Chapter Twenty-Three
Nice office.
Addison and Cleo were seated on the couch as she silently glanced around the room. It was grandiose and slightly over the top for a club owner, though she wouldn’t be voicing her opinion. She sensed it wouldn’t be appreciated.
There was a large desk with Rogue currently sitting behind it. Trey, the other owner as Cleo had explained, was close to the bar set up in the corner. On the opposite side, and where they were seated, was a sitting area. Not your typical office.
The décor was almost elegant. Why the hell was she focused on the office?
It was a good distraction for a confusing but tense situation.
Addison still wasn’t sure why they were seemingly being held hostage.
Her car was in the parking lot. If Rogue wanted them gone, they could’ve left.
But he obviously had other ideas, having her call Cross and demanding he come to the club.
She didn’t know his motive or reasoning.
And I’m not going to get it.
Quinn smiled, standing near the edge of the coffee table. “Cleo, Addison? Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, you fucking can’t!” Rogue shouted.
The menacing tone of his voice was enough to tighten every muscle in her body. Quinn, on the other hand, hadn’t even flinched. She was the epitome of calm. Impressive.
“We have a fully stocked bar downstairs. I can get you anything you want.”
It was a strange vibe. Something she’d expect from a dinner party hostess.
Addison held up her hand and forced a smile. “I’m good. Thank you.”
“If you change your mind, let me know.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Quinn!” Rogue slammed his hand on the desk.
The woman walked away without a glance at Rogue.
Cleo leaned closer, lowering her voice. “Quinn is Rogue’s wife.”
What? Addison jerked her head.
“She married him?”
Cleo nodded but didn’t seem as disgusted as Addison felt. The man had been nothing but rude, intimidating, and threatening to all those around him since he’d walked through the door.
The waiting was hard. No one talked except Rogue. He’d occasionally dole out orders to the men in the dark suits right outside the office. Cleo had mentioned they were his security. It seemed like overkill for a man who ran a nightclub. Addison wouldn’t question it. At least not verbally.
“They should be here soon,” Cleo said, grasping the edge of her seat and swinging her legs.
“They?”
Rogue had her call Cross. No one else.
“The club.”
“Why would they all come?”
Cleo slowly turned, scanning her face. Her cheeks pinkened, and her smile was tight. “Killcreek and Rogue don’t get along. I don’t know why, but Rogue pretty much hates them.”
Addison stilled, peeking over at the man in question. He brought his cigar to his lips, staring down at his phone. He exuded power with a very dark element. His gaze shifted, and his glare was pinned on her. Addison immediately turned her head in the opposite direction, taking in a breath.
“We’re not in danger, right?”
Cleo twisted her lips. “I don’t think so.”
You don’t think so? That wasn’t reassuring.
If anything, it had her anxiety heightening.
She darted her gaze around the room, looking at everything and everyone from a different perspective.
While it hadn’t been confirmed, she had her growing suspicions that the MC weren’t just motorcycle enthusiasts who enjoyed riding together and living off the grid.
They probably dabbled in illegal endeavors.
Nowadays, who doesn’t? But were they deeper than she’d thought?
Sloane wandered into the room. Her reception was less than welcoming. Trey rolled his eyes then hardened his scowl, aiming his glare at her.
“Is there something you need? Trey asked.
“Oh” —Sloane glanced at the empty doorway— “I saw Quinn leave and figured I’d pop in and see if anyone needed anything.”
“Yeah, I need something.” Rogue’s venomous snarl echoed in the room. “Need you to get the fuck outta my office.”
Rude. How did this man get away with speaking to people this way?
Sloane knitted her brows. “But I’m not in your office. This is Trey’s.”
Rogue’s jaw squared, and his nostrils flared. This man was like a ticking time bomb waiting to explode, and it seemed Sloane was holding the match.
Cleo chuckled, and both men glanced over. Addison flattened her lips, fighting against her own amusement. She had enough self-awareness to know this was a serious situation. But Sloane made it hard to keep her composure. It was as if she was clueless to Rogue’s demeanor. Or maybe she didn’t care.
Sloane smiled. “I know you’re not asking, but personally, I think…”
Rogue slammed his hand on the desk, and Addison jumped in her seat.
“Nobody gives a shit what you think!” he shouted.
“But can I say just one more thing?” Sloane asked and was immediately shut down.
“Get your ass outta here!” Rogue barked and Sloane walked out.
This man had two volumes. Loud and louder. Fucking asshole. Who was this guy? He quickly turned his attention to Cleo and stood, rounding the desk. Trey came up next to him.
“When the fuck are you going to learn your lesson?”
Cleo shrugged her shoulders to her ears. “I wanted to see Quinn.”
“Did I say you could fucking see her?”
“No” —Cleo smiled— “But you didn’t say I couldn’t.”
Trey shifted on his feet, subtly shook his head and stared up at the ceiling. The two men were the polar opposite. One wild, untamed, and erratic while the other was quiet, composed, and seemingly, rational.
Cleo inched up to the edge of the couch. “I was trying to help Quinn.”
Both men stared down at Cleo with a different but similar expression. Puzzled?
“She doesn’t need your fucking help,” Rogue said.
“I think she does,” Cleo whispered.
His glare deepened, and he walked closer to the seating area. If Addison had it her way, she’d want as much distance between them as possible. This guy’s vibe was completely off. An invisible dark and dangerous aura surrounded him. He sat across from them.
“This I gotta fucking hear.” He settled back in the chair and raised his brows. “My wife needs your help? With what?”
Cleo shifted in her seat, peeking over at Addison.
Was she looking for help? She stared back in confusion.
How the hell am I supposed to help? Addison didn’t even understand the full scope of the conversation, let alone the situation.
She’d figured out the basics. Somehow, someway, Quinn was involved with Knox and had guilt about his death.
It’s relatable. Cleo thought introducing them would somehow give Quinn a little peace. Why? I don’t know.
“Why the fuck are you looking at her when I asked you the question?” Rogue snapped, gaining both women’s attention.
“You’re here claiming some bullshit about helping my wife and got nothing to back it up.
” Rogue scoffed, shaking his head. “Killcreek is gonna have your ass for this stunt. And I’m gonna love watching those degenerate fucks walk in my house with their fucking tails between their legs to retrieve your crazy ass. ”
Asshole!
Addison turned her head, her hair shielding half of her face. She leaned in slightly and whispered, “You’re not the crazy one here.” Addison was sure she’d spoken low enough for only Cleo to hear. Apparently, not.
“What the fuck did you say?” He shot up from his seat. From her seated position, he towered over her with just a small table separating them.
“Rogue.” Trey stepped up next to him and put his hand between them. Addison had little faith that would stop him, but Rogue stiffened. He made no move to get closer, but it didn’t stop his threat.
“You got a smart fucking mouth. That’s not gonna serve you well here.” He spun around and walked toward the middle of the room as Quinn rushed in. She darted her gaze between the group.
“What happened?” she asked.
Rogue shot out his arm, pointing at her and Cleo. “Why the fuck does she think she’s helping you?”
Quinn drew in a breath and glanced directly at Addison. Unfortunately, that once again put the spotlight, and all of Rogue’s attention, on her.
“What the fuck is it with you?”
Cleo cleared her throat, holding up her hand. It seemed she’d found her voice. Thank God!
“When my brother died, he donated his organs.”
Rogue stilled. “How fucking noble!”
Could this man be a bigger jerk? No!
Quinn walked over to him, grasping his wrist. “Knox donated his heart.” She gestured to Addison. It was the first time since they’d been in his presence that he was silent.
“You received his heart?” Trey asked.
“Yes.” She nodded.
“And you’re with the VP, right? Cross?”
Initially, Rogue demanded Cleo call Wraith and have him come in. This was what she was trying to avoid, and Cleo seemed nervous but agreed. It was Addison who stepped in, offering to call Cross instead. Trey had questioned why, and Cleo blurted that her and Cross were together.
“Yeah.”
The corner of Rogue’s mouth cocked, and he shared a look with Trey. “Oh, this is gonna be fucking fun.”
What the hell does that mean?
****
They pulled up to the Bowery in record time. The club could expect half a dozen tickets in the mail if anyone was monitoring the cameras on the highway. Fuck it.
Ace took the lead walking in. The doors opened as they approached.
Jared, their head of security, led them through the empty club and up the stairs to the balcony.
As soon as he hit the landing, Addison rushed toward him.
She circled her arms around his waist, and he tightened his hold, brushing his lips across her ear.
“You’re alright.”
“Can we leave?” she whispered.
“Soon. Stay right here.” He tucked her behind him and made his way across the room, stopping in front of Rogue at the table in the corner.
“This is becoming a fucking habit.” He took a drag from his cigar.
“Yeah, well, it won’t happen again,” Ace said and turned.
“Hold up, I’m not done,” Rogue said.
Ace laughed without an ounce of humor. “Yeah, well we fucking are.”
Rogue smirked. “Jared? Get Quinn.”