Closing her eyes, she counted back from a hundred, but it took a few dozen numbers before she was finally able to drift off.
* * *
The day after he stood her up, she was still willing to believe it was all just a misunderstanding.
The second, she was feeling like an idiot for even considering it was anything more than it was.
And by the third, she was making it a point to not think of him at all.
Sure, the night she spent with him was great and it may take her a while to find someone that could top it, but she couldn’t bring herself to let it take over her life.
Stepping back from the painting as she wiped her brow, Amber’s gaze swept over the canvas and all the new details. After a week and a half, she could finally see it taking shape, and with the amount of work she was getting done, she would be finished by her deadline in another ten days. It would probably only take her a week at most to finish the actual painting portion of it, then she could return it to Gabriel for the aging process. As far as her job was concerned, she was only a week away from a five-figure payday.
But as she drew closer to the finish line, she was worried.
While making replicas of a famous painting was not illegal by any means, if someone tried to pass them off as the real thing… that was illegal. And the last thing she needed was to get arrested for something like that—she wouldn’t be able to work in her field again.
But, Gabriel had asked that she not change anything about the painting, wanting to ensure that it stood unparalleled next to the original. He was technically her employer for this, so it wasn’t like she could argue this with him, but the artist inside her didn’t like the idea of not marking them in some way.
Just in case …
Grabbing one of the thinner brushes, she dipped it in white paint, carefully scrawling her name along the very bottom, making sure it blended, though not completely, with the image at the bottom. It could easily be skipped over when one was just looking at the portrait, but easier to see once studied.
At the very least, it eased her conscious.
Cleaning her brushes, Amber made quick work of putting away her supplies and materials, then washing her hands with soap and paint thinner.
It was the nights like these when she watched the paint leech from her hands, running in colorful swirls down the drain that she felt the most happy.
She was creating something, even if it had already been done, but there was even an art to what she was doing. Not everyone could do the same.
Finished for the day, she grabbed her bag as she sent off the pick-up text, waving goodbye to the others as she headed out. Instead of going for the metro as had been her custom, she hailed a cab, riding all the way out to the Upper East Side, heading for a nightclub in the heart of the city.
Having a best friend that was married to a Russian Mob boss wasn’t something everyone could say they had, but Amber was just lucky that way. Mishca Volkov was what happened when you moved to a city and fell in love with the first man you met.
It only felt like months ago that she was sharing a brownstone with Lauren near NYU, enjoying the life of a college student, but after she had moved out—and because Amber was no longer in school—she thought it better to move and start living off her own dime instead of her parents’.
But outside the glamour that Mishca’s life presented, there were the darker, scarier parts. It was hard to know what all happened behind the scenes, but what little she had been privy to scared her.
Mishca had been shot once.
Lauren kidnapped.
All of Luka.
Amber didn’t think she could handle that kind of lifestyle, constantly worrying that someone might try to kill her just because of who her spouse was, but so long as Lauren was happy and content, she couldn’t complain.
After paying the cabbie, Amber slung her bag over her shoulder as she climbed out, stepping up onto the curb in front of Club 221. The line was already starting to form, security in clean suits standing at the door, gradually allowing people inside.
Though she wasn’t dressed for the atmosphere by any means, the security guards barely spared her a glance as the door was opened and she was allowed entry—paid to be friends with the owner.
Amber followed the familiar pathway to the back office where she found Lauren on the floor with Sacha as he walked from the desk, to her, and back again, each time bringing one of the pencils along with him like a gift.
“He knows Friday nights are daddy’s night,” Lauren explained with a soft smile. “So if Mish is late, he throws a fit.”
Ah, he was nearing the terrible two’s. She had enough cousins with children so she knew how epic some of those meltdowns could be.
“If you want to reschedule—”
“Of course not,” Lauren said quickly. “I haven’t seen you in weeks, and we need to catch up. Mish should be here soon.”
Smiling broadly, Sacha toddled over to her, holding his hand high as he waved. “Hi.”
Feeling like her face was going to split open from her own smile—she really did love kids at this age—she sat down so they were eye level. “Hi, Sacha.”
He pointed to himself, making her laugh.
“Yeah, you’re Sacha.”
He pointed to her.
“I’m Amber.”
“Amber. Amber. Amber. Amber,” he said over and over again, going back to his trek across the floor for more pencils.
“Don’t get any ideas,” Lauren said with a light laugh. “The baby fever is written all over your face. Just remember that they’re not always this cute.”
Sacha made that hard to believe. Whenever she was around him, he was always in the best of moods with the sweetest smile.
“If you’re really feeling the urge, you can babysit for a night and we’ll see how you feel in the morning.” Lauren shook her head. “But then again, he’d probably be good for you.”
Amber had a cousin that had been like that as a baby, drove her mother crazy.
“But tell me about the guy! Don’t hold me in suspense any longer.”
Now Amber was kind of regretting that phone call. Earlier in the week, when she had called to arrange this hangout, she had slipped and told Lauren where she had been the night before, and since it was with a man, Lauren had demanded details.
Then, she had been rather giddy to share. Now, not so much.
“There’s not much to tell, really. It was only like a one-time thing.”
“It didn’t sound like a one-time thing,” Lauren said with a frown. “Did something happen?”
Amber quickly ran through everything, which was mostly nothing since she hadn’t actually talked to Kyrnon, but she did tell her everything that had happened between them up until this point.
“And you said his name is Kyrnon? That’s an interesting name.”
“He’s Irish.”
Lauren’s smile returned. “Oh, an Irishman? Besides Reagan, the only other Irish person I know is C—”
“Daddy!”
The exclamation came from Sacha as the office door came swinging open, revealing both Mishca and Luka Sergeyev on the other side.
The former, and her best friend’s husband, was just as intimidating as he had been the first time she met him. Except now, he seemed even more so. He still wore his customary three-piece suit, scruff on his jaw, and hair that always looked like it was in need of a cut.
The latter, however … he was much harder to describe.
There was always that one friend in the group, the risk taker, the one that loved to make jokes, and smiled a lot. But Luka was an enhanced version of that.
His risks included guns and knives.
His jokes were usually at another’s expense.
And his smiles were always a bit manic, and one could never tell if it was friendly or threatening.
The Mad Hatter always came to mind.
Questionable goodness. A small streak of evil. And a hell of a lot of m
adness.
Mishca caught his son, smiling down at the toddler as he brought him up in his arms with a brilliant smile. “How’s my boy?” Sacha smiled in return at his father. “And were you good for your mama today?” That, too, was answered with a smile. Smoothing a hand over Sacha’s head, Mishca’s gaze turned to her. “Amber, it’s nice to see you.”
“And you, Mish. How’s the, uh, other side treating you?” she never outright asked, but she didn’t pretend like she didn’t know.
“I can’t complain.”
“Enough about him,” Luka declared stepping further into the room. “Let’s talk about me.”
Laughing, Amber asked, “And how are you, Luka?”
“Don’t encourage him,” Lauren cut in before Luka could get out a word. “You’re asking how he’s doing, the next he’s telling you about the time he cut a man open to make him talk.”
Luka waved her words away. “I had a bad childhood.”
“See what I mean? Besides, we were talking about Kyrnon.”
“Kyrnon? Who’s Kyrnon?” The question came from Mishca.
Well that canceled out him being in the mafia, or at least he wasn’t a part of one in this state. And considering him and his brother ran in similar circles, that probably meant he wasn’t a mercenary either.
“He’s nobody,” Amber said. “Just a guy I met.”
“Did he do something wrong?” Luka asked, sounding a bit more serious than he had moments prior. “Because I’ll fuck him up, just give me the word.”
She believed that.
Wholeheartedly.
And not because he had done something wrong to her, but just because he liked doing it.
“It was nothing like that, Luka. Simmer down.”
“Well you’re no fun.”
“Anyway. We’re leaving, Mish. I’ll call you later.”
After kisses for both Mishca and Sacha, and a disgruntled one for Luka who complained that he was being shunned, Lauren walked out of the office first, Amber behind her.
Once they were out the back door where a car and two rather large Russians were waiting for them, Lauren drew in a deep breath and said, “Tell me everything.”
And for the next three hours, she did.
* * *
Kyrnon had fucked up.
He knew it the moment he was running out of the old, abandoned house in Brussels, seconds before it went up in flames. It wasn’t because he was burning the residence down that there was a problem, but rather because the fuse had sparked earlier than expected, and during his haste to get out in time, he had lost his phone in the process.
It wouldn’t be the first time he lost some tech, and wasn’t too concerned with anyone being able to extract anything off it even if they were to investigate the fire, he had safeguards in place for that.
No, he was thinking about Amber and how he wouldn’t be able to get in contact with her until his assignment in Brussels was over. He didn’t know her number by memory, and the same safeguards that protected others from hacking into his phone, prevented him from accessing any data as well.
But, he had figured as long as he was there for their date, there wouldn’t be a problem.
Except there was delay after fucking delay that by the time he was boarding a plane and heading back to the States, he knew she was going to be royally pissed at him.
While honesty was the best policy, there was no way he could tell her about the mission. Even if he did, what was the likelihood that she would believe a story like that anyway, even if it was the truth.
His only hope was to smooth things over, try to win her favor.
Not even for the assignment, but because he didn’t want to be the reason why she was upset. It was already starting to not feel like a job when it came to her.
By the time he landed and was heading back to his place, night had settled heavily over the city. Grabbing a new phone once he was inside his war room, he activated the memory card inside of it, plugging in his credentials even as he made his way back to his bedroom.
While he didn’t have much time to spare, he still showered the day away and changed his clothes. Scooping up the keys for his bike, he was headed back out of his loft within an hour of getting there.
Kyrnon remembered the route to her place, having taken her home twice now. The street was quiet once he arrived, and though he rang the buzzer for her apartment, no one answered. While there was a possibility she wasn’t home, Kyrnon was a bit anxious, and instead of waiting, went around the side of the building to the fire escape.
Checking that no one was around, he climbed up, making his way up the ladders until he reached her window. Sheer curtains blocked the view inside, but from what little he could see, no one appeared to be home.
Which made fucking sense.
What reason did she have to ignore the buzzer?
It wasn’t like she could know it was him calling for her.
Feeling like a proper stalker, he quickly made his way back down, then took a seat on his Harley. He was willing to wait.
An hour or more passed before a town car came rolling down the street, pulling over to the curb, the door swinging open as Amber climbed out. “Thank you,” she said to the driver as she shut the door and watched it pull away.
It wasn’t until she was closer to the entrance of her building did she notice him.
Full, pouty lips parted in surprise, but a smile didn’t grace her pretty face when she saw him. Actually, she made it a point to not show anything at all, which only made him feel worse. But she did look like she would rather be anywhere but there with him.
“What are you doing here, Kyrnon?”
“You needed a driver?” Kyrnon found himself asking, gaze gone off in the direction the town car had taken.
“I was at dinner with a friend and something came up. Her husband had someone take me home, though I’m not sure why any of that matters to you.”
Shite.
Aye, she was mad at him.
Rubbing the back of his neck, Kyrnon pushed off his bike toward her. “Can I explain?”
Her arms crossed over her ample chest, offering a tantalizing view down her low-cut shirt, but he didn’t let his attention linger too long. He didn’t need her upset with him for another reason.
“If you want,” she finally answered.
But he didn’t like that. He would much rather have her anger than to have her be indifferent.
Even if he was still telling himself that it wasn’t supposed to matter.
“First, I lost my mobile,” he said, even pulling out the new electronic for her to see. “And since I was in Brussels on business, I couldn’t get another one until I got back.”
Her expression remained the same. “Glad you got a new phone.”
“I didn’t get back until a few hours ago,” he added, thinking back to just how long it had been since he talked to her. “I—”
“Kyrnon, you really don’t have to explain if you don’t want. You don’t owe me anything.”
She wouldn’t meet his eyes as she said that, and that just wouldn’t do. He didn’t like that look on her face.
“But I do.” He came closer, but not so far that he was crowding her, but enough that she finally had to acknowledge his presence in front of her. “I can’t have you thinking I didn’t want to be there.”
She shook her head. “Kyrnon, seriously. Everything is fine. I’m not—”
Maybe that was what that other eejit had wanted from her when he fucked up, lessen his guilt for being a shite person, but Kyrnon didn’t want that. “Amber.”
The way he said her name, low and a little harsh, grabbed her attention finally, making her turn those soft brown eyes on him.
“I wanted to be there,” he said before she could say anything else. “I had every intention to be. I’d thought about it for days.”
And he had.
He wanted to see what she was like when she was in her own space and could let her guard all the wa
y down. He wanted to see her thoughts reflecting on the canvases that he didn’t have a doubt were all over her apartment.
And he also wanted to see just how flexible she was.
“And if you give me a chance, I’ll make it up to you.”
She didn’t say anything for a long time, just studying him as though to gauge his truthfulness. Then, she asked, “Brussels?”
Kyrnon released a breath, feeling some of his tension easing. If she was asking about it, she at least wanted to talk. “It was a long trip.”
“Is that why you look so tired?” she asked, and he could see the concern in her eyes.
She wasn’t wrong though.
He was fucking exhausted.
It felt like he had been up for the entire week, and besides the handful of hours he slept, he had been. Before he had gone, he had felt rather energized, glad for the fact that he had been able to catch at least three hours of sleep when she was warming his bed, even if it did surprise him.
Kyrnon didn’t sleep well by nature, so whenever there was someone else near him, he really couldn’t sleep, not trusting anyone in his space when he was that vulnerable.
But he had with Amber.
There wasn’t any fear of what she might do to him while he was passed out, so maybe another part of him was glad to be back here in the hopes that she could help him sleep again.
“Aye,” he said answering his question. “But I wanted to see you first.”
Finally, he was able to manage a smile out of her. “Do you want to come up?”
“I’d be a fool to say no.”
Fingering her keys absently, she didn’t start for her door right away. “I’m not sleeping with you.”
Remembering the last time they were together, Kyrnon couldn’t hold back his smile if he tried. “Bit late for that, lovie.”
“Again. I’m not sleeping with you again.”
“Maybe not tonight, but I’ll wear you down.”
With a roll of her eyes, though she didn’t look half as bothered as she tried to pretend, she let them into the building, leading the way to her apartment.
Celt. (Den of Mercenaries Book 2) Page 10
