Chapter Eighteen
R ogue took an Uber back to his place to get his truck and hit the road to Redding from there. It was a few hours later that an incoming call came from Real.
“Real?”
“Hey, Rogue, it’s not Azrael up there, it’s more than likely Boston.”
Okay, that threw him for a loop.
Boston didn’t seem to be the type to run off after being encased in Dave’s safe house—which was actually Dave’s home, but the former Secretary of Defense was known for his charitability.
“What the hell is a sixteen-year-old doing running around,” Rogue muttered to Real.
Boston had briefly come through Solomon’s facility and then disappeared weeks later. He had always thought that Boston had escaped, but what he hadn’t known at the time and found out later was that Boston had been sold by Solomon to Tanis.
“Boston just turned seventeen!” Azrael’s shout came over the phone from somewhere near Real.
“Hush,” Real told Azrael.
“Well, seventeen makes all the difference,” Rogue growled with annoyance.
“I don’t know what is going through that boy’s head,” Real said.
“You’ve got to remember he was with Tanis for years,” Rogue reminded Real.
And Tanis had fucked Boston up really bad. If Rogue had known that Tanis was still alive and fucking boys, he would have crushed the fucker with his bare hands. But he’d been told by Solomon that Tanis was dead, so the fucker got away with sexually abusing boys for years.
“I need you to bring Boston home,” Real said, bringing him back from his dark thoughts.
“I will.”
“Thank you. I owe you.” Real ended the call.
And while Rogue wouldn’t wish this on Boston, he was glad that it hadn’t been Azrael up there. The thought of the shit storm that would have caused made him shudder. He wanted no part of whatever was going on between Real and Azrael. It was a known fact around their circle—nobody fucked with Azrael unless they wanted death.
As far as Rogue knew and from what Fisher had told him, Real felt responsible for Azrael. To Rogue, that was as good as putting in a claim on somebody. Once a person took responsibility for another, then that was that.
Rogue got off the freeway to get a fresh cup of coffee and gas at a chain station before he got back on the road.
It was eleven hours later when he made it to the town of Redding. He flipped on the windshield wipers to knock off the drizzle. The weather in March could get fucking cold so he had packed a set of warm clothing along with a heavy wool coat.
He picked up his phone and with a smirk, he reread the petulant message that Wrath sent a few hours ago.
Wrath: You should have woken me up.
Rogue: You needed sleep.
Wrath: So did you.
He couldn’t argue with the man’s reasoning. Before he once again tucked his phone away, he shot Jagger a message saying he’d arrived in Redding.
His phone buzzed in the next moment with a message along with the address where Boston was.
Jagger: You can stay in the house if you need to and the keys to the house and barn are on the right front tire of an old green Ford pickup. Nobody is in the house. The boy is holed up in the barn.
It was after dark when Rogue arrived at the property and he drove down the muddy dirt road around eight o’clock that evening. He killed the headlights and eased down the potholed dirt and gravel road at a snail’s pace, mostly because the mud became thick in some places.
He stopped about half a mile from the house where he found a carved out section in the muddy road and slowly pulled his truck into the tight space as far as possible. Only when he heard the tree branches scraping the side did he stop and kill the engine.
He also shot Jagger a text telling the guy that he had reached the property.
He deliberately stayed as far back as possible to scope out the place. For a split second, he thought about getting a room for the night and finding Boston in the morning, but figured the boy was probably scared out of his mind.
His phone buzzed with an incoming text from Wrath, and he couldn’t help but smile when the man’s name flashed on his locked screen. The text messages didn’t come at the same time every day, but they were always consistent.
He frowned at the message.
I found Rebel. I need to take care of some things here so I may not be at the ranch at the time we agreed, but I will be there.
What was keeping them apart this time? Perhaps it was fate interfering.
That didn’t surprise him…Wrath was a good man, while he was not. And fate was probably pissed.
Rogue knew that Wrath wanted him, that had been hard not to miss over the past several weeks, but Wrath wanted a relationship with him beyond hanging out and having sex.
And he couldn’t do it.
He wasn’t worth Wrath’s time. He was damaged goods, and the beautiful blond assassin could do so much better. Hell, he couldn’t even sleep comfortably and knew that kept Wrath from getting quality rest.
Perhaps he would let fate have its way.
Rogue didn’t respond to the text.
Easing open the door of his truck, Rogue closed it with a small snick and locked it. Thankfully, he’d disengaged the horn from beeping when he locked his vehicle. That sound was annoying as fuck and one of the first things he’d done after buying the used truck a few years ago.
Walking through the Northern California wilderness wasn’t all that tricky this time of year. With it being a couple of weeks into March, it was damp and the leaves soggy from the rain made his footsteps quiet.
He paused and listened for sounds that might be coming from the house.
Something felt off.
The first thing he did was trust his gut.
He wasn’t alone out here, but perhaps that was because he knew Boston was there.
Yet, he didn’t think it was Boston causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand.
Something didn’t feel right, and he wasn’t going to take any chances. He melted into the trees and waited.
After several minutes of nothing, he slowly moved through the dense forest. When he reached the edge of the trees nearest the house, he started working his way around the structure.
The brown wooden barn where Boston was supposed to be turned out to be located well behind the large home. Carefully, he edged through the darkness, staying in the trees until he could make out where the barn door was.
One thing was for sure, he wasn’t going to need that key. The door looked like it had been recently broken down and Rogue frowned.
He carefully made his way around to the side of the building and came up to the right of the crushed door.
With his SIG Sauer P365 held at the ready, he stepped inside. His eyes quickly adjusted to the deeper darkness.
Well, fuck.
The barn was empty.
Had Boston made it outside? Was that who had been in the trees watching him?
“Boston?” he hissed and waited. “Dave sent me.” He used the name he knew Boston would recognize. “Azrael is waiting at home.,” he added, just in case Boston didn’t like Dave.
Although, there wasn’t anyone Rogue knew that didn’t like the powerful yet soft-spoken former Secretary of Defense.
He tried something that he wasn’t sure was going to work.
“It’s me, Rogue.”
A noise from above sounded and he glanced up. He saw a figure dart along the rafters and leap nimbly across each one.
Rogue patiently waited. These young assassins could not be rushed. He had handled plenty of them before and knew Boston was as skittish as a wild cat.
“Rogue?” The boy’s voice trembled.
“Yeah, come on down,” he urged.
Boston dropped from the rafters and charged over, flinging his small body into his arms.
Rogue held the boy tightly, trying to offer comfort with the hug because he couldn’t get any words out of his suddenly tight throat.
Not all of Solomon’s boys hated him.
Ten minutes later, Rogue reached his truck with Boston in tow and tucked the boy inside. No way in hell were they staying on this property. There were too many unknown factors and the place gave Rogue the creeps.
Boston didn’t speak until they were on the road. And only then did the boy stop darting glances out the rear window.
“Where are we going?” Boston asked.
Rogue was on the fence about their destination. He needed to take Boston back to Dave’s place. That meant there was no way he could meet Wrath and Rebel in Nevada.
Maybe it was just as well.
About an hour later, Rogue pulled into a gas station located out of their way and gave Boston a credit card to go inside and get snacks while he filled up his tank. The boy jumped out and hurried across the deserted parking lot.
They weren’t out of the woods yet—this whole area up here was crowded with trees and off the beaten path and he wasn’t going to feel comfortable until he was back in Southern California and his own city.
Rogue popped the nozzle into the tank and sent Wrath a text.
Rogue: I don’t think I can make it to Nevada.
When his phone rang flashing Wrath’s name, he didn’t answer it.
Wrath: Great. Now you’re not taking my calls?
Rogue grimaced and squeezed the phone before shooting a text back.
Rogue: Talking isn’t going to fix shit.
Wrath: What shit? Us? Are you talking about us? Are you ending it with me?
He stared at the messages with his heart in his throat.
Was he? Ending things? Had they really even begun? Yeah, probably, but he was no good.
Boston walked back across the weed-covered parking lot with his arms full of snacks, and Rogue sighed and shot Wrath back a final text.
I need to rethink some things.