Though he couldn’t be sure when the picture was taken, he knew it had to have been after she’d left him because he didn’t recognize the dress she wore or even the necklace that dangled from her throat.
As far as he knew, this was the last time she’d been seen alive.
Before he handed her mobile back, he sent the picture to himself.
“You’ve been making a lot of noise, Uilleam. Power moves don’t go unnoticed, not to mention the mercenaries. Some think she ran from you.”
The look on Karina’s face when she’d found out what he had done came rushing back, reminding him that she had, in fact, fled the home they shared … even if that hadn’t been the reason they were here now.
But what interested him more was the fact that the picture had been taken at all.
Someone, though he’d been unaware, had been following him—following her—and just maybe, they’d also have the answers he wanted.
“I think it’s time we figure out who runs Red Rum.”
And he knew a way to do just that.
Some nights, he found peace in his dreams.
Mostly, the same thoughts and memories that took up his every waking hour plagued them, but tonight, he only found her.
A vision in white with a gentle smile that drew him in.
He wanted to reach out and touch her—prove to himself that she was real—but once he did, the moment his hand almost touched her cheek, she faded to smoke.
Uilleam opened his eyes, hyper aware of his own racing heart, willing himself to take a breath before he sat up. At least this day he hadn’t woken up in a pool of his own sweat.
He let the cold, polished floors chill his bare feet a moment before he finally stood. By the time he was climbing into the shower, he was wide awake—his mind already light years ahead of what he was doing.
Today, he didn’t have the luxury of wallowing in his feelings and drinking away his pain. There was work to be done, and his first step would involve him getting on a plane back to New York.
Because whether the new recruits were ready or not, for what he intended to do to the city, he would need them at his beck and call.
Both Elsie and Kit were waiting at the dining room table when he came downstairs. His brother with his usual paper and cup of tea, and his sister with a breakfast spread fit for a queen.
“The cook has always been rather fond of Elsie,” Kit said by way of explanation without bothering to look up
“Only because a plate was usually never thrown when I was allowed to eat at dinner,” Elsie replied with a mock glare, though neither brother found the remark as amusing as she did.
She wasn’t like them—not entirely.
Some things she talked about without thought—nights she’d been forced to eat alone in her room in the uppermost spire of the castle or when she’d had to stand in the garden for hours until she could recite a speech verbatim for an assignment at school.
But even as open as she could be, she also harbored nearly as many secrets as they did.
Probably more.
“I see you’ve shaved,” she went on, gesturing to his face with a point of her fork.
“I do have an image to uphold,” he reminded her, plucking a few grapes from the plate she had resting in front of her.
“Off somewhere?” Kit asked, sounding far too curious for his own good.
“I’m long overdue to meet a hacker.”
Someone he hadn’t given much thought to at the time, considering his mind had been elsewhere, but now that he was in need of one, it seemed only fitting that he actually met with the girl.
“If you need someone, I know plenty,” Kit offered.
“And not a single one of them owes me a favor.”
So he wouldn’t be able to guarantee that they would keep their mouths shut on the matter.
For this, he would need discretion, and no one was more willing to do what he asked with no questions asked than a person whose life he’d saved.
Skorpion picked that perfect opportunity to walk in, his dark hair loose and hanging over his shoulders. He took one look at Elsie, and his entire demeanor changed.
“She’s off-limits to you.”
“I think it’s comical that you believe you have any say in the matter,” Elsie said. “But fortunately for you, I don’t have any time to stick around.”
The thought wasn’t an entirely pleasant one. “Back into your seclusion?”
“Better for everyone, I think,” she answered, her gaze briefly flickering in Kit’s direction. “Besides, it’s better that you not have too many weak spots, dear brother. I wouldn’t want to be used against you. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” she said as she stood, her food barely touched.
“They’re gone,” Kit whispered before she could step away from the table. “Mother and Alexander aren’t here to dictate your life anymore. You don’t have to sequester yourself away.”
Uilleam forced himself not to turn away even as he felt Elsie’s gaze digging into him.
As if she knew things he couldn’t possibly know.
Secrets, he remembered.
There would always be secrets between them.
And those very secrets were what had her walking out the door without a backward glance.
The world carried on despite his absence from it.
The Den compound was no longer under construction but fully operational. There had even been men at the gates waiting for him once he’d arrived.
But this was also Zachariah—and the man never let anything stand in the way of his job.
Uilleam had nearly made it to his uncle’s office when a blood-curdling yell rent the air, managing to make him hesitate where he stood. It wouldn’t be the first time he heard one in this place—he’d needed to desensitize himself to it—but this one made him pause.
Because it was unmistakably the sound of a little girl.
Little wasn’t the right word exactly—young would be a better choice.
Certainly shorter than the men standing around her, she looked even smaller due to the men’s hoodie she was wearing. With her dark hair up in two wild buns and gray eyes that were a little too wide, she very much didn’t look as if she belonged in a place like this.
And seeing her, Uilleam also knew she was the girl he had come to see.
Winter was her name—the girl with the sad eyes and too big clothes.
He didn’t know where she had come from or how she had ultimately crossed paths with his newest recruit, Synek, but the man had been willing to barter his life for her, so she had to be important in some way.
“What’s happening here?” he asked, all eyes cutting to him, even Winter who still looked utterly terrified.
“The little shit won’t go where she’s told,” one of the men barked, his gaze still narrowed on the girl who was shrinking away from him.
But even as she avoided him physically, that didn’t stop her from rebutting. “He grabbed me and wouldn’t let go.”
Uilleam took one look at her and the way she held her arm and determined she wasn’t making it up. “Care to explain?”
Whoever this man was, he clearly didn’t know that while he might have answered to Zachariah, Uilleam was the one in control of this organization—and his orders mattered most.
And he’d been sure to inform Zachariah that the girl wasn’t to be harmed in any way. No one was supposed to even look at her wrong.
He’d made the mistake of not making himself clear before, and an innocent girl had been hurt because of his neglect.
He wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.
“I believe I’ve made it clear that she’s not to be harmed.”
A muscle clenched in the man’s jaw. “If she doesn’t want to listen, get someone else to deal with her.”
It was clear he would need to teach the man some humility.
Before he could do just that, Winter perked up, her eyes bugging further as she pointed at the man in question.
&n
bsp; “Synek, he twisted my arm! You said they wouldn’t hurt me and—”
There were two things Uilleam was absolutely sure of.
Number one: Synek’s face was not one he wanted to see coming toward him in a darkened alley.
Two: If anyone did anything to disrespect his young charge, he would commit violence.
One second he was across the room, the next he snatched a pen from the clipboard on the wall and stabbed it into the man’s neck.
Uilleam looked on in surprised bafflement, half expecting the man to crumple to the floor, but he was still standing, fear replacing the insolence in his eyes as he lifted a hand to where Synek was still holding the pen.
“That’s your carotid, that is.” His voice was as calm as it was savage. “Another inch and you might die, sure, but you might live and be paralyzed. How the fuck should I know? I couldn’t give a shit so long as you bleed, you get me?”
He paused, actually waiting for the man to nod.
“Touch her again, and I’ll shove this pen through your balls and pin you to a wall.”
Only then did he finally yank that pen free, forcing the man to cup the wound as he bled and took off as quickly as his legs could carry him.
All too quickly, the hallway seemed to empty, leaving only the four of them standing there.
Skorpion was looking at the man as if he wasn’t all the way there, but Uilleam understood him.
He knew what it was like to want to protect the innocent from the world around him—he’d tried, in very much the same vein, to protect his sister as much as he could, but he’d also been trying to aid his brother in any way he could.
He’d often wished there were more of him to go around in those days.
Seeing Winter, Uilleam didn’t immediately think she was as good as Synek proclaimed her to be.
Too young, for one, and far too optimistic as she strolled into the room as if she hadn’t witnessed the violence Synek had inflicted.
Though she was here, he was almost positive she hadn’t truly seen the horrors of the world just yet. She didn’t know what it truly meant to suffer.
She would, Uilleam thought bitterly as he sat, feeling the leather of his chair creak as his weight settled.
They all did at one point or another.
He closed his eyes a moment, hating where his thoughts had gone. It had been far too easy getting to where he was when he hadn’t felt the personal pains of feeling something—of losing that feeling.
There had always been a sort of understanding with Karina. She knew there was bad in the world, but she had also believed in the good of people.
She had believed in him.
“What did you want with her?”
Synek’s voice brought him back to the present.
Uilleam blinked, bottling all thoughts of her back up. “Is she as good as you say?” he asked, his gaze on Synek instead of the girl standing in front of him.
He didn’t need another reminder of why Karina had started to hate him there at the end.
“I am—”
“Why?” Synek asked before Winter could finish whatever she thought to say.
“I have a job for her.”
Synek scratched at his slight beard furiously, briefly reaching up to finger the cigarette tucked behind his ear. The only tell the man seemed to have for his moods. If that little stick of nicotine was in place, his mood was a touch above relentlessly annoyed.
But if it wasn’t … he was very likely to react violently without warning.
Some considered him a liability—he’d taken the time to get up to speed on the flight over on reports over the last few months—and Uilleam might have agreed had he not known the man’s weakness. But the moment she was no longer that, he was rational enough to know that he couldn’t keep someone so unstable in his ranks.
But that was a problem for another day.
“The answer’s no.”
“No, because she’s not as capable as you’ve made her out to be, or because you think you get a say in what happens here after signing my contract?”
The question seemed to throw him. And Winter, realizing she was the topic of discussion, peeked over at Syn before she pushed to her feet and spoke for herself. “I can talk for myself!”
An involuntary smile curled Uilleam’s lips as he regarded the girl who couldn’t be more than ten years old—younger, maybe. She wasn’t afraid of him, or any of his men, he was beginning to realize.
And when it came to Synek—the man who’d saved her for no other reason than it was the right thing to do—she was just as protective of him as he was of her.
Touching.
He couldn’t help but wonder if it would always be this way between them.
“Very well,” he said, finally addressing her. “Synek tells me you’re good with computers.”
She shrugged as if that was no big deal at all, but he could still see a hint of something in her eyes. He had a feeling she wasn’t asked very much about this particular skill, and with enough coaxing, he could get what he needed out of her.
“Could you find someone with no traceable—”
She snickered with all the arrogance of a child. “Everybody can be found. It’s all about following the right breadcrumbs.” She glanced over at Synek for a moment before adding, “But I’m going to need something from you.”
“Winter,” Synek hissed, his gaze narrowing on her.
Uilleam was curious enough to indulge her. “I’m listening.”
“You can’t let Syn get hurt,” she said almost immediately, shocking them both. “He’s my friend, and friends don’t let friends get hurt.”
Nothing for herself then.
Not a place to live, though she didn’t have one. Not answers about what happened to her family, though she had to be curious.
Instead, she had asked for someone other than herself.
“She doesn’t—”
“I’ll do what I can within reason to make sure he’s not harmed,” Uilleam said over Syn, agreeing to her demand if only because it was so different than the ones that had come before it.
He could certainly make sure the Wraiths—Synek’s former organization—steered very clear of him since he was sending him off to London on an assignment. But the rest was entirely up to him.
And considering he’d seen firsthand what the man was capable of, he wasn’t worried at all.
She looked up at him with comically wide eyes before they skirted in Synek’s direction as if she had expected more of a fight from him.
“Is there anything else?”
Winter shook her head hard. “No, no, that’s it.”
“Then let’s begin, shall we?”
Not even a full day back in the city and already his mobile was ringing more than he would have liked it to be. He allowed most to go to voicemail, saving them for another day.
After all, he hadn’t decided if he was back or not—not until he could find an answer to his question.
His mobile had started to ring once more when there was a knock on his door—the sound as sharp and persistent as the man who entered his office.
In the months Uilleam had been gone, Bishop Amell had settled well into his role here, running the mercenaries as efficiently as Zachariah did and losing some of the harshness around his features.
Vengeance could do that for a man.
As promised, even if he hadn’t been around to see it, Uilleam had given the man what he wanted—an opportunity. It had been easy enough to bribe his way into a not so secure prison one night, and by the next morning, one of the men who’d resided there for years just hadn’t woken up.
Officially, he’d died in his sleep.
Unofficially, even Uilleam didn’t want to know what Bishop had done to the man, though he’d heard what others were whispering.
That he’d tortured him first, all while managing not to leave a mark.
That he’d made him suffer in the worst of ways before finally putting him o
ut of his misery.
It was how he’d earned the moniker, Grimm.
Bishop had always been seen as something of a grim bastard—and now his name reflected it.
His usual military-esque grooming was nonexistent. His hair around the middle was a shade longer, and from the looks of it, he hadn’t shaved in at least a couple of weeks.
Something was … off about him.
“Something you need?”
“Omerti,” he said without preamble, his voice lacking the indifference it usually held.
Uilleam hadn’t thought of the man since the moment he’d sent Bishop to end his life. After all, he’d still managed to get what he needed despite the man’s death, so he hadn’t proven worthy of another thought.
“What about him?”
Bishop folded his arms across his chest, his gaze briefly flickering over to the window and the line of trees outside it. “You ever find out who he was meeting with?”
Ah, the woman.
One who’d thought it imperative to step in on a deal she knew nothing about.
He hadn’t thought about her either.
“I don’t see how she’s of any importance.”
“Maybe not, but”—he shrugged—“thought I’d ask anyway.”
There was more he wasn’t saying, Uilleam could tell as much, but he didn’t have time to pick the man’s brains about his inquiries.
His mobile ringing anew broke up the silence they had fallen into, drawing his gaze to the familiar number. This wasn’t a call he’d been expecting so soon.
Now, he had other things to do.
“We’ll finish this later,” he told the mercenary as he grabbed his mobile. “Mr. Kendall, how can I be of service?”
8
Determination
They had all gone silent as her remark lingered in the air, but for once, Karina wasn’t going to let this go.
Not this time.
“I don’t think that’s the best idea,” Isla said, her voice changing.
“I think it’s time I decide what’s best for me.”
Black Swan Page 6
