For the first time in a long time, as Kit dressed that morning, he didn’t select a suit for its visual appeal, he ventured to the back of his closet where custom threads hung in a special cabinet.
The seven suits inside had cost him a fortune, but he had willingly handed over the money because to him, they were worth it.
These wouldn’t show the lines of the bullet proof vest he strapped to his chest. They also were made to cover any weaponry he had on him.
On the outside, he appeared as any other businessman might in a city like Manhattan, but beneath the fine clothes lay an arsenal and a man that knew how to wield them well.
For his meeting with Elias, he’d opted to go alone, leaving Aidra with the Wild Bunch who he’d explicitly instructed to shadow Luna wherever she went. He couldn’t hold her captive in the safe house—she wouldn’t stand for it—and because he was relatively sure that it hadn’t been about her the day Uilleam was shot, he allowed her to resume her work.
Even if it didn’t sit well with him.
His desire to protect her, and her desire to be independent clashed. She liked to think he was overprotective, that he worried for nothing considering he had been the one to teach her everything she knew, but she didn’t see herself the way he did.
Luna wasn’t weak—he knew this. But he also knew that despite what she thought, her heart often led her actions.
Fortunately, this hadn’t been much of a problem over the years for them, but he knew with some certainty that it would eventually.
Stepping out of his car, Kit eyed the villa in the distance. Either Elias was incredibly brave, or incredibly stupid since Kit could only see three men standing outside of the home.
It only took a moment of sizing up to see that they were ill equipped and lacked the skills needed to truly act as security for someone.
Kit didn’t mind proving that point.
Before any of them could notice his approach, he withdrew his guns, one in each hand and fired off rounds, head shots for two, and one in the chest for the man closest to the door.
He was still breathing as Kit came near, rattling breaths leaving his chest as he clutched at the wound as though that may help keep the blood in his body.
Kit also noticed that it was the same man that Caesar had with him in the lounge.
“It’s not personal,” Kit said as he aimed at the man’s forehead, watching his eyes widen before the life left him once he fired.
Someone was shouting over the walkie-talkie the man carried, but Kit paid it no mind as he ventured inside, gaze seizing on the men that were rushing toward him, guns at the ready.
They had no idea who they were up against.
Eighteen seconds.
Eighteen seconds was all it took for Kit to cut through every man in the room, leaving a trail of bodies in his wake as he finally found the man, he assumed, was waiting for him.
Elias Harrington sat in a blue velvet wingback chair, a saucer and teacup in hand as he watched the brutality with a blank expression. He didn’t move, nor did he attempt to placate Kit with words as though they might help save his life.
He didn’t say anything at all.
Kit holstered his guns in favor of the knives he had strapped to his wrists. As he turned one over in his hands, he said, “Whatever you think to say next, let it be the reason why I shouldn’t cut you into fucking pieces.”
Elias blinked, bringing his tea to his lips before taking a sip. “And to think, I thought you were more reasonable than that brother of yours.”
“Wrong answer.”
“Still upset about Uilleam, are you?”
Not particularly. Especially not after everything he had learned the night before.
As the blade was about to fly from his hands—and Kit could already see it sinking into the man’s chest, and blood welling around the white of his shirt—Elias set his drink down, with his other hand raised high as though to say he was not a threat.
“I assure you that you will want to hear what I have to say next—your wife’s life depends on it.”
His words made Kit pause.
Elias smiled. “Don’t worry. I know how you Runehart brothers are with idle threats—which is why I thought it best if I showed you.”
He produced a tablet, very much like the one Aidra carried with her at all times, but this one played only a video—no, a visual feed from whomever wore the camera it was depicted from.
In it, he could see Luna, oblivious to whoever it was following her as she walked the streets of New York. She wasn’t distracted by a phone, or any of the sights—it was clear to him that she was observing her surroundings—which could only mean that the recorder didn’t appear to be a threat.
“But if that does not suffice, I also have a man on that lovely assistant of yours—Aidra, is it? And don’t worry, I’m assured that the fellows you have monitoring the pair of them are easily dispensable.”
There was a feed for each of them.
Luna.
Aidra.
Fang.
Thantos.
Invictus.
Tăcut.
If the Wild Bunch hadn’t noticed the threat, whoever Elias had on them were very good.
“There will also be a package delivered to the compound your brother has locked himself away in with enough C4 to level the block. So if you would,” he said, the first real trace of annoyance flaring in his gaze, “please have a seat so that we can discuss matters properly.”
“If it’s all the same to you,” Kit said tightly, “I think I’ll stand.”
“Very well. I understand that you’ve recently traveled to Santa Monica to meet with a man by the name of Caesar Rivera.”
Kit didn’t blink. If the man was able to track as well as he did, it wasn’t much of a surprise that he knew about Kit’s dealings. “Yes, the trafficker.”
“He proposed a deal, but you declined.”
“And you think to change my mind on this?”
Elias shrugged. “It is a viable business opportunity. I don’t want to see it wasted. Despite this,”—he waved his hand, searching for the right word— “unpleasantness, you are, as Caesar explained, very good at what you do.”
“How is trafficking with the cartels of any interest to you?”
Who was he?
Kit had done his homework, or at least attempted to, before he came to this meeting, but despite his expansive network, no one had been able to tell him a thing .
It was as though the man didn’t exist.
“That is merely another arrangement that’s paramount to what I’m trying to accomplish. You see, Caesar Rivera is of little interest to me. He offers his men,” this he said with a gesture to the bodies lying on the floor, “and in exchange, he receives my good will.”
“Then what is that you want?”
“Protection, of a sorts, for my client.”
Kit was growing frustrated, his temper flaring. “Who is your client?”
“Carmen Santiago.”
There were a dozen other names that Kit had expected, but not that one. Not Luna’s mother.
“I understand you went to see Juan shortly after the Kingmaker was shot,” Elias said with a slight smile. “I found it quite amusing, the secrets you and your brother keep. If you’d spend less time working against one another, perhaps you wouldn’t be here now.”
“Then regale me. Why am I here now?” Kit asked.
“Before his unfortunate accident, Uilleam had plans to expose Carmen—it was why he was sending your wife to California. Both she and Ariana were meant to be in attendance at the meeting, but I intercepted the intel of Uilleam finding out and had them removed. If he would have gotten his way, things would have gone very bad, very quickly. I couldn’t let that happen.”
“Go on.”
“In a sorts, while Carmen is a client of mine, I also utilize her services for a few private matters, and should she be exposed, that will come to an end.”
Elias spoke
with an almost clinical air, as though he were reading from a manual or a textbook. If this were about anyone else, Kit may have been willing to do business with the man.
Elias reminded him of himself.
“As I’m sure his doctors can attest, though there was significant blood loss, no major organs were hit. I wasn’t trying to kill him, you understand. It was merely a deterrence—to keep him and that girl away long enough for you to accept the contract with Caesar.”
“Because of our arrangement,” Kit said, realizing what the man was hinting at.
Had he agreed to take on Caesar as a client, that would then make the man off limits to Uilleam. Nor would he be able to send any of his mercenaries after him.
Their attempt at a peace treaty.
Now, Kit regretted it.
“Precisely. Since Carmen is Elias’ wife, that extends your protection over to her.”
Fucking Uilleam and his need to think he was better than everyone.
Holding the table up, Kit asked, “So you think to blackmail me in order to force me to agree to a protection deal for Carmen Santiago?”
“That is merely an insurance policy,” Elias said. “I didn’t think you would be in a very pliant mood once you arrived—and I value my life. I’m asking you to take on the assignment, not for them, but to protect you. There is a reason you thought to murder your wife’s father, is it not? You’re trying to bury the truth. You don’t want her finding out about your brother’s deal and the hand you played in it, and I don’t want my client exposed. For the moment, our interests are aligned.”
Shit.
Not once since he was child living under his tyrant father had Kit ben backed into a corner.
He was tempted to decline, to still walk away and risk Luna finding out the truth, but he also knew that should he say no, Elias would kill them all anyway and his pride would be for nothing.
Kit willing took risks everyday—he believed in himself that much.
But was the risk worth Luna’s life?
“What do you want?” he asked, even as the words ate at him.
“Whether your wife finds out the truth is immaterial, but I need your assurance that nothing will touch my client. Not your brother, not his mercenaries, nor anyone else. Should you agree, you’ll be free to continue business as you were, though you will be accepting a contract with Caesar as well. If it makes you feel better, we are willing to pay a generous fee for your services.”
No, that didn’t fucking make him feel better.
Kit couldn’t offer a response, not when he didn’t have anything to say.
He would never express gratitude, nor was he happy that he couldn’t see a way out of this deal.
Yet.
“Also, under the terms of our agreement,” Elias said as he removed an envelope from his breast pocket, along with a pen, “you are not to mention anything I’ve said here to Uilleam—not even my name. Should you, you will be in violation of it and I will consider the contract void. Should that happen, then you will get a firsthand look at what the Jackal can do when actually given a kill order.”
Jackal.
He would store that name away for later.
“Now, if you could,” he went on as he set the packet on the table, pen on top. “The papers inside require your signature. Tomorrow, a jet will be waiting for you at the address I send. Don’t be late as your clients will be waiting for you to land.”
Though every bone in his body rebelled against what he was about to do, Kit had no choice but to cross the room and remove the pages, the pen already in hand.
“Do smile, Kit,” Elias said with one of his own. “I thought you Runehart boys loved your games.”
Kit ended the call before he was forced to throw the fucking thing out the window.
“Nix—”
“Not now,” he forced out between gritted teeth.
“But—”
“I said leave it.”
“Let me remind you that I know seven different ways to kill you right now and I’ll make it out of this car just fine,” Aidra snapped, fiery eyes glaring at the side of his face.
He took a breath.
It wasn’t her fault. None of this was her fault, and he didn’t need to take this out on her.
His fuck up.
He just needed to figure out how to fix it.
“Apologies.”
Her shoulders relaxed. “Fang and I aren’t like you and Luna, but don’t you think it would better to just tell her the truth instead of trying to hide it? It wasn’t done intentionally.”
“Wasn’t it?” Kit shot back, scrubbing a hand down his face. “Would an apology be enough for what I caused her to endure? It’s not.”
Aidra didn’t roll her eyes, nor did she act as though he were exaggerating. “We forgive those we love, Nix. Isn’t that what you’ve always said?”
He had.
That was the reason he had always been willing to put aside the numerous occasions when Uilleam had done something to piss him off.
But there were just some things one couldn’t slap an apology on and think it would all be the same in the end.
Not this.
And if he could help it, she would never find out the truth about that day.
Chapter Twenty
Luna had heard a great many things about the resident hacker for the Den. Despite not being a formal member, Winter was the one they called on when they needed any tech information—she also liked to think of herself as the Den’s mascot.
Luna wasn’t sure what brought Winter into contact with the Den, especially considering what they did, but she had a feeling she would find out now that she was going to see her in person—a rare occurrence since the hacker was rarely available to meet in person.
She arrived at a ranch-style house, one complete with a white-picket fence and flowers planted along the driveway. This neighborhood felt like something out of a 50’s movie.
Luna glanced over her shoulder, unable to shake the feeling she was being watched. Earlier, she’d been sure she saw a white Mercedes trailing her, but after a bit of maneuvering on her part, she lost them.
Now, she wasn’t so sure.
Raising her fist, preparing to knock again, she jerked her hand back when the door swung open, revealing a girl that couldn’t be more than a teenager staring at her with an amused sort of smirk as she pushed tortoise-shell glasses up her nose.
She wore skin tight black jeans with a slash at the knee, patent white Doc Marten’s on her feet. Her shirt that stopped just above the waistband of her jeans read: KILL JOY.
“Finally. I though it was only a testosterone party at Chateau mercenary—not that I’m complaining because they’re all nice to look at.” She brushed silver strands of hair back, snapping the elastic band off her wrist to tie up her hair. “You’re Calavera, right? Syn told me you were coming.”
Luna’s surprise had rendered her mute, but as she shook it off, she couldn’t help but ask, “How old are you?”
Winter shrugged with a laugh, stepping to the side as she waved her in. “I get that a lot. But don’t let the birth date worry you—I programmed my first root kit when I was eleven.”
Shit, how old was she now?
“What can I do for you, Calavera—and does that ever get annoying, having to go by that name? Like everyone calls me Winter, but that’s my name, you know? I’m actually Winter. Which is one of the reasons why I love that show—the books are way better, obviously—but everyone gets all ominous when they say ‘Winter is coming,’ and of course I’m like fuck yeah, I’m coming.”
A burst of laughter left Luna as she listened to the girl talk. Everyone was always so serious—for good reason considering what they did—but despite that, this girl still acted her age.
“Call me Luna,” she offered, the first time she had ever given her name to anyone that didn’t know her from years ago.
Even Skorpion didn’t know her name.
“Awesome, let’s get to
work.”
Dropping down onto her bed, Winter stretched out across it, digging beneath the full-sized bed for a black laptop with stickers decorating it.
“Serious question,” she said as she powered the device on. “Are there any health benefits with the Den? Or do you get paid enough that you don’t worry about?” She laughed suddenly, grinning slyly. “I can just imagine walking in there riddled with bullet wounds and you have to hand over your insurance card.”
“Where did the Kingmaker find you?”
“I wouldn’t say find, rather I found you guys—Syn, actually. My dad’s brother, James, owned a pub in Philly, and he would let me hang out there when he had to work. I’m sitting under the bar, usual riff raff comes and goes, but there’s one guy that’s set up in a corner—all blonde hair with that braid in the front.” Winter said this with a wide smile and dramatic hands.
It was obvious she had a thing for the mercenary, and Luna could even understand it considering the man was pretty on the outside.
But the inside …
That was another story.
“So anyway, to make a long story short, the bad guys looking for my dad came in, and when they tried to grab me, Syn literally kills them all.”
With a pencil, if the stories were true.
“But I’ll tell you the rest if you stick around,” she said glancing at her out the corner of her eye. “You mercenaries just come and go as you please, but never call to say hi in between. It’s so boring when I’m not hacking some shit for you guys. Anyway, what are we looking for?”
“A man—Andrei Kanekov. I need you to find me anything you can on him—or a warehouse that was at the address I sent you.
“Right, already looked that up—the warehouse burned down or something. Nothing worth mentioning there.”
Winter’s fingers flew over the keyboard, the heavy silver rings glinting, but as she worked, her black painted lips turned down at the corners.
“What’s wrong?” Luna asked, sitting beside her to see the screen, but her eyes nearly crossed as she tried to make out what she was reading.
“Nothing, it’s just … weird. Who is this guy, anyway? Somebody important?”
“Maybe.”
Nix. (Den of Mercenaries Book 3) Page 25
