Chapter Seven

The previous night was a blur. She’d been escorted out of the club and taken to what she now knew as the Tower. That was where any information halted.

The apartment complex was a high-rise on the outskirts of the city. Quinn hadn’t spent much time in that section of town. It was more industrialized. Unassuming. Once they’d arrived, she’d expected to be taken straight to the apartment. She wasn’t. She’d waited in the hallway for over four hours, watching security come in and out of one of the apartments down at the end of the hall.

After the second hour, standing was no longer an option, and she sat with her back pressed against the wall. Exhaustion had gotten the best of her, and she’d passed out immediately once she’d gotten into the apartment. She could’ve slept for days. However, she was interrupted by pounding on the door just after three in the afternoon.

Aaron showed up, announcing that Rogue wanted her at the club. Thirty minutes to shower and get dressed. It was barely enough time, but she wouldn’t make any more mistakes when it came to Rogue’s demands. Unfortunately, she got a bit held up when she rummaged through her box for clean clothes. They’d been tossed without care, and she couldn’t find anything that wasn’t wrinkled. Quinn opted for a pair of worn-out jeans and a T-shirt. At least it was clean. Kind of.

When she emerged from her room thirty-five minutes later, she was met with a scowl from Aaron. She wasn’t sure if it was her tardiness or appearance that had garnered his disapproval.

“You got something to bring with you?”

Quinn peered around the room, confused. “Like what?”

“Something to pass the time. There’s no telling how long you’ll be there.”

Oh.

“If I could get my phone back. It was in my bag and…”

Aaron was shaking his head before she even finished. “Rogue’s not going to let you have a phone.”

Her brows shot up. “Ever?”

Aaron sighed, clearly losing his patience. “We moved over your sketchbooks, right? Go grab one of them.”

“Okay,” she muttered, walking back to her room. She’d been thankful they’d moved them from the apartment along with her clothes. However, she was still stuck on the idea of not having access to her phone.

The ride to the Bowery was only about twenty minutes. She expected Aaron to lead her through the back door, but they circled around to the front and walked in. The club wasn’t open for business this early, but she noticed a few people seated at some tables in the far left of the room. It was exactly where Aaron was leading her. He stopped and pointed to an empty table.

“Take a seat,” Aaron said. “Don’t talk to anyone.”

Quinn nodded, slyly glancing around the room. There were about ten others ranging in age from a few years younger than her to a few decades older. Quinn was one of three women but clearly the most underdressed. Even the men were dressed in business attire versus her uber casual. As she scanned the area, she noticed two women seated together staring at her. Quinn offered a jittery smile, which was not returned. They simply eyed her clothes, and one rolled her eyes. The other was no better with her catty snort.

Quinn glanced down at her sketchbook, sliding her finger to open to a fresh page. She reached inside her bag and felt around for a pencil. No luck.

Shit!

She stifled her groan and rested her elbow on the table and her cheek on her hand. Taking a nap probably wasn’t an option but she was exhausted. Just as her lids threatened to overtake her, she heard a faint tap on the wood. When she looked up, Aaron was walking away, but there was a pencil next to her sketchbook. She fought against a smile and quickly grabbed it.

In a world where other people rarely did anything kind, this was monumental in her life.

Quinn didn’t usually have muses, but when a woman walked across the room and rounded the bar, Quinn zoned in on her. She was beautiful, with her long dark hair flowing down her back. It was a relief to see someone dressed a bit more casually too. Though the woman’s jeans and top were definitely nicer than anything Quinn owned. When the mystery woman cocked her head, smiling at the bartender, Quinn grabbed her pencil and started to draw her eyes. Happiness was all in the eyes. Not everyone understood. A million people could have smiled without one being remotely happy. But the eyes don’t lie.

Quinn was discreet, using subtle glances so as not to bring attention to herself. When she heard her contagious laugh, Quinn had to fight against her own smile. There was something innocent and free about it. It made her envy rise, and she glanced over, watching the woman snap a towel at the other bartender and circle around. They were obviously friendly. She must have been staring too long because the woman stilled and looked up, locking eyes with Quinn. She smiled and gave a short wave. It was totally out of character, but on instinct, Quinn waved back. She quickly turned to the table and became engrossed in her drawing. So much so she hadn’t realized anyone had walked into the club.

Her table shifted, and she looked up to see Aaron scowling and lifting his chin toward the left. Shit! She wasn’t sure when they’d arrived, but Rogue, Trey, and their security team were centered in front of the tables and fifteen feet from her. She quickly closed her sketchbook and dropped her hands to her lap.

It became clear once Jared started reading off names and locations that everyone seated at the tables were runners for the Underground. She hadn’t been on many runs, but she knew the basics. Hopefully, this one would be more successful than her last. When Jared ended the instructions, it was obvious she’d been excluded from the list. She was so confused. She started to raise her hand but froze when Rogue stalked forward and closed in on her table.

The knot in her throat tightened as he grabbed the edge of her table and leaned forward.

“Don’t ever walk into my club looking like you ate your last meal out of a fucking dumpster.”

Words were a weapon, and Rogue had just stabbed her through the heart. There was no recovery. Her jaw dropped, and all the fear and dread weighed heavy on her. She was drowning under his harsh glare.

The feminine snorts and muffled giggles should have been a perfect distraction and taken the focus off of her. It had the opposite effect and only magnified her embarrassment. As much as she tried to hide it, her body had a mind of its own. The heat rose from her chest to her neck, and suddenly, her face felt as though it was on fire. Being the center of attention was never her comfortable space, but in this scenario, it was painfully humiliating.

She glanced up, fighting against her tears, “I’m sorry.” Her voice cracked, making it all the more torturous. Quinn tugged at the edge of her T-shirt and whispered, “It was all I had.”

Rogue leaned closer, and while she should’ve looked away, she couldn’t.

“This is the best you could fucking do?”

Unfortunately, yes.

“It really is.” She glanced over her shoulder, taking note of what the other women were wearing. She swallowed the lump in her throat and faced Rogue. “I don’t have clothes like them. This really is the nicest thing I own, so…” her voice trailed off, and she sucked in a breath.

His gaze darkened, but for a brief second, she saw a strange softening of his gaze. The lines between his brows eased slightly. He slowly straightened, keeping his eyes on her.

It was silent. Eerily quiet as he moved across the room. Quinn found herself staring at him, memorizing his movements. Solid, stoic, and confident. He owned the room and everyone in it. Including me. She assumed he was heading upstairs, but he moved in front of the last table. It was occupied by the two women who had taken great amusement and pleasure in her scolding. The corner of his mouth curled, obviously appreciating their appearance. How could he not? They were beautiful, dressed in stylish, form-fitting, and obviously high-end clothes. Everything about them was perfectly manicured, from their hair to their nails. Both women straightened in their seats, jutting out their chests and smiling.

I get it.

For all the fear she felt in the presence of this man, there was no denying a primal attraction. She’d felt it on the first night she’d seen him. It wasn’t anything more than a physical appreciation. Or maybe infatuation.

Rogue folded his arms. “Something fucking funny?”

Both women stilled, glanced at each other, but remained silent. Rogue squinted, taking a long perusal of their bodies, and his gaze narrowed. “Tits and ass on full fucking display. And still, neither of you would make it into my bed before her .”

Quinn sucked in a breath. Me? It was rare that anyone ever took a stand for her. She couldn’t help but enjoy it. Quinn glanced over at the two women with the blush running over their faces. Clearly, they were embarrassed, just like she’d been a few minutes earlier. Quinn couldn’t muster up any empathy, and a bubbling giggle released before she could control herself.

The quiet room was now drowned in silence, with everyone looking at her, including Rogue, who slowly glanced over with a hardened glare. Shit!

“Sorry,” she muttered and shrugged. Then she mouthed, “But thank you.”

Quinn should’ve taken Aaron’s advice from yesterday and kept her mouth shut.

Rogue turned without another word and walked up the stairs with Trey, followed by their security. Quinn kept her eyes on him, and once he stepped on the landing, he glanced down, zoning in directly on her. His dark eyes pierced through her soul. It only lasted a few seconds, but it was enough to amp up her heart and send a tremble across her flesh.

Quinn.

She squinted, hearing her name in the background. Was her mind playing tricks on her? She was stuck in a daze, watching Rogue disappear onto the balcony. His words played over in her head. Neither of you would make it into my bed before her.

“Quinn.” She felt a hand brush over her shoulder, and she flinched, backing into her chair, the legs screeching against the floor.

Aaron held up his hands. “Called you twice.”

She licked her lips and nodded. “I’m sorry.’

He jerked his head toward the stairs. “Rogue and Trey want to see you upstairs.”

“Okay,” she said, grabbing her book and following Aaron.

****

Rogue stalked to his office, not acknowledging any of the security. He threw his door open and headed straight to the bar in the corner of his office.

“Aaron is bringing Quinn up now,” Trey said.

Rogue threw back the shot of whiskey and poured himself another. He wiped his mouth and spun around, pointing to the wall.

“What the fuck was that? Sorry, but fucking thank you?” Rogue scoffed. “Where the fuck is her head?”

Trey’s lips twitched, which only angered Rogue more.

“What?” he snapped.

“You embarrassed her, and others in the room laughed —at her. And you didn’t like that. You made quite the statement, Rogue.” Trey arched his brow. “Taking Quinn to your bed before all the others? That’s what most people consider standing up for someone else. Quinn appreciated it. My guess is that doesn’t happen often.”

Before he had a chance to respond, he heard a knock on the door. Trey walked over, opened it, and gestured for her to walk in. Rogue took the other shot of whiskey with his eyes trained on her as she cautiously walked inside and peered around his office.

Rogue pointed to the couch in the corner of the room. “Sit.”

Quinn swiftly walked to the couch, sat closest to the corner, dropped her sketch pad to her lap, and clasped her hands. Waiting.

“Gonna make one thing fucking clear,” Rogue said. “I don’t do favors. For anyone. And if I did? It wouldn’t be for you.”

Quinn sunk a little deeper and nodded nervously. Rogue walked across the room, eyeing Trey and arching his brow. How’s that for a fucking statement, Trey?

Trey ignored him and moved closer to the couch a few feet away from her. “You worked for the IT company downtown?”

Quinn nodded and peeked over at him. Rogue immediately hardened his gaze as he took a seat across from her. Her eyes widened, and she blurted, “Yes.”

Good girl.

“You study that in school?”

Rogue watched her look over at Trey, piecing it all together. She had to know they’d look into her, but until now, she might not have given much thought to it.

“Uh, no. I’ve just always been pretty good with computers.”

Bullshit!

“No,” Rogue snapped and scowled. “People aren’t just good at computers. That’s shit you learn. Gotta spend a lot of fucking time doing it to be any good.”

She cleared her throat, darting her gaze between him and Trey. He expected her to be nervous, but this was something a little more.

“I’m not really that good.”

She was trying to cover her tracks. It was a feeble attempt.

“No. I’ll tell you what you’re not good at.” Rogue waved his finger in a circular motion aimed at her. “This thing you’re doing. Lying isn’t where you fucking shine, Princess. So stop fucking trying.”

Trey stepped forward. “We’re aware of the work you did for Dillon.”

Quinn clamped her lips and shifted her gaze to him then immediately looked away.

“Must get a lot of green for that.” Rogue said.

“I guess.”

“How much?”

Quinn shrugged. “I’m not exactly sure. A couple hundred, maybe?”

She could have been trying to downplay it. At this point, she didn’t know they were in possession of the money. However, she wasn’t showing any signs of deception.

“Clay handled the money.”

“Why the fuck was he holding all the cash?”

Quinn gave a small shrug. “It was easier to keep track of it.”

Trey scoffed. “Is that what he told you?”

Her cheeks pinkened. “Yes.”

“We recovered the money from your apartment.”

Quinn’s back shot up. “Can you take that and put it toward what I owe you?”

They’d recovered enough to pay her debt almost twice over. It was clear she had no idea how much money Clay had been withholding. And Rogue wouldn’t be telling her. He’d give her the money back, as it was rightfully hers. But not yet.

“How much do you think was there?” Trey asked.

“Two thousand last time I looked.” Her face paled. “Was there less?”

Trey shared a look with him before turning back to Quinn.

“It was two grand.”

There was no missing the relief on her face.

“Let me ask you something? How the fuck do you not know how much you make?” It was a genuine question, and Rogue wanted the answer. He’d always been on top of his money, even when he worked small jobs as he worked his way up the ranks.

“Clay was always in charge of making the deals.”

Rogue laughed. “And you did all the fucking work? That’s a sweet fucking deal. For him.”

“I didn’t…” She sighed and slightly shook her head.

“You didn’t what?” Rogue asked. He was intrigued.

She peeked up and shrugged. “I didn’t think he’d turn on me.”

Rogue smirked, arching his brow. “Maybe it’s karma. Eye for an eye. You ever turn on anyone?”

She stared back at him, shrinking slightly. She may have known what he was referring to, or maybe not. Rogue still wasn’t convinced she’d turned her family in, but it had been in the back of his mind.

“No.”

“You sure about that?”

She didn’t answer, and Rogue did something he rarely allowed. He gave her a pass.

“As I said last night, we fucking own you.”

“Until I pay off my debt?” Quinn asked.

Rogue clasped his hands, and smirked. “Until I’m done with you. And for tonight, that’s now, so get out of my office.”

Quinn stood, shaky on her feet, and tucked her sketchbook under her arm. As she passed him, he reached out, grabbing it from her hold. He hadn’t given her enough credit for her possessiveness over her art. Quinn spun so quickly and lunged across the table. She gripped the edge of the book and tugged, but clearly, she was no match for him. Rogue grasped her wrist in an unbreakable hold.

“Let it fucking go!” He growled, and she immediately opened her hand.

Rogue released her wrist and settled in his seat, flipping open the book. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but certainly not a drawing of Dahlia. His protective nature went on high alert.

“Why the fuck are you drawing her?” Rogue snapped, and she stepped back, bumping her legs on the couch.

Trey glanced down, and then his gaze shifted to Quinn. His intense stare probably rivaled Rogue’s. If this woman was smart, she’d start speaking fast.

“How do you know her?” Trey asked. His tone was even enough to mask his tension, but Rogue read through it.

“I don’t.”

“If you don’t know her, then why the fuck are you drawing her?” Rogue asked.

“I-I just…”

“You just fucking what?” Rogue shouted.

“I thought she was beautiful, and she had a friendly smile. I don’t know, I j-just…” She cleared her throat and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Rogue ripped the page from the book and handed it to Trey. He reached into his pocket, pulled out his wallet, and tossed a few hundred dollar bills on the table.

“Does that cover it?” Trey asked.

Three hundred dollars for a drawing of Dahlia. It was generous, and from the shock on Quinn’s face, she hadn’t seen that kind of money from her drawings ever. However, she didn’t make a move to take it.

“You want more?” Rogue’s sarcastic tone seemed to snap her out of her daze.

“No, of course not, but…” She glanced up at Trey. “You can just have it. You don’t have to pay me.”

What the fuck? Rogue cocked his head. “You owe us money, and you’re giving shit away for free? What the fuck is wrong with you?”

She pointed to the paper in Trey’s hands. “But it’s not that good.”

“If he’s willing to pay for it, then it fucking must be.”

Quinn widened her eyes, bit her lip, and looked at Trey. “You think it’s good?”

“Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, take the goddamn money!” Rogue shook his head, eyeing her.

“Shouldn’t you put it toward what I owe you?”

“I’d rather you buy some decent fucking clothes so I don’t have to look at you in your shit wardrobe.”

Quinn glanced down at her body, and her hair swept over her shoulder. It only concealed a fraction of the blush on her cheeks. She slowly reached out, taking the cash. Her movement was cautious, as if she was expecting it to be a trap. It wasn’t. Unlike Clay, he wouldn’t take what she’d earned.

“I’ll be back,” Trey said with a hint of amusement in his tone. Rogue waited until the door locked in place, then turned his attention to Quinn. She was clearly in a state of confusion, shifting her gaze between him and the door.

“Sit the fuck down.”

When she went back to the couch, he reached out, grabbed her wrist, and pointed to the table in front of him. She slowly lowered down, careful not to let her knees touch his. They were only two feet apart, and Rogue tightened the gap by sitting up. He scanned her face with a hard glare.

“Remember what I said. I fucking own you now.”

She slowly nodded. “Yes.”

“That means I can do whatever the fuck I want with you.”

Her throat bobbed, and her gaze flickered to his mouth.

“What do you want to do?” There was a slight tremble in her tone, but no mistaking the curiosity. Or the interest.

Rogue arched his brow, lowering his gaze across her chest. He was sending her a direct message that should’ve sent her into spiraling panic and fear. He wouldn’t act on it, but she didn’t know that, nor did he want her to think it. He tightened his jaw, controlling his own desire ripping through his veins. This thing he was feeling went beyond the usual sexual tension. He wanted to own every inch of her. Strip her down, make her beg, make her moan, and scream out his name until she came so hard she fucking passed out from exhaustion.

“What do you think I want?”

Her chest pinkened, and it extended up to her cheeks. She looked as if they’d been blasted by fire.

“Okay.” Her breath was heavy, as if she was panting.

Rogue’s chest rumbled. “I’m not asking for your fucking permission.”

She white-knuckled her fists on her lap and locked her knees. Rogue leaned in an inch closer, angled his head, and watched her gaze heat. He’d had plenty of women. In fact, most gave in to everything he wanted. A literal snap of the fingers and they were on their knees, or naked and spread for him, eager to please. There was something different about Quinn, something more self-serving. From the heat and desire in her eyes, she wasn’t looking to please him. Quinn was looking to please herself. And I fucking like that.

He heard the door open, knowing it could only be one person, but Trey didn’t say a word. Her stare never left his, even when it was obvious they were no longer alone.

“Aaron’s going to take you back to the apartment.”

Quinn slowly nodded, stood, and took two steps. Rogue grabbed her arm, and she froze but kept her eyes on the floor. Even when he tightened his hold, she refused to look at him or make a sound. But she still had the warm blush covering her cheeks. He grabbed the book, forcing it into her hand, and she clutched it tightly. When he released her hand, he heard her faint whisper, “Thank you.”

Rogue smirked and watched as she disappeared through the door until Trey closed it behind her.

“I think we should cut her loose.” Trey flattened his lips.

No fucking way is she going anywhere.

Rogue scoffed. “You got Dahlia now, and you gonna try to save every fucking woman?”

Trey narrowed his eyes. “She’s probably spent her entire life being used by others. Used, and mostly likely abused, and we’re gonna profit off that? We don’t need her, Rogue. We got the cash from Dillon. She doesn’t owe us anything.”

Everything Trey was saying was probably accurate. From everything he’d learned about Quinn and her demeanor and response to most situations, she hadn’t lived an easy life. Big fucking deal. Neither did I.

“Told you I’d find a use for her, and I will.”

“You know as well as I do that she’s not built for this life. She’s got sixty grand coming to her. Plenty to get her out of state and start new.”

“Her ass isn’t going anywhere until I find out why Kahill wants her so bad.”

Trey sighed, gripping his hips. “Fine. I’ll reach out to him and set up a meeting. He’s already called twice.”

“No.”

“Jesus Christ, Rogue. Why do you want her? So you can break her? You won’t. Not someone like her who’s been used so many times she can’t recognize that it’s happening. You saw her, Rogue. She’s probably been beat down and screwed over her entire life.”

“I don’t give a fuck about…”

“I know, Rogue. You and everyone else.” Trey paused, cupping his mouth and shaking his head. “I rarely give a second thought to anyone who works under us, but this doesn’t sit right with me.”

Rogue sighed. “Get over it.”

There was a long stretch of silence.

“Thirty-five times, Rogue.”

Rogue felt his muscles tighten and his blood heating in his veins. Thirty-five times. It was a reminder of her childhood.

“She’s mine, and I want her!” Rogue snapped.

“Yours? She’s not a goddamn possession.”

Rogue ground his teeth, clenching his jaw. “No, but she is my fucking property. And until I decide, she’s not going anywhere. You got a problem with that, Trey” —Rogue stood— “it’s your fucking problem.”

Trey stilled for a brief second before the corner of his mouth curled. “Then, I guess there’s nothing left to say.”

No, there wasn’t.