Chapter Twenty-Two
B eneath the pouring rain, Rogue walked silently through the damp underbrush and trees.
Locating Boston before Smalls and his hoard did was his goal. He suspected they had put a tracker on the boy.
Or they had been watching when he arrived at the property and put a locator on his truck. There might be another reason, but at this point, it didn’t matter.
Smalls had tracked Boston and now it was a race to see who got to the boy first.
He heard them laughing in victory and some of them whooped loudly once they discovered they were on foot—as if being so meant they were easy prey.
Him being on foot wouldn’t matter. He’d take them out one at a time. There was nothing but death waiting for them here.
Rogue picked up the trail behind two of the men looking at their phones and moving through the woods in a straight direction. Both men carried guns, one a pistol, the other a shotgun.
He needed that phone. Tucking away his weapon, he pulled out his twin carving knives and silently moved up behind them.
His first strike sliced open one man’s neck. The fucker dropped, clutching his throat. Rogue ducked low when the other one swung around, gun raised. Rogue reared up out of the darkness and stuck the end of his blade in the man’s temple. The gun dropped to the ground and Rogue withdrew his knife. The man toppled to the ground.
Rogue snagged the phone, held it to the dead man’s face, and stared at the open map with the flashing red light.
In seconds, he was on the move.
Two down, seven to go. Having killed some of them, he would need to kill them all. It was at times like this that he wished he did work for Erebus. After eliminating this gang, he could make a phone call and have Savage send in cleaners to make everything disappear.
Fuck it. He’d leave the bodies to rot.
Maybe not. Maybe Wrath could call the cleaners for him.
That was if …he called Wrath.
“Leave me alone!”
Boston’s shout came from a short distance away and Rogue changed his plan. There was no sense in rushing in there and getting them both dead.
It was only when the sound of vehicles starting up had him racing toward the clearing.
Fuck!
The assholes had vehicles parked in the woods not far from the diner.
He studied the heavily mudded tire tracks leading farther into the woods and ran back for his truck.
He found the vehicles empty at the end of the muddy tracks with footsteps leading further into the woods.
Stupid fuckers.
Now all he needed to do was wait for the right moment to take them out.
One or two at a time.
Right now, he needed to stay hidden, and he reversed his truck and parked it a quarter mile away to backtrack on foot and pick up the trail.
He found the homestead that consisted of a house, an outbuilding, and something resembling a barn. Hunkering down, he waited patiently and double-checked the cell phone signal that was telling him Boston’s whereabouts.
A nearby sound reached him, and Rogue clicked the light off the phone. He stilled, melting back into the trees, staying in the dark.
When the man stepped closer, Rogue realized the guy hadn’t been with the gang. One reason was that the guy moved too slowly and carefully, like a trained killer. But also, the guy was dressed in all black.
“Freeze, fucker,” Rogue hissed when the guy stepped parallel to him.
The man’s arms came up away from his sides slowly. In the dusk, Rogue spotted the gun that now dangled from one finger, and he reached to snatch it.
The man swung around on him and Rogue ducked. When the guy’s feet kicked out, Rogue was already on the move. The man was fast, but Rogue had a gun.
Snick.
Snick.
The bullets from his silencer sank into a tree, narrowly missing the assailant.
“Are you Rogue?” the man hissed and dodged again.
Rogue paused, chest heaving.
“Who are you?” he snarled, aiming the weapon up at the guy’s head.
“I’m Crow. I got a phone call from Real.”
“How did you find me?” He squinted, squeezing his hand around the gun.
“I was already tracking Boston before the gang started tracking him and I followed you here.”
Rogue kept his voice real low and so did Crow.
Since Jagger worked for Real and Crow worked with Real, Rogue felt safe enough to lower his gun from out of the guy’s face.
Rather than continue talking with Crow, Rogue moved slowly through the woods toward where the red dot was glowing.
“There’s a homestead about a quarter of a mile out where they have Boston,” Rogue told Crow.
The assassin followed behind him. Silently, they moved through the trees until they reached the end of the woods where the break panned out in front of the house.
As if in silent consensus, he and Crow squatted down and watched as the scene unfolded. Smalls had Boston tied up and sitting on the front porch. Someone had built a fire, the glow shone clearly through the window.
The heavy rain tapered off to a drizzle.
In another minute, Smalls came out of the house shoving a woman and man down off the porch. From here, Rogue could hear the couple begging for their lives.
Smalls shot them both in the head.
The sound of the echoing gunshots faded, and a heavy silence settled.
Crow made a sound in the back of his throat and Rogue knew the guy was bothered by Smalls killing innocent people.
Rogue couldn’t muster up any feelings one way or the other. He’d seen enough innocent people die that two more were not going to make a bit of fucking difference.
His feelings on things like that had long ago ceased to matter.
One thing, though, the gunshots were a clear sign to the area that someone was out there firing a weapon.
Smalls had just signaled his own whereabouts.
Stupid fucker.
Maybe Smalls didn’t care? Rogue didn’t give a shit—it would be the last bad decision the man ever made.
“I believe that Boston knows the location of someone I’m searching for,” Crow whispered out of the blue.
Rogue didn’t want to know, nor did he care who Crow was searching for.
“If you were already tracking Boston, then why did Jagger call me?” he asked, not able to keep the annoyance out of his harsh whisper
Rogue checked the clip on his silencer. He’d fired two rounds but had an extra clip in his coat if he needed more.
Crow’s soft sigh was filled with resignation and the man gave a slight grunt. “Because Jagger got his wires crossed. Quick told Jagger to avoid contacting Real.”
“Sounds like Genesis doesn’t communicate very well,” Rogue murmured.
“Maybe, but Real was in New York and Quick in Nevada, so it’s been tough on Jagger.”
Rogue nodded. To his knowledge, Genesis did not have near the members that Erebus had.
Tugging out his phone, Rogue started to text a message to Wrath, but there was suddenly no signal. He checked the gang member’s phone, and the tracking app wasn’t working either.
“They’ve jammed the cell signal,” he whispered. Crow grunted in agreement.
Smalls reached down and yanked Boston upright and shoved the boy toward the barn.
Smalls, Boston, and several of the gang disappeared inside the old brown structure.
“Let’s get this done,” Rogue whispered and tucked his phone away.