Den of Mercenaries

by London Miller

  “Good for you then, working your way up the ladder for whatever sketchy business you work for.”

  “Sketchy?”

  “Are you serious? Twice, I’ve asked about your job and you’ve yet to actually tell me the name of the company.”

  His smile grew. “Didn’t I?”

  “No, you really didn’t.”

  “I just call it the Den.”

  Well that didn’t sound like a real company anyway, but since she didn’t think he would be sticking around anyway, she let it go.

  “Does that necklace mean a lot to you?” Reagan asking, spotting the glint of gold at his neck. “You wore it a lot before.”

  She didn’t think she had noticed how delicate that chain really was.

  “It’s not important.”

  “It’s not important to you, or it’s not important for me to hear?”

  “Reagan …”

  She waited, expecting him to continue, but when he didn’t, the defenses that had been slowly lower slammed right back up. “Don’t worry about it, just drop me off.”

  They rounded the block one last final time before he found a spot a few feet away.

  Niklaus killed the engine, but didn’t look at her, not yet. “You’re upset because I won’t tell you something that I may not be ready to talk about?”

  “That’s just it, Niklaus. I don’t know anything about you,” Reagan said, feeling frustrated. “I don’t know what’s open for discussion and what’s not.”

  He shook his head meeting her eyes to say, “You know what’s important.”

  “Really? Because the only thing I know for sure—and this is me being generous—is that your name is Niklaus. I don’t even know your last name.”

  “Volkov,” he said a second later.

  Why did that name sound so familiar?”

  “Or where you’re from.”

  “I was born in Russia, but grew up in Florida with my adoptive mother, but like I said, I don’t think that’s important.”

  “Why do you get to decide what’s important to me? Maybe it’s those little things that will help me understand who I’m dealing with.”

  Niklaus laughed, his tone sharp. “Trust me, none of that will tell you anything about the person I am now. Not even close.”

  “Oh, right. I’m sorry. I should have known that after all the stimulating conversations we had.”

  “I’ll tell you when it’s the right time.”

  “There’s not going to be a right time, Niklaus. This—whatever this is that you’re trying to do—it can’t happen.”

  “Because of Liam, no?”

  Partly because of him. “No, because of you. Back when I first met you, I wanted to know everything about you, figure you out, and maybe help with whatever wasn’t letting you sleep at night. And not just once, twice. Only the second time you left money, like I was a prostitute being paid for my services.”

  When she had seen it the first time, she had thought that it meant he cared, then the other part of her thought it was exactly what she was telling him now. And very soon, she had stuck on the latter and began to loathe that bag full of cash. Most days she didn’t even want to look at it, knowing the memories it would conjure. She would have much rather had the man than the money, but finally after she had gotten desperate enough—and convinced that he was never coming back—she had used every dime of it, along with her savings to open up her pub.

  “It was never like that, Reagan. You know that.”

  “Do I?”

  The tension was back, and while Reagan might have wished otherwise, she couldn’t pretend like his leaving hadn’t hurt her.

  Instead of waiting for whatever answer he was conjuring up, she unbuckled and climbed out, slamming the door shut behind her. She didn’t linger, not this time, heading directly for her building without looking back.

  “Reagan.”

  There was a hitch in his voice, just the slightest betrayal of emotion that had her pausing. She could have kept on—she didn’t think he would have stopped her again—but before she could quell the impulse, she looked back at him.

  “Why did you leave?” she asked.

  The question had plagued her since the last time she saw him, and every night that followed for weeks as she wondered whether he would show back up as he had the first time.

  But the longer he was gone, the more dejected she felt until finally, she had given up expecting to see him walking through the doors of the diner.

  Niklaus looked down at his hands, his fingers tightening briefly. “You won’t like the answer.”

  “No? Tell me anyway.”

  This was when she expected him to deny her, to make up some excuse that he thought she would want to hear. Funny thing was, the truth was the last thing she expected from him.

  “You were falling in love with me,” he said after a moment, shifting his gaze from his hands to her face, and whatever emotion portrayed on her face seemed to affirm whatever he was thinking in his head. “And love, I wanted no part of that.”

  No, Reagan hadn’t liked his answer. She almost wished she could have taken the question back and erased his answer from her memory.

  But he had been right, of course. She had been falling in love with him, no matter how stupid that it was. Except, she hadn’t thought she had been so transparent with how she felt about him.

  More hurt than angry, she tried to speak past the lump in her throat. “Then why are you here now?”

  Now he looked unsettled. “I answered that.”

  “No, you said you came back to Hell’s Kitchen for me, but you didn’t say why you came for me at all.”

  He looked blank, all emotion wiper clear of his face. It was almost frightening seeing him do that, from giving her everything to giving her nothing.

  “There’s just … something about you.”

  “I don’t know if I have it in me to do this with you all over again, Niklaus.” She shook her head, glancing down the street. “Why can’t you just walk away? I’m not going to ask you to stay.”

  “I can’t. If I could, I would have stayed gone, but here I am.”

  All of this had been said in an almost cool detached manner, but for whatever reason—maybe just because her stupid heart wanted it—she believed him.

  But in the end, it didn’t matter what her heart wanted. “Go home, Niklaus, or wherever it is you’re laying your head tonight. And please, for both our sakes, don’t come back. There’s no point in hurting us both another time.”

  Chapter 22

  After the night before, Reagan was glad that the pub was closed on Mondays—she didn’t think she had the energy to run the place. She’d been restless all night, too wired to sleep much, but far too tired to do anything more than lie in bed and think of her conversation with Niklaus.

  It had been so much easier talking to him in the beginning, back before he’d broken her heart and she was forced to deal with men like Liam. As she stood in the kitchen, washing dishes and straightening up, she wondered whether things might have been different between them had he come back before Liam had come into her life.

  Would she have been more receptive?

  Would she have been willing to hear him out if the threat of what Liam might do wasn’t hanging over her head?

  Then again, maybe she could tell Niklaus about him. He wasn’t from around there, and could possibly help … but was she willing to bet his life on it?

  Finishing with the last plate, she dried it with a towel and placed it in the cabinet, a hard knock at the door nearly making her drop it. Wiping her hands off on her shorts, a sliver of excitement went through her as she turned the locks, imagining who was on the other side.

  But that excitement died a quick death.

  It wasn’t Niklaus standing there, but Liam, holding a bouquet of red roses, a wide smile on his handsome face. He was dressed in his customary suit, but his jacket was missing, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up to his elbows. Anyone else—or maybe
a particular someone else—might have made her smile, blush even, but the sight of Liam only made her wary.

  “What are you doing here?” It seemed she’d been asking that question a lot lately.

  He held the flowers out for her to take, and after a moment, she did, but she didn’t bring them close to inhale their aroma, but kept them out in front of her like she was afraid for them to touch her skin.

  “I wanted to apologize for yesterday.” He cut off there, giving her a pointed look that she didn’t misunderstand.

  He wasn’t done talking, but he wouldn’t say more, not until she invited him in.

  Wanting to get this over as soon as possible, Reagan stepped to the side, allowing him to slip past her. He had never been inside her apartment—and hadn’t pressed the issue. Unlike with Niklaus, she wasn’t surprised that Liam knew where she lived.

  It was only after she’d closed the door and he’d taken a seat on the couch did he go on.

  “I made a promise to you. Your little pub is important to you and I respect that.”

  Why was it that he had to diminish it if he knew that it was important to her? By calling it little, as though it was practically insignificant, he was telling her that she thought more of the place than he did.

  Not knowing how to respond to that—or at the very least, not knowing what to say that wouldn’t make him mad, Reagan elected to stay quiet, giving him a chance to say his piece so he could leave.

  “But that’s beside the point. I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding. Jimmy knows better than that, doesn’t he?”

  “My brother does what he wants.”

  Liam nodded. “That may be, but we have rules, dove. If he wants to align himself with the fecking Flanagans, I can’t guarantee he won’t get hurt alongside them.”

  Reagan met his stare head-on, and for once, she felt the stirrings of helplessness. What could she do? Jimmy had yet to call her back, and there was no one around here that was brave enough to take on Liam and his brother, with the exception, it seemed, of Declan.

  But she didn’t know where he was, or even how to get in contact with him.

  Niklaus …

  She didn’t know why his name popped into her head at that moment, but once again, she found herself considering confiding in him like she once had, because now that she thought about it, he had solved her first problem.

  He might have walked away without a word, but not without leaving a parting gift, one that had meant the world to her even as it crushed her.

  “But he’s not important now,” Liam said walking towards her. “How about you put those in water, then we can get out of here.”

  Frowning, she shook her head. “I have plans today.” Which mostly consisted of doing absolutely nothing, but he didn’t have to know that.

  “Cancel them. There’s someone I’d like you to meet.”

  Reagan was clueless. She thought she’d met everyone he deemed important. “Who?”

  “My da’s in town on business, but while he’s free, I thought he’d like to meet the girl who’s stolen my heart.”

  He couldn’t be fucking serious. And why could he possibly want the two of them to meet? She had never given him the impression that she wanted that, or even that she wanted to really be in a relationship with him.

  “Liam,” she said, trying another tactic. “Isn’t it a bit early for that?”

  “Of course not, dove. We have a good thing here. No one’s going to fuck that up for us.”

  “Seriously, Liam—”

  “Go, now. We don’t have much time.”

  Reluctantly, Reagan walked to her bedroom, but closed the door after, making sure to push in the lock just in case Liam thought to follow behind her.

  She grabbed the first things she saw, not bothering to try and dress up, especially when she had no intention of trying to impress his father.

  Tugging on some jeans, a plain tank top, and a pair of sneakers, Reagan tossed up her hair, and grabbed a light jacket, pulling it on as she left her bedroom.

  Liam frowned at the sight of her. “Is that the best you can do?”

  That statement coming from anyone else might have hurt her feelings. It wasn’t like she looked bad, but by the way he was looking at her, you would think she’d just gotten off work after a sixteen-hour shift and hadn’t bothered to change clothes.

  What was funny was how she had looked worse a couple of years ago when Niklaus had stumbled into the diner, and he hadn’t seemed bothered in the slightest. Even yesterday, he still looked at her the way he did so long ago.

  “We don’t have the time, right?” she asked, grabbing her keys from the counter and heading out the door, looking back once she was outside to make sure he understood she wouldn’t be changing or anything else.

  Liam didn’t look pleased as he exited her apartment, and maybe he’d been truthful when he said there wasn’t much time because judging from the look on his face, he looked like he wanted to drag her back in to change.

  Reagan took this, however small it might have been, as a victory.

  A lot could change over the course of a year, Niklaus knew that better than anyone considering how drastically his life had shifted in a handful of days, but as he rode the elevator up to the penthouse apartment in Manhattan, he wasn’t sure what he would find once the doors opened.

  He hadn’t seen, nor spoken to the Russian or his wife since he had left town almost a year ago after the birth of their son, Sacha. No matter that they argued more than they didn’t, or that Niklaus threatened to murder Mishca every chance he got, the second he had received that phone call from one of his brother’s men, just an address in fact, he had been out of bed and racing there.

  Considering the animosity between them, Niklaus had never expected for Mishca to call on him that night and be a part of something so intimate. Sure, the little baby was his nephew, but that hadn’t meant he was to be included—it wasn’t like he had ever given them any reason to ask him to be in the baby’s life.

  But he had cared. Since the moment Lauren had told him she was pregnant.

  His first reaction was anger, as was his usual reaction to most things he wasn’t expecting, but deep beneath that was fear. Fear that Sacha would be hurt due to the life he was born into, and worse, that he would end up like Niklaus.

  He didn’t pretend to think he was a good person. He doubted there was even a shred of goodness left inside of him after everything he had been through.

  And despite his own shortcomings, Niklaus had made it a point to hang around a little more, make sure the baby—or Lauren since she had been pregnant at the time—had everything she could have possibly needed.

  But the night she gave birth, as he’d sat out and waited, he hadn’t expected what the sight of Sacha would do to him.

  Niklaus didn’t mean to care, but the moment he saw him, with the soft blue blanket wrapped around his tiny body, tucked securely in his father’s arms, he felt something other than hatred and anger and frustration and the rest of the roiling emotions that constantly churned inside of him.

  And the very idea that the tiny little human that had yet to open his eyes—and had looked exactly like him since he was a carbon copy of his father—was another piece of his family had scared the shit out of him.

  He wanted a family.

  He wanted to be free of the burdens that had always sat heavy on his shoulders, but he didn’t know how. For so long, the only thing he had ever wanted was vengeance, feeding a vendetta that had already been fulfilled, but even after it had, Niklaus hadn’t known what to do with himself.

  He hadn’t known who he was anymore.

  And he’d been afraid with everything right there in front of him: his work, the fortune he’d amassed, and most importantly, the family that stood at his back no matter his attitude, he’d been afraid that he was going to fuck that up as well.

  After all, it had been because of him that he’d lost someone he loved.

  So he did the on
e thing he could do.

  He walked away.

  To clear his head. To get his shit together.

  And when he finally had a clear conscience, finally letting the past go and making his peace with it, he’d thought of Reagan. Of the way she smiled at him when he hadn’t done anything to deserve it.

  Of the way that though he had been no more than a stranger to her those nights when he took her to his bed, she had calmed a piece of him no one else had been able to.

  Yeah, he loved Lauren and Sacha and Alex, even Luka and Mishca though those two infuriated him, but it was ultimately his memories of Reagan that had drawn him back to New York City.

  Finishing the job for The Kingmaker had only been his excuse.

  The problem was, he had left without a word to anyone, and he doubted Lauren of all people would be okay with that.

  So by the time the elevator stopped with a ping, the doors sliding open revealing the entryway, Niklaus had braced himself, an apology at the ready.

  Stepping inside, he started forward, his eyes darting around the space for anything that was different. Besides a few new pieces of art and a shift of furniture, the apartment was how it had been.

  Niklaus was just turning the corner when something barreled into his legs, making him stumble back a step as his gaze shot down.

  Brown, almost hazel, eyes stared back up at him, and for a spell, there was surprise, like he too was unsure of what he was seeing. Then, in wide-eyed wonder, he smiled up at him.

  Never had the sound of his own name made his heart seize. Reaching down, he scooped him up, propping him up on his side. “How’s my favorite nephew?”

  Sacha smiled almost bashfully, wrapping his arms around Niklaus’ neck as far as his little arms would allow. As Niklaus hugged him back, he realized almost belatedly that they weren’t alone.

  Lauren was sitting cross-legged on the couch, a textbook in her lap with an assortment of notes and papers surrounding her. She’d been in the middle of homework or studying, but now her eyes were on Niklaus, a smile curling her lips as she took them both in.

  “Mommy!” Sacha said in an adorably high voice, then he touched Niklaus’ face with a sticky hand.