Den of Mercenaries [Volume Two]

by London Miller

  “I already have—the whole lot of us have. There’s nothing there.”

  He, more than any of the other mercenaries, had pored over those files, searching for any clue as to Grimm’s whereabouts.

  Synek was the one responsible for bringing him home. He was given the task nearly two weeks to the day that they all realized Grimm wasn’t coming back.

  He could still remember the surprise he felt that day, sitting in his flat back in London, twirling a blade between his fingers to pass the time.

  Boredom was as familiar to him as his own name, and in those days, he’d been a touch more destructive whenever he fell into melancholy.

  The last thing he had expected while thinking about what kind of bad shit he could get into for the night was the knock on his front door. At first, he had smiled, thinking the trouble had come to him and made his job a hell of a lot easier, but instead, the Kingmaker had stood across from him with a grave expression.

  “Grimm is gone,” were the first words out of his mouth.

  He hadn’t asked if he was allowed to come in or even waited for an invitation. He had walked right in after dropping that bombshell, and for a moment, Synek had just stood there.

  There were two things he’d known then with absolute certainty.

  Number one: There was no better mercenary than Grimm. They were all good at what they did, their specialties setting them apart from the other killers of the world, but Grimm was in a league of his own.

  And though Synek had always thought of himself without equal, Grimm had even managed to teach him a few fundamentals when it came to their work.

  Even as the news came from the Kingmaker himself, he still hadn’t believed it.

  Which brought him to his second thought.

  The Kingmaker didn’t make personal visits.

  Synek could count on one hand the number of times he had ever received an in-person visit from the man, and that included the first time they met. Usually, they all reported to the other handler in the Den, Z.

  “Who took him?” Synek had asked, closing his door with a push of his hand before turning to face the other man occupying the lone chair that wasn’t near a window.

  “That I don’t know.”

  That fact seemed to bother the man most.

  There wasn’t anything the Kingmaker didn’t know or couldn’t find out. He had someone for everything, and if there was an organization out there of any significance, he knew every person in it—especially those at the top.

  Which was the only reasonable explanation for what had happened to Grimm. There was no lone individual who could take the man on and actually succeed.

  Or, at least, that was what Synek had thought in those early days when he didn’t know any better.

  Before he knew the Jackal’s name.

  But in that first year of Grimm’s absence, they had all learned the man’s name responsible for his disappearance. A man none of them had seen in person.

  The Jackal had become something of a myth and a legend—a nightmare people feared as much as they feared the Kingmaker’s mercenaries.

  That had only made their desire to get to the man all the more pressing.

  Synek especially.

  He’d met real boogeymen, and he refused to believe the Jackal was one of them. If he bled like the rest of them, there was nothing to fear.

  Things had changed since then.

  The Jackal had managed to get close to the Den—not just once but twice. The first time, he’d only just taken Grimm and held him captive. The second … he’d nearly cost the Kingmaker his life.

  To say they wanted the Jackal’s head on a sterling silver plate was a fucking understatement.

  “We searched through everything there was,” Synek said, his mind drifting back to the present.

  Files. Receipts. Trying to track Grimm’s footprint digitally.

  For weeks, Synek had searched for evidence of what he had been doing for that last job, but whatever job it was, the secret had remained between him and Z. And considering Z hadn’t come back from that job either, no one would ever know until one or the other was found.

  Since Z was dead, as the Kingmaker had announced nearly three years ago now, the secret was left solely to Grimm.

  “Then look again. Z was nothing if not analytical. It might not have been anything glaringly obvious, but it’s there. Whatever it is.” The Kingmaker gaze went unfocused as if he was thinking of a memory. “Have one of Nix’s Romanians assist you. A pair of fresh eyes couldn’t hurt.”

  Yeah, no. Indebted or not, Synek didn’t want to make it a habit of asking for help.

  “I’ll get right on that.”

  Synek turned, ready to head out the door again, but for the second time, the Kingmaker stopped him in his tracks.

  “Iris is her name, isn’t it?”

  He didn’t mean to tense at the man’s words—it wasn’t as if he didn’t already know that the Kingmaker knew of her and would inevitably ask about her—but even still, he didn’t like the idea that the man was asking questions about her.

  Anyone who fell into the Kingmaker’s sights could be considered prey to him.

  “What about her?”

  “What exactly is her business with the governor?”

  Synek shrugged as he tucked his hands into his pockets. “Couldn’t say. Her business is her own. Yours is yours. Can’t say you’ve told me what your business with Spader is either, could I?”

  If he didn’t know the man as well as he did, he might have mistaken the smile on his face as some form of acquiescence, but Synek wasn’t so easily fooled.

  The Kingmaker wasn’t pleased, but he’d made a career out of pissing people off, so he wasn’t worried about it now.

  “We have an arrangement, you and I,” the Kingmaker said. “Let’s not forget it.”

  Unlike the other mercenaries of the Den, Synek’s contract wasn’t as black and white.

  First, he had never officially signed one. Though he had always thought of that day he’d run with Winter from the Wraiths as the day he signed his life away, it hadn’t been that way in the traditional sense.

  Instead of a certain amount of years he had to work for the man, their deal was that, in exchange for Synek’s loyalty and work, Winter wouldn’t just be kept safe, but she would also be given every chance to live a normal life.

  A family in New Mexico had raised her as their own for years and made sure she completed her education. She could have even attended college, but she ultimately chose a life in the Den.

  Sometimes, he wondered whether that was his fault. Whether he should have kept her more distant from this life, so she wouldn’t have decided to follow him.

  But whether she was a part of the Den—even unofficially, beforehand—the Kingmaker had been a man of his word. No one had ever come looking for Winter nor did any harm come her way.

  For that, he could never repay that debt.

  “Yeah, all right,” Synek said with another shrug. “Not that it matters, but I’m fully capable of getting everyone what they want so long as you follow Belladonna’s rule for you anyway.”

  The man clearly didn’t want to be reminded of Belladonna’s rules for him. Here was someone who routinely set the rules, yet now he was expected to follow them.

  Synek wasn’t surprised at all that he was figuring out a way to bend them.

  “Work quickly,” the Kingmaker said instead of issuing a threat that wouldn’t have bothered him anyway. “We’re running out of time.”

  They were, judging from that video.

  Which meant there wouldn’t be enough time to do what Iris really wanted—embarrassment and a public trial—but even if he couldn’t get her that, Synek would get her the rest.

  No matter the cost.

  * * *

  When Calavera said they were shopping for more than just tonight, Iris assumed they would be at the boutique for the duration, but instead, they’d gone to three different stores until she had a
wardrobe that she wasn’t sure would fit inside the Maserati, and an empty envelope that she only felt moderately bad about.

  She’d taken care of herself for years now, and even when her life was normal and her father was home, Iris had always been rather independent. She liked it that way. There was a certain freedom in being able to take care of herself, which had ultimately helped her survive once Marvin was gone.

  “Don’t worry about Winter,” Calavera said as she drove them toward a salon. “She’ll come around. They can just be a bit … protective of each other. She means well even though it doesn’t seem like it.”

  Iris figured as much, but that didn’t make it any easier.

  Synek had said as much too, that his relationship with Winter was, for lack of a better word, complicated. She couldn’t argue with that.

  Considering what they both had been through and the event that ultimately brought them together, she would be more surprised if they weren’t as close as they were, but a small part of her envied that sort of bond.

  A bigger part of her was glad that Synek had had someone to help keep him level. If he hadn’t, maybe they wouldn’t be here now, but the only person she’d had was Rosalie, and that relationship, or lack thereof, had been as problematic as the reason she’d gone to the Wraiths in the first place.

  “It’s fine,” Iris found herself saying, reaching up smooth her fingers over the length of hair covering her shoulder. “I understand.” And she did even if she didn’t like it.

  “Oh, it’s not about that,” Calavera said in a tone that made Iris glance in her direction.

  “No?”

  “For a while, Winter had a bit of a thing for Syn.”

  Iris bit the inside of her cheek to prevent herself from responding. It made a lot of sense, and a part of her had wondered whether they had been a thing, but she’d dismissed the idea once she saw how in love Winter seemed to be with the big Romanian.

  But judging from the way she phrased it, Iris thought she had an idea of what happened. “Syn probably wouldn’t want you telling me this.”

  Never mind the fact that he hadn’t told her himself whether something had happened between him and Winter, but Iris didn’t think she wanted to know.

  “Syn has always been a little intense when it came to Winter. He wanted to protect her from everything and refused to even let her come around us mercenaries for a while. And when she started doing jobs with the Den? He made sure she was the highest paid hacker there was.”

  Would her skin be green if she peeked down at her arm?

  “But you know what? As much as she used to look at him as if the sun rose and fell over his head, she doesn’t look at him like that anymore. Why? Because she has her guy. And after Syn saw that—though there were a couple of attempts to kill him—he accepted it.” Calavera was smiling when she looked at her now. “Syn has only ever given a shit about two people in the entire world—that’s Winter and you. Winter’s a little blind right now, but trust me, she’ll see what I do soon enough.”

  Somehow, despite the start, that had been exactly what Iris wanted to hear even if some details surprised her.

  It did, however, make her wonder how the others saw them and whether Synek cared. These were, for all intents and purposes, his closest friends. The people he called on when he needed someone.

  And now that she was with him—actually with him as more than just two people trying to solve a problem—she wanted them to like her as well.

  As they arrived at the salon with the frosted glass doors and overhanging sign with the owner’s name scrawled across the top, Iris was lost in her thoughts, trying to remember the last time she’d wanted to belong somewhere.

  She hadn’t ever really been a part of the Wraiths, and not just because she’d been more focused on getting her father out of prison. She had never truly felt like one of them. The things they revered had always rubbed her the wrong way, and for that reason, she always felt like the odd man out. One foot in, and one foot out.

  “Calavera!” another woman called, just as excited as Joanne had been, as they entered the salon.

  “Is there anyone you don’t know in this city?” Iris whispered.

  “Give it time,” she said with a light laugh. “You’ll know them all too.”

  Once she hugged the other woman briefly, Calavera said louder for her to hear, “We’re running late, Rachel. Give her—”

  “Something that’s unforgettable,” Iris finished for her.

  The woman was already spinning for her chair as Calavera smiled with a nod, but it wasn’t the fundraiser Iris was thinking of.

  She wanted to be unforgettable for Synek.

  Chapter 27

  Hours of shopping, then getting her hair done, and Iris was as ready as she would ever be.

  The time it took to look this way simply for a single outing was crazy, but as Calavera had explained, it was necessary

  Her hair was styled in loose waves that looked effortless, and the dress she wore did amazing things for her figure. She definitely looked the part. Now she just needed to follow through.

  “Ready?” Synek called from the other room, his voice snapping her out of the trance she’d fallen into while staring at her reflection in the mirror.

  Calavera hadn’t been wrong when she said her dress was meant for the fundraiser itself rather than Synek, but that didn’t stop her from hoping he liked it.

  Iris chewed on her lip a moment before remembering she was wearing lipstick before she finally turned and headed for the door.

  While she had been caught up in wondering how she looked in her dress, she hadn’t stopped to consider her reaction to seeing Synek in a suit.

  She liked him in jeans and leather and would probably love that above everything else, but he was something else in a suit tailored for his height and build—the vest he wore cut to show off his broad shoulders.

  While she took a moment to appreciate the sight of him like that, he was standing in front of another mirror with a scowl on his face as he fidgeted with the tie around his neck.

  “Fucking hell,” he muttered to himself as he tried unsuccessfully to straighten the knot but only managed to make it worse if that was possible.

  Seeing him flustered made her smile. “Let me help.”

  “I’ve got—”

  He started to speak as he looked up at her through the mirror but abruptly cut off before turning around completely. If she had any fears that he wouldn’t like it, the expression on his face completely wiped it away.

  He looked transfixed.

  His gaze followed her every step from the top of the landing until she was standing directly in front of him, reaching to undo the knot he’d made.

  Without warning, he bent and hooked an arm around her waist to lift her, carrying her back until they were in the kitchen and he could place her on the island. It brought back memories of the last time he’d carried her like that and how he’d placed her in this very spot for something a little less innocent than admiring a dress.

  “How high does this go?” he asked, resting his palm on her knee exposed by the slit in her dress.

  She shouldn’t take as much satisfaction from the way his voice had deepened and his gaze had gone intense at just the sight of her, but she really shouldn’t have enjoyed the way his expression grew slack when she crossed her legs and demonstrated just how high the cut of her dress went.

  And when she was sure she had his attention, she shifted just the slightest bit to show him a peek of the crystal chain encircling her thigh.

  It had been a spontaneous purchase when they were at the boutique, as well as the few other things she had bought as well—lingerie she thought he would like.

  But she bought this garter—the chain that wrapped around her middle then dipped to encircle both thighs—to get the exact reaction she was getting now.

  Synek didn’t hesitate to trace his fingers over it, heat spreading in the wake of his touch. She knew the strength he p
ossessed—the way he could probably break it with one sharp jerk of his hand, and it was the thought of that power that made need pool in her belly.

  She wanted him more than she could put into words.

  “I don’t like to share,” he whispered, his gaze now intent on her face, his presence nearly overwhelming.

  “You don’t have to,” she said in return.

  There was no one else she wanted.

  Things might have still been undefined between them, but in her head, she belonged to him.

  “They’re gonna look,” he said, just as soft, his fingers skimming to her waist, pulling her against him until he settled between her legs. “I don’t think I’m gonna know the difference. I can’t promise I won’t react.”

  She didn’t doubt he meant that.

  Synek tended not to react well when men ogled her. The first time had been before any real emotions were ever between them. Now … now she wasn’t so sure what he would do.

  It was her turn to skim her fingers up his chest, loving the hard lines beneath the soft material of his suit. In the fourteen days following the end of the Wraiths, they’d hardly spent any time outside of the four-poster bed in his bedroom—their bedroom as he liked to say, considering she hadn’t gone back to her room since night of the storm. Even still, it wasn’t nearly enough.

  She wanted him just as much now as she had in the beginning, and she was starting to wonder if that feeling would ever go away. Whether she would ever get used to actually having him to herself.

  “Three minutes,” he said with a grin, cupping her face to tilt her head up so she looked at him. “I’ll be quick.”

  They both knew what he could accomplish in those three minutes—and just the memory of what he’d done the last time made a flush crawl over her face. But she also knew that three minutes was never three minutes with him, and if they crawled into his bed now, she couldn’t be sure she would ever want to leave it.

  “After,” she said, finishing with his tie and smoothing her hand down the length of it. “Then you can see what I’m wearing beneath this dress.”

  His torn expression actually made her laugh. “That doesn’t sound fair, dove.”