Page 45 of Damaged

Rogue didn’t respond to the text.

Easing open the door of his truck, Rogue closed it with a small snick and locked it. Thankfully, he’d disengaged the horn from beeping when he locked his vehicle. That sound was annoying as fuck and one of the first things he’d done after buying the used truck a few years ago.

Walking through the Northern California wilderness wasn’t all that tricky this time of year. With it being a couple of weeks into March, it was damp and the leaves soggy from the rain made his footsteps quiet.

He paused and listened for sounds that might be coming from the house.

Something felt off.

The first thing he did was trust his gut.

He wasn’t alone out here, but perhaps that was because he knew Boston was there.

Yet, he didn’t think it was Boston causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand.

Something didn’t feel right, and he wasn’t going to take any chances. He melted into the trees and waited.

After several minutes of nothing, he slowly moved through the dense forest. When he reached the edge of the trees nearest the house, he started working his way around the structure.

The brown wooden barn where Boston was supposed to be turned out to be located well behind the large home. Carefully, he edged through the darkness, staying in the trees until he could make out where the barn door was.

One thing was for sure, he wasn’t going to need that key. The door looked like it had been recently broken down and Rogue frowned.

He carefully made his way around to the side of the building and came up to the right of the crushed door.

With his SIG Sauer P365 held at the ready, he stepped inside. His eyes quickly adjusted to the deeper darkness.

Well, fuck.

The barn was empty.

Had Boston made it outside? Was that who had been in the trees watching him?

“Boston?” he hissed and waited. “Dave sent me.” He used the name he knew Boston would recognize. “Azrael is waiting at home.,” he added, just in case Boston didn’t like Dave.

Although, there wasn’t anyone Rogue knew that didn’t like the powerful yet soft-spoken former Secretary of Defense.

He tried something that he wasn’t sure was going to work.

“It’s me, Rogue.”

A noise from above sounded and he glanced up. He saw a figure dart along the rafters and leap nimbly across each one.

Rogue patiently waited. These young assassins could not be rushed. He had handled plenty of them before and knew Boston was as skittish as a wild cat.

“Rogue?” The boy’s voice trembled.

“Yeah, come on down,” he urged.

Boston dropped from the rafters and charged over, flinging his small body into his arms.

Rogue held the boy tightly, trying to offer comfort with the hug because he couldn’t get any words out of his suddenly tight throat.

Not all of Solomon’s boys hated him.

Ten minutes later, Rogue reached his truck with Boston in tow and tucked the boy inside. No way in hell were they staying on this property. There were too many unknown factors and the place gave Rogue the creeps.

Boston didn’t speak until they were on the road. And only then did the boy stop darting glances out the rear window.

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