Chapter Six

Could this night get any worse?

With Quinn’s luck? Probably.

She pressed her hand to her belly and squeezed her eyes shut. Please, not again. She took deep breaths, trying to focus her mind on anything but her current situation. It hadn’t worked earlier, and it wasn’t working now. She blindly reached for the plastic bag, grabbed it, and keeled over. This was the worst part. She’d already completely emptied her stomach in the fifteen-minute car ride over. Twice. Unfortunately, for the first round, she hadn’t had anything to throw up in —except my lap .

Her eyes watered, her nose ran, and she was choking on her own bile. The smell of puke on her clothes had triggered it for the past half hour. Quinn had been sure once the car stopped moving and she felt the fresh air on her face, the vomiting and nausea would subside. That time was too brief. Once they’d arrived at the Bowery, she was quickly ushered inside through the back door and up the stairs.

Quinn was barely aware of her surroundings between the nausea, the throbbing headache, and the soreness of her body as a whole. But the change of scenery had been a mindfuck of sorts.

It was strange to be in the club, hear the music, smell the food, and not see another person other than security. Quinn had no bearing on where she was, but she was led down a long, wide hallway. There were a few doors on either side. Quinn was escorted into an office and ordered to sit down on the couch.

She peered down at the cream-colored leather sofa. Oh, hell no.

“I can stand.”

Doc narrowed his gaze with a direct order. “Sit. Down.”

Quinn shifted on her feet, looking at the couch once again. It looked soft, the type of expensive leather that was cushioned for coziness. It was almost calling to her. She would’ve given just about anything for any type of comfort. But not at this expense.

“Don’t make me tell you again.”

The warning was clear, but still, she hesitated, clasping her hands and twisting her fingers. When she heard his footsteps, she held up her hands.

“I’m dirty, bloody, and I puked on myself. Do you really think it’s wise for me to sit on a couch that looks like it costs more than my last car?”

Doc quickly glanced down at the furniture. She could almost see the resolve in his expression. He gets it. Doc turned, whispered something she couldn’t hear, and another man walked out the door. Quinn was waiting for a response or further instructions, but Doc remained silent, eyeing her. It was easy to read his repulsion. At one point, he turned his head and seemed to take a deep breath. She wasn’t offended. Quinn totally got it. Smelling herself only added to her own disgust. The scent of vomit was damn right putrid.

“This is all I could find.”

Quinn looked to the door and watched the man, a member of Rogue’s security, walk past Doc toward the couch. He placed a garbage basket on the coffee table and shook open a blanket, spreading it across the couch and gestured for her to sit. The blanket didn’t cover it all, so Quinn maneuvered to the center and sat.

Then they both walked out the door, closing it behind them.

At least she had the privacy to be a mess. It was another ten minutes of dry heaves before she could trust herself to put down the waste basket. She straightened her back and sat up, hoping the worst was finally behind her. Quinn licked her lips, wiped her mouth, and glanced around the room. The office was not what she’d expected for Rogue. Unlike the entry and hallway draped in dark grays and browns, this room was lighter. It was a windowless room, but with the cream-colored furniture and light painted walls, it seemed quiet, bright, and welcoming. The opposite of everything she was feeling at the moment.

Quinn was staring at the door when she noticed the handle turn. She had an immediate reaction. Her muscles tightened, and her heart started to erratically thump. She’d been so focused on her wounds and stomach that she hadn’t given much thought to the reason why she was here. A rookie mistake. Quinn should’ve spent her time alone coming up with a plan. Escape was out of the question. Aside from the obvious security, she had little faith she’d get very far with the gaping hole in the back of her head.

She held her breath as the door opened, and a man walked in. She recognized him from Dillon’s house, but he hadn’t said a word. And he wasn’t one of the guys who’d brought her here. He walked closer, holding two water bottles. Oh, please let them be for me. Rinsing her mouth might tamper down the nausea.

He placed one on the table and offered her the other.

“Thank you. Umm, I don’t know your name.”

“Aaron.”

Aaron. That was a good name.

She smiled and twisted off the cap, eager to drink. “Thanks, Aaron.”

He nodded, scanning her body. His nose twitched, and he cleared his throat as she chugged half the bottle. “Gonna give you some advice, okay?”

Quinn swallowed the water, capped her bottle, and nodded. “Okay.”

“Don’t say anything unless he asks you a question. And answer him honestly. You lie? He’ll know. You’re already in deep. Don’t dig yourself a bigger hole.”

The warning was clear. And she was thankful for it.

“Of course.” She scooted to the end of the couch, tightening her hold on the water bottle. “I just want to make everything right, and I’ll do—”

Aaron held up his hand. “I’m not the one who has to hear this.”

Quinn clamped her lips, gave a quick nod, and muttered, “Right.”

He started out of the room and glanced over his shoulder. Quinn thought he was going to say something, but instead, he walked out. A sinking feeling had her belly twisting in a knot and a heavy weight building inside of her. It was an odd sense of dread. It only magnified when she heard heavy steps from the hall closing in on the room.

Oh shit.

The door swung open, and she immediately jumped in her seat. Two men from security walked in, followed by her biggest nightmare come to life. Or was he? Rogue stalked through the room, and Quinn had to remind herself that he was virtually the enemy. Oh hell, why did she have such a draw to this man? Why couldn’t he be ugly and unappealing? It would’ve made things so much easier.

Quinn watched his every move. How could she not? The man was mesmerizing. Rogue’s dark, hardened glare was aimed directly at her. She gulped a breath and waited, feeling the blood rush through her veins. The anticipation of what was to come only lasted a few seconds before his lips twisted, and he paced around the room.

“What the fuck is that smell?”

Oh hell. This was a worst-case scenario.

Quinn slowly lifted her arm, raising her hand. His eyes immediately jerked to her.

“I’m sorry. I got sick in the car. And…” She glanced down at the waste basket.

“Jesus Christ, you’re a fucking mess.”

Yes, I am.

Heat shot up to her neck, shading over her cheeks. Rogue drove his hand through his hair, shook his head, and shot her a seething glare. There were no remnants of the softness she’d seen hours earlier at Dillon’s. This was the Rogue she’d heard about.

Shit!

“I’m sorry,” she muttered.

He halted and glanced down at her. Rogue rolled his neck and turned to Trey. “Doc back yet?”

“On his way.” Trey stepped further into the room, giving her a quick look. “It’s probably best she gets cleaned up before he” —Trey arched his brow at Rogue and smirked— “ fixes her.”

Fixes who? Process of elimination would mean Trey was talking about her. However, there was a small tease in his tone, and it was directed at Rogue. Was fix code for taking out, getting rid of… killing her? Was his offer to let her repay him off the table?

“Ummm…” Quinn had no plan on how she could convince him to spare her life, but she was desperate and willing to do whatever he asked. Before she could faithfully plead her case, he pointed to her.

“Get up,” Rogue snapped.

Quinn immediately stood, wobbling a bit but able to keep her balance. Adrenaline is my only friend right now.

“Let’s fucking go.” Rogue walked out the door, followed by Trey.

She darted her gaze between security, who remained in the room. Jared stepped closer and pointed to the door. There was no reasoning with anyone, as Aaron had pointed out. Falling in line was her only course of action. She walked out into the hall and was guided into an office two doors down. As soon as she stepped in, she froze, glancing around the room.

It slightly resembled the room she’d been in previously. Slightly. This office had far more decadence. Every aspect of the room, along with the décor, had been strategically constructed with a hint of gaudiness. It had a museum feel… don’t touch anything . She clasped her hands together, glancing around the room and taking it all in.

Trey pointed to the door in the corner. “There’s a shower in the bathroom. Get cleaned up. Don’t submerge or wash your hair. Just rinse it.”

Shower? Her eyes widened, and a slight panic set in. Was she really expected to strip down while these men were only a wall’s depth away?

“You want me to shower?” Her voice hitched as she scanned every man in the room.

Trey raised his brows and parted his lips, but the rumbling from across the room got her attention. Rogue stood behind his desk, his feral glare aimed at her.

“For someone who’s living on borrowed time, you got a lot to fucking say. What’s the fucking problem?” Rogue’s jaw squared. “You worried about getting naked while you got me, Trey, and my men in here?”

It was best to take Aaron’s advice. She slowly nodded.

Rogue snorted. “Have you fucking smelled yourself? Have you fucking looked in the mirror? You’re standing here covered in puke, dried blood, and decaying flesh, and God knows whatever the fuck you were rolling around in before that. I couldn’t get anyone to touch you if I fucking paid them.” His gaze darkened, scanning her body. “Not even on your best day. And you’re already into me for enough fucking money. I ain’t wasting anymore on you.”

Before she could stop herself, her lips tugged in a severe frown. His comment, though accurate, still cut deep. Not even on your best day ? It was harsh and cruel. And unnecessary, may I add. It wasn’t the first time she’d had her looks be the butt of a joke. And it won’t be the last . By most people’s standards, Quinn was average. Not beautiful, not stunning. Men didn’t stop in their tracks to look at her. This was nothing new to her. However, it being pointed out so blatantly had its effect. How could it not?

Rogue raised his brows. “Tell me I’m fucking wrong.”

Goddamn, you’re cruel. But honest. Rogue wouldn’t get an argument from her. Quinn drew in a breath, submitting to the truth.

“You’re not wrong,” she muttered, starting across the room and into the bathroom.

She closed the door and rested her forehead against the wood, staring down at the handle. As Rogue so eloquently pointed out, there really wasn’t a need for the lock. She locked it anyway and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath. Everything was so uncertain. By all accounts, it seemed her death wasn’t high on his list of priorities. Do killers make sure their victims are clean and their injuries tended to before their death? It was as if he went off script.

Quinn showered quickly. She followed Trey's instructions, which wasn’t too difficult. Once the water sprayed down on the back of her head, there was an immediate, unbearable sting. While her arms and face had been unpleasant, her wrists were downright torturous. She quickly washed up and toweled off. Without any other choice, she slipped on her old clothes. It almost defeated the purpose of showering. But she wasn’t about to walk out in just a towel. As Rogue made known, there wasn’t a sexual threat to her. Still, she had her dignity.

She drew in a breath and opened the door, slowly walking out. What the… It was empty with the door closed. She walked across the room and opened the door. There were two men on either side and Doc standing across the hall. He had a duffle bag next to him, leaning against the wall.

Jared cleared his throat, handing her a stack of clothes and a garbage bag on top of the pile. “This is all we’ve got.”

It was more than she expected.

Quinn took the clothes. “Thank you.”

“Put your old ones into the bag and bring it to me. Then Doc will clean up your injuries and get your head stitched up.”

Quinn nodded and looked over at Doc, who had a stone-cold look on his face. She bowed her head and walked into Rogue’s office, closing the door.

This was all too strange.

An absolute mindfuck.

****

Tonight had not gone as planned. Fuck!

“I’m meeting with Dante in an hour. He’s got a few location ideas for the poker houses. Will you be coming?” Trey asked.

While Trey handled all the logistics of the club and the details within the Underground, Rogue handled all the deals and new business prospects. The poker houses had been his brainchild.

“I didn’t know if your plans had changed, considering how the night took a turn.”

It was a cryptic statement, something Trey was known for. Unlike the others, Rogue read through it.

“What’s your plan, Rogue?” Trey paused. “With her ?”

Rogue took a drag from his cigarette, looking down at the club from the balcony. It was one of the very few legal ventures they’d established. It was a good line of defense when it came to looking legit on paper. They made money through the Bowery. A lot of it. But nothing in comparison to their illegal entities. Guns, weapons, drugs. They dabbled in underground betting operations, extortion, protection, and, on some occasions, murder-for-hire. The Underground Kings were not the good guys.

Not all of them. Trey was a different breed from Rogue.

“Rogue?”

“Told you earlier. I want to know what makes her so valuable to Kahill.”

“Is that the only purpose for her being here?”

“Trey, cut the bullshit and just fucking ask what you want to ask.”

Trey turned toward him, grasping the railing and lowering his voice. “I understand your curiosity about her involvement with Kahill. I have that same interest, too. But you’re taking her in as if to keep her. Why?”

There were a few reasons, one of which he refused to delve into with Trey. Rogue himself couldn’t make sense of his personal desire to keep her. He’d go with the obvious reasoning.

“’Cause if I don’t like what Kahill or she has to say, then he’s not getting her.”

Trey cocked his brow. “You’re serious about her working under us?”

“If she can serve a purpose, why the fuck not?”

“And what purpose would that be?”

Rogue took another look around the club, smirking. “Let’s find out.”

Rogue passed Trey, dropping his cigarette in the ashtray on the bar. Jared was waiting by the entrance to the hallway leading to the offices.

“Where is she?”

“I moved her to the office across from yours. Aaron is with her.”

“Did Doc…” Trey paused. “Fix her?”

Rogue sent Trey a seething glare. “Would you fucking stop with that already?”

“It was your phrase, not mine.” There was a playful gleam in Trey’s eyes.

Jared cleared his throat. “Doc tended to her injuries.”

“How bad was her head?” Rogue asked. It was a simple question. However, Jared seemed caught off guard and glanced over at Trey.

“Her fucking head, Jay?” Rogue snapped, and Jared gave a curt nod.

“Yes, sorry, sir. Doc said she needed four staples, and they’ll need to be removed in about ten days. Aside from the cuts, which he cleaned up, there were no serious injuries. He gave her aspirin for the pain.”

What the… Considering her wounds, that wouldn’t be effective with her level of discomfort.

“Aspirin? I know he’s got stronger shit.”

“He offered. Quinn declined.”

“Why?” Rogue asked.

Jared shared a look with Trey.

“Jay! Why?” Rogue snapped. What the hell was up with him?

“She said she didn’t want to take any drugs.”

Interesting.

Rogue lifted his chin to dismiss Jared and turned toward the corner of the hallway.

“What the fuck was that with Jay?”

The corner of Trey’s mouth curled. “You asked how bad her head wound was. That shows a sign of concern. Jared’s not accustomed to getting that from you. I have to admit, I find it very interesting, too.”

Rogue clenched his jaw, ignoring Trey's comments. He walked down the hallway, turned right at the end, and stalked into the office. She was sitting on the couch.

Quinn jerked her head, straightened her back, and widened her eyes when she met his stare. Fear. He could almost smell it in the room. He slowly walked in, keeping her locked in his gaze. While she had cleaned up, one side of her face was swollen, and all the scrapes and cuts were still visible. At least they had stopped bleeding.

There were a few ways to go into this interrogation. But for Rogue, he’d use his standard method.

“Let me ask you something. Did you really think you were gonna get away?”

Her throat bobbed, and she scooted to the edge of the couch. The move pulled at the collar of her shirt, making her black bra and cleavage prominent. He doubted she was doing it on purpose. She lacked any hint of smoothness and confidence.

“I called here earlier and left a message with, um…” She glanced up at the ceiling. “I think her name was Sloane. She said she’d get in touch with you and…”

“And you said you’d call back.” He dipped his brows. “You didn’t.”

“I was going to, but then Gavin pulled up and…”

“You must think you’re pretty fucking clever. Eluding me. That doesn’t make you smart. It makes you fucking stupid.” As soon as Rogue stalked closer, she shot up and tried to maneuver to the side. She had no way of knowing, but it amplified his animal instinct. He reached out and wrapped his hand over her throat, immobilizing her. It was easy enough as she froze as soon as he touched her.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Rogue growled, pushing her against the wall in the far corner of the room.

“I-I don’t…”

He tightened his hold on her neck. He was aware of his own strength and used only enough to get a reaction. As expected, Quinn instinctively grasped at his wrist. It was a move most people wouldn’t have attempted. Good girl, Princess. But she wouldn’t be rewarded for her self-preservation.

“Take your hands off me, or I will snap your fucking neck.”

She quickly dropped her arms to her sides. She gasped softly. He wasn’t holding her tight enough to restrict her airflow. This was all panic on her end.

“You’re gonna tell me everything I want to know.” He slid his hand up her neck, cupping her jaw and sliding his thumb over the curve of it. “And if you don’t, I’m going to kill you. Fair?”

“That’s…” Her voice was hoarse, and she cleared her throat. “That’s fair.”

Rogue dropped his hand to his side, deepening his scowl. She shrunk slightly, pressing her back against the wall.

“Sit the fuck down.”

Quinn slithered her way past him and flinched when her arm brushed against his.

“Sorry,” she muttered and rushed to the couch, tucking herself into the corner. Again, trying to create space. Rogue rounded the chairs and sat in the one directly across from her. There was about four feet of distance between them. He clasped his hands, settled in his chair, and glared at her. Silence was key to intimidation. Without words, the prey was left to wonder what would happen next.

The chair beside him shifted, but he refused to look away from her. He knew it was Trey. Quinn fidgeted with her hands and crossed and uncrossed her legs, showing her nerves were on high alert. If he had to guess, this woman didn’t have an unemotional expressionless bone in her body. Not that it mattered. Rogue would’ve seen through any type of mask.

Her gaze shifted between him and Trey, and she bit her bottom lip. She was void of any makeup, her hair still damp, and her clothes were too loose. The collar dipped down again, but this time, she clutched it with her fist.

She cleared her throat. “If I could just explain…”

“No,” Rogue snapped, and she immediately clamped her lips. “Why the fuck are you so valuable to Kahill?”

Her eyes widened, and he noticed the small shift in her body and her white-knuckled grip on the edge of her shirt.

“I’m not,” she whispered.

Quinn knew something, but she was staying tight-lipped. It was smart on her part to keep it close and not divulge too much. Loyalty. Rogue could respect it. But eventually, he’d break her down. Not yet, though.

“Twenty-five grand says you are. Kahill is offering to buy you from me. Why is that?”

Her gaze dropped to the table in front of her. Play hard to get, baby. I like that. For Rogue, it was all about the chase in his twisted mind.

“What do you do for him?” Trey asked.

She glanced at the ceiling, squinting. “Sometimes, I do runs…”

“Bullshit.” Rogue scoffed. “That fuck-up the other night would’ve never happened on one of his jobs, so let’s fucking try again. You whore for him?”

She blinked and scrunched her nose. “Do what for him?”

Fuck me. Rogue was losing his patience. “Sell pussy and ass.”

“Me?” She pointed her finger at her chest. “As in prostitution?”

Rogue squared his jaw and glared. Either she was fucking with him, or she was that clueless. Oddly, he couldn’t figure her out. He usually had a keen sense of people’s deception and could read through most lies. This time, he wavered. Quinn must have sensed his rising anger. She held up her hands. “I didn’t understand, but no, I’m not involved in prostitution.” She let out a soft chuckle. “I mean, you said it yourself, right. Not even on my best day. Nobody is going to pay to be with me.”

Rogue had said it, but she’d been covered in blood, dirt, and vomit at the time. She was taking it out of context.

“You want to quote me? Get it fucking right.”

She shrugged her shoulders to her ears. “That’s what you said.”

What the fuck? Now, she was doubling down? Rogue raised his brows. He wasn’t used to being challenged by anyone, and this wasn’t the first time with Quinn. She seemed to sense the tension and scooted to the edge of the couch.

“I’d really like to explain if I—”

“No,” Rogue snapped.

“Oh, okay, then,” she muttered.

Rogue watched her in silence. Quinn was looking everywhere in the room except at him. She may have shown a little gumption, but her fear and anxiety were creeping back in. Rogue was done with the game for the night.

“I’m gonna let you fucking live. But it’s gonna cost you. Kahill is offering twenty-five grand. I either get that money from him, or I get it from you.”

“Me,” she blurted. “I’ll pay it. What do I have to do?”

“Whatever the fuck I tell you.”

That would’ve been enough information for most people to accept, considering he was willing to spare her life.

She slowly nodded and licked her lips. “For how long?”

“For however long I fucking tell you. Sensing a pattern? I own you until your debt is paid.” Rogue straightened and narrowed his gaze. “You’ll also work off your room and board here. I don’t give free rides. You understand?”

Obviously, she didn’t. “Oh, I have an apartment.”

It wasn’t often anyone amused him, but he was thoroughly enjoying this. Quinn didn’t fully understand. I own you, Princess.

“Not anymore,” Rogue said. “You work for us, you live where we tell you.”

“If you’re concerned that I’ll run” —she gulped— “I promise I won’t.”

“Your promises don’t mean shit.” Rogue pushed up from his chair, looking down at her. It was an intimidating move, and he’d nailed it flawlessly. “You run, we’ll find you, just like tonight. Except next time, I’m not giving you a second chance. You wanna test that? Go ahead, and you’ll find yourself sharing the same fate as your boyfriend. Understand?”

Quinn slowly nodded, which only infuriated him. “If I gotta make you speak, you’re not gonna like my method.”

“Yes, sir. I completely understand.”

Yes, sir. Rogue liked that a little too much coming from her.

“Um, I have a question. My car?”

Rogue raised his brows. “What about it?”

“Well, it was gone when I left the warehouse. I assume you took it.”

They had, and as far as he knew, it was junked.

“Is there a fucking question in my future?”

“Oh, um, can I have it back, please?”

Please. Sir. Quinn was hitting all his triggers, sending his mind in a different direction than this conversation. It was time to head out and create some of his own space.

“No.” He walked out, not sparing her another glance. He was halfway down the hall when Trey sidled up next to him. Rogue glanced over at Jared as they passed.

“Get her shit moved to the tower. I want her on her own floor.”

“Yes, sir,” Jared said.

Rogue stopped at the end of the hall, pushing the elevator button.

“Isolation, huh?” Trey snorted. “Or maybe keeping the others away for a reason.”

Rogue sighed. “Almost thirty fucking years, and I still hate your cryptic bullshit.”

“You don’t want any of the men around her.”

Rogue clenched his teeth and turned to Trey. He could scare the hell out of most people with a simple look. Not Trey.

Trey lifted his brows with a small smile playing on his lips. “That comes off as a little possessive. Or protective. Not your usual MO when it comes to those who work for us, especially those who cross the Underground. Care to share motives?”

“No, I don’t fucking care to share , Trey. Now, if you’re done with your bullshit line of questioning, we got a meeting with Dante.”

Trey smirked with a slow nod just as the elevator door opened.

Fuck.