Black Swan

by London Miller

  Luna looked embarrassed a moment. “I don’t have their attention, as you put it. I work for one, and the other—”

  “You’re sleeping with him, are you not?”

  Karina was waiting for her to ask how she knew—it wasn’t as if it was a secret that was broadcasted out to the world—but she didn’t seem to notice.

  Yet.

  “Tell me about the assignment,” she said to steer the conversation in a different direction.

  Just as well. “The man I’m looking for is an expert at making people disappear,” she said. “Six months ago, he was tasked with relocating a man by the name of Roger Tillman. I’ve asked for your services in bringing him to me. I’ve taken the liberty in preparing a file for your perusal.

  Karina picked up the file she’d left on her desk and handed it over. Luna accepted it even as she kept her gaze on her. “Is there a timeline you would like me to stick to?”

  “I’m sure you’ll find him in no time at all.” She’d made sure of that. “Three days should be plenty of time.”

  “Understood.”

  “And just to make sure I understand correctly, your role as a mercenary and lover aren’t mutually exclusive, is it? I value my privacy, Calavera, and I can’t have it compromised because you like to share with your bedfellow.”

  Kit’s attention could come later when she’d built up enough of a wall that would manage to keep even him away.

  For now, he didn’t need what she needed Luna to do to go any further than between the two of them.

  “I’ll see it done,” she said, her voice a little strained as she turned to leave once more.

  Karina watched her go, wondering whether the heavy feeling in her chest was because of the knowledge she carried with her ... or the fact that she knew, no matter how carefully she worded it, it would eventually destroy the woman she had fought so hard to protect once.

  27

  Dances With Devils

  Somehow, being in a hospital bed this time around was proving more boring than when he’d been in one after the incident in Paris.

  Not that it should have been, all things considered. Here, he was in the comforts of his own off-site facility with nurses working around the clock to ensure he was as comfortable as he needed to be.

  Sure, the pain still roused him in the mornings, making him far more susceptible to fluctuating bad moods, but it faded quick enough once he’d taken another round of medicine that mellowed him out.

  But his pain level wasn’t the cause behind his current ill behavior—but rather because of the nurse currently standing in front of him who looked as if she would rather be anywhere but there.

  “Mr. … Kingmaker,” she said, still unused to his title but diligent anyway. “These are the doctor’s orders. I’m merely—”

  “Nurses are more than capable of caring for a patient, aren’t they?” he asked, hoping to try another angle. “It is you I see daily, is it not?”

  The team of four health professionals he had found all came from various hospitals around the state—one commuted more than two hours, he was positive—but they had all agreed to assist in his care while keeping their work here confidential.

  Considering the tidy sum of money he was paying them until this ordeal was over, he was confident they wouldn’t breathe a word to another soul.

  If they did, it wouldn’t spell good things for them.

  But of all the nurses that cycled in and out, this was the only one who seemed more focused on her work than trying to figure out who he was.

  She came in, didn’t ask questions, and merely did her job before she left again in the morning.

  “Yes, sir,” she said quickly, “but if he says you’re to remain on bedrest for the next three weeks, it’s what you should do.”

  He’d hardly made it the last week, so he couldn’t imagine remaining here for another three. Already, his mind was rebelling, and if he didn’t venture anywhere other than the bathroom several feet away, he might very well lose his mind.

  And that never spelled good things for anyone else.

  “I’ll grab you some more pillows to make you more comfortable,” she said before she quickly hurried away.

  Preventing him from wearing her down further.

  Uilleam sighed as he sat back, running his hands through his too long hair, mindful of the IV needle taped to the back of his hand.

  He tried to ignore the feel of the stitches along his torso and the tight bandages that covered him.

  If he wanted, he could hire the best plastic surgeon in the world to rid him of the scars those bullets had left behind, but he’d rejected the thought just as quickly.

  They were another reminder he had been too careless with his own life and wasn’t properly utilizing the team of mercenaries who worked for him.

  He’d offered the world a gift by keeping his mercenaries contained, by only ever calling on them when he needed to make a show of force.

  Now, whoever had put him in this bed would rue the fucking day he ever woke up. Because when he set a course in mind, he didn’t deviate.

  Which was why he needed to get out of this bed. As long as he remained here, he was still a target.

  Voices brought his gaze away from the wall and over to where his brother walked in.

  To others, it might have seemed like a crime to go so long without seeing one’s sibling, but Uilleam found it was better for his sanity.

  Because all too quickly, he remembered why he had been avoiding Kit.

  He looked … happier. Less grim around the eyes. It would only take a glance to see that something had changed about him.

  Love did that to a person.

  It turned them into a better version of themselves.

  What did loss do?

  What did hate do?

  “It’s good to see you’re awake,” Kit said as he shrugged out of his coat and laid it aside.

  He would only think that for so long …

  Grabbing the remote, he fiddled with the buttons until the bed started to move, propping him up into a sitting position.

  “I wish I wasn’t,” he said, though his brother was probably thinking of far different reasons. “How on earth did you manage this?”

  Now, he smirked. “I make it a point not to get shot, Uilleam.”

  Assassins. They were all the same.

  “What are you doing here anyway? It almost feels as if you care.”

  “Despite what you lead yourself to believe, Uilleam, you’re my brother, and I love you. Even when you’re attempting to get a rise out of me.”

  “Your love is due to obligation and nothing more.”

  Why else would he be here? Kit had made it abundantly clear on more than one occasion that he couldn’t rely on Uilleam.

  That his support was fickle and easily snatched away.

  Uilleam expected that from the world—not from someone he had always known.

  “Is that how you look at it?” Kit asked. “Who am I obligated to exactly?”

  Certainly not their dead father, who Kit had killed himself.

  Not their sister, who could often become a faint memory until she popped back up again.

  And their mother ... no one hated Abigail Runehart more than Kit.

  Titles were merely that.

  “I won’t pretend to understand what goes on in your head,” Uilleam said with a wince as he shifted his weight, his ribs screaming from the movement. “But you wouldn’t have come here if you didn’t have any information for me.”

  They knew each other too well for that.

  “Luna tells me that the shooter rode a motorcycle and shot you from a considerable distance. Did you get a look at him? Particularly, the jacket he wore?”

  Uilleam narrowed his eyes, wondering if he was serious. “No, I was too busy getting shot to pay attention to whatever the fuck he was wearing. Your point?”

  Kit looked a little too amused for his liking. “They call him the Jackal.” When Uilleam didn�
�t comment further, Kit continued. “He’s been quite prolific over the past five years. He was also the one responsible for what happened to your mercenary last year.”

  Uilleam frowned, thinking of Grimm’s mysterious disappearance and the fact that all answers still hadn’t come to light. “And you’re only tell me this now?”

  He tried to picture the man he’d seen on the motorcycle—the Jackal, but all he saw in his mind’s eye was a shadow.

  Just a shade—there and gone.

  “I don’t involve myself in your affairs unless I need to,” Kit said, drawing him back.

  “Who’s his handler?”

  “No one knows.”

  “That’s not good enough.”

  “The truth rarely is,” Kit shot back. “You must be mistaking me for one of your mercenaries, brother. I don’t work for you.”

  “Then how do you find the Jackal?”

  “You don’t,” he said regrettably. “He finds you. Whoever he is, he’s very good. And whoever he works for, it seems they’re more paranoid about their anonymity than even you.”

  Uilleam shook his head. “Ghosts can’t stay hidden forever.”

  His brother didn’t seem to catch that. “My resources are at your disposal should you need them.”

  “Duly noted.”

  “Don’t give the nurses too much trouble,” Kit said as he moved to stand. “Take it easy over the next few weeks. It’s important for your recovery.”

  “My work is never done.”

  Recovery would have to wait.

  “Then take a break. You were shot, for God’s sake. You’re lucky to be alive.”

  And he would be certain he made the absolute most out of it.

  Kit was too smart for his own good—he saw patterns where no one else could. And if there was one thing Uilleam knew about his brother, if he ever wanted to plot against him, Uilleam would have to strike swiftly because if given enough time, his brother would see it coming.

  No matter how quiet he might have been, or how he had kept his plans for Luna to himself, even Uilleam had known it was only a matter of time before Kit figured out what he intended to do.

  After all, there was only one reason Uilleam would want to send Luna to California knowing Kit had been out there and who he’d been out there with.

  Despite his love for her, Uilleam’s plans hadn’t changed. He still very much intended to use her against her mother and make Kit pay for deceiving him all those years ago.

  The only problem now was, it seemed his brother had figured that out.

  The roar of motorcycles was the first thing that alerted Uilleam to his brother’s arrival.

  He did his best to curtail the smile already growing on his face, but something was amusing about the fact that Kit had sought him out this evening, considering everything Uilleam had planned for him.

  And if his brother had brought along company … that could only mean this wasn’t a friendly meeting by any stretch of the imagination.

  Perhaps he should have felt some measure of censure for enjoying this as much as he was, but then again, Kit had brought this upon himself. He was merely giving the man exactly what he had offered him.

  Pain.

  Runehart Chateau was one of the places Uilleam tended to avoid. Though it might have been a family property in name, since Kit used it as his primary residence, he respected his brother’s privacy—within reason.

  It had been, after all, a show of respect on his part that he hadn’t ventured there to make his grievances with his brother known.

  Yet his brother was here, temporary home or not, and it was as if he was spitting in the face of his gift.

  Perhaps he had always been too nice to Kit, offering him more than he’d ever offered another who crossed him.

  That was his mistake, and it was time to rectify it.

  Uilleam stood and ventured out, gesturing for the mercenaries loitering around to follow him. They followed without comment or complaint.

  But Kit wasn’t alone when he found him outside.

  No, the legendary four he’d heard rumors about surrounded him. Former assassins he’d trained that had, as far as he could tell, become bank robbers.

  The Wild Bunch, he called them.

  If anything, the sight of them only made adrenaline course through him because this went beyond a simple threat.

  Kit was plenty threat enough, considering how good he was at his former job, yet he had still opted to bring these men along though they hadn’t been needed.

  This was about making a stand. Showing that he, too, knew how to play the game, and while others might have tucked tail and ran because of the force Uilleam now had at his back, Kit wouldn’t.

  He had his own safety guard.

  “You’re asking for war, Kingmaker,” Kit said, and though he attempted to keep his emotions contained, Uilleam could see the sparks of fury bleeding out.

  His brother was upset with him, not that he’d expected otherwise. After all, there was only so long before he found out what Uilleam was up to and what he’d had planned.

  This day of reckoning had long been in the works.

  “Don’t tempt me into actually killing you,” Uilleam continued as he slowly descended down the stairs, his own team of killers right behind him.

  Kit would never admit it, but Uilleam knew one of the main reasons he had called on the Wild Bunch was because of Uilleam’s newly established Den of mercenaries. He might have been a formidable force all on his own, but there was only so much he could do when facing off an entire legion of enemies.

  It was only good business—a good enough strategy.

  But with his current standing, Uilleam feared nothing. “I invite you to try.”

  At this point in his life, he couldn’t count the number of people who’d either attempted a hit on his life or considered placing one. Not to mention the two times in the past six years that he had almost died.

  It was no longer a question of whether someone would try to have him killed. It was a question of whether they would be successful.

  “What did you expect, Uilleam?” Kit asked as he closed the distance between them until he was less than a foot away. “We wouldn’t be here had it not been—”

  “I’ve never liked those who play at being a victim,” Uilleam said with a shake of his head. “Wolves in sheep’s clothing, I say. They have their minions tell them they couldn’t have possibly done anything wrong, yet we both know the truth, don’t we? Just a two-headed dog begging to be put down. Make no mistake, brother, you only have yourself to blame. Yet you think to throw this in my face?”

  “And what do you suspect you’re doing, Uilleam? You’re so blinded by your own ego that you can’t see your own flaws. When you’re not plotting one of your schemes, you’re acting like a petulant child. Grow up.”

  A bitter laugh left Uilleam at those words.

  Words he’d heard from a variety of sources over the years, but only one person who managed to say them caused him to shrink beneath the weight of them.

  Alexander.

  They were more alike than Kit would ever acknowledge.

  “Astonishing coming from the man who decided to get into business with the very people he’s condemning me for. Did you think I wouldn’t find out about your arrangement with Caesar Rivera? The man couldn’t wait to spread the good news to anyone who would listen. Do you care to know why? Because the last time I had the misfortune of crossing paths with them, I told them they were both beneath me.”

  “You think the world is beneath you, Uilleam. That’s part of your problem.”

  This …

  This was the problem with allowing himself to be too close to people. They made him feel. It was why it was important for him to keep his distance from the mercenaries and hold them at arm’s length.

  He couldn’t afford to care about them the way he cared about his brother or the way he’d cared for Karina.

  Love made him weak.

  “I�
��ve never thought you were,” he said with far more venom than he meant to. They were just supposed to be words, yet they said more than Kit probably realized.

  Of all the people who had come in and out of his life, Uilleam had never treated Kit as though he were beneath his notice. Sure, he played his games because it was often fun to get a rise out of his brother, but he had also always thought of Kit as a worthy opponent.

  But things, very much like people, changed.

  A myriad of thoughts reflected on Kit’s face as they stood in silence for a moment.

  “You were sloppy,” Kit said. “You were in over your head, and this … this is the result. There’s no reason for you to be here anymore, is there? You’ve said they were beneath you, that means there should be no reason for you to be upset that I’ve taken them on. Don’t be a sore loser, brother. It’s unbecoming.”

  Kit wasn’t usually one to gloat.

  Yet here he stood doing that very thing when he still hadn’t a clue, despite what Uilleam had originally believed, why he was treading so very dangerously to the point of no return.

  He didn’t know the truth that haunted Uilleam.

  Not yet.

  But he would—Uilleam would make sure of that.

  “I’m going to make you bleed,” Uilleam said, his gaze level on his, even as Kit didn’t realize just what he meant by that. “I’m going to cut the heart right out of you.”

  Because Uilleam did know all those dirty little skeletons hanging in Kit’s closet—skeletons even he wasn’t aware of.

  “Don’t threaten me unless you’re ready for a war.”

  Uilleam smiled as he turned back to the car he’d arrived in, aware of the mercenaries closing rank behind him. “You must have forgotten, brother. I excel at wars.”

  28

  Truth and Honesty

  A knock on the glass door of her office had Karina looking up, finding Kava waiting there expectantly. She didn’t hesitate in saying, “She’s here,” before disappearing around the corner and out of sight.

  Beneath the cover of her desk, Karina swiped her palms over her skirt, brushing the moisture away. At the very least, it should have told her that she wasn’t completely incapable of feeling anything despite the way she tried to bury her emotions.