Page 46 of Damaged

“Where are we going?” Boston asked.

Rogue was on the fence about their destination. He needed to take Boston back to Dave’s place. That meant there was no way he could meet Wrath and Rebel in Nevada.

Maybe it was just as well.

About an hour later, Rogue pulled into a gas station located out of their way and gave Boston a credit card to go inside and get snacks while he filled up his tank. The boy jumped out and hurried across the deserted parking lot.

They weren’t out of the woods yet—this whole area up here was crowded with trees and off the beaten path and hewasn’t going to feel comfortable until he was back in Southern California and his own city.

Rogue popped the nozzle into the tank and sent Wrath a text.

Rogue: I don’t think I can make it to Nevada.

When his phone rang flashing Wrath’s name, he didn’t answer it.

Wrath: Great. Now you’re not taking my calls?

Rogue grimaced and squeezed the phone before shooting a text back.

Rogue: Talking isn’t going to fix shit.

Wrath: What shit? Us? Are you talking about us? Are you ending it with me?

He stared at the messages with his heart in his throat.

Was he? Ending things? Had they really even begun? Yeah, probably, but he was no good.

Boston walked back across the weed-covered parking lot with his arms full of snacks, and Rogue sighed and shot Wrath back a final text.

I need to rethink some things.

Wrath glared at his phone and the message from Rogue.

Rethink some things?

That was fucking bullshit. He closed his eyes; pain filled his chest, and he slowly tucked his phone away.

All he could do was to stick to the plan and get Rebel out of there.

Then he would deal with Rogue because if that man thought to ditch him, then he had another thing coming.

In truth, though, Wrath was tired of the hot and cold. He was tired of always being the one to chase. Why couldn’t Rogue meet him halfway? Why did it always have to be him making advances?

Perhaps he doesn’t like me as much as I like him.

He hated the thought but couldn’t deny that it might very well be true.

At this point, he didn’t fucking know.

“Are you okay?” Rebel whispered.

“Yep.” Wrath smiled and led Rebel out of the bathroom. He pulled out several pieces of a weapon he had disassembled and tucked on his person and placed them on Rebel’s bed.

Hiding his weapon had been the best thing to do since Mrs. Jackson had taken his jacket when he’d entered from the outside. She had also bumped against him as if by accident, but he’d caught onto the fact that she was searching him for a weapon.

He still had Rebel’s knife tucked beneath his shirt and he never went without his own weapon. She didn’t find either one, but didn’t really search him because that would have drawn suspicion.

He hadn’t blamed her at the time because he thought she was just being careful with new renters.

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