By the time he finished, she was nodding. “All of this for one man? I wonder why.”
“Hoping you can find out.”
Her smile was hard. “You overestimate my relationship with the man. I owe him a debt, not the other way around.”
His phone distracting him from Red’s answer to her, he quickly scanned the text, one from Amber. Earlier, he had asked what time she was getting off work, if she was free, and she was just now getting back to him with a time.
And now that he had one, he had something to look forward to.
“I should get going,” Calavera said finishing her drink, tossing the bottle in a nearby trash can. “Let me know how the job goes, Celt.”
As quickly as they had all gathered, Calavera was out the door, with Celt following behind, but he was headed for Amber, and she was headed for someone else entirely.
Chapter 5
Behind the wheel of a rented Porsche, Luna “Calavera” Santiago left the pub Red owned, heading back for her hotel on the other side of the city. Under the waning rays of sunlight, she whipped through traffic, wishing she had her Ducati instead. But because of the last-minute phone call that had brought her to New York in the first place, she had chosen to take a flight, renting a car once she arrived.
Then again, she had always hated driving her bike through Manhattan—or maybe it was just that she hated this place altogether.
There was just something cold and unforgiving about the city—not to mention the memories it held.
Back in Las Vegas, there were no harrowing memories, nothing to keep her up at night contemplating her life decisions. At least there she could almost pretend. Be something other than the mercenary she was molded into—or the whore she had been forced to be all those years ago.
In a city like that, where people did everything they could to forget the lives they came from, there was too much time spent trying to cover up their own lies than keeping up with the secrets another held.
Things were simpler that way.
Finally making it into the heart of Manhattan, Luna pulled into the underground parking structure attached to her hotel, then took the elevator up to a suite on the thirteenth floor. Slipping the card from her back pocket, she stuck it in the lock, waiting for the sound of it disengaging before shoving the handle down and pushing the door open.
It was closing at her back when she froze in the short hallway, her senses going on alert. There was a subtle shift in the scent of the air. It wasn’t just the standard deodorizer the hotel used, hints of musk and something heady hung melded with it—a scent she recognized.
Like she could ever possibly forget it.
She only hesitated a moment before she shook it off and kept forward, turning the corner, and spotting the man immediately in his spot on the couch, remote in hand, his attention on the afternoon news report playing on the television. He was alone, from what she could see, his guards probably forced to stay behind at whatever car he was driving.
“I shouldn’t be surprised you’re here,” Luna said as she crossed the floor, taking the seat across from him as opposed to the one at his side. “But what do I owe the visit, Uilleam?”
When he turned the full force of his smile on her, she remembered the silly crush she used to have, back when she was just a girl and didn’t know any better—back before someone else had eclipsed him.
Dazzled, that was how she had always felt when he was near. It wasn’t his looks—even as perfect as he seemed, she had seen the cracks—but because of the air that radiated from him. Most of the men of the compound were lethal, trained to become weapons capable of things one couldn’t even imagine, but it wasn’t with his body that Uilleam inflicted the most damage, but with his words.
Fear of what he could do with a single command kept anyone from ever crossing him.
At least until it hadn’t.
As always, he looked amused by her. “I know of men twice your size that would rather take a bullet than utter my name, yet you do so with ease. Maybe you’re brave.”
“Maybe,” she said easily with just a hint of self-deprecation. “Or foolish.”
Brown eyes crinkled at the corners as he regarded her. “Your intelligence has never been lacking, Luna.”
Arching a brow, she hid her surprise well. Compliments from Uilleam were rare, if they were given at all. “You’ve always been Uilleam to me, anyway.”
“And now?” he asked with a tilt of his head, tapping the remote against his knee. “Who am I now?”
Luna shrugged. “Apparently, my handler.”
He lost that easy smile of his, his eyes shifting back to the television a moment before turning the thing off and focusing back on her. “I would have told you about him sooner, had you been near.”
Zachariah. He meant Zachariah. “I’ve been in the same place for …”
“Four months and counting,” he interrupted. “But if you recall, you asked that neither of us bother you after all of that unpleasantness the last time we were all together.”
Back when she had been a pawn for him to use against his brother.
She could still remember that hurt she felt, trying to play a game she didn’t know the rules for. They had years of strategy down, probably longer considering the legacy they were born into, so she had been in way over her head during that time.
How quickly she had learned.
“And you respected my wishes?” Luna asked skeptically. “Or were you following your brother’s orders?”
“Does it matter if you got what you wanted?”
It did.
Not to him, maybe, but it mattered when she wanted others to respect what she wanted, and not just because of who her husband was.
From the time she was fourteen, men had been telling her what to do, who to be, but she was no longer that girl.
She was no longer a victim.
“We were talking about Zachariah, yes? Let’s get back to him.” The last thing she wanted to do was further discuss Uilleam’s brother. She had spent the better part of six months trying to put him out of her mind, even if she hadn’t succeeded yet. “I still don’t understand what happened.”
“He was a message,” Uilleam said, and for a moment, there was a flicker of guilt in his eyes, but it was gone moments later.
“To you?”
“Of course.”
Luna leaned forward. “And what was the message?”
“The Jackal hasn’t finished with me yet.”
Having spent years with a man that easily maneuvered his way through the shadowy world they lived in, garnering more contacts than any one person needed, Luna had learned a great many things about the ghosts that plagued the Den.
Once, the Jackal had only been a myth, even to the mercenaries under Uilleam’s control. He hadn’t always existed, at least not until Uilleam had started making plays that attracted enough attention that he became a target.
Many, especially those that rivaled Uilleam and his family, feared that he was coming into too much power. It wasn’t the team of mercenaries he had, or at least that wasn’t the problem entirely. But coupling that with his family owning a number of banks around the world that entire countries were in debt to, his rivals didn’t like the power imbalance.
It made them nervous that, one day, Uilleam would have them killed and take over their businesses.
That was where the Jackal came in.
Some said the man didn’t exist, that he was just a figment of someone’s imagination that was meant to inspire fear in Uilleam and those that followed him.
But Luna knew the truth, perhaps a little better than most. So did the others of her team.
A year and a half ago, one of their own had gone up against the Jackal, barely escaping with his life, though he had ultimately been confined to a Siberian gulag that, officially, didn’t exist. They couldn’t even find the place.
Then there was Uilleam’s run-in with the Jackal. Three bullets to the chest, but none had proved f
atal, and after being examined by one of the doctors on his payroll, the man had speculated that the mysterious assassin hadn’t intended for any of them to be fatal.
A message, Uilleam had said.
“You think he’s the one that did it?” Luna asked.
But she already knew the answer to that. Everyone else might have feared Uilleam too much to make a move against him, but whoever pulled the Jackal’s strings, they obviously didn’t.
“Are you any closer to finding him?” Luna asked next.
“Closer? Yes. Have I found him? No. It’s a process, you know.”
“And you think Elias is the answer for that?”
Uilleam blinked. “I forgot you lot gossip like children. Tell me, have they sought answers from you yet?”
“They asked, but I haven’t told them anything.”
And she wouldn’t, at least not anything that she considered his private life. Like she had said, she wouldn’t betray his confidence because of everything he had done for her, but Elias, and anything having to do with the man, she would be reporting back.
Luna knew what it was like playing a game without knowing who all was involved—she wouldn’t let them do the same.
“Should I assume whatever I say will be offered to other ears?” he asked, resting his ankle on the opposite knee.
“Depends on what you tell me,” she answered honestly.
He studied her for a spell, his gaze steady on her face, before finally electing to answer. “A fish rots from the head.”
Luna shook her head, not understanding. “Oh?”
“Elias is merely a means to an end, a man who has proved quite adept at disrupting my business. However, I’m concerned with the individual he answers to.”
“Is that what you want from me? Find Elias?” It wouldn’t be the first time he used her for something similar.
“I’ll get to him soon enough, but I do have a job for you.”
Yesterday was the first time he had ever spoken those words to her in any official capacity. Unlike the others that had more than a dozen jobs under their belts, Zachariah only allowed her to infiltrate and report back. She hadn’t learned until later that it was because Uilleam’s brother only allowed her to take assignments he approved of.
Unable to help herself, Luna whistled and said, “He’s not going to be happy about that.”
Uilleam’s smile wasn’t nearly as friendly as it had been before. “And when did you start concerning yourself with my brother’s happiness again?”
“I’m not.” Not anymore, anyway—and maybe if she said that enough, she would begin to believe it. “But I can’t do a job if he’s at my back.”
“For this job, you won’t have a choice in the matter.”
She didn’t like the sound of that at all. “Why?”
“Carmen and Ariana.”
How long had it been since she heard any mention of their names? Not long enough.
Had it only been seven years ago that Uilleam had bought her freedom?
“What about them?”
“Carmen has asked that I send her one of my own for her to use during the duration of our … negotiations. Who better to send than you?”
Growing up the way she had, Luna had learned rather quickly that it was in her best interest to keep her mouth shut, especially if Carmen was within hearing distance. Just the thought of her former prison, the cloying smell of artificial perfumes turned her stomach.
She shook her head hard before the rabbit hole could swallow her down. “Send someone else.”
Uilleam’s head tilted to the side. “Are you turning down the assignment?”
Luna could feel the panic she first felt as a girl when that first man entered the room, but she tamped it down. She wasn’t that girl anymore—and though she didn’t want to admit it, she knew that Uilleam’s brother would never let that happen to her again. “Not her. You can’t make me work for her.”
“Are you turning down the assignment?” he repeated, expression never changing despite her outburst.
“Why me?” she asked. “After what she did, why would you want to send me back? You of all people know why I would never go near her.”
Sometimes, she could still remember the way that coarse carpet felt beneath her knees …
The way she had been leered at and gawked over from the various clients that came in and out the door, not caring in the slightest that she had been a child …
“Enough!” Uilleam said suddenly, fiercely, in that way that brokered no arguments. “This is not a debate, nor a negotiation. The day I spent a quarter of a million dollars buying your freedom from a brothel, you fell into my debt. You should be happy that this assignment actually requires skills that don’t include you needing to be on your back.”
She didn’t flinch. She wouldn’t—not in front of him.
There was no declining an assignment. You either followed orders, or you were done. There was no in between. Luna had almost forgotten that rule, remembering the camaraderie she once shared with the man sitting across from her.
How foolish of her.
It had been years since her control was taken away. It seemed only fitting that it would be by another of the Runehart brothers that took that away from her yet again.
Grinding her teeth, she met his gaze. “Fine.”
“I’ll have someone forward you the details,” he said as he stood, coming over to kiss the top of her head, but before any part of him could touch her, she moved away. “Don’t run from your demons, Luna. Meet them head-on.”
Buttoning his jacket, it was like that moment of kindness he just displayed had never happened. His thoughts were already elsewhere as he prepared to leave.
Before he left however, he added, “Your problem was never with me. Kit chose to do business with the woman you despise. Should you ruin her, it will hurt him as well. Two birds, one stone. Don’t forget who he trained you to be.”
Chapter 6
Despite having been out with Kyrnon for hours the night before, Amber was still up at six the next morning, heading down to the pool on the first floor of her apartment building—one of the excuses she used to justify how much she was paying for rent. After a few grueling laps, and feeling far more awake than she should have, she headed back upstairs to shower and get ready for the day.
She wasn’t a morning person by any means, and she lived for waking up in the later hours of the day, but with the work she knew she was going to have to complete for the replica, she had to implement her old college routine.
Back when she was still attending the Art Institute, she had been far more active in the mornings—especially since that was usually when her classes were held. She would get up, work out, shower, and get dressed, along with grabbing a cup of coffee, and that was all before seven in the morning.
Now, she thought it was hell on earth trying to get up that early.
But with what awaited her at the completion of the work, it was worth far more than a few lost hours of sleep.
Twisting her hair up into a big curly puff at the top of her head—her hair was too rebellious to do something as tame as a messy bun—Amber didn’t bother much with makeup since no one would really be seeing her face in the back of the gallery.
Neither did she pay particular attention to the clothes she wore, selecting another oversized flannel and skinny jeans.
Besides her satchel, she brought along her bag of paintbrushes, a number of them in which she’d had for years. She could have used the brand-new set gifted to her by Elliot, but there was something about using her own tools that made her feel more secure.
The distance from her apartment to the metro seemed shorter this time, though that could have been because of the faint flutter of anticipation that thrummed through her the closer she came to the station.
She knew there were slim odds that Kyrnon would be on the very same train she planned to board, but that didn’t stop her from hoping he would. By the time it came rolling in,
her reflection staring back at her from the shifting train cars and windows, she couldn’t help scanning, wondering if he would be amongst the sea of faces.
Even as one crowd walked off, she and the others boarding after, Amber still looked for him. It was only after the doors came to a close and they were on the move did she finally stop hoping.
The first to arrive at the gallery, the doors were still locked, but Elliot had given her a key once she officially started on the replica. If she wanted to arrive in the early hours of the morning, or leave in the late hours of the night, she was free to do so, as long as she let them know in advance. For whatever reason, Gabriel made sure the painting was taken to and from the gallery each day, only allowing the canvas to stay so long as she was in the building with it.
It was strange, but what did she know about a rich man’s paranoia?
Before she headed back to get started, she turned on all the lights, preparing to open just as she would on the infrequent chance she was called in to open. Luckily, Tabitha was coming in and once she did, Amber could get started.
She was just sorting through the receipts from the night before when Tabitha appeared, whipping the trench coat she wore off, heading back toward the pseudo-break room they used during the day.
“So, who was the guy?”
Unlike some of the girls at the gallery, Tabitha wasn’t afraid to ask the questions others were wondering. If she was curious about something, she voiced it.
Standing at the counter, she reached for the box of Keurig pods in the cabinet above the coffee maker, digging one out and replacing the old one. Placing her mug down and pressing the start button, she looked to Amber expectantly.
“What guy?”
Tabitha didn’t believe her innocent act for a minute. “The one from last night. Tall. Beard. Delectably Irish.”
Den of Mercenaries Page 31
