He followed my gaze then shrugged. “Rocco doesn’t miss, ma’am. If he wanted Logan dead, we’d already have a cleanup crew dumping his body.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Rogue squeezed my hand so hard that I had to politely ask him to let go a little. The moment he was untied, he came to my side, holding his stomach and ignoring his bloody lip. He ran his hands along every limb, checking me for injuries while blood coated his teeth. “Are you okay?” he asked before jerking me forward to clutch me tightly. I could hear his pounding heart while I whispered quick reassurances that I was, even though I felt far from it.
The men cut Bonham, Luis, and Godfrey loose next, keeping their guns at the ready in a wordless warning not to try anything. But because of the perfectly aimed shot that probably would scar Logan for life, not a single one of the other men touched me. Whoever this Rocco guy was, these men had a strange mix of fear and respect for him.
Though Godfrey limped, he, Bonham, and Luis circled Rogue and I as we entered the large wooden building. I looked up at the ceiling as the men led us down a concrete corridor. Rotted wood on the roof allowed the glow of the moon to peek through, and every time I breathed in, a distinct smell tickled the back of my throat. It smelled like...crisp money straight from the atm. An odd, but recognizable smell. I looked around, but the warehouse was completely empty. Absolutely nothing covered the concrete floors, aside from dust. It was just a clear space.
“Over here,” one of the guards said while another one held back a plastic partition for us to walk through.
“Where are we?” I asked Rogue in a low voice, but my whisper must have still been loud enough for the men to hear, because a lanky one on Luis's left answered me.
“Unless you’re willing to die for the answer, you’re safest just not asking questions, girl.”
I swallowed. We were definitely somewhere illegal. “Care to explain why it took you eight minutes instead of six?” Rocco asked.
The room we were led to had fold out chairs scattered around the dusty space, and Rocco was sitting in the middle of them. This space was only lit up by construction stand-type work lights. The intense bulbs let off glaring light in each corner of the room, but the dark wood walls seemed to absorb the light.
“We were still trying to wake one of them up, boss. Had to pour water on him,” the cigarette man answered. I looked over at Godfrey, noticing his clothes were sopping wet and sticking to his body. Despite the chill in the air, he didn’t shiver.
“Fine. Have a seat right there, boys. The girl can sit by me,” Rocco said.
Rogue immediately tensed at the idea of not having me at his side. He opened his mouth to refuse, but Rocco stopped him. “I have no interest in girls my daughter’s age, kid. But if I have to shoot you, I’d rather have a clear line of sight. It’s less messy that way.”
Rogue snapped his mouth shut at that reasoning, and after giving me a long, penetrating look that said all the things we couldn’t say out loud right then, he released his strong hold on my hand. Rocco’s cunning eyes watched our every move. I realized that his reasoning for separating us had a purpose other than just what he said. He’d also been trying to determine if I was important to my guys. He had his answer.
As I padded towards the leader, I noticed that a pristine chessboard was set up on a rickety table that looked like it was about ready to fall apart. The game board was made of marble and several of the pieces had chips in them. When I hesitated, Rocco patted the chair next to him. As soon as I sat down, he started placing the chess pieces on each square, methodically lining them up. Everyone watched him in attentive silence, waiting for him to speak.
Daddy once tried to teach me how to play chess. But he got too frustrated when I didn’t understand the complex rules right off the bat. He’d given up on our second lesson. I’d stolen a rook from his board and kept it on my nightstand. He never even noticed.
“You ever play chess, pup?” Rocco asked while setting up another piece.
“My Daddy tried to teach me, but he didn’t have the patience for it,” I explained, not quite feeling safe with this man, but not exactly feeling in danger, either. I didn’t know why he’d set me at ease. Sure, he fired a warning shot at Logan, but he was obviously still dangerous. I shouldn’t let my guard down. I shifted in my seat and studied him, while my guys on the other end of the room did the same. Rocco had grey, glassy eyes that seemed intensely despondent.
“Shame,” he said with a tsk. “I bet your daddy wasn’t very good at it, anyways. If you don’t have the patience to teach the game, then you definitely don’t have the patience to play it.”
The profoundness of his words made me pause, and I couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like for he and my daddy to be in the same room. I had a feeling they wouldn’t like each other very much.
He picked up the queen and held it out to me, nodding for me to take it from his rough hands. I tentatively reached out and grabbed it from his shaky grip, letting the weight of it lay heavy in my palm. “I’m sure you already know who this is,” Rocco said. “The queen? She’s got the entire purpose of the game wrapped up in her crown. Everyone lines up to protect her. She can bring down your board with grace and a couple of moves.”
My eyes darted up to Rocco’s face, but his attention was on the board. “A King is only as good as the player that controls him,” Rocco continued, like sitting here with the people he’d kidnapped while he explained chess wasn’t unusual. “Some kings are too willing to sacrifice their pawns. They toss them on the board and don’t give a fuck when they lose ‘em,” he said with disdain as he picked up a pawn. “I was tired of being a pawn, pup. So I took on the king, do you understand?”
“You used to be in Johnny Jack’s gang?” Godfrey interrupted, but Rocco didn’t acknowledge his question at all.
“I was in the middle of my third lesson of chess with my daughter when he took her,” Rocco said to me before grabbing the king and chucking it across the room. The chess piece slammed against the wall and broke into pieces on the floor. Rocco stood up, his glassy eyes filled with fury and heartbreak, but when he started to unbutton his shirt, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Rogue shift forward in his seat, as if ready to tackle Rocco should he try anything. But Rocco just opened his shirt at the front and pointed to the ugly scarring that covered nearly every inch of his torso. “The bastard carved into my chest while my daughter watched. And then he took her,” he said, his words choked and furious.
“Oh God,” I whispered as I covered my mouth, my eyes wide as I took in his red, raised flesh spelling out two large J’s to stand for Johnny Jack.
Although I didn’t know this man, I had an urge to reach out and hug him. He was a father who was obviously destroyed at the loss of his daughter. The selfish part of me wondered if my own parent would feel his same desperation and loss. It was palpable in the air, like his entire body fumed with it.
Rocco buttoned his shirt back up and looked over at the guys. “Word on the street is that you boys stole some evidence from Johnny Jack. I want it.”