Iris. (Den of Mercenaries Book 7)

by London Miller

  Truthfully, Iris hadn’t thought much more of her until she’d inadvertently brought her up to Synek.

  Now, Belladonna wanted to see her.

  Before anyone could answer her question, Winter asked one of her own. “Anyone else curious about the white thing?”

  Everyone looked at her except for the Kingmaker, who merely rubbed his temples at the inquiry.

  “What’s that?” Synek asked.

  “Seriously? No one else has noticed that she’s always in white. Her car is white … She requested a white uniform.”

  Now that Iris thought about it, the woman had been wearing a white dress the last time she saw her, but the fact hadn’t seemed important at the time. But if she had been in white when each one of the mercenaries had met her too, it seemed important.

  “Right now, her arbitrary choices are of no concern,” the Kingmaker said tightly, his patience very clearly worn thin. “I need to know what she’s planning, and seeing as she refuses to speak with me, I think this is far more important than that damn color.”

  No, his patience hadn’t worn thin. It was gone completely.

  But his bad demeanor didn’t faze Winter. “Seems like all she does is speak to you. You’re just not listening.”

  Iris could see the man was mere seconds from issuing a retort, but before he could, she asked, “If I talk to her, will you search for the governor?”

  “That’s my intention regardless of your involvement,” he said matter-of-factly.

  “If I’m going to do something for you, I want something in return.”

  “My apologies if I gave you the impression this was a negotiation. Perhaps I should rephrase.”

  “That sounds like a threat, bruv,” Synek said, a dark edge to his voice even as he relaxed further into his chair. “Let’s mind our words, yeah?”

  He’d told her once that she was always the most powerful person in the room because she had him, but standing opposite a man like the Kingmaker, she wasn’t so sure.

  She could practically feel the menace bleeding out of him as his gaze swept from her to Synek.

  He was a man who wasn’t used to being questioned—especially from men he employed.

  Before Synek could respond to the threat or do something stupid that would incur the man’s wrath, Iris cleared her throat.

  “I only ask that I get a chance to get something from the man before … well, whatever the hell you’re planning to do to him. That’s all.”

  Besides, she didn’t particularly mind speaking to Belladonna. She was as curious about the mysterious woman as the rest of them were even though the thought made her uneasy.

  She wanted information from the woman, but she didn’t believe for a second that Belladonna didn’t have a trick or two up her sleeve.

  “Then your conversation with her should be of particular interest, considering she’s the one helping Spader.”

  Iris didn’t miss that he didn’t actually agree to what she wanted from him, but she also knew that she had Synek on her side and he would make sure she got what she needed to free her father.

  There was only one choice she could make.

  Belladonna didn’t look like a threat.

  She was of average height, no more than five and a half feet, with a button nose, soft features, and a smile that drew you in.

  The white dress she had been wearing when they brought her in had been replaced by a white two-piece outfit—the pants flowy and the top almost two sizes too big. Her hair was drawn up into a ponytail, chic on her when it would have been messy on Iris.

  It was the little details, Iris thought as she approached the woman’s cell, that stood out to her the most.

  She couldn’t help but remember the way Bear had looked the day she mentioned the Kingmaker’s name to him. How there hadn’t been fear, per se, but a healthy amount of caution that told her he would avoid the man as much as humanly possible.

  Even the mercenaries who had worked for the man for years didn’t question his orders and all fell in line when they needed to.

  Yet Belladonna didn’t blink an eye at challenging the man earlier. Nor did she seem to care that she was currently sitting inside a cell.

  Iris took tentative steps toward the chair set up in front of the glass wall, swallowing the moment Belladonna’s gaze shifted to her.

  “Iris, I’m so glad you could join me. I hope Uilleam didn’t issue too many threats to get you down here.”

  “Not many, no,” she answered, still unused to the way she casually said the Kingmaker’s name. “He said you would only speak with me.”

  Belladonna stood and walked over to her own chair. Perching on the very end of it, she crossed one leg over the other. “I thought you would have a question for me, all things considered.”

  “About Syn, you mean?”

  Belladonna smiled as if they shared a secret. “That’s a little obvious, isn’t it? I believe you can do better than that.”

  “Why me?” Iris asked instead. “I’m assuming you wanted me to go after Syn in the first place.”

  “True,” Belladonna said with a nod. “If I hadn’t, he would have come to New York and taken the governor. That couldn’t happen.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because your father is in prison, of course.”

  Ice solidified in her veins as Iris stared through the glass at the woman. “How do you know that?”

  At the question, Belladonna’s expression softened. “I was the one who put him there.”

  Chapter 11

  “Syn, calm down.”

  The pen in Synek’s grip snapped, ink spilling all over the back of his hand and dripping onto the desk. He heard Winter, even felt her restraining hand on his shoulder, but it wouldn’t matter in the end if he wanted to hurt someone.

  And right now, there was only one person he was tempted to commit violence against—she just happened to be the only woman they were forbidden to harm.

  “The Jackal isn’t here to save her this time,” he mused aloud, already picturing how easy it would be to get into the room below and snap her neck. It wouldn’t be any trouble at all really.

  He wouldn’t even mind the challenge of it.

  And no one who knew what was good for them would stand in his way.

  “Your girl’s handling it,” Winter said, dropping down into the seat next to him, kicking her booted feet up onto the desk to block his view of the monitor. “There’s no need for you to overreact if she’s not upset.”

  Even though that was the last thing Synek wanted to hear, he knew it was true. Iris was handling the news of Belladonna being the one to have locked her father away very well, but he also saw what she tried to hide.

  The way her eyes had subtly widened, her throat working as she swallowed. The way she tried to quickly mask that flash of pain in her eyes as she glanced down at the floor under her feet.

  He saw what others didn’t.

  And seeing that pain on her face and knowing he couldn’t do anything about it—yet—only annoyed him more.

  “What’s with you lot? I’d shoot her in the fucking face and call it a day.”

  For the life of him, he couldn’t understand why the Kingmaker even bothered to keep the woman who seemed intent on ruining him alive. As far as he could see, they were hell-bent on destroying each other and didn’t care who they took down with them.

  He understood that whatever this was, it was between the Kingmaker and the woman currently housed in the cell below.

  But that wasn’t enough to make him now want to wring her neck for what she had done to Iris.

  “If you’re ready?” the Kingmaker called as he entered the room, his gaze straying from Synek to the screens he was watching.

  As Synek only had eyes for Iris, the Kingmaker focused on the other woman, wearing an unreadable expression on his face.

  “Ready for what exactly?”

  “I assumed you would want to be in the room with Spader.”

  If
only to make sure that nothing happened to the ex-governor in the interim. He was reluctant to leave his station, wanting to hear more of what Belladonna was saying—wanting to be available should Iris need him—but he also knew the ex-governor couldn’t wait.

  And whether he posed it like a question or not, the Kingmaker wasn’t asking him to come along for the interrogation.

  It was a demand.

  Synek was already not liking this.

  “Why?” Iris asked, her voice tight and controlled.

  She tried her hardest not to react, not to lash out and hurt the woman across from her as much as her words hurt her. She didn’t understand how someone could sound so calm about ruining someone else’s life.

  “What the hell did my father ever do to you?”

  “You misunderstand. He never crossed me in any way. Unfortunately, he was getting too close to a particular business deal a client of mine was conducting at the time. My former associate and Spader wanted to just kill him and be done with it.”

  Now, it was Iris’s turn to be confused, trying to make sense of everything she was saying and everything she wasn’t. “So ... what? You spared him.”

  A brief flash of genuine sorrow crossed Belladonna’s face before the expression was gone again. “There is no greater bond than the one between a parent and child. So, no, I made it perfectly clear that your father was not to be killed, but the only way to prevent him from getting any closer was to incarcerate him.”

  Iris didn’t know what to think of that.

  On one hand, if she had to choose between prison and death, she would have definitely chosen the former, but neither option was particularly a good one.

  “You make it sound as if you had no choice. You could have sent him—sent us—away. If you’re supposed to be the female version of the Kingmaker, they would have listened to you.”

  Her expression lightened entirely as she laughed. “Is that what you think of me? I like to think I’m better than he is, truly.”

  “I grew up without a father,” Iris said without any inflection. “As far as I’m concerned, you’re one and the same.”

  If the remark offended the woman in white, she didn’t let it show. Instead, she glanced down at the rose gold watch on her wrist.

  “Somewhere you need to be?”

  “Not particularly.” Her gaze shifted back to her. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

  Considering the woman was sitting in a cell in one of the most secure buildings Iris had ever stepped foot inside, she doubted that. “Then why?”

  “Because I quite imagine that you would like to be there when they interrogate Spader, wouldn’t you?”

  Iris glanced up at the camera in the corner of the room. “How the hell could you possibly know that Spader is being interrogated?”

  “Years ago, when things were different, Uilleam taught me how to play chess. It’s never about how many pawns you can capture or taking as many of the opponent’s pieces as you can—it’s strategy.”

  “So what does that mean?”

  “He sees the world as his own personal chessboard. Everyone has a role to play in his eyes, even you. When he taught me to play, he taught me how to read him. Which means the only move he can make right now besides having you talk to me is to interrogate the ex-governor. His mercenary is counting on it.”

  Grimm.

  Iris stood, but before she turned toward the elevators, she looked back at Belladonna who was still sitting just as she was, serene expression and all.

  “If we’re all chess pieces, what does that make you?”

  One perfectly arched brow lifted even as her smile grew a touch more genuine. “The white queen.”

  Inside the mansion, sweat beaded on the man’s brow, his eyes darting from left to right once they had him cornered, but after his ride with Belladonna in the back of the van, Michael Spader had recovered some of his arrogance.

  His eyes betrayed nothing as Synek and the Kingmaker entered the room. Synek found his favorite corner to stand in where he had an overview of the entire room, including the men in it, the door, and the camera above.

  But he would break. All men who entered this room in cuffs did.

  For now, he sat with his shoulders back and one leg crossed over the next. The pose might have appeared more casual had his hands not been zip-tied still.

  His gaze turned to Synek, anger flashing as he lifted his bound hands. Synek smiled in return.

  “Care to remove these?”

  “Not really, mate, no.”

  His frown became even more prominent.

  He probably wasn’t used to doing business with men like him who lacked the posh and proper accent that he deemed appropriate. Synek was an East Ender through and through, and his voice reflected that.

  Finally, and with great effort, Spader’s gaze turned to the Kingmaker, his expression a modicum less smug. Brute force didn’t intimidate him. In his eyes, he and the Kingmaker were on the same level—gentlemen, for lack of a better word.

  But men like him didn’t know any better. They didn’t understand that if they had to deal with Synek—and it wasn’t a kill order—they would leave this place, a little worse for wear, but with everything intact.

  The Kingmaker liked to destroy lives. He threaded himself into every part of their existence until he had control over it, and piece by piece, he tore it apart until nothing remained. And only then, when there was only dust, would he make an offer the other person couldn’t refuse.

  Synek could only imagine what he had planned for the governor—especially with the man’s involvement in Grimm’s disappearance—but whatever it was, the man would have been better off dealing with him.

  But no … in the next second, he realized he had been wrong. The arrogance hadn’t faded simply because he was now faced with the Kingmaker; it dwindled because a mischievous smile was making its way across his face.

  “The infamous Kingmaker. And to think I thought I made it perfectly clear that I wouldn’t be doing business with the likes of you.”

  Synek already knew this wasn’t going to end well for him. He hadn’t realized in all his research on the man that he could be as brazen as he was to someone he feared. Which didn’t make sense, considering he’d been ready to shit his trousers at the very sight of them.

  What changed?

  “Don’t worry yourself, Governor. Or should I say Ex-governor? I have no interest in offering you a deal,” the Kingmaker said smoothly, the composure he was notoriously known for carefully washing over him. “You see, I’ve run all out of patience. Unfortunately for you.”

  Spader didn’t seem to hear a word he was saying as he studied the Kingmaker, and from the look on his face, he wasn’t very impressed by what he saw. “I thought you’d be older.”

  The Kingmaker smiled. “Why don’t you tell me what you were doing with the woman in white.”

  “Or?”

  “No or. Speak.”

  “How about you answer a question of mine,” Spader said, tapping his thumb against his leg. “Tell me what it felt like to get shot. I haven’t had the pleasure.”

  The man was taunting him with a little smile on his face as if he knew exactly how those words would affect him.

  “Syn.”

  One word.

  One name.

  An order left unspoken.

  Synek only needed the excuse.

  He watched awareness creep into the ex-governor’s eyes as he followed his approach across the room and closed the distance between them.

  He wasn’t thinking about the Kingmaker or any official orders as he launched his fist into the man’s side. He wasn’t thinking about the Den and how important he was to the cause at hand.

  Synek was careful, though, not to strike his face. It was imperative that he didn’t leave any bruises that would be immediately visible.

  Synek only saw Iris in his mind.

  Remembered the pain she had suffered at his hands. He remembered her tears,
the way she walked out of the prison after seeing her father, and how just the sight of them twisted him up.

  He didn’t remember how many punches he threw, but it was only after a feeble plea fell from his mouth that Synek backed off, shaking his hands at the residual pain.

  “Perhaps you need some time to think over your answer?” the Kingmaker asked with a knowing arch of his brow. “I’ll leave you to it.”

  They left him there, bleeding and panting, leaving the room as quickly as they had entered it. Synek was tempted to go back in simply because punching the man made him feel better.

  “I’ll give him a few hours to think over his answer, and if he doesn’t give me anything credible”—the Kingmaker shrugged as if whatever the man said wouldn’t matter in the end—“you can shoot him.”

  “That’s not gonna happen,” Synek said, his voice tight, one-hundred-percent earnestness in his voice. “He can’t die.”

  Not yet.

  Whatever happened after Synek got what he needed from him was not his fucking business, but for the time being, the ex-governor had to live.

  “You’re speaking, though I didn’t ask for an opinion on the matter.”

  “Which part didn’t you hear, mate, ’cause I’m quite glad to repeat myself if need be. He doesn’t fucking die, do you get me?”

  “Syn?”

  He turned at the sound of Iris’s voice, not expecting to find her down here, but his fear that they’d been overheard diminished as he saw the look of concern on her face.

  “We all have jobs to do here, Synek,” the Kingmaker said before turning and walking down the hall, leaving them alone. “I suggest you remember what yours is.”

  Usually, Synek’s blistering hot showers were relegated to the days when he needed to calm down and give himself a chance to think clearly when he couldn’t otherwise.

  Tonight, though, it wasn’t working.

  No matter how long he lingered under that water, water raining down over his shoulders and back, he was just as troubled as he had been before he ever stepped foot inside the shower stall.