Absolution: The Hunter Mercenary Series (Book Two)

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Absolution: The Hunter Mercenary Series (Book Two) Page 33

by Morgan Kelley


  The chaos alerted the man they were getting ready to grab.

  “WHO’S there?” Danforth shouted, and then tried to get to his car.

  Zayn rattled off a few shots, until the man dropped to the ground, covering his head, and begging for his life.

  Zayn dropped from the tree and hustled it to the man. He wasn’t sure what was going on with his partners. He could only hear Rogue talking. Dakota’s com was down.

  A soon as he reached the man, he tossed a hood over his head, and then zip tied him so he couldn’t move.

  Then he went to help his team.

  When he found them, Dakota was leaning on Rogue, and there was blood—enough that he was concerned.

  “How bad are you cut?” he asked.

  “Maybe we should head to the hospital?” Rogue asked.

  “No, then we have to explain it. Elizabeth Blackhawk will kill me, and she doesn’t miss. Just get me to Stella. The blade didn’t go straight in. I moved just in time. It went in toward my back. I don’t think it’s too deep.”

  Well, this sucked.

  Sarah was gone, and now Dakota was down.

  This wasn’t making their lives easier. The further they went into this case, the uglier it got.

  “Someone was waiting for him,” Zayn said, pointing his gun at the hogtied man.

  “No,” Dakota stated.

  They looked at him.

  “Why do you say that?” Zayn asked.

  “When the guy jumped me, he said, ‘You don’t fuck with New Orleans’,” he stated.

  “Oh, Christ,” Rogue stated. “You think it’s because someone put the word out on us?” he asked.

  He nodded.

  “From behind, I’m the same size as Rogue. With my hat on…”

  “Jesus. When I find who turned this city on us,” Zayn stated.

  If they lived to tell about it.

  “So, I think someone found out the intel was compromised. I think they figured out we were getting close, and they pulled the drop. Only, how did he find out?” Dakota asked, pointing at the screaming captive.

  There was no way.

  “He showed up and was screaming that ‘you told me my filthy, cunt sister would be here’,” Zayn stated. “Someone set him up.”

  “Yeah, and set us up too,” Dakota admitted. “Unless the person who jumped me also worked for Rosemary and is part of the New Orleans underground.”

  Well, this sucked.

  It could go any which way.

  “Let’s get you home,” Rogue stated. “Stella needs to patch you up.”

  Yeah, if she didn’t want him dead first.

  Rogue helped him to their ride, hidden in the dense tree line. He pulled off his hoodie and gave it to him to hold it on the wound as Zayn grabbed their captive.

  “Thanks.”

  “It’s no problem. That’s what family is for,” Rogue stated. “And if it matters, I’m sorry I went behind your back, Dakota. I’m stuck between two people I care about.”

  He got it.

  “It does matter, and I understand. I’m just tired,” he said softly, as he laid down on the backseat.

  The whole ride shook as Zayn dropped Danforth into the trunk of their vehicle and closed it up.

  “I need a tetanus shot,” Dakota muttered.

  Zayn hopped in.

  “Bro, you almost needed a coffin.”

  Yeah, and honestly, he didn’t care.

  And that was the problem.

  Chapter Twelve

  W hile Rogue got Dakota inside the house—through the courtyard, Zayn carried their captive into the bowels of the structure through a hidden basement door. They didn’t want him making any noise, so he was sure to knock his ass out.

  And he enjoyed every damn second of it. Truthfully, there was no love lost there.

  NONE.

  This was the man who had committed such atrocities, that his sweet Stella had been taken as retribution. The man had failed his wives and daughters.

  He deserved whatever was coming to him.

  So, they would put him in lockdown until Dakota was patched up from his knife wound. He came first, and honestly, Zayn wanted their prisoner to suffer as he wondered what would be coming.

  Almost like Stella had.

  So, when he got him down to the chilly basement—one of the few in New Orleans—he stripped him naked, leaving only the bag over his head. He tied him to a chair and left him in a secured cell where he would be of no harm to anyone—but himself.

  The man deserved a time out.

  A long one.

  If, for some reason, Danforth could find his way out of the bindings and rig something to take his life, more power to him. Zayn hated him, but killing him…

  It was a predicament.

  After all, it was Stella’s dad.

  Upstairs, he found Rogue making a sandwich for both of them. The look on his face said it all.

  “Want to talk about it?” he asked, as the man handed him the turkey on rye.

  “Tell me not to hunt her down.”

  “Don’t hunt her down.”

  “Really?” he asked, a little hurt that the man didn’t even hesitate.

  “You just told me to tell you that. If you don’t want me to tell you, knock off the crazy. I don’t play games, and this feels like you trying to screw with your own head.”

  “I want to find her.”

  “And?”

  “Fuck her.”

  Zayn grabbed two beers from the fridge and used the kitchen counter to uncap them.

  “Are you insane? That’s marble!”

  He looked at him like he was a few bricks short of a full load.

  “Dude, that’s why you’re jerking off in a sock. You’re acting like a girl.”

  Rogue sat.

  “I didn’t have a father. I do everything like a girl. Well, except today. That was full on rutting at its finest.”

  Zayn clinked his beer bottle off of his.

  “Here-here! To that ingrained rutting instinct that gets some of us through the hard times.”

  Rogue laughed.

  “You’re funny.”

  “Not really. I’m homicidal. There’s a difference. You just can’t tell the difference. All lunatics are amusing. It counterbalances the need to take a life.”

  He stared at him.

  “Sorry, I was reading one of Stella’s periodicals on the shitter. It was Psychology Today. Carry on.”

  “What do I do with her?”

  “My gut says kidnap her, lock her up, and make babies, but that might be off the mark. I’m told that not all women like that whole ‘kidnap and procreate’ thing.”

  Rogue laughed, the bottle halfway to his mouth.

  “How the hell are you the married one?” he asked, not sure how Zayn had pulled it off.

  “I met my sweet Stella. That made all of the difference in the world. When you find that soulmate, you just click. She likes me this way.”

  That was the most logical thing Zayn had said in the last three minutes.

  “I want to go see her, but that would be a damn bad idea, wouldn’t it?”

  “Why do you want to go see her? Can’t it be a wild sex trip without all of the emotional baggage? Isn’t that what you and Dakota told me when I wanted to go dick spelunking in my sweet Stella that first time?”

  It horrified him that the man was right.

  It did mean something, and now he saw the difference.

  “Truthfully, I feel bad.”

  “Why?” he asked, giving the man the chance to talk it out. He was sure if he did, he’d figure it out.

  “She walked out like she’d just committed some cardinal sin. I don’t want her to feel that way about me.”

  “Oh, Jesus. Here we go. This is going to be about you being a half-breed, isn’t it?”

  “I really dislike that term,” Rogue stated. “It rubs me the wrong way.”

  “Yeah, but you are thinking it.”

  “I always think
it. What would you do if you were me?” he asked.

  “Honestly?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’d go home until you thought this through or there was some divine intervention of sorts. If you find her now, what do you think will happen?”

  “Mindless sex.”

  “Bad idea. I told you I didn’t fuck everything with a vagina for a reason. There are a few things in life that should matter. That’s the big one. I may have only had sex with one woman when I die, but I’ll know that it was the best sex. It was my sex. What you need to do is figure out what you want, Rogue.”

  “Yeah, yeah, you were saving yourself for the one.”

  “Yeah, and is the detective your one?”

  He hesitated.

  “See? Until you can answer that unequivocally, avoid her. Know what else you have to do?”

  “What?” he asked, finishing his sandwich.

  “Tell her what you do for a living before you jump into bed again.”

  “It was a wall and couch.”

  “TMI. I don’t want to know where the rich do it. I like a bed myself, and I don’t want to picture you naked. There are boundaries. Let’s keep them intact.”

  He thought about it.

  “I should tell her I make money? Is that what you meant?” he asked, fully confused.

  “I meant the whole stealing thing.”

  Well, that sucked the wind out of his sails.

  “Why do I have to do that? I can just date her, go out for a ‘meeting’, and…”

  “There are two reasons. One, she’s a cop. Good job there, brother. You picked the second most paranoid, suspicious, and curious person on the planet next to a mercenary killer to fall for. She’s going to smell a lie, and she’s going to tail your ass and catch you with a Mona Lisa.”

  “There’s only one. It’s THE Mona Lisa.”

  He stared at him.

  “Do you think I care? I don’t. It’s a painting of a dude who looks like a lady, who looks like a dude. It was an example.”

  He laughed.

  “Okay, continue.”

  “Then the second reason you need to tell her is because nothing good starts out built on lies and half-truths. If you want to be with her, she deserves to be with the real you—not Rogue, the socially acceptable man, but Rogue, the real man. You’re worth that, and so is she.”

  He had a point.

  “You’re right.”

  “Oh, that had to hurt. I know you and Dakota think I’m here to put holes in things, but I can hold my own.”

  He laughed.

  “It did. A LOT.”

  He could only imagine.

  “I wish we could help Dakota. He’s still pissed at me, and I don’t know how to fix that.”

  “Time will fix it. Go home, Rogue, and slip into that bed of girly sheets and luxury.”

  “Don’t be a hater,” he said, grinning at him.

  “I’m slipping into a vagina for the second time today. How about you?”

  “There are days when I forget you’re a douchebag, and then you resurface, and I’m reminded all over again, Zayn.”

  He grabbed both of their bottles.

  “I like to keep you on your toes.”

  Rogue pulled on his jacket and grabbed his keys. Before he left, he glanced over at the man.

  “Thank you for listening. I feel better. I needed that, and I appreciate you being there for me.”

  “What do you want to do now? Make out? Get out of here, you pussy. I’m not singing folk songs and holding your damn hand!”

  Rogue flipped him off but felt a million pounds lighter.

  Once he was gone, Gamble came into the room to make a cup of tea for Storm.

  “Hey,” he stated.

  “How’s she doing?” Zayn asked. He didn’t like the man, but he cared about the woman he was watching. “Did she have a better day?”

  “She’s struggling. It’s worse at night. She naps in brief spurts. She’s let me into the room, so she’s beginning to trust again. I was going to make her some tea. She’s agitated.”

  He could only imagine.

  “Well, I have to run out. You’re in charge of the house while I’m gone,” he said. “if you let anything happen to my Stella, I’ll hurt you.”

  “I wouldn’t let someone get hurt. I’ll make sure I watch the security panel.”

  “Good.”

  Then it hit him.

  “If she’s really struggling, and needs a sedative, ask Stella. She’s patching Dakota up.”

  Yeah, and he had to do his part.

  “Oh, and there is an asshole in the basement.”

  “Yeah?”

  “In about twenty minutes, go down, throw some ice-cold water on him, and terrorize him. Do it Marine style. You know like in basic when the drill sergeant wanted us up before the crack of dawn. Insult his dick. It’s tiny.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Nah, just make him suffer. He’s the reason that same thing happened to my Stella. He let his own daughter get hurt, and I’m going to make him pay.”

  Gamble got it.

  The big man was territorial.

  “Can do.”

  Zayn wanted to ensure that things stayed in control. He dropped the big bolt so if Danforth did get out, he couldn’t escape the basement. It was all stone and concrete down there.

  “Just in case. He’s sneaky, and we haven’t interrogated him yet.”

  “I’ll keep an eye on him.”

  “Be back.”

  And then he was gone.

  Not all missions ended in bloodshed. This one was of a different nature.

  It was all about the heart.

  * * * H U N T E R * * *

  Stella worked on his injury, and Dakota didn’t even flinch the entire time. He didn’t even bat an eye as she cleaned out the cut, and then stitched it closed.

  He was stony.

  Like he’d given up.

  That made her feel bad. The man was miserable, and she didn’t think the injury had anything to do with it. She knew why he hurt.

  His heart was broken.

  “I’m sorry if that’s hurting you,” she offered, as she threw in another stitch.

  “It’s okay. I can take it,” he said, closing his eyes not to block out the pain, but to keep from crying. He was seconds away from breaking down, and he knew it.

  “Want to talk about it?” she asked, trying to offer up the olive branch. She had ridden him hard, and it wasn’t all his fault. She saw that now. He was under a lot of pressure.

  “No, thanks though.”

  “Okay.”

  She continued working.

  “Is my father in the interrogation cage?” she asked, finally breaking the silence. She was curious.

  “Yes.”

  “I see.”

  “We’re going to kill him, Stella.”

  She didn’t waver.

  “I figured as much. I just want to say goodbye to him before you do. I need to clear my conscious before he goes to meet his maker.”

  “We can give you that time, but only if Zayn or Rogue are with you. He’s a snake.”

  Oh, she was aware.

  “Deal.”

  She put in the last stitch.

  “I’m sorry about you and Sarah.”

  This time, he actually flinched.

  Hearing her name hurt.

  “Yeah, me too.”

  “Would you like anything for the pain?” she asked, covering his side with a bandage to keep it clean.

  “No. I’m good. I’ll just get some sleep.”

  Yeah, like that was happening.

  “Thank you,” he offered.

  “It’s never a problem, Dakota. Call me if you need me,” she offered.

  Then she closed the door.

  And Dakota wallowed in his own self-pity.

  * * * H U N T E R * * *

  Ravenscroft Manor

  Rogue’s Home

  When he pulled up his driveway
, and toward his home, he found her sitting on his front porch. Rogue didn’t expect to come home and see Cordelia there.

  At first, it stole his breath.

  Then it made his palms really sweaty.

  Was this the divine intervention that Zayn was talking about earlier?

  Instead of parking in the garage, he parked his flashy ride beside her sensible one.

  It felt ominous.

  Getting out, he headed her way.

  “Hey,” Cordelia stated, standing from the chair that was sitting there.

  “Have you been here long?” he asked, ignoring the fact that she was turning into a cat burglar in her own right. She kept turning up behind a locked gate.

  “No, I’ve only been here about an hour. I wanted to talk to you.”

  “About?”

  “I spoke with Dakota today. He found me in the park across from that…is it another house you own?”

  He had never been so grateful he could answer that no. The last thing he needed was her losing it over more of his wealth.

  “It’s more our general base, and you spoke to Dakota? When?”

  She told him.

  “He found you?”

  “Yeah, he did.”

  That shocked the hell out of him. That meant that the man had gone to see her, right?

  “What did he want?”

  “We talked. He made some valid points, and I needed to come here to own them.”

  He was going to kiss the man.

  Why he’d helped him, after he’d gone behind his back with Sarah and bought Purgatory, it was beyond him.

  “Would you like to come in?” he asked.

  “No.”

  She hesitated.

  “No, that’s a lie. I would really like that, but I can’t. I need to say some things to you.”

  “Like?”

  “Today isn’t indicative of how I normally behave. Today…it was the aberration.”

  He took that as his cue.

  “I’m the one who is sorry,” he said. “That was on me, Cordy. I swear…”

  Cordelia stopped him.

  This was hard enough. She was going to take a leap of faith, and be honest with this wealthy, playboy, fashion plate. She was going to take a chance.

 

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