Den of Mercenaries [Volume Two]

by London Miller

  “Patience is a virtue, Syn.”

  He shook his head. His gaze still locked on her legs. “I’m all out of that.”

  Before she could shake the impulse, she leaned forward and kissed him. She meant to just brush her lips against his and satiate herself with just a taste of him, but at the moment of contact, she couldn’t bring herself to pull away.

  Synek made a low sound in the back of his throat, pulling away just far enough so he could say, “D’you want to get fucked right now?”

  Yes. Yes, she did. “We can’t.”

  The fundraiser wouldn’t start for a little over an hour, but judging from the mood he was in, they would only just be starting when that hour was up. They just didn’t have the time.

  Seeming to come to the same realization, he scrubbed a hand down his face, forcing himself to take a step back. “We need to go … before I change my mind.”

  Iris slid off the counter onto shaky legs, just as affected by him as he was by her.

  Tonight couldn’t be over fast enough.

  * * *

  His suit wasn’t the only surprise of the night.

  “Where did you say you got this car from?”

  Some of his tension had eased once they were out of the brownstone and heading into the city. His smile was a little more easy as he glanced over at her while simultaneously shifting into third gear. “D’you like it?”

  Did she like it?

  The nicest car she’d ever been in was Calavera’s Maserati, but even that, as beautiful as it was, didn’t hold a candle to … well, whatever kind of car this was.

  “Where did you get this?” she asked, her fingers sliding over the leather seat.

  “Called in an old favor from Celt.”

  Her brows shot up. “What kind of favor involved a hundred-thousand-dollar car?”

  “Hey now,” he said, feigning offense. “My skills are coveted, dove. I’m in high demand.”

  Of that she had no doubt, but she was still curious what kind of favor resulted in this.

  Bright lights lit up the front of the sprawling mansion, the grounds green and glittering in the light. A fountain had frozen over for the winter, but that only made the sight more spectacular.

  Attendants stationed at both the foot of the stone stairs that led up to the front doors as well as at the top greeted guests as they handed over their beige-colored invitations.

  Iris wasn’t sure how Synek had gotten his hands on one of them, considering these had been given out months prior, but she didn’t ask any questions.

  “I’m right here,” Synek said as they drove up to where a valet was standing in a red vest. “We’ll keep the peace.”

  Meaning, he knew exactly what she’d been thinking about during the drive over.

  Iris had never considered what she would do or how she would even respond if she was in the same room as Spader. For the better part of three years, she had watched and tracked his every move but always from a distance.

  There hadn’t been any chance of their paths crossing. But now, she was walking right into the lion’s den with no plans of backing out.

  That didn’t make it easy, though.

  “I’ll be fine,” Iris said as she turned to him with a smile.

  She did have him, after all.

  Once he parked the car, he tossed the keys to the attendant who opened his door, and before the valet on Iris’s side could offer his hand, Synek was there, reaching for her while simultaneously glaring at the man.

  Sometimes, he made it too easy to like him.

  Her coat was no match for the gently falling snow outside, so she was relieved once they stepped inside the rich warmth of the foyer. She found the front room as impressive as she expected it to be.

  Everything about it was decadent—from the tiled floors and gold accents to the renowned art hanging on the walls.

  She handed her coat to the man on her right, her own smile becoming more relaxed once she felt Synek’s hand resting on the small of her back.

  Calm and steady.

  Waiters passed with silver trays topped with flutes of champagne and hors d’oeuvres. Two dozen round tables were set up in the main dining hall, metallic blue chargers placed in front of each chair with an elaborate assortment of flowers just behind them.

  Of all the places she had ever been, this was by far the nicest.

  Iris could almost see why some people would kill to be here. The pursuit of greatness was always paved with the blood of others.

  Which would explain why the governor coveted his power so much.

  It went beyond the seat he had in the government—it was the fame and lifestyle that came along with it.

  From what Iris had gathered from her research of him, he hadn’t come from much. His parents were regular blue-collar Americans who had sacrificed to send him to the best university.

  There, his biography said, he had met his wife, and unlike him, she did come from money.

  And lots of it.

  Her lineage consisted of one sitting president, three senators, and at least two governors. Since she was an only child, many had expected her to go into politics as well. Yet a year after attending Georgetown, she was engaged to Spader.

  It didn’t make sense to Iris.

  But it had taken her a long time to understand just how powerful a man like Spader could be. It went beyond the money he made as a governor—it was the connections.

  He brushed arms with some of the most powerful men in the country and worldwide—men like the Kingmaker.

  Iris didn’t doubt that had come at a price.

  How many deaths had he ordered to ensure nothing jeopardized his new position in life?

  How many lives had he ruined?

  What, exactly, was that new position in life?

  She had so many questions—questions she would soon get an answer to.

  As another waiter passed, Synek plucked two glasses from the tray and handed one to her. To calm her nerves, she sipped at the bubbly liquid, trying her damnedest to appear as effortlessly calm as Synek did.

  “Is this part of your training?” she asked, twining her fingers through his when he reached for her hand. “They teach you how to be calm in situations like this?”

  “I ask myself one question when I come to these things,” he said, his body angled toward her. “Who’s the most powerful person in this room?”

  Iris looked around the room, putting a name to faces in the crowd. “Henry Franks,” she said, gesturing to the man with a tilt of her head. “The Wall Street banker.”

  Considering he had contracts with more than half the people in this room, he had to be the right answer.

  “Wrong,” Synek said, drawing her gaze back to him.

  “No? Who then?”

  “You.”

  “Me?” That didn’t sound right at all. “How could it be me?”

  “Because you have me. So imagine what I’d do if someone upset you.”

  He made it too easy.

  As they drifted through the room, Iris breathed a little easier now as she mentally cataloged everyone she knew and tried to place those she didn’t. The room was abuzz with soft chatter—men discussing business, dates admiring the attire of others.

  Iris saw it all.

  And there, just across the room, his tux impeccable and his smile a little rueful, was Michael Spader.

  His hair was styled in the way all politicians managed, with a part to the right and combed over with pomade that made his hair glisten. At nearly sixty years old, he didn’t look a day over forty-five, and he obviously knew it.

  His wife—a woman who seemed proficient in the art of faking a smile, considering how dead her eyes were—stood to his right, playing her role. Every time his gaze flickered over to her, her smile slipped just a little bit more, but the appearance of someone across the room made her smile drop completely.

  Iris turned, curious to see what could spark that reaction in a woman who never let her expressio
n slip, and found her answer.

  The governor’s mistress.

  Canina McDaniel.

  Blond and blue-eyed, she walked into the room wearing a figure-hugging blue dress, the color bringing out the brightness of her eyes. With silver strappy heels and a matching clutch, something about her was both elegant and scandalizing.

  Maybe it was because Iris knew who the woman was. After all, she had pictures of them together.

  But there was a reason no one had blinked at eye at her entry. As the mistress, she was a secret—someone to be coddled and kept, though well away from anyone connected to the governor. It was important to keep his wife happy, in that regard.

  Yet there she stood.

  “This wasn’t part of the plan,” Iris muttered, though she was glad Synek had thought of this.

  It made sense.

  For a scandal to catch hold, first there had to be whispers of something inappropriate.

  And nothing made people talk like a good old-fashioned affair.

  Before she’d learned about Canina, she didn’t know what she’d use against the governor. There was always a chance to find information through his office that connected him to the illegal things he did on the side, but that would take time.

  She’d been fully prepared to wait it out, however long was needed, but Canina’s appearance made her job a hell of a lot easier.

  Though his wife’s cool expression spoke to her displeasure, when Spader realized who his wife was staring at, he didn’t lose his smile at all. Though it was clear with the way he cleared his throat that he was surprised to see her.

  Just seeing him this uncomfortable was everything.

  “Our seats,” Synek whispered in her ear, and with a firm press of his hand against her back, he led her over to the table that was one table off from the center of the room.

  Others followed suit, quickly moving around, some even joining their table as well.

  “How did you manage this?” she asked again once she was seated and he was sinking into the one next to her.

  “Would you give me a kiss if I told you?”

  “Yes,” she answered, earning a smile from him.

  “Red’s brother is usually invited to these things. He made a call.”

  She was smiling even before he finished. “Is there anything you can’t do?”

  “Make pancakes.”

  It was the farthest thing from what she thought he would say, and Iris couldn’t help but laugh.

  They hadn’t been sitting for long before manicured fingers pulled out the chair next to Synek.

  Canina.

  Not only had he managed to find a way to get her here, but she was sitting at their table as well.

  She was pouting now—perhaps because the governor had yet to acknowledge her—but a compact appeared in her hand a moment later as she checked her reflection. By the angry way she was patting her bangs into place, Iris wondered how long it would take before she blew.

  Only after she’d tucked away her compact did she finally turn toward them. She didn’t care for her much, her gaze passing over Iris quickly, there and gone, but lingering on Synek.

  Not that Iris could blame her, even as the blatant way she stared at him annoyed the hell out of her. He was a beautiful man—all that dark hair, charming smile, and pleasant accent. But that didn’t mean she liked that others noticed.

  Especially a woman who would willingly sleep with a married man.

  Canina flipped her hair over one bare, tan shoulder, making sure Synek’s gaze turned to her.

  His gaze traveled over her, head to toe, and a smile that didn’t reach his eyes curled his lips. Iris might have wondered what he was thinking had she felt not his hand curl around her thigh beneath the table.

  Appearances, his unspoken message said. This was all a show.

  “Care for a drink, luv?” he asked the woman with a tilt of his head in the direction of her glass.

  Huh.

  The first time Iris had met him, he’d called her luv, too, but it had eventually turned to another pet name that always made her feel particularly warm when he used it.

  She was reading way too much into this.

  “I’d love one,” Canina said, offering her hand in that dainty way that all women who thought they were superior managed. “Canina McDaniel.”

  “Syn,” he offered in return as if he didn’t already know everything there was to know about her.

  He accepted her hand, brushing his lips across her knuckles, and before Iris could check the impulse, she squeezed the fingers he had on her thigh.

  Canina might have thought his smile just then was for her, but Iris knew the truth.

  He was entertained, and she was just as bad as he was.

  “D’you come alone?” he asked, raising his hand in the air to grab a passing waiter’s attention.

  “I did,” Canina answered, briefly turning to look at the governor who was watching them all intently. Satisfied she had his attention, she turned up the flirtation. “But I hope I’m not leaving that way.”

  Iris deserved, at the very least, some sort of reward for being able to sit there with a straight face. While the logical side of her knew exactly what Synek was doing—getting close to her to extract information—the other side didn’t care.

  She hated the idea of him flirting with someone else right in front of her even if he hadn’t done much of the talking at all.

  To get her thoughts off them—and so she wouldn’t react and blow the job before they’d even gotten started—Iris searched the room again for the governor and found him at his table. He was still staring over at them, though the man on his right was trying to engage him in conversation.

  His brows were pinched. His mouth set in a mulish line. He looked as if he was seconds away from walking over and dragging Synek out the hard way.

  Iris would have paid to see him try.

  But while the anger in his eyes amused her, she wasn’t prepared for him to look directly at her. She blinked and fought every urge in her body not to look away.

  She didn’t turn and let her hair curtain her face so as not to be seen.

  There was no more being invisible.

  She wanted him to know who, in the end, was responsible for his downfall.

  She wanted him to remember her face.

  So when his gaze came to her and lingered, she didn’t blink. She didn’t turn.

  Iris smiled.

  * * *

  Rich people were dull.

  If they weren’t discussing how much money they’d made in the previous quarter, they were talking about how much someone else made. Even as boring as she found it all, Iris listened, knowing that anything they might say could prove useful.

  Only half-listening to the conversations around her allowed her to watch Spader. He was careful, always the politician, making sure his worsening mood didn’t reflect on his face, but no one seated at his table paid nearly as close attention to him as Iris was.

  She saw the imperceptible frowns—the way his fingers would tighten around the stem of his glass whenever Synek made Canina laugh. Not that there was anything to really be jealous of.

  Canina was playing her own game. It was obvious because whenever she laughed, she always glanced in his direction to make sure that he had heard her as well.

  The problem with having your mistress and your wife in the same room.

  But it wasn’t just Iris who had the governor in their sights. His wife, Dorothy, noticed his behavior as well, and though she kept a straight face, there was only so often her glass of champagne could be refilled.

  Now on her fifth drink, she glared at the empty glass before excusing herself from the table. The governor didn’t seem to notice.

  This was her chance.

  Iris readied to do the same, but before she could rise from her seat, Synek caught her wrist, effectively preventing her from leaving. For ten minutes, he had appeared engrossed in his conversation with Canina, yet the second
she moved an inch, he noticed.

  She would not smile at that.

  “Powder room,” she said, though she made sure to add a touch more bitterness to her tone.

  They all had their roles to play.

  He nodded once and reluctantly let her go.

  Iris, trying to not make it appear as if she was in a rush, hurried as quickly as she could behind Dorothy, just spotting the tail of her dress as she slipped into the restroom.

  The powder room was as grand as the rest of the mansion with two comfy armchairs sitting in an area off to the right, as well as scented soaps and decadent towels bundled in baskets along the back of the sink counter.

  Two of the stall doors were closed and as she paused near the door, Iris heard the almost imperceptible sound of crying coming from one of them right before that person snorted. It was a distinct sort of sound, one she had heard often inside the walls of the Wraiths compound.

  She could almost remember the smell of that white powder.

  If she was forced to be married to a man like Spader, she might have resorted to cocaine too.

  Thankfully, the attendant stood outside the room’s door, making it less awkward for Iris to stand near the sink with the water running to bide her time. Only once the noisy latch of the door came undone did she actually start her own show.

  When she was eleven, her mother had taught her how to cry on demand. She never thought she would have a use for that ability—as she had no plans of deceiving anyone to get what she wanted then—but now she was glad for her mother’s unorthodox teachings.

  It made what she needed to do that much easier.

  She thought of her saddest memory, conjured the image in her head, and waited until the tears had built in her eyes before she put her phone to her ear and pretended to have a conversation. “Mother? You can’t expect me to go through with this. You can’t expect me to marry him!”

  Out the corner of her eye, she could see Dorothy pause before exiting the stall and walking over to the sink. But from the way she took her time turning the water on and sticking her hands beneath, she was listening.

  “Of course not,” Iris said. Carrying on the fake conversation, she was imagining what Dorothy’s mother must have told her all those years ago. “But he’s flirting with some … some whore right in front of me! You can’t expect me to smile when he blatantly does that, do you?”