heat. “They’ll do whatever I fucking tell them.”

Sal smiled, shaking his head. “What else is happening?”

Rogue shared a look with Trey. They’d keep everything under wraps for now. Technically, Quinn was no one else’s business anyway. However, Nash getting the background on her brought him into the loop, which no doubt he’d shared with Oz. But still, it wasn’t a big enough deal to warrant Oz’s interest.

Or so I fucking thought.

“Heard you were having an issue with a collection recently.” Oz slowly lifted his cigar to his lips with his gaze locked on Rogue. “Short?”

Motherfucking Nash.

Rogue was careful to keep his temper in check. Going off on Nash would only add suspicion and garner more of an interest from Oz. This was new territory for Rogue, and he cupped his mouth, forcing himself to remain silent.

Trey nodded, taking the lead. “We’ve got it handled.”

Oz cocked his brow and smirked. “Is that so?”

Rogue clenched his jaw. “That’s what Trey fucking said, so it must be, right? Or are you calling him a liar?”

The room was drowned in silence as the tension rose.

“What’s going on, boys?” Sal darted his gaze between Oz and Rogue.

Oz glanced over at Sal. “An interesting turn of events that Rogue and Trey don’t seem to want to share.”

Fuck. Rogue kept his gaze trained on Oz, knowing he was waiting for Rogue or Trey to look at one another. While Oz and Rogue were blood brothers, he’d always had a stronger bond with Trey. It stemmed from them being closer in age. Oz had taken the role of protector to both of them, which put him on a different level.

Oz raised his brows. “Taking in strays, Rogue? That’s not like you. Though I was more shocked to hear of the mercy you’re showing.”

It was clear Nash had reported back to Oz. Rogue just didn’t know how much information had been given.

“Only way to get my fucking money back is keeping her on a tight leash.”

“Her?” Sal asked, peering over the rim of his glass.

Fuck! This was garnering more attention than he wanted. Rogue sipped his drink and took a drag from his cigar. It was a stall tactic.

Sal smirked. “Holding her hostage?”

“If that’s what it takes.” Rogue hardened his gaze.

“Name?” Oz asked.

Rogue slipped and glanced over at Trey. They had no mutual understanding since neither assumed this would be a topic for conversation.

Trey shrugged. “Small-time runner. Worked for Dillon mostly. You wouldn’t know her.”

Oz arched his brow and shared a look with Nash.

“Quinn O’Malley,” Nash said.

Rogue clenched his jaw and scowled at Nash. “Why the fuck are you here?”

“Rogue.” Sal’s stern warning was the only one that had him backing down slightly.

It didn’t stop Rogue from glaring at Nash and giving a direct message. Fuck off, asshole.

“So,” Sal said, looking over at Rogue. “Quinn O’Malley, sweet Irish girl, I assume. What do we know?”

Rogue rolled his shoulders, sharing a look with Trey. He needed the focus off Quinn.

“We?” Rogue scoffed. “Coming out of retirement?”

Sal laughed. “Staying in the loop keeps me young, son. Throw the old man a bone.”

Son. My boys. Those two terms were heard often growing up under Sal’s regime. It was the only time anyone had ever staked claim over Rogue, Trey, or Oz.

Rogue took a drag from his cigar.

Trey cleared his throat. “Not much on her. She had the misfortune of being part of a deal gone wrong. Offered to make amends, which we allowed. She’s agreed to work off her debt. Nothing more to report.”

It was a good, solid save by Trey.

“And the Kahill connection?” Oz asked.

Fuck! As predicted, Nash had given Oz the full disclosure on everything. “Hasn’t been confirmed,” Trey said.

Oz nodded, but his eyes were locked on Rogue. “Alright.”

It was over. For now.

*

Rogue barely said a word to Trey on the ride back to the club. But he assumed they were thinking the same thing. Oz had taken too much of an interest in Quinn. It wasn’t unusual for them all to touch base and keep each other informed of deals and issues. But this felt personal.

As they pulled into the parking lot, Rogue finally unleashed.

“Why the fuck does Oz care about small shit like a runner?”

Trey slowly glanced over and raised his brows. “You only have yourself to blame for that, Rogue.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Rogue snapped.

“You seem to forget how ballistic you went over finding Quinn and knowing her background. Nash was there, Rogue, and saw everything. We’d be fools to think he wouldn’t report back to Oz.”

True but…

“Over a runner?”

Trey smirked. “Based on your reaction and demand to find her? It wavered on the line of obsessive. So, yes, it’s valid.”

Fuck! Rogue threw open the door, not bothering to wait for security to open it. He stalked to the back doors. He’d always used their personal entrance, but tonight, he opted for the employee entrance. He assumed Quinn would be working in the office with Sloane. He’d made a call earlier instructing Aaron to bring her in. Two days was long enough to make his point with Trey. It was a chauvinistic display trying to counter Trey’s accusations.

But in the end, Quinn’s own admission held more weight. She was lonely, and he didn’t want to add to that any more than he already had. Not that he’d admit to that weakness. Nor would he mention how on edge he’d been the last two days without seeing her and having her close. His control was wavering with her. It was only a matter of time before it snapped.

As he walked down the hall, he glanced inside Sloane and Dahlia’s office. It was empty. Where the fuck is she?

“I want her in my office. Now,” Rogue said as he continued down the hall. A few employees pressed their backs against the wall, leaving him more room than necessary. It was uncommon for him to be on the main floor, and their reactions confirmed their shock. He made a hard left, about to walk up the stairs, when he caught a flash of white-blonde hair, and he immediately halted, looking over at the woman.

She was bent across a table, grabbing glasses. Rogue balled his fists as his gaze traveled over her tight shorts curving around her ass. She turned slightly, giving him a perfect view of her form-fitted shirt with the plunging neckline. It was the same uniform all the staff wore. However, on Quinn, showing off an ample amount of cleavage, his blood began to boil. If he could see everything, then so could everyone else.

His temple pulsed as he ground his teeth. “What the fuck is she doing on the floor?”

When Rogue lunged forward, Trey grasped his arm.

“Jared!” Trey shouted. “Get Quinn. Bring her to Rogue’s office.”

Fuck, no. Rogue pulled away from Trey, stalking through the massive crowds. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d walked the floor when the club was open. If anything, he avoided it. Not tonight. Quinn was at a table, reaching across, taking the empty glasses, and putting them in her plastic bin. She never saw him coming.

“Put that down.”

Quinn spun around, and her eyes widened. She may have been in shock. Whatever the case, she didn’t follow his immediate command, which only added to his fury. He gripped her forearm and leaned down to eye level. An uncontrollable possession ran through every inch of his body.

“Don’t make me tell you again.”

Quinn’s mouth fell open, and she dropped the plastic tub to the table. He yanked her closer, then dropped his hand to her waist, pulling her into his side, and walked her through the crowded club. His security did a good job of clearing the path to the stairs. He urged her forward as his heat simmered slowly.

Still….

What the fuck was she thinking?