She wasn’t getting it. It wasn’t that he didn’t want her doing what she did—he didn’t want her sitting at home all day doing fuck all while he handled all the dangerous shit—he just didn’t want the fucking legion of enemies with a vendetta against their boss to target her when they couldn’t get to him.
It wasn’t like it hadn’t happened before, but back then, they hadn’t been a thing, and he didn’t think it was his place.
But now … shit was different.
“I can take care of myself,” she said, twisting her hair up.
“When was the last time you had to?” Fang shot back, watching and hating the way her head jerked back as though he’d offended her. “That’s not me saying you can’t. I’m just trying to be realistic here. If shit ever did go down, you’re assuming your hand-to-hand will save your life. But fast fists aren’t going to stop a fucking bullet, babe. Jesus, you don’t even carry a fucking weapon.”
“Because—” But she stopped herself, her lips pressing together.
It was too late, though—he already knew what she had been about to say. “Because Nix would be there, right? He could protect you. And if he wasn’t, there’s me or Tăcut, fucking Invictus or Thanatos, but there’s no guarantee that we’ll be there either.”
“Fang—”
“Not to mention we are very rarely on the same assignment. It’s just you and Nix, but if something happened to him, what then?”
“So you don’t trust Nix now?” Aidra asked, her gaze glacial.
“I trust him with my life.”
“But you don’t trust him with mine?”
Fang stood, crossing the floor in a few quick strides to prevent her from walking away. “Don’t twist my words.”
She tilted her chin up a fraction, defiance shining in her eyes. “You can’t have it both ways, Fang. Either you think I’m incapable, or you think Nix is.”
“Why do we have to fight about this, babe?”
“Because I don’t need you to protect me from anything. I can take care of myself.”
More frustrated than he had ever felt in his life, Fang stepped back, running his fingers through his hair as he grappled with the tornado of emotions swarming inside him.
“Why the fuck does it always have to come down to that with you?”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m fully aware you can take care of yourself. I’m not saying you can’t, but that doesn’t mean you have to take unnecessary fucking risks.”
“How am I—”
“He doesn’t need you. What’s the difference between sitting behind a fucking desk and standing one step behind him while he does all the talking and you stand there like a child?”
Fang knew it was the wrong thing to say the moment the words left his mouth, but it was too late to take them back. And he knew an apology wouldn’t fix it.
Aidra had already shut down. Her stance relaxed, and her expression may have cleared, but her eyes told him everything her mouth didn’t.
“Bye, Fang.”
She wouldn’t even look at him as she grabbed her purse and shoes and disappeared out the door—she didn’t even slam it, though he almost wished she had.
Maybe then he would think she cared about what he was saying.
He didn’t mind her anger, or her frustration, or sadness, but when she gave him nothing … that bothered him the most.
Standing there, Fang weighed what to do in his mind, whether to leave her be and wait for her to calm down—that worked best usually—but then again, she had never been this pissed off at him.
Fuck it.
If she was going to be pissed, she would at least be pissed in here where they could work the shit out.
Grabbing his jeans he’d left abandoned on the floor the night floor, he shoved his legs into them then tugged on his boots as he raced out of the hotel room, heading for the stairs instead of the elevator.
Once he reached the lobby, his gaze scanned the main floor, ignoring the way curious glances looked him over since he was half dressed and probably sported a number of bruises—not to mention the rest of him.
She couldn’t have made it far, not when the elevators were slow as shit, and there was hardly any room to walk.
Moving through the lobby, he searched for her, but he found no sign of her. Tugging his phone from his pocket, he dialed her number, putting the phone to his ear and waiting for it to ring.
It clicked over to voicemail far sooner than he would have liked. “I’m sorry,” he said as he headed outside, scanning the street but still finding no trace of her. “I need you to talk to me so I can apologize in person, yes?”
He hung up, already dialing again, knowing that if he called enough—or annoyed the shit out of her enough—she would eventually answer, if only to tell him to fuck off.
That would be better than nothing.
Fang was too focused on his phone and what was directly in front of him to notice the speeding van heading down the street—maybe if he had, he would have seen the reflection of Aidra behind the glass, screaming for him before a black bag was shoved over her head.
Two hours later …
Kit barely had his phone on before the device was chiming with new messages. He expected a few—there was always work to be done—but when he saw who a number of them were from, his alarm rose.
Ignoring most, he returned the one that mattered to him the most, and the call had barely connected before the man on the other line was saying, “Have you heard from Luna?”
“Not since I left,” he responded, tucking the phone between his ear and shoulder before reaching for the other phone he kept on him. “Why? Wasn’t she supposed to be with you earli—”
“That’s why I’ve been calling—she never made it here.”
Though Skorpion had worked for his brother for many years, and the two were far closer than he and the mercenary were, Kit knew without a shadow of a doubt that Skorpion wouldn’t have called him unless he thought something was wrong.
“Where’s—”
“On his way to you,” Skorpion said before he could even get the question out. “He should be there by now.”
It was then that a sleek car came speeding into the hangar, barely stopping before the back door was flung open and Uilleam was there, a grave look on his face.
“Get in.”
Any other time, Kit would have given a farewell before hanging up on Skorpion, but his thoughts were on Luna and the reason why everyone seemed to be fucking panicking.
“What is it?” Kit asked the moment he was in the car, and they were speeding off. “Where the hell is she?”
Uilleam opened his mouth, but … hesitated. Hesitated. Which told Kit everything he needed to know and confirmed his worst fears.
“By whom?”
“Let’s not ask questions we know the answer to,” Uilleam said. “The serial number to her phone, we need it.”
It was then Kit noticed they weren’t alone in the car, that a girl no more than seventeen, was seated across from them with a laptop in her lap as she gazed at Kit with a mixture of fear and awe.
“Who the hell are you?” he asked, the bite in his voice making her gaze dart to Uilleam.
“Winter. The hacker.”
She was no more than a child … “I have my own.”
Uilleam opened his mouth, but the girl beat him to it. “If it’s the same one you tried to use when you were hiding your involvement with Calavera, then, by all means, waste precious time when I’m the best there is.”
His gaze snapped back to her, surprised at her gall, but he remembered all too well the way Semyon had stumbled when he’d gone up against her.
Pulling up an app on his phone, he passed her the device, showing her the information. “Find her.”
Turning back to his brother and ignoring the way she glared at him, he asked again, “What. Happened?”
“I’m not sure. And before you interrupt, I know she was taken, that much I have. The q
uestion is which of them took her.”
“That’s not my question. I want to know where she is!”
“Calm yourself, brother, and think rationally. If we know who took her, we can better know where to find her.”
He was right, even if Kit didn’t admit this aloud.
Fuck. He knew better than anyone never to leave an assignment unfinished.
There was no such thing as being finished because one side had admitted defeat.
No, it wasn’t over until either he or the person he was targeting was dead.
“The options are pretty clear, no?” Kit asked. “Carmen, the sister, or Elias. It can only be one of the three.”
“The problem is that I can’t get near them.”
“Why the fuck not?”
“It’s com—”
“I’ve got the address,” Winter announced, tossing Kit back his phone.
She gave the address to the driver, and the man behind the wheel pressed his foot down a little harder, not caring that he blew through a stop sign and left a number of angry drivers in his wake.
Picking his phone up, he found Fang’s contact and called, tapping his thumb against his knee as he waited for the man to answer.
Just like with Skorpion, Fang was talking before Kit could get a word in.
“Aidra with you?”
A chill ran down Kit’s spine, but he pushed the trace of fear he felt to a distant part of his mind. He couldn’t focus on that now.
Withholding a curse, Kit asked, “Where was she the last time you saw her.”
“She was with me,” he answered immediately then said words in Romanian to Thanatos. “Things got a little heated, and she took off—I couldn’t have been more than a minute behind her, but she practically fucking vanished.”
Kit rubbed his eyes, the tension inside of him rising. There was no way the two events were unrelated.
“I’m texting you an address. Get there, now.” Kit ended the call before he could ask more questions, then told Uilleam, “They took Aidra too.”
“Once they’re home safely, I don’t care if it’s you, your Wild Bunch, or my mercenaries, but I want them all dead within twenty-four hours.”
They would be dead within seven.
“Can you shoot a gun?” Kit asked, pulling one of the Glocks he kept on him, ready to pass it over to Winter, but her eyes widened as she shook her head.
“She stays here.”
Kit didn’t bother questioning Uilleam, nor did he particularly care why someone under his employ didn’t know how to handle a weapon.
They arrived at the park no more than two minutes ago, and Kit’s gaze was already searching the sprawling grass for any sign of Luna or Aidra, but if they were out there, he couldn’t see them.
“Her phone is pinging off the east tower,” Winter said before they stepped out of the car. “That’s on the other side of the lake.”
Kit’s mind raced with possibilities as he stepped out, his steps hurried as he walked across the park, gaze searching, senses on high alert, but as they neared where Winter had told him Luna should be, he didn’t find his wife there.
He found Elias instead.
The man wore a knowing smile as he held up Luna’s phone, giving it a little shake for emphasis before setting it on the bench beside him. “I knew you wouldn’t keep me waiting.”
Kit didn’t care to play word games. “Where is she?”
“She’s safe … for now, but if you want her to remain that way, I’m going to need something in return.” His gaze shifted to Uilleam, the malice in his expression deepening. “And let’s not do with your threats, Kingmaker. This doesn’t involve you.”
“Understand me,” Uilleam said without preamble. “Should any harm come to her, there will be nothing that won’t stop me from hunting down every single thing you care about and destroying it. I vow that.”
“He’s never done well with listening, has he? But I suppose we wouldn’t be here if he knew how to stay in his place.”
“What do you want?” Kit asked through gritted teeth.
“I want you to do what you do best.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a scrap of paper. “At this address, you’ll find a man by the name of William Tremaine. If you ever want to see that lovely wife of yours again, or your assistant, he needs to die at precisely seven fifteen. Not a minute before, not a minute after.”
“And how will you know once it’s done?”
“The man has a pacemaker, one that an associate of mine is monitoring. Once his heart stops beating, I’ll know.”
Kit glanced down at his watch. “How do I know they’re still alive?”
Elias picked up his phone, making a call of his own before turning it over to Kit.
His heart thundering in his ears, he blinked, trying to make sense of what he was seeing, but the cameraman, whoever he was, was very careful, making sure that only Luna and the plain background behind her was the only thing in the frame.
Her arms were shackled above her with heavy chains, a strip of duct tape covering her mouth, but there was no fear in her eyes as she glared at the camera. There was a calculated gleam there, one that said should the man get any closer, she would find a way to get free.
She was safe … for now.
The call dropped abruptly, making him feel like his heart had dropped, but he didn’t let that reflect on his face—he wouldn’t show weakness.
“And Aidra …”
Another call.
Another video.
But unlike Luna, Aidra was inside a clear tank, her wrists and ankles taped, but whereas there had been nothing but defiance in Luna’s gaze, Aidra’s had actual fear.
Someone else was in the room with her, someone who threw a bucket of water over her head, adding to the water already in the tank.
They couldn’t have known she had a fear of drowning … No one knew that. It wasn’t a fact she often shared.
But that didn’t matter because he wasn’t going to let that happen.
“William Tremaine,” Kit repeated. “Once he’s dead?”
“You will receive a call from my associate with an address.”
“D’you think I’m just going to let you walk away?” Uilleam asked, barely concealed rage in his eyes.
A part of him might have genuinely been upset that Luna was targeted and kidnapped, but Kit knew it was more because he had been outmaneuvered … especially by a man he considered less than him.
“I don’t see that you have much of a choice,” Elias returned. “You can probably guess what will happen should any harm come to me—they’ll be dead before my body gets cold. We both know Nix here would never let that happen, don’t we, old boy?”
Kit didn’t answer—there was no need.
“You’re playing a dangerous—”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Kingmaker. I’ve long stopped playing the game. You see, I never understood why there was ever an order in place that you were not to be harmed. You’re a nuisance and a constant source of annoyance, I would have had you put in the ground long before now had she ever allowed it.”
Kit’s thoughts immediately went to the mysterious woman Luna had met with and everything she’d shared. It had never been about him, he had come to learn, but Uilleam.
Even as that sinking feeling in his gut increased—because his doubts that Karina was Belladonna were fading with each new piece of information he learned—he was more concerned with the fact that an enemy was obviously out there who knew far too much about them.
And Uilleam was helpless when it came to her. If there was ever someone who could topple everything they had built, it would be her.
“But it’s been a long time for me,” Elias said, brushing his hands along the front of his pants. “And my God, I think I’m finally enjoying myself.” Tapping his watch, his gaze flickered to Kit. “Not a minute before. Not a minute after. You may need to get a move on, lest you lose your window.”
Though everything i
n him rebelled at the idea—he had never been one to back down from a fight—Kit had no choice.
Grabbing his brother by the arm, he turned his back to the man they both hated, grinding his teeth as Elias’ laughter echoed behind him.
Chapter 15
Kit stripped down to his boxer briefs before venturing into the back of the walk-in closet where he kept his chest with the lotus stamp across the top of it.
Briefly running his hand across the top of it, he thought of the last time he’d opened it, years prior when he was still a part of the Lotus Society.
There had never been a need for him to revisit this part of his life—he could still complete a job without the contents of this box—but for this one, for what was at stake, he didn’t want to risk it.
Keying in the combination on the old lock, he twisted it off and lifted the top, his gaze scanning over the contents with easy familiarity.
Inside were two sets of knives, the handles made of bone, another case with three modified handguns and silencers, a bulletproof vest that was retrofitted with specialized technology that made it lighter than the average one, and finally, his black book.
Each assassin for the Lotus Society had their own code—their own way of remembering the assignments they completed. Kit knew one who kept news clippings of obscure events, but because the date and place were the same, she kept track of her kills that way.
Kit, on the other hand, didn’t use any elaborate code, merely kept the date and time in which his kill was made within the pages of his book.
Seventy pages, twenty lines per page, and he only had nine pages left—eight, at the end of this night when he filled in this slot.
One last job.
Picking it up, he placed it on a shelf nearby before shrugging on his vest and strapping it into place. Then he dressed before arming himself with enough weaponry that he was prepared for anything.
Kit was tucking a dagger into the sleeve of his jacket when footsteps drew his attention from his task to Uilleam coming to stand in the doorway.
Unlike him, his brother wasn’t dressed for war, and knowing him as well as he did, Kit doubted the man even carried a weapon on him.
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