She barely moved.
He yanked her up, and her fingers tried to get air as the leather wrapped tightly around her throat.
“I SAID GET UP!”
The whip crashed down, and it left welts across her back, ass, and thighs.
She moved quicker, barely fogged from the drug.
“Blow me,” he said, still horny.
She cried, and he didn’t care. Instead, he drove his dick down her throat and laughed while doing it.
Yeah, she was used up.
His seller was in town.
He wanted new pussy.
This one…she was getting old. He’d take the new pet and old one, both at once, and the better piece of ass would live.
The other…
Yeah, well, she’d be taking a trip to the swamp.
For the gators.
When he was done, violating his pet, he dragged her across the cold tile floor, up the stairs, and to the party he’d planned. The men would be arriving, and they would want to test out his slut. It was the least he could do, being a good host.
There would be ten men, and she would be the main event.
He couldn’t wait.
It was time to hurt her.
Over and over again.
Because she was his, and he could.
* * * H U N T E R * * *
Ravenscroft Manor
French Quarter
One Week Later
He should be asleep in his bed, but he wasn’t. He couldn’t rest, even with his giant wolf beside him. Rogue was still mourning Charlotte, and he couldn’t understand why.
They hadn’t been a couple for years.
They didn’t even see each other anymore but hearing of her death…it shook him to his core. If he could figure out why, he might be able to make sense of his sorrow.
For the last week, it had engulfed him so much that he couldn’t stay at the house with Dakota and Zayn.
He wanted to be with his new family and friends.
He probably should have stayed to keep his mind off of Charlotte’s death.
Only, he couldn’t.
Honestly, he was tired of watching them be so damn happy. Zayn was moving around and hovering over Stella. Dakota was always smiling when Sarah was in the room.
It was killing him.
Misery loved company, and no one was miserable at Chartres Street.
Well, except him.
They’d celebrated Christmas with his mother, and she’d been so damn happy to have people in her home again. When she’d found out that he’d invited ‘friends’, she decked the halls and put on one hell of a party.
Zayn and Stella had been amazing.
Sarah and Dakota too.
They made her feel like she mattered, and in the grand scheme, to her, she did.
His mother felt some joy.
Rogue owed them for that. Since she was all he had left in the world, and she was battling cancer, those moments of joy for her mattered.
The entire time, his mother was full of life, happiness, and renewed vigor.
His new friends, and family, had done it up N’awlins style, and he appreciated that.
Sarah had baked fruitcake.
Stella had bought his mother the most beautiful of scarves to cover her graying hair.
The men…they’d laughed and been family.
And now, he was alone—again, and by his own stupidity too.
It was clear to Rogue why people committed suicide after the holidays. It was a depressing time of the year.
That loneliness was killer, and add in the fact that Charlotte’s death caught him off guard…he was struggling with it.
That was an understatement.
When word came that Charlotte had been killed, in a way, it didn’t surprise him. She was playing with fire, and she likely knew it. What did surprise him was that the city had erupted around them with her death.
All of his contacts—the seedier ones—were talking big jobs, big scores, and mayhem.
New Orleans was about to go nuclear, and that wasn’t going to be a good thing.
He could feel it.
“Odin, you’re snoring,” he muttered, patting his big wolf-dog on the flank.
Surprise.
The dog didn’t give a shit.
Honestly, it was shocking that he was there in his bed. It had been a miracle that the beast followed him home, leaving the ladies behind. Odin, non-stop, had been all over Sarah and Stella. In fact, he didn’t seem to exist anymore for the dog.
He was a traitor.
“One pretty face, and you roll on your best bud. Nice. I’m getting you the shitty kibble anymore. No more steak for you. Two can play this game.”
The dog yawned and still didn’t care.
Yeah, well, at least someone could sleep. Honestly, he couldn’t.
Why?
Rogue felt guilty. He was feeling responsible for Charlotte’s death. While he hadn’t pulled the trigger, he’d been instrumental in her getting pulled into the shitstorm.
After all, she’d dated him, and he made her into the mess she’d become. It was all on him.
Rogue had made her go bad.
Maybe, if not for him, she would still be alive and happily hating his freaking guts.
That would be better than the alternative—for sure.
Sue him.
He was a thief with a conscience.
As he lay there in his big, comfortable bed in his home on the hill, he felt like a total asshole for even dating her all those years ago. If she never met him, she’d likely be alive.
His shitty life tainted hers, and it ended in this mess.
Yeah, maybe, it was a good thing he didn’t have a woman in his life. God knew he screwed everything up.
What did he know about being a man?
His mother raised him, and that was evidently clear with his interactions with the opposite sex. Maybe his street cred should just stay as is.
Why fight it?
They called him a playboy, but the only play in his bed was picking fur off his black sheets.
DAILY.
There was no pussy in his giant bed.
There was canine.
Slobbery.
Betraying.
Canine.
“Odin, did you just fart?” he asked in horror as that smell permeated his sheets.
Jesus!
It smelled like something died. Rogue was afraid to look, but if his dog just shit in his bed…
He was selling him to Sarah for a dollar.
“Oh, I may puke!”
The dog looked over and appeared to be proud of himself as he farted again.
“Christ! Sarah has been feeding you people food again! I swear you’re staying at the house! You can’t eat cookies!”
Odin went back to sleep, ignoring him.
That was the story of his life.
Maybe, he should plan a side job. Stealing things always cheered him up. There was a new museum opening, and he was sure there would be some pretty painting that would tickle his fancy.
It might do the trick.
Then he couldn’t muster the energy to plan it.
Yeah, his dog had it right. Sleep was the best option.
Maybe, he should try too.
Closing his eyes, he pictured the one thing that got him off each and every time. If he couldn’t steal shit, he’d picture breaking the man who hurt him, his mother, and their reputations.
And that fantasy was worth it.
Finding his father and kicking his ass was something he would really enjoy.
Not sex.
Not stealing.
Hurting the asshole.
As he pictured it in his head, sleep came.
Rogue was in that comfortable place between REM sleep and floating in and out of awareness. It was peaceful, and for that he was grateful.
Only, it didn’t last long.
That’s when he felt it.
Odin bolted upright in bed
, his ears going up, his snout in the air, and his fluffy fur standing.
He opened his eyes.
“What?” he asked, pulling the gun from beneath his pillow. “What did you hear?”
Well, the dog tensed just as the alarms started screaming in his house. Screaming was an understatement. It was like a nuclear attack was happening, as the alarms pierced the silence of the night.
It meant one thing.
Someone had breached his home.
A part of him didn’t understand how that could happen. He had the best damn security system someone could steal.
He knew.
He’d swiped it from some mega billionaire.
And now it was going off.
Immediately, Rogue knew what he had to do. He needed to find the person who had entered his private space.
“Odin, find!”
The big wolf raced off of the bed, out the door, and down toward the main floor.
Rogue was right behind him, gun in hand, and worry in his eyes. If someone was coming after him next…
All he could think about was Charlotte’s death.
Was this some sick plan to exterminate people who’d once worked together? Was his new family next?
His heart thumped in his chest.
God!
Rogue hoped not.
He moved slower as the alarms screamed out a warning to only him. It was a bad time to live alone or not to stay at the house on Chartres Street.
Yeah…
REALLY.
BAD.
At that moment, he didn’t see his dog, but over the sounds, he wouldn’t hear him barking anyway. He hoped Odin was okay, and that no one hurt him.
He was a pain in the ass, but he was his dog.
Rogue made a mental note to steal a silent alarm that wouldn’t wake the dead and warn the intruders.
This thing was chaos.
At the bottom of the stairs, he found his dog sitting in the formal parlor. He was staring inside, and the dog looked…confused.
Uh, that made two of them.
His front door had clearly been kicked in by someone, and that was no easy feat. The first thing that came to mind was the cops with one of those battering rams.
What else would take a door off the frame like that? Rogue could see the busted hinges, and that spoke volumes. This wouldn’t be a smash and grab.
Heading to the console on the wall, he shut it all down. Immediately, silence fell. As he touched the screen, the monitor showed the cameras were down.
Well, shit!
Someone had cut them, and that meant someone knew their way around alarm systems. This was DEFINITELY NOT the police. They were barely able to push the button on his gate to speak to him.
This?
No way.
Now he had something else to worry about, and it was far greater than the police finding all his stole treasures all over his home. This place was like a museum…just not his museum.
It was one ‘borrowed’ treasure after another.
If someone was in his home, and it wasn’t the cops, this was going to be bad. He immediately hit the safety on his gun and got ready to defend himself.
Great.
If he killed someone, he was going to have to call Zayn to help him hide a body. The cops would be sniffing around.
Thankfully, he lived far from anyone.
“Odin,” he whispered, “find.”
He didn’t move.
What?
Sarah was going to get her ass kicked for deprogramming his freaking dog. Not only was his security system, now, busted, but so was his guard dog.
Perfect.
His life blew, and here was the proof.
Heading toward his dog, he stopped to see what he was watching. It was then that he could see a blanket on the floor, peeking out from around the one couch.
A pink one.
What the hell?
Was someone sleeping on his floor?
Had someone broken into his house to find a place to rest?
Moving past the dog—who was not reacting like there was a knife-wielding killer—he moved toward the couch and whoever was there.
That’s when a small face peeked around the corner of the couch.
He actually jumped.
It was a kid.
WHAT THE HELL?
There was no way a small child kicked in his door and caused all kinds of shit like this. That was freaking impossible.
“Uh, who are you?” he asked.
“Momma?” she whimpered, her big eyes filling with large tears.
It was clear that she was scared, and honestly, could he blame her? It was a strange house, and he was holding a child at gunpoint.
He tucked his gun into the back of his pants and tried to figure this mess out. This was all kinds of weird and wrong.
He got down to work. First, Rogue looked around to make sure they were alone. Odin was calm, and that gave him the biggest clue that he was safe.
Still…
Did the mother break in?
This child looked eerily familiar. Only, he couldn’t quite pin it down.
Where had he seen her before?
Why did he recognize her?
“Uh, who are you?” he asked, moving toward her. Immediately, the little girl moved away from him as he approached.
The tears began falling.
Rogue knew she was going to go nuclear—much like his alarms—and at any second.
“Are you lost?”
Yeah, and a child prodigy when it came to burglary? Rogue never thought he’d find a toddler in his home with the alarms going off.
A killer?
Yes.
A criminal?
Oh, yeah.
A child?
NO!
What the hell?
“What’s your name?” he asked, feeling bad for her. He really hoped this wasn’t some dump and run. He had no time for a child in his life. Rogue barely had time for his bitch of a dog.
She kept crying.
The little girl moved around the couch and found Odin sitting there. She buried her face in his fur and hid from Rogue. The whole time, the dog hovered over her.
Okay, so she was alone.
Heading toward the pink diaper bag, sitting on his coffee table, he knew he had to find some answers and fast.
That’s when Rogue found the note.
It was addressed to him.
What?
Apparently, this was no random dump. Someone brought the child there and with a reason.
Picking up the note, he kept one eye on the kid and one on his surroundings. Rogue wasn’t taking a chance. With Charlotte’s death, this could be a trick.
Was he paranoid?
HELL, YES.
Besides, this had to be a dream. What did he eat that took him on this wild indigestion ride? Damn his father for haunting his dreams.
This had to be his fault too.
Unfolding the letter, he placed his back to the windows just in case. Then he read.
‘My name is Peony. I am Charlotte’s daughter. My mommy was killed, and you have to take care of me. I’m your child. My mommy wants me to be safe, and now they’ll try to take me. Please help me, Daddy.’
His eyes went big, and he reread the note over and over again. His whole world dropped out from beneath him.
This couldn’t be right.
‘I’m three, and mommy didn’t tell you about me. You have to keep me safe. The people who killed my mommy are going to ruin me. Chesky Jensen killed her. She went to meet him. Save me, Daddy.’
Oh, holy shit!
Oh, holy mother Mary and all of the camels in the freaking desert.
Oh, Jesus! This was bad.
Now, he knew why she looked so familiar. Yeah, she did look like Charlotte, but that wasn’t all.
She looked exactly like he did as a child.
Rogue moved to the piano and picked up a picture of his mother holding him as a little kid. He
was about Peony’s age in the picture, and his heart skipped.
“This can’t be happening,” he muttered. “This has to be a bad dream.”
Rogue held the frame up as he compared them. He looked at himself and then the little girl. They had the same peculiar eyes. She was a quarter of a half-breed.
Yep.
There was no doubt in his mind. He’d fathered a child, out of wedlock—like his old man. He’d never known about her, and now, here she was…
Well, fuck.
All he could think, in that moment, was that Charlotte was an asshole. She was the biggest asshole he’d ever met, and she’d screwed him big time.
CLEARLY, he’d gotten her pregnant, and she never told him. In fact, she never told anyone. No one knew about this baby. He would have heard about it on the streets. He would have heard about his child.
Now what?
Oh, he knew.
He’d kill Charlotte himself if she were alive. This was a line you didn’t cross. This was his progeny, and this little girl was reliving his shitty life.
No father for all of her little life.
That bitch.
Charlotte was lucky she was dead. Had Rogue found out about this little girl, he would have gotten her from her mother. He would have killed Charlotte for what she did. While he didn’t give a flying fuck about the dead woman, he did care that he’d created a child.
HIS CHILD.
“Peony?” he asked.
She looked over as Odin let her cling to his fur. She batted her eyes at him, and he saw his mother in her.
Crap!
Crap!
Crap!
What the hell did he know about being anyone’s father? For Christ’s sake, he barely wanted to be a fur parent to a dog.
A child?
This was a whole other ballgame, and he was out of his damn league with this one.
“Are you Peony?” he asked.
She nodded through the tears.
“Momma?” she asked again.
Oh, hell.
“Honey, she’s not here. I’m going to take care of you,” he said, heading her way. As soon as he moved toward her, she wailed like a banshee.
Yeah, she was Charlotte’s child—that was for damn sure.
Well, this was one hell of a twist, and one that he’d never seen coming.
At all.
The playboy was a father.
Absolution: The Hunter Mercenary Series (Book Two) Page 4
