Absolution: The Hunter Mercenary Series (Book Two)

by Morgan Kelley

  Sometimes, you just had to mope.

  “Is that him?” Rogue asked, needing to talk about anything but his life. As he pointed to a car not far up the road, he had Zayn’s attention.

  “Yep, that’s him.”

  How did he know?

  Well, only a drug dealer or pimp would be riding dirty in that tricked out Lincoln.

  Oh, and he was in front of a notorious drug house.

  “What now?” Rogue asked. This was out of his wheelhouse. He was more the stealthy one who broke in and lifted a necklace. He didn’t abduct people often.

  “We play it cool.”

  They drove past him and parked down the street where they could still watch him but lay low.

  “He’s buying. This might be where Rosemary is getting the drugs to ‘manage’ her kidnapped women.”

  It was falling into place.

  They had a buyer.

  They had the drug supplier.

  “How is Carter Foley getting them?” Rogue asked. “He was the one drugging Storm.”

  Zayn could only guess.

  “Maybe he does know this asshole.”

  It appeared they’d made another connection.

  “How are we going to grab him?” Rogue asked as Zayn pulled on a pair of black leather gloves. Rogue followed suit, figuring there was going to be some bloodshed.

  “There’s going to be an accident.”

  “Uh, what?”

  “You know…of the motor vehicle kind. Let him drive past, and then we follow. When we get away from this neighborhood, let’s hit him.”

  “What?” Rogue asked.

  “That car is his baby. We’re going to bump that shiny car of his, and then when he gets out and wants to kill you because he sees you first, I’ll grab him.”

  Rogue stared at him.

  “I don’t like this plan.”

  “Well, do you have a better plan?” Zayn asked. “And you had better start thinking fast. He’s pulling away.”

  “Shit! Your plan it is, but I already got hit in the face once today. I’m maxed out. You had better stop him.”

  “Deal. I won’t let him hurt you, pretty boy.”

  “Pussy.”

  He laughed.

  “If you let him punch me, I’m telling your wife you tried to pick up a hooker.”

  He gasped in mock horror.

  Yeah, the old Rogue was still in there. They might just have a fighting shot at this. Truthfully, something had to give. Their team was holding on by a thread.

  Dakota and Sarah.

  Rogue and his woman issues.

  And a cop in their living room.

  Their lives were going to shit in a shiny red canoe, and someone had to step in and fix it.

  “Follow him,” Rogue stated, as the car pulled past them, and continued down the street. They stayed at a safe distance until they knew it would be perfect.

  They had to.

  This guy was driving dirty. He’d be looking for cops, he’d be scouting out buyers, and he’d be ready for anything.

  When he pulled down an alley, Zayn made his move. He cut around, floored it, and made it to the opening at the end of the block as the man headed toward him.

  Then he pulled out in front of him.

  There was the crunch of metal and a shit ton of cursing from the man driving the far nicer car. Zayn was glad they lifted this shit mobile.

  It was toast.

  When Jake got out, he started kicking the hell out of their stolen ride as he made a scene.

  “We have to do this fast.”

  Rogue pulled a stun gun.

  “On it.”

  They both hopped out, and the man headed right for them, calling him every name in the book.

  “You dick! That was my ride! Do you know how much I put into her? You fucking Indians!”

  “Rogue?”

  He hit him with the stun gun when no one was looking.

  The man went down like a ton of bricks.

  “Hurry,” Rogue said, keeping a lookout as Zayn muscled him into the back of their beat-up ride.

  “You could help.”

  “Yeah, but my face hurts from earlier. I don’t want my nose to start bleeding again. Do you think it’s broken?” he asked, as the other man did all of the heavy lifting.

  “Seriously?”

  “What? I mean it. Am I getting a black eye?”

  Zayn shook his head.

  “Pussy.”

  He hefted the man into the trunk, and they left his ride sitting there, open and ready for the street people to have some fun.

  Thousands of dollars of fun—in guns, drugs, and who knew what?

  “Where are we taking him?” Rogue asked.

  “Oh, I have a spot. It’s where I do my best business,” he said, grinning.

  “You don’t mean boardroom stuff, do you?”

  He laughed.

  Not even close.

  * * * H U N T E R * * *

  Tuesday Afternoon

  Hotel

  When she heard the knock on the door, she peeked out the hole to make sure it wasn’t Dakota. At that moment, she was seconds away from calling and begging him.

  That was the last thing she needed.

  When she saw the familiar face behind the door, the tears came.

  Opening up for him, Sarah rushed into the arms of her father, a man who loved her so much. Just the scent of his cologne made her calm down considerably.

  “Oh, baby.”

  “Daddy,” she whispered, as he led her into the hotel room.

  “I caught the first flight here,” he said. “Are you okay?” he asked, sitting on the bed with her.

  “I don’t know.”

  He let her cry a little more.

  “I’ve killed people, Daddy.”

  He kissed her on the top of the head. “Well, you were a Fed, sweetheart. It happens.”

  Oh, it was time to purge.

  She told him EVERYTHING.

  Sarah told him about the last case, the current one, and how she had tortured a couple people to get answers.

  “Was it to save those women? Or was it because you liked hurting someone?”

  “DAD!”

  He laughed.

  “Then you’re not a serial killer. That’s always good to know. Peter would be glad to hear that his daughter wasn’t a whackjob with body parts in the freezer. Talk about failing as parents.”

  He paused.

  “You don’t have them, do you?”

  She snorted.

  “You know I don’t.”

  He lifted her chin.

  “When you were six, we’d had you for about three years at that point. We were asleep in our apartment, and I had this feeling you needed me. I woke up out of a dead sleep.”

  She listened.

  “It was my day off, but I got up, and I went to your room. You were gone. My heart nearly stopped. I called Peter, and he and I ran around like lunatics to find you.”

  “Where was I?” she asked.

  “You were outside with a homeless person. You had taken a box of cereal out and were sitting with him as you shared it. In that moment, I knew you were meant for great things.”

  “Really, Daddy? I’m a killer.”

  “No, you aren’t. You’re a person who seeks justice to your core. You wanted to feed that man. You wanted to do it on your terms. You aren’t a mean-spirited person, Sarah. You are a good person, and I’m betting that’s why this man is attracted to you. When he called to ask for your hand…,” he said, pointing at her naked finger.

  “I gave it back.”

  “Why? You don’t love him?”

  “I love him to death, but he’s…”

  “He’s what?”

  “Bossy, arrogant, and likes to be in charge.”

  “Yay! Can I have his number if you’re over him?”

  She started laughing.

  “I love him, but you can’t change a person. A cheater is going to cheat. A caveman is go
ing to be bossy, and…”

  “And your heart knows who it loves.”

  He was right.

  “What do I do?”

  “What do you want to do?”

  She had no idea.

  “Maybe you can help me decide?” she asked.

  “Or maybe you can talk it out and decide on your own. I lived my life, sunshine. Be you, sweetheart. If he really loves you, he’ll find his way back to you.”

  She hoped so.

  Sarah knew she couldn't chase him anymore. She didn’t have it in her. If Dakota wanted to be with her, he’d find her.

  It was his turn.

  “Oh, and you should know that I bought that bar yesterday. Well, me and a business partner.”

  “God! You are definitely my girl.”

  She told him about Purgatory.

  EVERYTHING about it.

  He listened without judgment.

  “Well, that’s my kind of place. I can still run numbers with the best of them. That’s how we paid for your college education.”

  She found that funny.

  Of course they did.

  “Want to go show your old man the new bar?” Preston Valley asked.

  Sarah did.

  This was her new beginning, and she wanted to share it with the only man left in her life.

  Her father.

  He would always have her back.

  Chapter Eleven

  Tuesday

  W hen they placed him in the chair in the abandoned warehouse, the man looked pretty damn smug. Jake Bradshaw, a pretty bigtime thug for hire and up and coming drug dealer, didn’t look like he was going to be talking anytime soon.

  In fact, he told them just that.

  Well, Zayn had broken down harder people in his life than some street thug. He knew what he needed to do, and he wasn’t above doing it.

  “Is this place secure?” Rogue asked, looking around the large abandoned warehouse in the shitty end of New Orleans. The only good thing about the place was no one would be shocked to find a body there.

  In fact…

  If they didn’t find a body, he’d be surprised.

  “Yeah, a buddy of mine owns it. He lets me use it and leave the bodies,” he stated, pulling on rubber gloves.

  “He lets you leave them here for what reason? Please don’t say he eats them?”

  Zayn stared at him.

  “Are you insane? Who eats people?”

  “Then why is he so magnanimous about you using his building as a body dump?”

  “Well, he runs a black market organ harvesting ring, so he likes when I leave him presents. In fact, that makes him all giddy and happy.”

  He pointed at Jake.

  “He’s going to be shipped all over the place. We can’t damage any of his organs. The rest of him is fair game.”

  Rogue laughed.

  “And here we thought Bunny was the sicko. Now I see I stand corrected.”

  “I hate to waste. He’ll go help some father live to see his daughter get married, or his eyes will help a blind person. He’s a scumbag, but his organs aren’t.”

  He had a point.

  They had been talking loud enough that Jake could hear them, and he didn’t look impressed.

  Worse, he didn’t seem to buy anything they were saying.

  “I’m not afraid of you two clowns. I could buy and sell you both.”

  They laughed.

  Well, not quite.

  Zayn had one hell of a nest egg for himself, his wife, and any kids they might have one day, and Rogue was so rich he was three days past filthy and right into down and dirty.

  They didn’t care about money.

  This was personal.

  This asshole was mucking up their town, and they were going to start cleaning house to get to Chesky and Rosemary. They’d likely ruined their businesses and their way of life.

  It started here.

  They got down to work.

  “Who do you work for?” Zayn asked, starting easy. He liked to get a baseline of how forthcoming a person would be before he tortured them.

  “Fuck you!”

  He walked over to a faucet with a bucket under it and hummed while he filled it with ice cold water. If the man thought belligerence was going to work, he had another thing coming.

  When that one was filled, he filled a second one.

  “What are you going to do? Scare me with water? The people I work for are much scarier. You have nothing on them!”

  Rogue laughed.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t bet on that.”

  Zayn dumped a whole bucket of ice cold water on the man, and Jake sputtered.

  “It’s cold!”

  Then he punched him in the face, breaking out a few of his teeth.

  “Yeah, well, you know us, un-scary people.”

  He pulled off the man’s shoes and socks. Then he held his foot in his hand and pulled out his blade.

  “Again, who do you work for?” he asked.

  “What are you doing?” Jake asked.

  He drew the knife across his foot, slicing into the flesh as deeply as he could. Then he shoved his foot into the bucket of water and leaned on his knee so he couldn’t pull it out.

  Rogue watched in fascination.

  “I just cut your anterior tibial artery. See how the water is turning pink? You’re about to bleed out.”

  “WHAT?”

  Those magic words always worked.

  Artery.

  Bleeder.

  It freaked people out.

  “We know you work for Rosemary Harrington. We are guessing that you get her the drugs she uses to drug those women, and in the process, you get to fuck them at sick parties. Is that assumption correct?”

  The man was focused on his foot.

  “There’s a lot of blood coming out!” he lisped through his busted-out teeth.

  “Then I suggest you answer so the foot comes out of the water. If not, you’ll be dead in a few minutes.”

  He stared at him, gauging if he was bullshitting him or not. Then he made up his mind.

  “I do work for her!”

  He lifted his leg a little.

  “Who else?”

  “Some guy named Chesky! He’s her shipper! He gets the girls out of New Orleans.”

  He lifted it higher as if a reward for his cooperation.

  “Who else? Give me names.”

  “I don’t know many names!”

  “I suggest you think fast,” he said, pushing his foot back into the water. “Water makes you bleed more when you’re cold,” he said, pointing at the icy water. “Your body sends blood to the places that are cold, and you lose more blood volume. Tick tock!”

  The man was panicking.

  It was on his face. He began trying to pull names out of his ass, and that was exactly what they wanted. Scared or angry people tended to spill the beans.

  “There was some man named Taz! He picks up the money for her. Rosemary doesn’t have one person do one job, she worries that if one guy gets caught, her whole operation is fucked! Please! My foot!”

  The water was bright red.

  “I feel sick.”

  He kept going, despite the man’s panic. Zayn knew how long he had before he passed out. There was plenty of time.

  “So, describe this Taz. Is he Native?”

  “YES! He’s about his height, and he has dark hair like him. His face is all scared up from something, and rumor has it that he had a relationship with Rosemary.”

  That piqued Rogue’s interest.

  “A relationship?”

  “Yeah, they fuck all of the time! Save my foot!”

  Why wasn’t Rogue shocked? His father had a relationship with his mother, and the more Rogue thought about it, the more it looked like his sperm donor was looking for an easy route.

  Grace had money.

  Great.

  That was going to break her heart.

  “Who else?” Zayn asked. “Wow, you’re looking pale. Ar
e you feeling dizzy?”

  He freaked-out.

  “YES!”

  Rogue had to fight not to laugh. Zayn was three days past loco. That was crystal clear.

  “Who else do you recall? How about the man who lived in a big house with a pretty little sex slave?”

  He told him the address.

  “YES!”

  “Was this her?” he asked, pulling up Storm’s picture from the FBI file.

  “YES! GOD! I’m sorry. Save me!”

  “In a minute. We aren’t quite done yet. If you tell me everything you know, maybe.”

  “PLEASE!”

  “Names.”

  “The owner of the house is named Carter. He and Rosemary are not super close. I met him during a drop where I was picking up some drugs he had. He became one of my big suppliers!”

  “What kind of drugs?”

  “Benzo, Roxanne, Ruffies! Basically, street shit!”

  So, he was giving them date rape drugs. Well, that fit with what had happened to Storm.

  “Where did he get them?”

  “I have NO CLUE! He might be dealing. He’s got lots of money! That’s all I know about him.”

  “What does Carter Foley look like?” he asked.

  “He’s in shape. He has brown hair. He looks like everyone else!”

  Well, that didn’t help them. They needed someone to paint a picture because Carter Foley was hiding in plain sight.

  “Where is she getting her girls?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Zayn really believed the man was running out of intel. He was scared shitless, had pissed himself, and was shaking. He wasn’t bluffing.

  “Do you have anything?” he asked Rogue. He was out of questions.

  Rogue normally didn’t interrogate, but he did have some things to ask the man. They might lead to something.

  “What is Carter’s real name? That’s an alias or street name. We need his real ID.”

  “I don’t know!”

  “Do you know a Danny Boy?” Rogue continued, leaning against a pole as the man shivered.

  “YES!”

  “Tell me about him,” Zayn said, heading to the water to refill that other bucket.

  “He’s old and bald! He likes young pussy, and he’s angry about everything! He and Rosemary have issues!”

  Well, that sounded like Danforth.