“Of course not. And Mish, while I love him to death, he can be mean, cruel even, but if he cares about you, he’ll want to fix it. You just have to let him.”
She was right about that. Mishca had been trying to repay him in many regards for what went down. For a spell, Niklaus wondered whether he was apologizing for Niklaus getting kidnapped in his place, or for what he said in that apartment.
Or maybe he blamed himself for it all…
“Where is he anyway? I thought he’d be here.”
“Soon as Iosef told us you were coming up, he took off.”
“Why?”
Lauren leaned forward to place her glass on the table, holding her arms out for Sacha who was already walking towards her and climbed up into her lap—he was definitely a mother’s boy. “Believe it or not, Mish hates fighting with you. He figured you weren’t here for him anyway.”
Shit.
For once, Niklaus felt like an asshole, and for good reason. As he thought back over the last two years since he had walked into their lives, he had made it a point to make Mishca’s life a living hell.
Maybe now it was his turn to make amends.
“I’ll reach out.”
Glancing down at his watch, Niklaus realized he only had thirty minutes to get across town for more surveillance on the warehouse. It was time to go.
Climbing to his feet, Niklaus crossed the room, placing a kiss on the top of Lauren’s head, then grabbed Sacha up into a bear hug that made him squeal with laughter.
“I’ll catch you later. Shit to do and all that.”
“Be careful, whatever it is you’re doing.”
“Duly noted.”
His back was to her as he walked away, but she called out, “So when do we get to meet her?”
Niklaus paused, thinking over his answer before responding. “I’m not even sure if she’ll have me.”
Lauren laughed at that. “If there’s one thing I know, you two Volkov boys won’t take no for an answer. Just let me know when and I’ll cook dinner.”
Smiling as he boarded the elevator, Niklaus called out, “I’m not trying to kill her.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Throughout the car ride, Reagan remained silent, staring out the passenger window even as Liam attempted to engage her in conversation. The last thing she wanted was to be in his car, riding along to meet the man that had sired the brothers. While not all children’s wrongdoings was the fault of the parents, Reagan couldn’t help but wonder what kind of man stood as the patriarch of the McCarthy family.
“I’m sorry,” Liam said, trying another tactic as he softened his voice, thinking that might goad her into actually speaking to him. “I didn’t mean what I said. You look fine.”
How did he expect her to respond to that? “Okay.”
Not taking his eyes off the road, Liam reached over, clasping her hand. The moment he did, she tried to pull free, but he held tighter, his grip painful—like he was daring her to try that again.
“You don’t have to make this difficult, Reagan.”
He was right about that, but she didn’t have to make it easy either. Instead of giving him what he wanted, Reagan let her arm go limp. There was no point in fighting him on it since he was significantly bigger than her, and probably wouldn’t mind using his strength to get that point across.
Liam fell silent, and she almost believed she had won that round until he hit the brake suddenly, sending her lurching forward, then back hard against her seat as they came to a stop.
She had barely looked in his direction before he grabbed ahold of her jaw, forcing her to face him.
“Don’t test my patience,” he said, his voice gone low as Reagan wrapped her fingers around his wrist and attempted to pull herself free, but he merely held fast. “You won’t like what happens.”
No, she was sure she wouldn’t.
She was also sure that she would have fingerprint-like bruises later on.
“Understand something, Reagan. I was trying to give you time, work through whatever bullshit you needed, but you don’t seem to be grasping what exactly it is I’m telling you. Now, be a good girl and do as I say, or I’ll give you a reason to be scared.”
Smashing his lips against her, he held himself there for a moment before the licking the seam of her lips, laughing once he finally let go and she got the chance to move away and wipe her mouth with the back of her hand.
Satisfied for the time being, Liam drove off without further incident, finally pulling into the lot of an old warehouse near the docks. Men in hardhats walked around the place, but they looked a little too on edge for them to actually work there, and if Reagan wasn’t mistaken, a number of them she had seen around Rourke a time or two.
While she might not have ever come to this place with Liam, she still noticed the way people stood a little straighter, walked a little faster, and tried to avoid him altogether. A couple of black sedans were parked near the garage bay, at least three men standing beside each, and when Liam parked in line beside them, they were the only few that didn’t look terrified of him.
Liam was out of the car first, circling around to open the door for her as well.
With a single look, he quelled whatever argument she thought to give when he reached for her hand, keeping hold of it as he walked them across the lot, not speaking to anyone as he went, even if they spoke to him.
His grip on her hand tightened slightly as he headed toward their destination with very little care as to what was happening all around them. Reagan, on the other hand, was taking everything in. At the very least so she wouldn’t have to think about what awaited her across the warehouse floor.
But she didn’t have too much time to prepare herself before she was standing inside an office with Liam at her side, his father and brother before her.
Upon first glance, Reagan could definitely see where Liam and Rourke had gotten their looks and their temperament. The man seemed to have a permanent scowl etched onto his face, and though he attempted a smile—for her sake, she thought—it only managed to make him look mildly annoyed. Though he was probably a good thirty years their senior, he still had a youthful look to his features, and had the build of a man that still worked out constantly.
Though Liam spoke of his father often, she didn’t know very much about him, only that he hadn’t approved of Liam and Rourke’s presences stateside—Liam and Rourke constantly argued about it. Rourke would have much preferred being back in Dublin, standing at his father’s side, but Liam had wanted something more, and right in Hell’s Kitchen was where he had found that ‘more,’ apparently.
“Who is this?” he asked, turning dark eyes on Liam. The question was simple enough, but the tone in which he used spoke of his true feelings.
She wasn’t the only one that didn’t want her there.
“Reagan, Donovan McCarthy. Da, Reagan, my girlfriend.”
Judging from the blank stare he was sending in Liam’s direction, he was not impressed. She couldn’t decide whether she was happy or upset about this.
“Now isn’t the time for this,” Donovan said evenly. “We have business to discuss.”
Liam nodded once, leaning over to whisper in Reagan’s ear, “Go sit in the corner and keep your mouth shut.”
Deciding it was better not to argue this with him, she did as he said, grabbing a chair along the way. The moment she was across the room, they all spoke in hushed tones, but even as they tried to pretend she didn’t exist, she could still hear bits and pieces of their conversation.
“Are you sure you can trust him?” Rourke asked his father, his attention solely on him though Liam glanced in his direction.
Reagan wasn’t sure who the ‘him’ was Rourke was referring to, but she tried not to seem like she was listening too closely.
“This deal has been in the works for over a year, boy. It’s too late to not go through with it now.”
“But that doesn’t mean that you have to meet with him alone,” Liam in
terjected. “Let one of us come with you, for security at the very least.”
“I already agreed to his terms,” Donovan said carefully. “The moment I do something he doesn’t approve, there’ll be a problem.”
While there was no one around in Hell’s Kitchen the brothers seemed to fear, it was apparent that there was someone the father was afraid of. Reagan was not usually one for violence, but if pissing off whoever Donovan planned to meet with would mean someone would come after them, she hoped they fucked up badly.
She was contemplating this when there was a sudden shout from someone outside the office, and she had barely turned to look in that direction before an explosion sounded, shaking the very foundation of the warehouse before shots could be heard over the sounds of yelling.
The minute the first gunshot rang out, Reagan froze in horror, even as everything around her seemed to speed up. Liam, Rourke, and Donovan were on their feet in seconds, guns out, firing back though they couldn’t possibly see who, or even where, the shots were coming from.
When a mirror shattered next to her head, however, she unfroze, dropping down to the floor as she quickly scrambled away from the chaos, towards an exit door she had seen in her look around the place.
She had just made it through the cracked door when a pair of powerful arms lifted her off the floor, yanking her back against a firm chest. As she took a breath to scream, a hand clamped down over her mouth, muffling the sound.
She kicked, fought with all of her might, but made no purchase as she was carried backward toward the loading dock. Then, she was dropped onto her feet as a door was opened, shoved inside of what looked like a storage closet?
Was he helping her?
And now, she was face-to-face with the man—because it was quite obviously a man with the strength he possessed—that had dragged her away from the bullets.
To her surprise, he was wearing a mask, one that was entirely black with cutouts for the eyes, and just a slash across the nose area so he could breathe. Despite her earlier fear, she didn’t continue to fight him.
His eyes…they felt familiar.
When she made to speak though, he pressed a gloved finger to her lips and shook his head, silently demanding she not speak. Then, he moved that same finger from her lips to where his own would be without the mask, another silent command.
Only when Reagan nodded did he step back and shut the door, his shadow disappearing from beneath the crack in the door.
She didn’t move, nor did she speak a word. Not when she heard others on the opposite side of the door, or even when she heard Liam yelling her name.
No, she didn’t attempt to open the door until the silence on the other side was deafening. Before now, she had never heard a gunshot before, surprising considering where she came from, so she’d had no idea just how loud they could be—or how after they tapered off, the sounds still echoed in her ears.
Reagan didn’t know how long she stood in the closet, but when she finally stepped out of it, she didn’t see anyone. Angry voices carried from the other side of the warehouse where she had been with Liam, and when she rounded the corner to leave, ready to get the hell out of there, she ran into one of Rourke’s men.
A gun was pointed in her face, making her jump back. When he blinked, seeming to recognize her, he grabbed hold of her arm, marching her right back in the direction she had come from, not stopping until they entered the part of the place where Liam and his family were standing, arguing in loud voices now about how best to handle the situation.
But there was only one voice that really mattered, and when he finally spoke, the others in the room fell silent.
“It’s no problem?” Donovan asked, an edge to his voice. “Look the fuck around, there is a problem. I warned you that the moment you fucked this, I would pull your arse back home. Perhaps you thought I was kidding?”
“I can fix this, Da. I—” His lips snapped shut when Donovan glared at him, that look enough to make Reagan afraid to speak.
There was someone Liam feared, she realized, his father.
“Get to the bottom of this and clean it up, or I’ll do it for you.”
Donovan signaled to his men, all of which walked both ahead and behind him as they left, never sparing another glance to any of them.
It was then that Liam turned in her direction and realized she had witnessed all of that—and probably noticed the look of fear on his face when he addressed his father.
But before he could address her, Rourke spoke up.
“Fecking Declan Flanagan, that was,” Rourke exclaimed in his gravelly tone. “We need to put him in the ground before he can pull this shite again.”
Liam didn’t look away from her, his open expression shifting to something akin to a silent fury. “We will—and anyone standing at his side.”
Her brother. His name might have been left unspoken, but it hung between them all the same.
*
Toweling her hair dry, Reagan was both mentally and physically exhausted as she left her bathroom with a towel wrapped around her body and another in her hand.
After everything that had happened at the warehouse, the police sirens could be heard miles away and Liam wasted no time with having someone take her home, ensuring the police never got a chance to talk to her.
And during that long journey home, her thoughts had turned to Jimmy and the fact that she still hadn’t heard from him. She no longer doubted that he had gotten into contact with their old childhood friend, but she was more worried about just how involved he was with what happened at the warehouse.
Tomorrow. Tomorrow she would go over to his apartment and finally figure all of this out. There was one thing about ignoring her calls, but he couldn’t avoid her if she was camped out at his place.
Reagan was almost to the kitchen, thinking about the slice of cake sitting in her refrigerator that she was looking forward to when she noticed someone sitting by the window in her living room, shrouded by darkness.
Yelping in surprise, she nearly lost the towel that shielded her nudity. She didn’t even have time to do anything else before the man stood and stepped forward, looking positively annoyed…like he had any reason to.
“Niklaus? What the fuck? It’s not bad enough that you knew where I lived, but now you’re breaking into my place?”
He didn’t answer her question, not right away. No, his attention was rapt on her bare legs, slowly making their way up, stopping to linger where she had ahold of the towel.
Even she had a hard time remembering why she was angry with the way he was looking at her.
“Niklaus,” she called his name again, hoping to actually capture his attention this time.
“You could’ve been killed today, you know.”
She frowned, about to ask him how he could possibly know about that, but then she remembered the person in the mask. Now it made sense why his eyes seemed so familiar. “That was you? What the hell were you doing there? What…”
She was going to ask what the hell was going on, but then she remembered his sudden reappearance, and besides his fixation on her, he had questioned her about Liam, about what she knew about his family. He’d said he had come back for her, but now she was starting to realize that he wasn’t there for her at all.
“This is about Liam, isn’t it—the reason you’re back.”
“No, I meant what I said. He was the excuse, you’re the reason.”
She couldn’t begin to understand what he meant by that. “Sanitation, my ass. Are you like a damn spy?”
He shrugged—just shrugged as though that answer was entirely plausible. “Close, but I’m not affiliated with any government.”
What. The. Fuck. She was almost afraid to suggest the next one. “Assassin?”
“Depends on the job.”
Even though it was Niklaus, even though he had never given her the impression that he would hurt her in any way, a chill went down her spine at how easily he had admitted to that.
“What—”
“Mercenary,” he said carefully, his eyes scanning her face, what he was looking for, she didn’t know. “That’s the word you’re looking for.”
It wasn’t the first time she had heard the word though she couldn’t recall what it meant, or what they did exactly, but that was the last thing she expected him to be.
“Depends on the job, you said. So, Liam…he’s the job?”
Niklaus shook his head. “Not necessarily.”
“Then explain it to me.”
She could see a muscle working in his jaw, and she almost expected him not to answer, but he did.
“I can’t.”
Reagan could believe that, he had admitted, albeit vaguely, that he killed people for a living. Why wasn’t she freaking out? Why was she still standing there talking to him and not getting as far away from him as she could?
“Don’t do that.”
Her eyes snapped to him at the softly uttered command. “Don’t do what?”
“Fear me.”
“Why shouldn’t I?”
“Because I’d never hurt you,” he said with unwavering sincerity.
How desperately she wanted to believe that, but he had never given her any reason to. “So what was it exactly?” She found herself asking, her voice level though she felt anything but. “What did you need from me to get Liam?”
“I already had it handled.”
“Before or after you came back walked into my pub?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“The truth.”
“Both. I had his name—or the family name—before I got here. I came to you first though. A friend told me Liam was around you, I wanted to make sure you were okay.”
She looked away, feeling vulnerable. She hadn’t been okay, the farthest thing from it.
Niklaus blew out a breath, pulling the beanie free from covering his hair. “You should have told me.”
“And what would I have said? Sanitation guy, I know I haven’t seen you in years, but there’s this Irish mobster and his brother that’s extorting everyone in my neighborhood—oh, and one of them thinks that I belong to him? Would that have worked for you?”
Red. (Den of Mercenaries #1) Page 18
