“Will you come back in?” This wasn’t a story she wanted to tell twice—it wasn’t even a story she wanted to tell once.
“One rule, Winter. I gave you one little rule, and you didn’t even give me that.”
And she was paying the price for it.
It took very little to convince Syn to come back into the room, but once Răzvan and the others joined them, the tension was so thick in the room that Winter felt like she was suffocating.
There was a clear divide—The Wild Bunch on one side of the room, Syn on the other, with her and Calavera somewhere in the middle.
And she hated every second of it.
She hadn’t been under any delusion that Răzvan and Syn would get along the first time they met—she knew them too well to ever think that—but this was worse.
Worse because this went well beyond fighting. They could very well kill each other.
And worse because she didn’t want to have to choose.
“So,” Calavera started, pushing her long hair back over her shoulder. “Who the hell is James Greystone, and what does he want with you?”
Winter glanced over at Răzvan. “It’s a bit of a long—”
“We have time.”
Sighing, she explained everything—from the moment she’d come to New York and went to Piston’s event where the game was announced to recruiting Răzvan to help her, and ultimately, getting the files they needed.
“We were supposed to be done after that,” she went on. “We had the money, and no one else was the wiser, but my friend—”
“That fucking idiot,” Fang mumbled.
“—decided it would be a good idea to blackmail one of the men in the file. He’d brought the idea to me, but I shut it down and erased every trace of the file he had on his computer, but he must have made another copy.”
She should have double-checked.
She knew better than anyone how Ollie had a tendency to not back down when he was determined to do something, but she’d foolishly thought he would listen to her.
“So what’s he want, this Greystone?” Syn asked.
“Besides the file Ollie has? He wants information that only I can get him, and if I don’t get it for him, he’ll kill my friend.”
“Explain.”
They all looked at her, waiting for an answer, but this was not one she wanted to give. Not just because she feared Syn’s reaction to it, but because no one was supposed to know about the system she’d created for The Kingmaker.
He’d forbidden it.
But she didn’t have a choice, and her friend’s life was hanging in the balance.
“I’m not officially a part of the Den,” she hedged, looking from Răzvan to Syn, seeing the way both of their expressions darkened. “But I, occasionally, do work for The Kingmaker.”
Calavera sighed. “And by occasionally, you mean …”
“Anything digital, I take care of.”
“For fuck’s sake!” Syn looked like he was ready to send his fist through the wall. “What’ve I said?”
“You act like I have a choice,” Winter snapped back, losing her patience. “Name someone besides his brother who’s actually said no to him. I’ll wait.” When Syn ground his teeth but refused to answer, she trudged on. “When he asked me to do it, why wouldn’t I agree? It was easy.”
“We’ll deal with him later,” Calavera spoke up.
“Why don’t we just kill him?” Thanatos asked. “A little murder never hurt anyone.”
Syn blew out a breath. “Because he has her friend. If you kill him before you have the girl, she dies. Are all of you always this thick?”
Something whistled through the air, a blur before embedding in the wall next to Syn’s head. She spun around to see, her eyes widening at the shaking handle of the knife.
Without taking his eyes off them, Syn reached up and touched two fingers to his ear, red staining them once he drew them back.
Thanatos was grinning like an idiot, but Winter knew he hadn’t been the one to throw it.
It was a clear message—Syn wasn’t the only one talented with knives.
“As entertaining as another fight might be,” Calavera spoke up, “we have bigger problems to deal with. I’m assuming there’s a deadline?”
“Two days from now.”
“Then we have a day to find where your friend is being kept. If we can’t, we go to plan b.”
“B? What’s plan b?”
“We give him the information he wants, get your friend back, then let the boys have their fun. Where’s Ollie? We’re going to need whatever information he has.”
“If he’s smart,” Winter said, “he’ll be long gone.”
“He’s in the trunk,” Invictus said, speaking up for the first time.
“The trunk?” she asked in confusion.
By trunk, he literally meant trunk since that was where Invictus was holding him once he led the way outside to where they’d parked.
She knew, from seeing the garage at the loft, that they had a number of cars at their disposal, but she was so used to seeing them on their bikes that she hadn’t expected to find Ollie tied up and gagged in the trunk of Invictus’ car, his eyes wide and watery as he begged for his life.
She should have felt bad for him, considering the fear in his gaze whenever he looked at Răzvan, but she was too annoyed by him to feel anything other than that.
This was his fault.
None of this would have ever happened if he hadn’t done exactly what she told him not to do.
“The files you have on Greystone or anyone else for that matter, I need them. Your sister’s life depends on them.”
“I-I didn’t think this would happen!” he stuttered out once his gag was ripped free.
“It doesn’t matter what you thought,” Winter said with a shake of her head. “It only matters that we fix it before something happens to Tessa.”
His regret and apologies wouldn’t help them now.
Turning her back on him, she started back inside. “I have work to do. Tell Syn where you stashed the file.”
“Wait, no! Don’t leave me with him!”
She didn’t care about his pleas for once.
Not if she wanted to make sure everyone made it out of this unharmed.
Well … everyone except him.
Chapter 16
Răzvan hated drinking.
He hated what it could do to a person and how easily the strongest of men were brought low with less than a pint of liquor in them, but he didn’t give a shit about that as he sat in his favorite chair, a bottle of Romanian vodka loosely held in one hand, his gaze on the ceiling.
An hour had passed, maybe more, but the effects of the alcohol had yet to dull the tension inside him.
Before this, he’d tried exerting himself in the gym upstairs, punching a bag until every muscle in his body screamed for relief, but that had only made him angrier—sent his mind racing with possibilities.
But this vodka? At least it was slowly starting to mellow him out.
Even as he knew the tension would all come rushing back as soon as the alcohol wore off, he would enjoy the temporary reprieve while he could.
“Have you tried calling her?” a voice called from his right, belonging to the lone female in the loft.
She’d been gone for a couple of weeks after their job in Chicago, but Fang had disappeared for a day a while ago, and once he was back, he’d come with her in tow, saying with finality that she would be staying.
He’d been happy for his brother then, but now her presence only reminded him that Winter wasn’t there, and there wasn’t shit he could do about it.
Jealousy was not a good fucking look on him.
Taking another swig from his bottle, Răzvan glanced at Mariya, shaking his head in answer.
He was still getting used to her being a permanent fixture in the loft and in Fang’s life. She was a sweet girl and far nicer than Fang deserved.
“It wouldn’t hurt
to try, no?”
He shrugged.
It wasn’t her that had him annoyed, not really, but he wasn’t in the mood for this shit.
“If you’re going to be a surly bastard,” Thanatos called out, “why don’t you go grab her and bring her back here. We’re not above a little kidnapping to get what we want, just ask Nicu.”
That was a pointed comment, one that earned a scowl from the man in question as he glared over at Thanatos. Something unspoken passed between them, but Răzvan couldn’t give a shit to figure out what it meant.
“The Den is off-limits, remember?” Fang asked, crooking his fingers for Mariya to come to him. “Or did you forget we gave our word to be friendly with The Kingmaker’s pets? And I think that includes a pretty little hacker that has Răz in a mood.”
Had he not been plotting the murder of a certain Brit in his head, he might not have been as annoyed by Fang’s words as he was now.
—Fuck off, Fang.—
“See? Mood.”
Răzvan squeezed his eyes shut, rubbing his forehead as he tried to remember the last he had ever been so prone to violence.
—Say something else, and I’ll smash this fucking bottle over your head.—
“Not the most level-headed now, are you?”
Răzvan sat up, setting his bottle on the ground beside his chair. Out the corner of his eye, he saw Thanatos drop his feet to the ground.
—Leave it, Fang.—
“Either get off your ass and do something about it or stop fucking moping. War ain’t over until it’s over.”
—We don’t all get second chances, do we?—
Mariya didn’t know what he’d said, her eyes going from Răzvan’s hands to Fang’s face, waiting for a translation as he’d done during their conversation, but on this, Fang didn’t translate, and the easy expression on his face bled away.
“That was your one,” Fang said, a dark edge to his voice as he shifted forward in his chair, his hand on Mariya’s side. “Say something else like that, and I’ll show you that punch wasn’t shit. Have your moment, but don’t take that fucking bullshit out on me or her.”
Mariya’s lips parted in surprise as she looked back and forth between them, but whatever she read in their expressions had her clearing her throat then getting to get feet. “I’ll just go … somewhere.”
“If you’re in the mood to do some reckless shit, take it out on the Brit and not on us. We’re brothers, asshole,” Thanatos commented as he cracked his knuckles.
“I’m bored enough to go along with this,” Invictus added.
Invictus bored didn’t spell good things for anyone.
“Looks like your Brit is at The Hall,” Thanatos added with a wave of his phone. “Could be fun.”
Fun.
That was something Răzvan desperately needed.
Even if it meant beating the shit out of someone the girl he loved cared about.
Syn might have inspired fear in others, but he didn’t inspire it in Răzvan.
After more than thirty years in this fucking world, he’d seen real shit to be afraid of that didn’t include a man with a mental problem.
He wasn’t alone at the bar, two others sitting on opposite sides of him, but Răzvan didn’t care about them—his focus was only on Syn.
From behind the bar, Dismas looked up in surprise, his brows arching up to his hairline, his gaze shifting over each of them in turn before looking back at the mercenaries, and as they turned to look over their shoulders, an exasperated sigh left his lips as he tossed his apron down on the bar top.
“Break anything, and you’re getting a bill.”
Syn tossed back a shot before turning the glass over onto the napkin. He turned on the barstool, a smile growing on his face though his eyes didn’t reflect the humor there.
Mania swam there—a dangerous edge that might have made Răzvan pause if he wasn’t so fucking pissed.
Maybe he should have walked away at that moment, controlled his temper even, but he wanted to wipe that fucking smirk off his face.
There was no mistaking why he was there—and it wasn’t for a conversation.
He stopped mere feet from them, pulling his hands from his pocket.
“I’ll warn you now, yeah?” Syn said as he slowly moved to his feet. “This ain’t the fight you want, bruv. Might want to fuck on off back to whatever hole you crawled out of.”
“Street rules,” Thanatos shouted out, spinning a chair around and sitting on it backward. “No knives or weapons. No killing each other. I don’t want to have to explain to Calavera or Winter that you two couldn’t control yourselves.”
Răzvan swung before he even had a mind to, but even as his fist connected with Syn’s jaw and the responding pain made him smile, Syn hardly moved back a step despite how hard he hit him.
Recovering fast, Syn dodged the next and threw a punch of his own.
He blocked the next but missed his other fist flying toward him.
Back and forth.
One punch after the next until he threw Syn into a table, shattering the wood.
“Oh, shit. What the hell are you—” Thanatos uttered from the other side of the room, the words filtering in one ear but going out the next.
Sharp, blistering pain shot through Răzvan, locking his muscles up as his entire body seized. It might have only lasted for seconds before he was dragging in a much-needed breath, but it felt like minutes before it finally eased.
One glance behind him told him he needed to swallow back down whatever anger he felt at being shot with a stun gun.
There was no retaliating against Calavera who didn’t look fazed at all in the face of his anger—not if he didn’t want Nix to skin him.
“Let me explain something to you idiots,” Calavera said, sounding bored, still holding the Taser in one hand. “If you want to hurt each other, do that shit on your own time. I’m tired of having to break you up over something so stupid.”
Syn straightened, spitting out a mouthful of blood. “Winter—”
“Wouldn’t want you fighting,” Calavera cut him off. “She loves you. Both of you.”
Why did that thought send rage and jealousy coursing through him?
The ache in his fists helped for a moment, but the high of it had dulled, and the anger was still there. Throbbing and unending.
Syn wasn’t the one he wanted to see.
To think she had gone eighteen years without ever knowing Răzvan, but now it felt like her world was falling apart because she hadn’t talked to him in twenty-four hours.
But there wasn’t much else to do since she was put on ice until the deadline.
And it wasn’t as if he was making much effort to talk to her, though, she’d reached out to him.
A pounding knock on her door made her jump and look back in confusion, but if it was one of James’ men, she doubted they would be knocking and waiting for her to open the door.
Probably Syn coming to lay in on her again.
She briefly considered not answering the door but figured he would get around to it later if she didn’t let him do it now.
Might as well get it over with.
When another knock sounded, she blew out a breath and walked to the door. “Yeah, hold your damn horses. I’m—” Her words cut off when she caught sight of Răzvan standing on the other side with fire in his eyes. “Jesus, Răz, what happened to your face?”
She expected him to answer, or at least pretend like he’d heard what she said, but instead, he continued walking toward her, and for once, she took a step back.
He was angry, maybe not angry with her, but that didn’t stop her from standing in the face of it.
Or the slight thrill she felt.
He looked like he wanted to hurt her, like he wanted to punish her, but instead, he yanked her to him and claimed her mouth with his own.
Any thought of resistance faded.
She kissed him back with everything she had. If she couldn’t tell him what she fe
lt with words, she could tell him like this.
He had to know what he meant to her.
He had to know that he was everything to her.
There was nothing gentle about the way he yanked at her clothes, stripping her before she could do it herself.
She didn’t care how angry he was, or how complicated it was between them—she wanted him.
No words were spoken.
No slowing down to think too much about what they were doing.
Without prompting, she dropped her hands to his belt, yanking at the button and zipper until she could get his jeans and boxer briefs down and her hand wrapped around his cock.
She didn’t know what brought him here, but judging by the bruises all over him, she could guess.
Something to do with Syn undoubtedly.
But she didn’t care to know where Syn was at the moment, not when she had Răzvan directly in front of her.
Hard and hot in her palm, Winter stroked him, stoking the fire, hoping he felt half as frantic as she did.
Once was never enough with him. She needed more.
She wanted everything.
His mouth moved from her mouth, skirting over her jaw, lingering over the pulse point in her throat.
Never had she felt as needy as she did at that moment. She shifted in his arms, her gaze darting up to his as she positioned him against her.
“Please,” she whispered.
His hips punched forward without warning, stealing the breath from her lungs as she was suddenly full of him.
“More,” she begged.
Loving the ache.
Needing more of it.
Every time he thrust, her body jolted, the arm he had around her waist acting as a buffer.
Her nails dug into his back.
His fingers clutched her waist.
Her head tipped back to expose her throat to him.
His teeth nibbled a path down her neck to her breast before he sucked a nipple into his mouth.
Heat rushed down her spine, and before she could even process that she was there, her orgasm rushed over her in waves.
He held her through it, his hips punching forward one last time as he came.
Everything else filtered back in slowly—the air cooling her heated skin, the rapid beat of her heart.
Shadows & Silence: A Wild Bunch Novel Page 18
