Quintessentially Q (Monsters in the Dark #2)(46)

I let Tess down. I left my woman to suffer at the hands of bastards all while I huddled in a f*cking corner and popped painkillers like Tic-Tacs.

It wasn’t until Frederick snuck a sleeping tablet into a handful of codeine that I fell asleep, and the migraine lost its power over me.

But the sleep wasn’t restful; it robbed the rest of my sanity.

Images of blood and broken bones and Tess screaming ceaselessly for my help. Her voice stabbed my heart over and over, full of accusation for letting this happen to her.

The moment I woke, I’d thrown myself headlong into tracking down the cunts who took her. But I hadn’t stopped to use my useless brain.

Breathing hard, I perched on the end of the bed and fanned out the files. Now that I had no one prying down my neck, I opened the paperwork that might hold some clues to finding her.

The records on all the girls I saved.

Tess’s details were at the back and I cracked the folder open.



Subject: Blonde Girl on Scooter

Barcode reference: 302493528752445

Age: Twenty to thirty

Temperament: Angry and violent

Sexual status: Not virgin

Sexual heath: No diseases

Ownership guidelines: Recommend strict punishment to break temper. Trim body, fit enough for extreme activities.

History: No living relatives



My eyes fell to the number. I’d tried to track Tess using the device when I sent her back to Australia, but it didn’t work. I always thought she removed it when she went home to Brax. I’d been pissed and proud at her for cutting it out because it meant she was safe even though I couldn’t spy on her whereabouts.

Try it anyway. You ever know.

My mind spooled back to letting Tess go. My sacrifice hadn’t been voluntary. I wanted to keep her forever, but I didn’t want to crush her. Tess was my phenomenon. The once in a lifetime dream that I never thought I’d get. And I’ve f*cked it up.

Motherf*cker, screw it. I wouldn’t sit here holding my cock while the Red Wolverine had Tess. He’d left his note—deliberately to get me to hunt him. If it was a trap, I didn’t care anymore. No one was more important than Tess.

Grabbing the spare laptop I kept in the bedside table, I called up the program associated with the tracking number and entered in the code. It was a waste of time, but I had to check.

The connection took a while, and I placed my hand on the lid to close it. See, she did remove it.

Then a small map appeared, followed by zooming in, faster and faster until it zeroed in on the one country I’d suspected and hoped to avoid.

Intense anger throttled my limbs. I wanted to howl. A month she’d been back in Australia. A full f*cking month and she didn’t remove it? What a moron. An idiot. Did she enjoy playing roulette with her life?

I wanted to kill her for being so stupid. She gave them the perfect way to find her!

When I get my hands on her, by God I’ll make her pay.

If she’d been standing in front of me, I would’ve cut it out myself and wrung her neck for being so stupid.

At least I now had proof.

The Red Wolverine had her—it was undeniable.

I wanted to ruin him. I wanted to take away his business, his money, his very flesh and blood. And only when he had absolutely nothing would I torture him until he begged me to kill him.

That’s how much I hated Gerald’s guts.

Tess was in Russia.

“Frederick, get your ass in here!”

Footsteps charged down the corridor, soft on the carpet. “What is it? What’d you find?”

I threw the laptop to the side. “I’ve confirmed he has her in Russia. We’re leaving.” I brushed past him, but he stopped me.

“But we asked the contacts we have in his team. They said they haven’t seen a girl matching Tess’s description. If we barge in and start shooting, you’re ruined, Q. The rest of your contacts will come after you. Think clearly for a moment. Are you sure he’s got her?”

I bared my teeth and rushed back to the bed. Grabbing the laptop with the flickering red dot in Moscow, I shoved the machine into his arms. “Enough f*cking proof for you?”

Leaving him to worry that my company was about to dissemble and fall into ruin, I careened into the lounge to find Franco.

I moved like a f*cking whirlwind of male fury.

His dark brown hair hung over his forehead and lack of sleep made his eyes raw and brutal. He looked up as I crooked a finger for him to come to me. When he was away from the other staff, I muttered, “Call up nine of your top mercenaries. Meet me at the airport in an hour. We’re going in. I don’t care if we have to kill every last bastard if it means we find her.”

No element of surprise or pause; Franco knew when to just obey orders. His eyes glinted with pleasure. “Yes, sir. I’ll see you at the airport.”

Frederick, with his old fashioned style and friendly personality was the polar opposite to me—he lived a tame life, married the sweet girl, lived in a presentable house—while Franco, the man I hired because I saw how efficiently he killed, indulged in the same hobbies I did, just on a more acceptable scale. Franco and I never talked about our similarities, but we knew. It was easy to spot the monster in others. He may look like a gentleman: moving sedately, speaking eloquently, but beneath the sleek fa?ade lurked a killer with a temper. Franco had no remorse for dealing out vengeance to those who deserved it.