Chapter Two

Beads of sweat lined Quinn’s forehead as she watched Rogue, Trey, and Jared gather across the room. They’d lowered their voices, and she was too far away to hear them. Security had moved the bags of cash to the dark corner of the room and lined them up on the folding table. There were too many men blocking her view, but from the slight glimpse she’d gotten, Trey was counting it again.

Quinn drew in a breath, twisted her fingers, and rocked side to side. It was a nervous tick and the only coping mechanism she had against anxiety under the circumstances. Quinn had been in dozens of unsavory and dangerous situations before, but none at this level. People didn’t mess with the Underground because there was only one outcome. Oh shit.

“Stop fucking moving,” Glenn muttered harshly.

Quinn immediately froze and peeked over past Clay. Glenn scowled and jerked his chin to her hands. She immediately dropped them to her sides. Showing any sign of nervousness would send the wrong message. Mainly one of guilt. Quinn racked her brain, trying to come up with a plausible reason why the cash had come up short. Could the money have fallen out of the bag? It was a long shot, but always possible. Clay and Glenn’s packs had been strapped to their backs. Maybe the zipper hadn’t been completely fastened when they took off on their motorcycles? It was a stretch but not impossible. Hitting a bump could have jolted the bag, and the cash spilled out. Right?

“Do you think maybe it fell out during the ride up here?” Quinn whispered.

Clay turned to her, furrowed his brows, and mouthed, “Shut up!”

Feeling the heat rise to her face, Quinn clamped her lips and looked to the opposite end of the room. While neither Clay nor Glenn seemed at ease or comfortable with the situation, she expected them to be on the same level of panic. Why weren’t they trying to figure out where the missing money was? It was all Quinn could think of.

There were two members of security gathered around Rogue, along with Trey, who was speaking. When she glanced at Rogue, his hardened gaze was pinned on her. The angles of his face were sharp. That, paired with his hooded glare, made the hair on the back of her neck stand end. Quinn quickly shifted her gaze to the concrete floor, willing herself not to rock on her feet. It would give too much away. She scraped her nails against her palms, hoping the distraction would somehow calm her nerves. It might’ve worked had she not peeked up again. Her stomach dropped when Rogue started across the room with her locked in his line of sight.

Oh shit.

He stopped a few feet in front of them. Rogue’s sinister, taunting smile sent a chill over her flesh. “Counted it three fucking times, and it’s still short, so I’m gonna ask again. Where the fuck is my money?”

Glenn stepped forward and held up his hands. “We didn’t lift the cash, man, I swear. Maybe Dillon fucked up. I mean, he just gave us the load and the address. No one saw him count the cash.”

What? In a move she’d later regret, Quinn leaned forward around Clay and knitted her brows. What are you talking about, Glenn? While Dillon wasn’t an upstanding citizen, he’d been decent and honest. And always counted the cash before transfers. It ensured everyone’s safety when moving the money. This time had been no different.

Trey’s gaze hardened, clearly seeing through the deceit. “Dillon has been working with us for years. He always counts the cash.”

Glenn shook his head. “Not this time.”

Glenn was doubling down. Quinn forced herself not to flinch and stopped herself from looking over at Glenn again. He’s lying. They had all been there, in the room surrounding the table, when the money was counted and loaded into duffle bags. It was the same protocol used for cash and product. And the same story she’d given Rogue ten minutes ago. Quinn slowly glanced over at him standing beside Trey.

Oh shit.

There was only one reason to lie. Oh my God!

“Where’s my fucking money?” Rogue’s voice echoed through the warehouse.

“We didn’t lift it. If you don’t believe me, check our bikes. Frisk us. You’re not gonna find anything.” Glenn’s confidence hadn’t wavered. He was offering the challenge as if he knew they wouldn’t find anything.

Or so she thought.

Much like their choreographed lineup, the security was equally impressive with how they drew their weapons. Two barrels pointed at each of them.

Her heart stopped as if they’d already pulled the trigger.

“Whose is the blue bag?”

Quinn slowly lifted her hand higher above her shoulder. “That’s mine.”

“It’s missing the money,” Trey said.

What? No. She shook her head, glancing over at Clay. He refused to make eye contact. What’s happening here? Her bag couldn’t be short. Unlike what Glenn said, she’d watched Dillon count every bill. It was all there, and she hadn’t made any stops along the way. How could any money have been missing from hers? None of it made any sense. Quinn shook her head, darting her gaze between Rogue and Trey.

“It’s there, I swear. Can you count it again?” She swallowed the knot in her throat. “Please?”

Rogue stalked toward her, and she immediately backed up. Quinn didn’t get very far. She felt a tight grip over the back of her shirt, halting any further retreat. She jerked her head to see Clay standing beside her. What are you doing?

Rogue grabbed her jaw and forced her away from Clay, spinning her around as his fingers bit into her flesh. She muted her whimper.

“That’s not what you told me, is it? Where’s the fucking money?”

“I-I don’t know…” His grip tightened, and she had flashes of nausea. He was gripping her so hard it felt as though her jaw might snap in half. Her eyes welled, making him a blurry vision when she looked up. She sniffled, and her heart raced as she lost her breath. It was as if he had his hand wrapped around her throat. She blinked, but it only sent more tears streaming down her cheeks.

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know.”

The harsh lines in his forehead deepened, and his eyes scanned over her face. Something had shifted. She didn’t know what, but his grip loosened slightly. He stared down at her, his dark gaze penetrating hers. He released her and stepped back, twisted his lips, and then covered his mouth.

He slowly paced in front of them and shared a look with Trey. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it. Rogue took a deep drag and slowly looked back at her. It was impossible to get a read on him. There wasn’t an ounce of empathy or concern. This must have been what it felt like coming face to face with Satan.

“Somebody’s lying.”

Glenn cleared his throat. “It’s her bag.”

What? Quinn jerked her head so quickly pain shot through her shoulder.

“I didn’t take it!”

Glenn kept his gaze on Rogue as if he hadn’t heard her. Quinn shook her head, peering over at Clay.

“Tell them, Clay,” Quinn pleaded, but he refused to look at her and gave a small shrug. Blood rushed through her veins as her face paled, and her hands began to shake. For anyone else, it may have come across as an admission of guilt. In reality, it was Quinn spiraling from the betrayal. Why wasn’t Clay saying anything?

“Yeah, fucking tell me, Clay . Her bag, huh?” Rogue’s voice was calm with a taunting edge. The corner of Rogue’s mouth curled into a sinister smile, and he looked back at her. She darted her gaze between him and Clay.

“Yeah, man,” Glenn said.

“Must mean she lifted the cash. Fucking stole from me.” She watched Rogue glance over at Clay, tossing his cigarette on the floor. “That’s what you’re saying?”

Clay’s chest rose, and he shrugged. “That’s the way it looks.”

“Yeah, it does, doesn’t it?”

Rogue kept his eyes locked on Clay, pulled his gun from his waistband, raised it, and aimed directly at Quinn. She gasped and froze, staring at the end of a gun barrel five feet away.

“Gentlemen’s choice. Through the chest? Or maybe since you’re done looking at that face, you wouldn’t mind if I fucking destroy it? A bullet to the head shatters every facial bone. Like an explosion. Certainly makes identifying the body a difficult task. Choose.”

“I-I don’t…” Clay stuttered, and for some crazy reason, she found a little comfort with his hesitation. It was a warped thought, but at least he wasn’t completely abandoning her. Right?

“Fucking make the choice,” Rogue snapped.

From her beating heart blasting in her eardrums, it was hard to hear anything beyond her panic. Clay’s response was faint. “Face.”

It was as if he’d already taken the shot. Her blood drained from her face, and her head was light as the dizziness kicked in. Quinn quickly raised her hands, covering her face. It wouldn’t stop a bullet, but at least she wouldn’t have to see it coming.

“Put your hands down,” Rogue ordered with a menacing snarl.

Quinn swallowed the knot in her throat and slowly lowered her arms. She glanced up, seeing the gun shift up now, aimed at her face. Every inch of her body shook. Tears welled her in her eyes, and one slipped down her cheek. She was showing every emotion, unlike him, who showed none. Quinn wrapped her arms around her stomach as her breath labored. Maybe if she was lucky, she’d pass out and wouldn’t feel too much pain.

Rogue stalked forward, and everything in her mind urged her to run. Self-preservation. It had saved her a few times in her life, but never with this type of odds. She wasn’t getting away.

“Most men just break up with a bitch when he’s done fucking her.” Rogue laughed.

“I-I uh…” Clay stuttered.

“Shut the fuck up,” Rogue said and cocked the gun. He slowly angled his head, peering down at her as his gaze darkened. “You have shitty fucking taste in men.”

Yes, I do.

Quinn should have looked away. She didn’t. Quinn drew in a breath. There were positives, she presumed. No heartbeat meant no heartache, fear, or loneliness. Sometimes, she had to accept fate, no matter how it was dealt. This was one of those times. It isn’t that great of a life anyway. A pain seared through her chest, knowing that was her final thought.

Rogue stepped closer, and the gun was only a few inches from her face. “You don’t like looking at this face, huh? Then I’ll make it so you never gotta see it again.”

Quinn squeezed her eyes tight. She didn’t want to see it coming. She wasn’t religious, never had been. It seemed like a fruitless effort to start praying now. But she did anyway.

Please, God…just make it quick.

Her entire body jolted, and her body started to shake as the gun fired, blasting in her eardrums. And for a moment, it was completely silent except for a small thud that sounded far away. It was just the reaction she’d expect from being shot. But where’s the pain? Her ears were still ringing when she pried her eyes open, glancing down at her body. Where’s the blood? She quickly shifted her gaze behind her and gasped. Clay was laid out on the ground, blood pooling around his head.

Quinn could barely tear her eyes away. She sucked in a breath and cupped her mouth. It was surreal as if she was watching this scene happen in slow motion. Clay’s lifeless body was only a few feet away. She’d seen a lot in her life but never a violent murder. She slowly looked over at Rogue.

“That’s one,” Rogue said, walking across the room toward Glenn. “Now, I’d like to hear your thoughts on seeing her face again.”

While her body was frozen, her mind went into overdrive, evaluating her current situation. Glenn was inching backward, reaching behind him while Rogue stalked toward him. Glenn was the main focus for everyone in the room.

Run!

Without any hesitation, she stepped back, watching all the men, and when the gun fired again, Quinn took off in the opposite direction, heading toward the back of the warehouse. Her feet pounded the hard surface as two more shots rang out. She darted past the stairs to the back door, threw it open, and immediately halted. The back was surrounded by woods, making her chances of hiding good. But Quinn had never so much as been camping. She had no way to survive, even if she could elude them, and that likelihood was small. They’d look until they found her.

She spun around, holding the door open and looking down the long, dark corridor. The gunfire had ceased, and she heard the echo of boots. Her eyes darted around her immediate area. It was by complete luck that she noticed the ladder attached to the wall leading up to a metal loft.

She had two choices. On the run or hiding? Choose.

Quinn left the door wide open and rushed to the ladder, climbing up. She slowly crawled across what looked like a nine-by-twelve loft and tucked herself in a tight corner behind two large boxes.

It was eerily quiet for the next few minutes, but she wasn’t foolish or na?ve enough to think they wouldn’t come after her. Boots tapped on the floor below at an even pace instead of them charging toward her as she’d expected.

“Looks like we’re going hunting in the woods,” a man said, but she couldn’t make out his voice.

Quinn stared at the ceiling only a few feet away. She didn’t move a muscle and kept her breathing low and as steady as she could. Her racing heart echoed in her ears, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

It was a fifty-fifty shot at them taking the bait she’d left by leaving the door open. At any moment, they could change their minds and search the loft, though she was tightly concealed. It didn’t matter; they’d find her. She wrapped her arms around her legs and dropped her forehead to her knees.

“She won’t be hard to track. We’ll just follow the scent of fear,” one of the men said while the other snickered. If that were true, they’d be ambushing her in ten seconds flat. Her body convulsed, and she did her best to take slow, deep breaths.

The voices below were muffled, but she tracked their steps. They seemed to be heading to the front of the building.

Quinn wasn’t sure how long they would stay and look for her, but she wasn’t going anywhere for a very long time. Her plan was only solidified when she heard the booming baritone echo off the walls.

“I want that fucking girl.”

Rogue’s voice sent a shiver down her spine and had her shrinking deeper in to the confines of the tight corner.

I’m so screwed.

****

There was rarely a middle ground for Rogue. He had two levels— losing his shit and off the fucking charts . He was currently inching closer to the latter. Two days. One fucking girl.

Initially, there had been little concern that they’d find Quinn. The thought of her eluding them was laughable. How could that woman get away from the Underground? Rogue was sure they’d find her within the hour. Then it turned to hours and now days. Each minute she hadn’t been found, Rogue grew increasingly enraged. What the fuck? No one ran from him and got away. Fucking never! He would find Quinn if it was the last thing he did.

This wasn’t the first runner, or group, who’d tried to pinch cash or product off a transfer. Since Rogue had been inducted into the Underground, he’d seen it all. And he’d played an integral part in most punishments handed down for those who crossed the Underground. In fact, it was where he shined. They all had their roles in the hierarchy of the Underground. Trey was cunning and savvy and had a way of finding rationale and reason for every situation. Oz was highly intelligent and deadly and controlled every facet of the organization. Rogue fell somewhere in the middle. But of all three leaders, he was recognizably the most violent, unpredictable, and unforgiving. Rogue wore that like a badge of honor. It was. He’d survived and earned his place while others failed, showing their weakness.

Rogue tapped out his cigarette, grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair, and stalked out of his office and down the hall. Trey’s office had always been a ground zero of sorts. Rogue didn’t allow just anyone into his office or his space. He rarely interacted with any of the employees at the Bowery except those he trusted most. And those he couldn’t avoid. He eyed the small woman standing at the end of the hall smiling. She lifted her hand in a short wave. Rogue drew in a breath, deepening his scowl.

I should have killed you when I had the chance. Sloane Baxter. This woman had a special kind of superpower. There was no one on the planet who annoyed, irritated, and got under his skin more than her.

“Hi Rogue, how are you?”

“Fuck off, Sloane.” It was harsh and brutal and did nothing to deter the tiny brunette from sidling up next to him. After years of working for him, she’d become almost immune to his attitude and sharp insults. It was as if she knew she was untouchable. And she was. Rogue had made that decision along with Trey and Oz years ago. Fucking regretting it now.

“I can see you’re busy, but I was hoping….”

“No,” Rogue snapped, picking up his pace. And much to his aggravation, she kept up. This fucking woman.

Rogue stopped short, and Sloane bumped his arm before skittering back a step. She held up her hand.

“Sorry about that. If I could just…”

“What part of ‘fuck off’ don’t you understand?” Rogue shouted.

She smiled, which only boiled his blood more. It was as if this woman was put on earth just to make his life a living hell. She succeeded on a daily basis.

“Oh, I understand, and again, I’m sorry, but this is kind of urgent.”

Rogue sharpened his glare and drew in a harsh breath. “What?”

“Kira and Renee have both asked to bartend on the balcony.” Sloane paused. “They both have equal time and stellar records.”

Rogue stared back at her, waiting for her to continue. She didn’t, which only vamped up his annoyance.

“Why the fuck are you telling me this?” Rogue clenched his jaw. “If they can make a whiskey neat, why do I give a shit which one serves me? This is your fucking urgency?”

Sloane flattened her lips and gave a small shrug. I’m going to fucking kill her.

“I’m sorry, I just know how particular you are about the balcony staff. And since Trey’s busy…”

That statement alone had his blood boiling and his muscles tight. “His time more fucking valuable than mine?”

Sloane scoffed, waving her hand. “Oh no, that’s not what I meant…”

But that’s what you fucking implied.

Rogue held up his hand, silencing Sloane. She widened her eyes and remained silent.

In fairness, while most people may not have believed it, Trey’s time was equal to Rogue’s. They were on the same level within the Underground. Many viewed Trey as beneath Rogue in the ranks, but that wasn’t the case. Trey and Rogue had earned their place in the Underground—equally. No one knew that better than Rogue.

“This is what you’re going to do. You fucking listening?” Rogue raised his brows. Sloane nodded, and he continued. “You’re gonna fire them both. And when they ask why, you’re gonna tell them it’s all your fucking fault. If you hadn’t come to me with your bullshit, they’d still have fucking jobs.”

Sloane paled, gasped, and shook her head. “Can I just…”

“No, you fucking can’t,” Rogue snapped and walked away, ignoring her.

Rogue passed the security lined up in the hall near Trey’s office. Rogue didn’t bother knocking. He never did. He opened the door, swung it wide, and walked in, then stopped in the center of the room.

“Now we fuck in our offices, Trey?”

It was a little bit of a stretch. Dahlia was straddling Trey’s lap, but as far as he could tell, they were fully dressed. This wasn’t the first time he’d walked in on them. Probably wouldn’t be the last. Since Trey had claimed Dahlia as his own, she’d been a fixture in not only the club but their lives.

Dahlia leaned in, kissed Trey quickly, and climbed off his lap. She straightened her shirt, which was crumpled slightly. Rogue may not have walked in on the full deed, but they’d gotten started. Rogue eyed her uniform. Motherfucker! Dahlia had been moved off the floor and made assistant manager a few months ago. She wasn’t pleased with the decision, but it was safer. Her affiliation with the Underground and her relationship with Trey made her a target for anyone wanting to take a shot at them. Protecting Dahlia at all costs had become a priority not only for Trey, but Rogue and Oz.

Dahlia had also managed to do the impossible in only a few short months. She softened them. Slightly. Rogue, Trey, and Oz had always had a family relationship, but she brought an element that made it more traditional. Sunday fucking dinners.

Rogue squared his jaw, eyeing her outfit. “What the fuck are you wearing?”

Dahlia glanced down and looked over at Trey, pointing. “Keely called in sick, so I’m covering her shift. There was no one else available. Trey approved it.”

“The fuck there isn’t.” Rogue didn’t have all the numbers of employees off the top of his head, but he knew damn well they had enough for backup. He jerked his head to Trey, glaring at his partner.

“What the fuck are you thinking?”

Trey clasped his hands and sighed. “She has her security, and I signed off on it.”

“I didn’t,” Rogue blurted, hardening his glare set on Dahlia.

She laughed, shaking her head and rolling her eyes. For so long, it had only been Rogue, Trey, and Oz. Adding Dahlia in the mix had shifted the dynamic and introduced a certain lightness that Rogue still hadn’t eased into just yet.

“Something funny?”

“Yeah, you. And to think, I used to wish I had older overprotective brothers. Be careful what you wish for, right?” Dahlia winked and started through the office but stopped beside him and lowered her voice. “And just so you know, we lock the door when we fuck in the office.”

Rogue ground his teeth, glaring at her while she exited the room. Her smirk only intensified his growing aggravation. He missed the days when Dahlia was afraid of him. “You got a woman for a few months, and you’ve already lost all fucking control. You need to get her ass in line.”

“Get her in line?” Trey snorted, shaking his head with his eyes pinned on the door. The man was completely devoted to his woman. Pussy-whipped didn’t quite cover it. In fucking love was an understatement. Dahlia owned him, and while Rogue would never bow down for anyone, no one deserved a faithful woman by his side more than Trey. He’d earned it.

Rogue walked over to the bar in the corner of Trey’s office. He poured a shot of whiskey and sucked it back. Rogue knew his whiskey, and this brand was best for sipping. I don’t have time for that . He made himself another and turned. Trey was staring back at him, waiting.

“One fucking girl, and we can’t find her?”

Trey rested his elbows on the desk. “I’ve had Jared pull everything on Quinn. Spoke with Dillon. He’ll reach out if she contacts him.”

Quinn.

While Rogue wouldn’t admit it to anyone, this woman had consumed his thoughts for the last forty-eight hours. How could a woman like her, seemingly weak, scared shitless, and obviously clueless in the life, evade them for two days? She had to have a connection helping her lay low. Keep trying, Princess, but I’m gonna fucking find you.

“What does Dillon have on her?”

“Not much. She’s been with him for about five years, low earner but reliable. Said she doesn’t hustle but does what she’s told. Uses her mostly for small transfers. This was her first time out on a bigger deal.”

It didn’t add up. Even runners with little experience had more street smarts than this woman. Quinn lacked the confidence, and she most definitely trusted too easily. The fucking boyfriend. That setup was textbook, yet she hadn’t seen it coming by her own admission and actions. Who the fuck is this girl?

Rogue paced around the office, sipping on his drink. “And the asshole who wanted me to blow her fucking face off?”

Trey arched his brow. “Well, she got the last laugh on that, didn’t she?”

She should’ve. That girl should be thanking Rogue and on her knees begging for forgiveness. Instead, she was in the wind. Now, two days later, there was a good chance she was halfway across the country. It didn’t matter to Rogue. I’m gonna fucking find you .

Trey cleared his throat, straightening in his chair. “Speaking of the boyfriend and his associate. The warehouse has been scrubbed. Jared cleared it for use last night. We shouldn’t use that location for at least six months, possibly longer if—” Trey narrowed his gaze. They’d been together so long and in sync that words were unnecessary. Rogue could finish his sentence… possibly longer if we can’t find the girl .

“We will fucking find her.”

Trey held up his hand. “You saw it yourself, Rogue. She didn’t lift the cash. She probably has no idea where it is. They set her up to take the fall. Like I said, I’ve been in touch with Dillon. He’s going to get us the replacement ten grand to make sure the deal goes through. There really isn’t a need to pursue her further.”

Rogue ground his teeth, resisting the urge to throw his glass against the wall. I. Want. Her.

“If she’s smart, she’s left town already. Dillon mentioned her being close with only Clay, and without him, she has nothing keeping her here.”

What the fuck?

“And you’re saying we just let her walk away, Trey? What the hell has gotten into you?” Rogue pointed to the door. “Dahlia is making you a weak bastard.”

It was bullshit. Rogue would never see Trey as weak, but it didn’t stop him from throwing out the implication for mocking purposes.

Trey sighed, not giving in to the taunting. He glanced past Rogue and lifted his hand, waving someone into the office. Rogue glanced over his shoulder and watched Jared walk in with Aaron, who closed the door behind him.

Jared had given a brief rundown of her a couple of days ago. Quinn O’Malley, twenty-six, had been with Dillon’s crew for five years when she came in with her boyfriend, Clay. That motherfucker. They’d checked both bikes and her car, along with a wide perimeter around the warehouse. They’d accessed their phones for a breakdown of their route from Dillon’s to the warehouse, but Clay and Glenn’s tracking had been turned off at one point. There was a strong possibility Clay and Glenn had traveled together and made a stop to hide the cash. It was missing from her bag, but Rogue had no doubt it would be an easy switch with someone like her. Too much trust in the wrong people. Another fucking weakness to add to a long line of hers.

“You better fucking have something, Jay? And if it ain’t that girl, I don’t want to see it,” Rogue snapped, glaring at the two men approaching. Jared took the lead, with Aaron close behind.

Much like Jared, Aaron had been with Rogue and Trey for years, though in a different capacity. He’d started out as a bouncer and moved to assistant manager per Sloane’s request. When they’d decided to move Dahlia to the office at the Bowery, they’d offered Aaron a place in their security. He’d been with them long enough to earn a certain level of trust. Nothing was ever guaranteed, but Trey vetted their guys. And Rogue had approved Aaron.

“It’s her.”

Jared walked across the room, grabbed the remote, and turned on the television. He changed stations, pulling up the camera footage. Rogue was familiar with all the security measures taken by the Underground. Each of their locations was equipped with state-of-the-art surveillance. However, it had always been shut down during any meetings, transfers, or deals. Video recordings getting into the wrong hands was not a risk they were willing to take.

Somebody fucked up.

“Why is there video?” Trey’s voice was calm, and his tone was level. It was how Trey operated. But Rogue knew him better than anyone. A mistake like this could cost them, and Trey wasn’t happy. And as usual, Trey was more diplomatic in how he spoke to others. Not Rogue.

“Who the fuck didn’t do their job?”

Both men stood silent for a few seconds until Aaron stepped forward.

“The mistake was mine.”

Stupid motherfucker. Before he could verbally rip him apart, Jared jumped in, placing himself slightly in front of Aaron.

“His mistake works in our favor, sir. The cameras were shut down thirty minutes prior to our arrival and turned back on after we’d swept the area. Probably about nine hours. But as Aaron said, he missed one of the cameras.”

“Which one?” Trey asked.

“The back door,” Jared said.

And Quinn’s only escape route. Rogue clasped his jaw, scowling at Aaron and silently thankful for the grossly incompetent mistake. In any other circumstance, Aaron would suffer the consequences for his oversight. It’s your lucky fucking day, asshole.

“That error just saved your fucking life.” Rogue slammed his hand on Trey’s desk and pointed to the monitor. “Let me fucking see it.”

Jared had already set it up to the specific time point and hit play. Rogue walked to the large screen hanging on the wall and folded his arms. Trey stood next to him in silence. It took a minute to see anything. Jared moved closer to the television, pointing to the corner edge. “See that? Right there? That’s the corner of the door, and she just opened it.”

Rogue kept his eyes locked on the bottom of the screen, waiting. As the seconds passed, he had yet to see her. That night, it had only taken a minute, maybe two, for security to realize she was gone. No one expected Glenn to go for his gun, which added another layer to the chaos. It gave Quinn the perfect time to run.

It was that moment that had plagued his mind the most in the last two days. She’d seemed so willing to accept her fate when she’d believed he’d kill her. But when given the opportunity to save herself, she did. Quinn was a walking contradiction, and while he wouldn’t admit it to anyone, Rogue was intrigued. It made his desire to find her border on obsession.

“Where the fuck is she?” Rogue was growing increasingly impatient. He dug his fingers into his biceps, squinting at Jared.

Jared looked back. “Give it a few more seconds.”

Rogue turned back to the monitor and waited again. Jared and another member of his team appeared on the screen. They were in full view, inspecting the immediate area.

Hold the fuck up.

“Where’d she fucking go?”

Trey looked over at him and cocked his brow. “She never left.”

What?

Jared pointed again to the bottom of the screen just as the video showed him and the other man walking back inside. “The door never closed until I shut it when I walked back in.”

Rogue’s mind was reeling. He cupped his mouth and turned to Jared. “So she gets to the door, opens it, and hides inside? That’s a fucking risk. You were all told to sweep the entire warehouse.”

“We did, but considering we all thought she’d run out the door and into the woods, it probably wasn’t inspected as thoroughly as it should’ve been.”

What the fuck? He shared a look with Trey. How was that possible? Obviously, it was. If he wasn’t so angry, Rogue might’ve been impressed.

“She was in there the whole fucking time?” Rogue growled with a sharp glare and eyed the screen. “Where?”

“My guess is the loft. Access to it is right at the back exit.”

Well, I’ll be fucking damned, Princess.

“There’s more.” Jared grabbed the remote and fast-forwarded it. “This is about seventeen hours after the footage of her opening the door.

It showed the back door and Quinn stepping out. No fucking way. Her movements were stiff, except for her head, which continued to whip side to side. She took off hobbling down the side of the building, and when the video screen switched, he and the others watched her cautiously make her way down the long, overgrown driveway.

Seventeen hours. Nine of which they’d had the building surrounded and men inside doing cleanup. It meant that she’d had to remain silent and as calm as possible. No wonder she was walking strangely. She’d probably been balled in a tight corner all those hours.

She’d pulled off the old bait and switch, and they’d fallen for it. This was no average criminal; she’d masterminded pulling the wool over the eyes of the Underground. I didn’t give you enough credit, Princess.

“Well, that’s fucking brilliant.” Rogue smirked, staring at the screen until she disappeared from view. “Our very own fucking Houdini.”

“Seventeen hours,” Trey muttered, sharing a look with Rogue. Without having to say another word, Trey was relaying his thoughts. Hiding out for that period of time would mean she was desperate and running scared. The likelihood of her reporting the event to the police was slim. In that case, she’d have to admit her own part in the transfer. By all accounts, she was fearful enough to assume she knew they were part of the Underground. Quinn wouldn’t be reporting anything to anyone. She was as good as gone.

“It’s over. Let her go,” Trey said.

Oh, fuck no.

Rogue scoffed. “Twenty-five grand to anyone who hands her over.”

Trey glared, clearly disapproving of his decision. “You’re putting a bounty on her head?”

“Fuck yeah, I am.” Rogue grabbed his drink and took a swig.

Rogue waved his hand, dismissing Jared and Aaron. He dug inside his pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it, taking a deep drag. He rolled over every detail of what he’d just watched. Seventeen hours. It was impressive. Most people didn’t have the patience or control to wait out the situation. But she had. Rogue cupped his mouth, dragging his hand over his chin. Quinn ran, hid, and kept herself safe only minutes after she was ready and willing to accept her fate when he had his gun aimed directly at her.

She was an anomaly.

“Reconsider the bounty.”

Rogue furrowed his brows. “Why the fuck would I do that?”

Trey squared his jaw. “She’s young, obviously na?ve to what she’s gotten herself involved in. You saw it, Rogue. I know you did. She doesn’t have the cash. She was more surprised than anyone else in the room.” Trey drove his hand over his hair and walked toward his desk. “Let it go.”

Rogue straightened and balled his fist. No fucking way.

“No!”

Trey glanced back and spread his arms. “We’ll get nothing from her. She has no idea where they stashed the money.” Trey narrowed his gaze. “And you know that. You want to find her to torment her? Why? This seems a bit over the top even for you.”

Why the fuck was Trey questioning him? They should’ve been on the same side with this. It almost felt like a challenge, and Rogue wasn’t willing to back down.

“I want that fucking girl. No one fucks with my money and walks away.” Rogue shot back the last of his whiskey, slamming his glass on the desk. He’d had enough of this bullshit. Trey usually did the legwork in situations such as this, but Rogue had all the same contacts. And he wasn’t letting it go. He was at the door and ready to leave when Trey caught his attention.

“Why her ?”

Rogue stilled. He could’ve given the obvious answer. The same one he’d been reciting for the last two days. She was part of a crew who had stolen from the Underground. From him. Even if she didn’t have any knowledge of what was going down, she was part of it. That’s what happened in their world. Innocent people were taken out simply by association.

But there was something else. Seventeen fucking hours, waiting in fear for the right opportunity to make a break for it. It was a bold and fearless move, though laced with desperation. Still, it took a certain level of courage to attempt an escape. And then the obvious. Quinn had done something not many could claim. She’d eluded the Underground—for now. Most might see those as admirable traits. Not Rogue. As with most things, he saw it as a direct challenge. Accepted, Princess.

Rogue walked out of Trey’s office and straight to the elevator with a small smile playing on his lips.

I’m coming for you.