Chapter Three

I’ve officially hit rock bottom.

Maybe not in the usual sense, but Quinn was at her lowest. That said a lot, considering how she grew up and how she’d spent the last five years of her life. The only saving grace, and one aspect of her past she appreciated at the moment, was escaping a dire situation. It also helped that there wasn’t anything remarkable about her. Not her appearance, her personality, or her talents. Well… Quinn was admittedly gifted in one line of work, but it wasn’t anything she’d brag about. Her gift always led to someone else’s downfall or demise. Death, on one particular occasion.

That was the last thing she should’ve been thinking about now. She needed to focus on survival mode and put her own guilt on the back burner.

“Shit, just stop, Quinn,” she muttered and scanned the residential street.

It was a decent neighborhood, but most people knew better than to travel the streets alone in the dark. The crime rate has risen over the years. It was on the outskirts of the city and close to the highway.

Most of the houses were in need of a makeover, but they all shared one similar characteristic. They were inconspicuous. It would be easy to confuse one with the other. It was an advantage and made a pretty good hideout for someone looking to not be found.

Quinn still wasn’t sure if they’d help her, but Gary and Jacki were her only option. She’d met them years ago through Clay. They were a bit older than her and small-time dealers, mostly weed and pills. They’d always been welcoming in the past and, right now, the only people she might be able to trust.

Dammit, I should’ve made more friends.

She’d been there a dozen times and always used the back door, as most guests did. Quinn kept her head down, crossed the street, and cautiously watched her speed. She couldn’t look like she was in a rush. That would be a red flag. She walked past their overgrown front lawn and down the long driveway leading to the yard and garage set behind the house. When she rounded the house, she rushed toward the rickety back steps and hovered close to the back door. Quinn angled her head, peeking through the small space between the curtain and the window trim. As far as she could tell, it was just Jacki and Gary.

She softly knocked on the back door. Even through the small gap in the window, neither of them moved from the couch until she knocked louder. She watched both Jacki and Gary look over to the back door and stiffen. He waved his hand, signaling to his girlfriend. If Quinn had to guess, he was telling her to stash the product.

Quinn sucked in a breath and straightened when she saw him adjust his piece under his waistband. That would be just her luck to escape the Underground to only be gunned down by a small-time dealer.

The curtain shifted a fraction of an inch, and she leaned closer, holding up her hands. Seconds later, the door ripped open, and Gary gripped the edge of her shirt, yanking her inside the kitchen with so much force she stumbled into the tattered kitchen table. Quinn spun around as Gary looked out the door on high alert, then slammed the it shut, adjusting the curtains for more coverage.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Q?”

Q. It had been her nickname since she was little. She hated it, but it gave anonymity in a world where everyone wanted to go unnoticed and fly under the radar.

“Quinn?”

She turned quickly as Jacki rushed into the kitchen, her eyes widening as she took in Quinn’s current state. A day of hiding in a dank warehouse made sweat and the faint scent of urine enough to turn anyone’s stomach. Add another day of hiding out near the tracks, under bridges, only added to the scent.

“They’re fucking looking for you. You know that, right?” Gary shouted, pacing around the small room.

Quinn had allowed herself a small ounce of na?veté. She thought maybe it was possible it was all in her head, and the Underground wouldn’t come looking for her. She was a nobody in their world. Quinn was hardly a threat, and it had been ingrained in her head since birth—never go to the police. But they don’t know that. It was the one shred of hope she refused to give up on in the last twenty-four hours. And now it was gone.

“Why the fuck would you come here?” Gary shouted and lunged forward, pinning her against the counter.

His anger was valid. It put them both in quite a predicament, but Quinn had no other choice. She didn’t have anyone else to turn to. She didn’t fully trust Dillon not to turn her in the second he got the chance. There was no loyalty on his end. Why would there be? In his eyes, she’d stolen from him.

Quinn held up her shaky hands, pleading. “I’m sorry, I had nowhere else to go.”

“Well, you can’t fucking stay here,” Gary snapped, dragging his hands over his head. “Fuck, Q. They’re looking for you, and I don’t need Rogue showing up at my fucking house.”

“I know, and again, I’m sorry.” She glanced over to Jacki, who was still focused on her appearance. I must be horrifying.

“What do you need, Quinn?” Jacki asked, stepping closer. She was much calmer than Gary, who rushed forward, grabbing his girlfriend’s arm.

“She needs to fucking leave!”

Jacki scowled and ripped her arm from his hold. “No one knows she’s here, and they won’t as long as we don’t say anything.” Jacki glanced over at Quinn. “What do you need?”

Quinn’s throat knotted, and her eyes welled slightly. Jacki was giving her a lifeline and a chance.

“A shower, change of clothes, something to eat, maybe, and can I stay one night? I have to sleep.”

Jacki’s face softened. “Okay.”

“And,” Quinn cleared her throat, eyeing Gary “just a little cash. I will pay you back, I promise. But I don’t have any access to my bank, and I’m afraid to go to my apartment.”

Quinn sensed Gary’s response before he opened his mouth. And she understood it. Quinn was putting them in a dangerous position. She could only imagine the retribution that could come from hiding her. She considered walking out the door and relieving them of the burden, but she was desperate. Being back in the city limits, the risk of being seen was greater. She just needed one night of rest, a shower, and a meal. The cash would help, but she wouldn’t push.

“Forget the cash. I just need a place to crash for a few hours, and then I’ll leave, I promise.”

Gary glared at Jacki, and they seemed to be having a silent conversation, with Quinn, no doubt, being the main topic. Gary subtly shook his head as Jacki slowly nodded.

“No,” Gary said under his breath.

Jacki inched closer to her boyfriend. “It’s one night. Let her get cleaned up. I’ll give her some clothes and feed her. A hundred bucks isn’t gonna put us in the poor house, Gar.”

Gary obviously disagreed.

“Do you have any fucking idea what they’ll do to us if they find out?”

“She won’t tell. She won’t out us,” Jacki said and turned to Quinn. “Right?”

Quinn immediately nodded. “I promise.”

Gary snorted, dragging his hand over his face. It was a risk they were taking, and in all honesty, they didn’t know Quinn all that well. But her promise was something she’d never go back on. If she did get caught, she would honor their kindness with her silence. This life was all about giving your word and staying true to it.

Gary hadn’t agreed, but Jacki wrapped her arm over Quinn’s shoulder, guiding her to the second floor and into a small bedroom. It didn’t have a bed, but there was a couch in the corner with a television and a gaming system.

“This is Gary’s son’s room for when he stays with us. I’ll get you some blankets.” Jacki eyed Quinn’s body. They were not the same size. Jacki had a curvy, voluptuous figure. The type that Quinn envied. If she had to guess, they were about two sizes off. “I have some leggings and a top. What size shoe are you?”

“Six and a half,” Quinn whispered.

“I’m size eight, but I’ll get you extra thick socks. Hopefully, that’ll help. Let me grab some stuff for you.” Jacki walked out, closing the door behind her.

Quinn eyed the couch, wanting nothing more than to sit down. But considering the condition of her filthy, soiled clothes, she remained standing. At least it was warm in the room, and she wasn’t exposed to the elements. The previous night had been bitterly cold, and without a jacket, her shivering made it impossible to fall asleep. It was probably for the best. Sleeping alone without any kind of protection under a bridge was dangerous.

Quinn felt her eyelids getting heavy and swayed to the side. The body was not meant to go without food or rest for forty-eight hours. She jerked her head when Jacki walked back into the room with a small stack of clothes, as promised.

“Towels are in the bottom left cabinet, and you can shower while I warm up some food.” Jacki’s voice was enough to wake her from a dead sleep. Her tone was still sweet but loud. It wasn’t necessarily shouting. But damn close.

“Is leftover chicken parm good for you?”

Quinn had to steel her response and resist the urge to groan in pure delight. Anything sounded good right now, but chicken parm was one of her favorites.

“Yes.”

“And then you can sleep. A good eight hours and you’ll be good as new.” Again with the shouting, but Quinn wouldn’t question Jacki. And being good as new was highly doubtful, but she was willing to give it a shot.

Jacki walked over to the door. Quinn thought she was leaving, but she slowly and carefully closed the door and turned back around. Jacki held her finger to her lips, tiptoed back across the room, and stopped inches away from Quinn.

“He’s gonna give you up,” Jacki whispered.

When Quinn opened her mouth, Jacki shook her head and pressed her finger to her lips again. Be quiet.

Oh shit.

Quinn leaned forward. “But he said…”

“Gary just made a call to his buddy. Wanted to find out how deep you were in. Marty told him they put a bounty on you. Twenty-five thousand to whoever finds you first.”

Quinn felt a cold rush through her body and the blood drain from her face. Twenty-five thousand dollars? For me?

“A bounty? That’s a real thing?”

Jacki sighed. “It is in the Underground.”

Quinn cupped her mouth. Oh God.

“Been with Gary a long time. I know how his brain works. He’s going to turn you in, collect the twenty-five grand, and sleep sound like a treacherous asshole.”

Quinn’s stomach dropped, and her hands shook.

“Look at me, Q,” Jacki said, and waited until Quinn met her gaze. “This is what we’re going to do. You’re going to take a shower, change into clean clothes, and come downstairs to eat. As soon as you’re done, you’re going to yawn, and I’m going to give you two pills to help you sleep. Do not swallow them, okay? Put them under your tongue, go upstairs, and spit them out.”

“Why?”

“Because Gary is a backstabbing cowardly snake who’s going to wait until he knows you’re passed out before he makes the call. So, don’t swallow them. I’ll have a backpack waiting in the closet for you. Some clothes, a little cash, and a burner phone. There’s also one between these clothes. Don’t give anyone your location.” Jacki paused. “And do not use your phone from here on out, okay?”

Quinn swallowed the knot in her throat and nodded. “Where do I go?”

Jacki furrowed her brows and cocked her head.

“I-I just don’t know where to go.”

“As far away from Lawry as you can get. Out of the state. Maybe a friend’s place?”

“I don’t…” Quinn clamped her lips. She refused to finish the sentence. It was too pitiful to admit she had no friends. “I’ve never been alone before.”

Jacki smiled, rubbing her hand over Quinn’s arm. “You’ll be fine.”

Will I? It didn’t matter. At this point, Quinn had no other choice. She literally had no one she could trust with the exception of Jacki. It was probably the first time someone in her life had done something for Quinn without wanting anything in return.

“I’ll pay you back.”

Jacki shook her head. “Pay me back by not getting caught, okay? Now, get your stuff. The bathroom is down the hall. I’ll get the plan in motion with Gary. Asshole will totally get off on it when he thinks I’m on board with turning you in.” Jacki’s lips twisted and puckered slightly.

When she got to the door, Quinn asked the inevitable question.

“Why do you stay with him?”

Jacki grasped the handle and stilled. “Because sometimes the enemy we know is safer than the one we don’t.”

Yeah. That theory could’ve summed up the reason she’d stayed with Clay for as long as she did.

Quinn nodded and glanced down at the floor, waiting for Jacki to leave. As soon as the door closed in place, Quinn gave in to everything she was feeling. The tears streamed down her cheeks, and she silently wept. It took a few minutes to gather herself. Quinn knew she didn’t have much time. While Jacki was giving her help, she’d be gone in a few hours with no plan or destination. She couldn’t do it alone. Quinn would have to take a chance and hope for the best.

Quinn immediately locked the door and rushed over to the couch with the pile of clothes. She ripped off the shirt, and just as Jacki said, there was a phone nestled between the leggings. She grabbed it, making the most crucial call, possibly of her life. Quinn ran her hand through her hair, pacing around the tiny room. By the third ring, the dread set in, and she waited for the voicemail.

“Who’s this?”

Quinn stopped and tightened her hold on the phone. “Dillon?”

There was a long stretch of silence. Thankfully, she could hear his heavy sigh on the other line. If Dillon wasn’t willing to help her, she’d be left with no other option but to run.

“What the fuck happened?”

She drew in a breath. “Did Rogue call you?”

“Trey fucking called. Who lifted the money?”

“I don’t know.”

“Quinn.” He growled, which only hiked her anxiety. If she knew the exact details, she’d give them all. Obviously, Clay and Glenn had turned on her, though she didn’t know why. She’d spent most of her time holed up in the warehouse asking herself that exact question. Quinn didn’t have the answer. Their relationship had been far from perfect, but she’d missed some significant signs, apparently.

Face. Clay’s voice with that one word played over and over in her mind.

She leaned against the wall, rubbing her eyes with a sinking feeling in her belly. How could she have been so blind? There was inexperience, and there was downright stupid. Quinn was feeling like the latter.

“I don’t know, Dillon. But I’m telling you the truth. I watched you count the money, and I drove straight to the warehouse. No stops, no detours.” She paused, gnawing at her fingernail, and whispered, “Just like you told me.”

“And you never left the bag?”

“No,” Quinn blurted.

“You carried it in? Had eyes on it the whole time?”

She clamped her lips and cocked her head. She hadn’t left the bag alone, but she did leave it with Clay. When they’d arrived, Clay ordered her inside quickly. She’d thought it was for her own safety. When she attempted to grab the blue bag, Clay ran interference and said he’d bring it in since it was heavy. Oh, the irony. I thought that was so sweet of him.

“Clay brought it in.”

“Goddammit, Quinn!”

“I know. I’m sorry. He just offered to take it, and I…” She paused, seeing her mistake as if it was blinking in neon lights. “I trusted him.” Hindsight was twenty-twenty.

“Motherfuckers. They set you up.”

That statement alone had her stomach twisting and her heart sinking to her belly.

Yeah, they did. And she never saw it coming. Quinn wasn’t the best at reading others, but she knew better than to trust most people. However, this was her boyfriend. They’d shared a home, a bed, and their lives together. In the end, she’d been so easy to discard. The thought was a familiar gut punch. This wasn’t the first time someone had turned on her. Not the second or the third. It certainly wouldn’t be the last unless she stopped the vicious cycle.

“I just don’t understand why,” she mumbled.

Dillon scoffed. “Are you fucking kidding me, Q? You know why. That job down south? You ain’t delivering.”

She straightened, furrowed her brows, and peered around the room. “What?”

She heard a heavy sigh from the other end of the phone. “Look, I’m not trying to be an asshole here, but open your fucking eyes, kid. You were a cash cow for Clay, and when that cash stopped coming in, you were no longer valuable to him.”

A cash cow? What was Dillon talking about? They had money. It wasn’t much, but it was enough. A tiny apartment in a less-than-desirable small town. But they had money to pay for food and other essentials. And as for that job? Quinn would’ve been starving before she fulfilled that specific request. Some jobs weren’t worth taking, no matter how much money was involved. At the end of the day, she had to be able to look at herself in the mirror and not hate the reflection looking back. She’d made that mistake once. Quinn refused to do it again.

“Dill…”

“Listen to me, you need to fucking focus, Q.”

Dillon was right. There was nothing she could do about the past. What’s done was done. Somewhere down the road, she’d have to reflect on what had happened. And how she had let it. But for now?

“They killed Clay and Glenn.” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m next, right? There’s some bounty? Twenty-five thousand dollars for me?”

The long stretch of silence told her everything she needed to know. There was a bounty. It was twenty-five grand. And Quinn was living on borrowed time. Her stomach churned as the panic set in.

“What did you expect? You ran.” Dillon muttered something she couldn’t make out. “You may as well have screamed out, ‘Catch me if you can!’ Christ! You’ve made this a game, Quinn. And Rogue doesn’t like to lose. In fact, he never fucking does.”

Her leg started to shake, and she gripped her thigh in a tight squeeze, willing herself to calm down.

“I didn’t mean to. I panicked.” She heard her own desperation in her tone. “He’s going to kill me, isn’t he?”

His silence spoke volumes.

“Ah, fuck,” he muttered, and there was a long pause. “Let me see what I can do. Where are you now?”

Quinn opened her mouth and stopped suddenly. Finally, a little self-preservation kicked in with the help of Jacki’s advice. Quinn had a decent relationship with Dillon, and he hadn’t turned on her. It wasn’t to say he wouldn’t if given the chance. The fewer details about her location, the safer she’d be for the time being.

“I’m safe, but I can’t stay here long.”

Dillon sighed. “Alright. Come by the house tonight. We’ll figure it out.”

Quinn had been with Dillon’s crew for five years, and she’d trusted him. But…things had changed. He was asking her to come to his home…alone. It was on a few acres in a heavily wooded, desolate area between Lawry and Grove Mill. It always gave her the creeps. Could this be yet another setup?

“Can I…”

“Ten o’clock.”

He hung up without another word.

Shit.

****

It was rare for Rogue to be at the Bowery any time before seven. Trey handled all the club business. Rogue just used it as a central location to conduct meetings. Being a club owner with a headquarters gave them the validity they needed as a legal entity. The Bowery wasn’t the only property they owned. They’d been smart when Oz took over for Sal and followed Trey’s business plan. Most of their investments didn’t bring in that much money. Certainly not enough to cover their lifestyles. But it was a believable front.

He was currently on his way out of town to scout out a location for a new business endeavor. Underground poker houses were a lucrative investment. However, with the Ghosttown East MC running them in their immediate area, Rogue had to get creative. It was risky opening in the northern section of the state with no big city for miles. But it was a secluded area, which would be a draw.

Rogue was thirty minutes out of the city when he got a call from Trey that would change his plans. He tapped the screen, answering.

“Yeah?”

“We found something you’ve been looking for. Jared and security are on their way now,” Trey said.

Rogue stilled, and then a small smile emerged. He’d known it wouldn’t take long before someone gave her up. In the world of the Underground, there wasn’t much loyalty at the bottom when the ones from the top made demands, especially when offering a large payout. Usually, Rogue wouldn’t bother with the money. Most people wanted to get into his good graces and would’ve given her up for that fame alone. The cash was an added incentive that most in their line of work couldn’t refuse. There was no place in their world for a bleeding heart or compassion. That’s not how the Underground was built and not how Rogue had survived the life.

“Be there in thirty.” Rogue ended the call and tapped his driver on the shoulder. “Turn around, head back to the club, and hurry the fuck up.”

Rogue glanced out the window, fisting the phone in his hand. Quinn had become an obsession, and he was finally going to get his hands on her. Running from him? Who the fuck did she think she was? Did she really think she could outsmart him? Rogue clenched his jaw. She was a nothing, a nobody, and obviously incapable of escaping him.

Still, she’d gotten farther than most. Without any major connections, it was impressive . And fucking stupid. She had no chance of evading the Underground. Or me, Princess. They had too many resources and allies. Quinn may have gotten away initially because they had underestimated her, but she wouldn’t get very far.

The drive took longer than expected due to traffic. It only amplified his anger. Rogue wasn’t known for his patience. By the time they pulled into the back lot of the Bowery, it was well after seven. He eyed the three SUVs lined up behind the club. They must have taken her down and brought her in. A bubbling anticipation rushed through his heated blood. I fucking got you. And this time, she wouldn’t get away again. Rogue would see to that personally.

He didn’t wait for his driver to open the door once the car was parked. He got out and stalked to the door, tapped in the code, and walked inside. The separate entrance was quicker to the offices upstairs. Rogue was mildly aware of his men keeping pace a few steps behind him, but he didn’t slow down.

He bypassed the security lining the hallway near Trey’s office and walked in. Trey and Jared were across the room with a familiar face. But not the one he was expecting. It slowed his pace as he eyed the man. An enemy of sorts working within the Underground.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Rogue snapped, glaring at Nash as he walked through the office.

Nash smirked. “It’s nice to see you too, Rogue.”

Rogue had a lot of enemies, and this man wasn’t one of them, technically. However, Nash held a higher position on the list of those Rogue loathed. Nash was his nemesis.

“Fuck off.”

His relationship with his brother Oz’s second in command hadn’t always been tumultuous. Nash started with the Underground years ago and worked his way up to being Oz’s confidante. They’d grown closer as the years went on, which didn’t sit well with Rogue. Nash had done his time like the rest of them. He’d earned his position, but not in the same sense as Trey and Rogue. There were three Kings in the Underground. And you’re not one of them, motherfucker.

Trey cleared his throat. “I called him in. Had Nash get a full background on Quinn. Wanted to know who she was, where she came from, and how she ended up in that warehouse. Information I thought you’d be interested in.” Trey arched his brow. “That is what you wanted, correct?”

Rogue stared back at Trey, clenching his jaw. It was exactly what Rogue had demanded. He wanted all the intel on her and not just the usual background, financials, and arrest records. Rogue wanted everything—professional, and much to Trey’s surprise, personal. I want fucking everything.

Rogue ignored the tense stares and looked around the room. He spread his arms out.

“Where the fuck is she?”

Trey tucked his hands in his pockets and approached him. This was never good. Rogue had seen this calculated, compliant move for years. It was used any time Trey wanted to calm him down. Fuck!

“You said they had her location, so where the fuck is she, Trey?”

“They did have it. Gary called it in. Said he knew her through Clay. Quinn showed up earlier and asked to stay for the night. He said it was clear she’d been on the run, and she was looking for somewhere to hide.” Trey sighed, grasping the back of his neck. “He reached out when she went upstairs to go to bed. Jared and the men got there about fifteen minutes later, but she was already gone.”

Rogue turned to Jared, who stepped forward. “Where the fuck did she go?”

“Interrogated Gary and roughed him up in front of his woman, but he couldn’t give us anything. Lowlife, small-time dealer who wanted the twenty-five thousand. My money is on him not knowing she would take off.” Jared shared a look with Trey. There was something else.

“What, Jay?” Rogue shouted.

Jared glanced over at him and sighed. “I don’t have any proof, but my guess is that Gary’s girlfriend, Jacki, tipped Quinn off that we were coming. She didn’t seem nearly as surprised as Gary when we went into the room and Quinn was gone. In fact, she seemed relieved.”

Rogue paced around the room. It seemed she had at least one connection. He felt the blood rush through his veins, and he balled his fists. “Then you go back and shove a gun down Gary’s throat until he gives you what I want. That fucking girl!”

“That won’t be necessary. You’ll have Quinn tonight at ten o’clock,” Trey said.

Rogue furrowed his brows. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Trey looked back at Jared, lifted his chin, and dismissed him. Trey waited until Jared left and closed the door behind them before turning to Rogue.

“Got some information from Dillon.” Trey walked toward his desk, and Rogue followed him, sitting across from him. He took the opportunity to sneer at Nash, who had remained in the room.

“Rogue,” Trey said, gaining his attention.

He needed to stay focused, which would’ve been easier if Nash had left. Rogue drew in a breath, ignored him, and got back on task.

Dillon. A small-time dealer usually wasn’t worth Rogue’s time. But this one? Rogue was completely invested. He’d done his own research behind the scenes, reaching out to his contacts. Dillon Davis. He was thirty-two, in the business for over a decade, working his way up… slowly . He hadn’t gained much traction until about three years ago when they’d started making deals. The transport was on the smaller side but consistent. Until now…there’d never been an issue.

“You think I’m gonna fucking trust anything that asshole tells us?”

“The information from Dillon came indirectly. I had Nash infiltrate his phones. We have every call, incoming and outgoing, since yesterday. There wasn’t anything of use until about six hours ago. Quinn made a call to Dillon, and he ordered her to his house at ten tonight.”

Rogue scoffed, dragging his hand over his mouth. This was good, though he didn’t want to come off eager. “What makes you think she’ll actually fucking show up?”

Nash moved closer to the desk and shrugged. “She trusts Dillon. Not enough to give her location, but I think she sees him as her only possible way of surviving at this point. An ally, and from what I’ve gathered, she doesn’t have many.”

It was decent intel, but Rogue wanted more, and he wasn’t above testing Oz’s second in command.

He squinted. “You got that from one fucking recording? You ain’t that good, Nash.”

Nash narrowed his gaze. “Actually, I am. And it wasn’t hard reading her tone, Rogue. She’s scared and looking for anyone to help her. This girl believes that when you find her, you will kill her.”

He balled his fists and squared his jaw, giving nothing away. Truthfully, Rogue hadn’t come to a decision yet. Or had he? He averted his gaze, refusing to look at Trey. His closest ally could always read his truth. Rogue steeled his features and glanced over at Nash.

“Good.” Rogue smirked, and Nash looked away.

Rogue hadn’t vocalized a final decision on Quinn’s fate, but he wasn’t about to let anyone dictate how he handled it.

Trey folded his arms. “Dillon also told her he’d reach out to us to try to work something out.”

Oh, hell, no. Rogue wasn’t making deals or bargaining for Quinn. I want her!

Rogue immediately shook his head. “Nothing to fucking work out. I want that girl. Not making any fucking deals.”

Trey held up his hand. “He never called me.”

“But he made another call,” Nash said, which piqued Rogue’s interest. He straightened in his chair.

“To who?” Rogue asked, shifting his gaze between Trey and Nash.

“Kahill.”

It took Rogue a few seconds to put a face with the name. Being in different states, there hadn’t been too much interaction between them unless someone was looking for a favor across state lines. The Underground rarely made deals or did favors unless it was lucrative. It usually fell on Oz to make those decisions and rule over those deals. Rogue and Trey were strictly in-state when it came to deals and bartering for the Underground.

“From down south?”

Nash cupped his jaw and nodded. “I find it interesting that Dillon, who’s on the lower end of the dealing spectrum, would have a connection so high up, especially out of state.”

It wasn’t unheard of, but it was rare. Still…

“What the fuck does this have to do with the girl?”

Trey clasped his hands, resting his elbows on the desk. “Because they were negotiating a price to offer for Quinn. They agreed on replacing the missing ten grand from the transfer and an additional twenty-five to cover the bounty.”

What the fuck?

“Thirty-five grand?” Rogue paused, taking it all in. “For a fucking runner?”

“Something tells us” —Trey gestured to Nash— “Quinn is a little more than a runner.”

More than a runner? She barely had a handle on a simple transaction, let alone doing anything more involved with the Underground. It was a miracle this girl had survived this long. While there were different levels of those involved with the Underground world, they all shared a common ruthless, dangerous, and cunning attitude. A kill or be killed mentality with a hint of every man for himself. Quinn didn’t have any of that. But she obviously played a role important enough to have a large backing. Something made her valuable. And I want to fucking know what it is. There was only one way and one source he’d get his information from.

Begrudgingly, Rogue turned to Nash. “Give me fucking everything.”

“Quinn O’Malley comes from a small town in Iowa. And when I say small, I mean a population of about seven hundred. It’s a rural area. She lived there all her life with her father and three older brothers.”

“No mother?”

Nash furrowed his brows, seemingly caught off guard by the question. Rogue knew he was digging deeper than usual or expected.

“Her mother left her father, and therefore Quinn and her brothers, when Quinn was three. As far as I could tell, Quinn never saw her again. She was raised solely by her dad. Probably would’ve been better off with her mother, but then again, maybe not...”

“Why the fuck not?”

Nash folded his arms. “Like I said, her mother left when Quinn was three, hooked up with a guy who’s now doing life for her murder.”

It was beyond fucked up.

Rogue ignored the report, steadfastly moving on. “What about the rest of them?”

“The whole family was well-known by the authorities.”

“Her too?” Rogue asked.

Nash shook his head. “No record on Quinn. Clean across the board. Same can’t be said for her family. Everything from domestic assault and harassment to public intoxication on both the father and the brothers. There’s a pending manslaughter charge on one of the brothers that seemed to have disappeared. Obviously, they’re connected in some capacity.”

“And nothing on Quinn?” Trey asked.

Nash drew in a breath, eyeing Rogue and Trey. He was stalling, which grated on Rogue’s last nerve.

“You gonna tell us, or should we fucking guess?”

Nash drew in a breath and turned to Trey, ignoring Rogue. “By all accounts, Quinn is clean, like I mentioned. But that’s not to say her name didn’t pop up in their records. Department of Children’s Services were called out to their place on several occasions, with Quinn being the main concern.”

“How many is several?” Trey asked what Rogue was thinking.

“Thirty-five.”

What the fuck? Rogue jumped up from his chair, glaring at Nash. “Thirty-five times? And they still fucking left her there?”

Nash spread out his arms. “According to the files, Quinn denied the abuse every time. They had no proof, Rogue. And it seemed the department was doing the minimum.” Nash narrowed his gaze. “We all know how that works.”

They did. Rogue, Trey, Oz, and even Nash had been products of a failed system. Rogue rarely thought much about his past before meeting Sal and entering the Underground. He’d blocked most of it out. It was insignificant to who he was now. But he remembered all those who’d turned a blind eye. For some, he’d gotten retribution years later.

Trey cleared his throat. “Anything else?”

“Something interesting that stood out. About a year after Quinn left town with her boyfriend—”

“Clay,” Rogue said, trying to piece the timeline.

Nash furrowed his brows. “No, some guy named Roy. As far as I can tell, they moved out to Lawry, separated not long after, and she hooked up with Clay.”

This was a whole new layer to the puzzle. Rogue lifted his chin, gesturing for Nash to continue.

“Her father’s string of meth lab operations was busted. That took down a lot of people, including her family. They’re all serving time now.”

He hadn’t seen that tidbit of information coming. But? Fucking rot, assholes.

“They sound like fucking degenerates anyway, so who the fuck cares?”

“I agree, but I found it interesting that they’d been doing the labs for years. Had all the local authorities taking a cut to look the other way. It was a pretty big operation but they never hit anyone’s radar until eight years ago. Six months after Quinn left home, an anonymous email was sent to the FBI exposing their whole operation.”

That little piece of information caught his attention.

“Anonymous?” Rogue snorted. “They can’t fucking track it? They’re the fucking Feds.”

“It doesn’t happen often, but in this case, they couldn’t trace it back to anyone. Like a phantom.”

“What the fuck does that have to do with her?”

Nash cocked his brow. The implication was not only ridiculous, it was comical.

Rogue snorted. “And you think it’s her?”

“I didn’t until I dug a little deeper. When she moved to the area at eighteen, Quinn got an entry-level job at the IT Corp on Mullins Drive. Worked there for about three years.”

This didn’t make sense.

Rogue held up his hand. “Three years in a fucking entry-level position, and you think she’s got the fucking brains to outsmart the FBI?” Rogue twisted his lips in a disgusted sneer. “How much does Oz pay you for being this fucking stupid?”

Nash narrowed his gaze. “Do you want to hear the rest?”

Hell yeah, he did. But coming from Nash?

“Not unless you got something worth listening to ’cause this bullshit is boring me.”

“Rogue,” Trey warned. “You’re the one who wanted this intel on Quinn. He’s giving it to you.”

And he had. But Rogue wouldn’t give Nash the satisfaction of thanking him for it. It’s his fucking job.

“Fine, hurry the fuck up.”

Nash cleared his throat. “After three years, she gave her notice and started working with Dillon’s crew.”

No shit! His patience with Nash was waning.

“Now, tell me something I don’t fucking know, Nash,” Rogue blurted, growing increasingly aggravated.

“I made a call to HR. Said I was doing a reference check.” Nash paused. “They remember her, Rogue.”

Rogue eyed both men. He knew of the IT company. It was a huge corporation that employed thousands. He was piecing it together. Quinn had left the company over five years ago and had only worked there for three. It was an entry-level position. She should’ve been just a number and someone they had to look up in their files. But if they remembered her, it must mean she had value to them.

“Tell me.”

“The woman I spoke to went on and on about Quinn the second I mentioned her name. Said she was hired on a temporary basis initially but made permanent after a month—something that’s extremely rare in the company. In those three years, she got five promotions. Another rarity. The lady at HR said Quinn was like nothing they’d ever seen. She could troubleshoot anything. When Quinn gave her notice, they offered her almost double her salary to stay. She declined.”

“Why?” Rogue asked.

“Said she was moving out of state.”

Rogue furrowed her brows. Clearly, she hadn’t left.

“Then she started working for Dillon around the same time she got together with Clay. He’d already been working with Dillon as a runner for a few months when he brought Quinn in. Checked around with a few associates. Not many knew Quinn, so she couldn’t have been doing too many runs. And the ones who did said she was quiet and seemed out of place during the few transfers she was seen on. Not someone who was seasoned, after doing it for years. Her being there for a transfer was uncommon. Dillon didn’t send her out on runs unless he needed another person to carry the cash. She was essentially back up.”

None of it made sense.

“Why the fuck would she leave a legit, decent-paying job to fucking run drugs and cash?”

Nash folded his arms. “Maybe ’cause she could make more money working for Dillon.”

Rogue scoffed. “You just fucking said it yourself, she didn’t get many jobs.”

“As a runner.”

Rogue balled his fists, shifting his gaze between Nash and Trey. “You think Dillon outsources her to Kahill?”

“Kahill isn’t known for his generosity, so if he’s willing to drop thirty-five grand on her, he’s gotta be getting something out of the deal. Kahill does run a prostitution ring. Could be that,” Nash said.

Rogue clenched his jaw but kept his composure. If it was prostitution, he doubted it was a willing endeavor.

Nash’s phone rang, and he checked the screen. His back straightened, and he glanced up. “Got to take this.” Nash started toward the door, and Rogue couldn’t help himself knowing who was summoning Nash.

“Trey, how come we don’t get our own bitch boy who jumps when we call?” Rogue smirked, not bothering to acknowledge Nash’s reaction. I don’t give a shit. When the door closed, he glanced over at Trey with a triumphant smile.

Trey narrowed his gaze. “Was that necessary?”

Oh, fuck yeah. Rogue took any and all opportunities to take a shot at Nash. It shouldn’t have come as a shock to Trey. He’d been doing it for years.

“Yeah, Trey, it was fucking necessary.” Rogue lifted his chin, now ready more than ever to get to Quinn. This was a game he had no intention of losing. “Ten o’clock? We get there at nine. And we’re not giving that motherfucker a courtesy call.”

Trey scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Where would the fun be in that? I know how much you enjoy surprising people.”

Rogue stood and straightened his jacket. “I get fucking hard scaring the fuck outta people like Dillon.”

Trey sighed. “I know. But I want to mention something else.”

Rogue dug into his pocket, pulled out a cigarette, and lit it as he turned to Trey. “What?”

“I had Jared secure her apartment in case she showed up. They flipped it. Had them take everything out and wipe it down, so there’s no tracing it back to either of them. They got rid of everything except a few things of hers. Clothes, and—” Trey sighed. “Aaron suggested they take her sketchbooks. She didn’t have any other personal items, so Jared allowed it.”

Twenty-six years old, and all she had to show for it were drawings and clothes. It was almost reminiscent of him leaving his last foster home with all his belongings fitting in a backpack.

“They did a sweep of the whole apartment and found about two grand in an envelope in a kitchen drawer. Other than that, there was nothing of value. As they were leaving, after removing the bed, Jared noticed a mismatched floorboard and figured he’d just look. There was a duffle bag filled with cash.”

It was almost too comical to be real. How many times was that same plot included in a mystery movie? Cliché was an understatement. Rogue shook his head and took a drag from his cigarette.

“A fucking rainy-day fund? How much?”

Trey cocked his brow. “Sixty-four thousand dollars.”

Rogue’s hand stilled, dusting ashes on the carpet.

What the fuck?

“There’s no fucking way he made that running cash and drugs.”

Trey settled in his seat. “Maybe he didn’t. Maybe she earned it.”

Who the fuck is this girl?