Den of Mercenaries: Volume One (The Mercenaries Book 1)

by London Miller

  But Luna wasn’t so sure that was a good thing.

  As she came upon him, mere steps away now, she could see him more clearly—the strawberry-blond hair, the chiseled line of his jaw, and the dark suit he wore.

  He was pretty, in a masculine way, but pretty all the same.

  “Pet, grab the glasses,” Lawrence said, voice resonating around the room as he gave her a slight push.

  Tearing her eyes away from the man that had yet to speak, doing as she was told, she found the set of crystal tumblers set on a serving tray that also held a freshly filled ice bucket.

  She carried it across the room with her eyes on the floor, setting it down and waiting for her next instruction. Lawrence passed her the bottle—bourbon, the label read—twisting the top off and pouring two fingers of the liquor as he had once instructed her to do.

  Once she finished, first giving Lawrence his drink, then turning to the stranger, but this time, she couldn’t avoid his gaze.

  For a moment she thought she saw recognition in the dark depths of his eyes, but it was gone before she could be sure.

  It was uncomfortable, standing under his scrutiny, and if she wasn’t afraid of what would happen should she move away from him, she would have immediately tried to escape his presence.

  “What’s your name?” he asked, picking up his drink, the heavy gold ring adorning his left hand making a clinking sound as it came in contact with the glass.

  Give them whatever they ask for.

  Those words rang in her head as she forced herself to answer his question—most didn’t ask, or care. “Luna.”

  “Your entire name,” the stranger said carefully, an accent coloring the words, “if you would.”

  Glancing back at Lawrence to make sure that she was meant to answer this, she spoke when he nodded. “Luna Aristoria Santiago.”

  When was the last time she gave someone her name?

  A corner of his mouth kicked up, but it wasn’t a true smile—there was something not so nice about it. Extending his hand, he offered, “Uilleam, but most call me The Kingmaker.”

  Lawrence coughed, as though his drink had gone down the wrong pipe. Not sure what was wrong, Luna accepted the man’s hand with some trepidation, but as his fingers closed around hers, he didn’t squeeze and yank her to him, but rather just turned her hand over, his gaze dropping to her wrist and the birthmark that was there.

  How did he even know to look?

  And why was he called The Kingmaker?

  What did that even mean?

  When Luna attempted to pull her hand away, Uilleam held fast, and whatever kindness she thought he possessed, it vanished when he gave a command.

  “Kneel.”

  The command caught her off guard, silence stretching between them as she just stood there staring at him.

  “Did you not hear what he said?” Lawrence asked, the threat in his voice clear for anyone to hear.

  Do as you’re told.

  Gritting her teeth, Luna carefully sank down onto the floor, hands clutching at the hem of her dress to keep it from riding up further.

  “Crawl to me,” he said, making her cheeks darken with anger and embarrassment, but she followed his direction, not stopping until she was mere inches from his seated form.

  Once she was close enough, he reached for her, brushing strands of her hair out of her face, his voice low as he whispered in Spanish, “Play your part, and you may leave this place tonight.”

  Not given a chance to question his meaning—or even to process that he knew she spoke Spanish—The Kingmaker looked away from her and to Lawrence.

  “Where have you been hiding this one?” Uilleam asked and laid a hand on her shoulder, his hold possessive, but it didn’t feel sexual.

  “She’s special,” Lawrence said with pride, as though he had been paid a compliment.

  Uilleam’s expression changed, but Luna couldn’t read it. “Of that, I have no doubt.”

  Lawrence must have noticed it too, but he ignored it. “Business, let’s discuss.”

  “I’m not sure what’s left to discuss,” Uilleam returned. “It’s already done.”

  “But when—”

  “Very soon, but that matter isn’t of importance at the moment. Your payment for services has come due, and I’m here to collect.”

  That easy smile that had once graced Lawrence’s face disappeared. “We agreed to after the job, not before.”

  “Considering the circumstances, I thought it best to collect now.”

  “Why? Do you think I’m going to lose it all once my father is dead?” Lawrence asked snidely, a touch of his temper showing.

  “Well, yes.”

  Lawrence, not liking this answer, nor the way Uilleam spoke, set his drink down. “This is not your place, Kingmaker. You play by my rules.”

  “Your father’s rules, you mean,” Uilleam said, his tone never changing. “You’re not at the top just yet, Lawrence. So is it you that intends to check me?”

  Luna didn’t notice it, not at first, not until the silence had become too much and she was forced to look up. She expected to find anger in Lawrence’s face, outrage even, but neither was there.

  Panic, instead.

  Even his men looked about nervously.

  As though he had to force himself to say the words, Lawrence shook his head and said, “Not at all. Your payment, yes. Cash or wire—”

  “I know with some certainty that you don’t have one point five million here in cash, Lawrence. Are you attempting to annoy me?”

  Luna knew Lawrence’s family was rich, but that number still boggled her mind.

  What had he bought for that much money?

  “Perhaps I can offer you something else,” Lawrence said glancing in her direction. “For an extension, of course. If you would like her for the next hour—”

  Uilleam made a humming sound in the back of his throat. “Or indefinitely.”

  His words made Luna tense, but Uilleam’s hand on her shoulder tightened subtly, a silent command for her not to move.

  Lawrence’s expression changed then, and unlike Uilleam, she could read him just fine. He didn’t like the idea of giving her to someone else—for a short period, sure, but not where she wouldn’t be there for him to torture when he felt like it.

  “I’m not quite sure I understand.”

  “I’m willing to forgive some of your debt should you give her to me,” Uilleam answered, his voice dipping low as though he were speaking to a child. “I’m not sure what’s left you don’t understand.”

  Lawrence forced a laugh, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “There are plenty of girls here, should you want one, but they’re for rent. What kind of businessman would I be if I sold off my best stock?”

  “A smart one if you were to name your price. Or have you forgotten the reason I’m here in the first place? Besides, after that unfortunate incident with the hacksaw, you’re not really in a place to argue, no?”

  Luna knew the “incident” Uilleam referred to. It was only a few weeks ago that Lawrence had lost his temper, as he was prone to do, and killed one of the clients.

  “That has nothing to do with this,” Lawrence said.

  “There is also the small detail that the contractor I have doesn’t peddle in minors—and before you say a word, it is quite obvious this girl is underage.”

  How the hell did he know that?

  “Fake documents can be made,” Lawrence suggested.

  Uilleam, who seemed to have an answer for everything, shook his head minutely. “And should we run her DNA, would it be found in any database? Missing persons, perhaps?”

  It took every part of her being not to gape as she glanced up at Uilleam. Did he know who she was? Did he know that she had been forced here against her will?

  Was he helping her?

  “It looks to me, Lawrence, as though I’m doing you a favor. Because please understand, she is your problem, and yet I’m offering to pay to fix it—a far better deal than I
usually offer.”

  The vein in Lawrence’s forehead made an appearance as he ground his teeth. “Pick another—”

  “I’ll have her, if it’s all the same to you.”

  But it wasn’t all the same to him, and it was clear that he wanted to argue further, but after a heavy moment of silence, Lawrence finally answered.

  “Seven fifty.”

  “Your father will die this evening,” Uilleam said with a glance down at his watch. “Would you like to join him in hell? Continue to waste my time and I’ll have someone put a bullet in your head.”

  It was clear who held the power in the room.

  “Considering her … age,” Lawrence said grudgingly, “I can go no lower than five hundred thousand. She would earn—”

  “It’s quite time for you to stop speaking,” Uilleam cut in before he could finish. “I’m tired of hearing your voice. That’s acceptable. Now, for the rest.”

  Though Lawrence was red in the face, he didn’t hesitate before reaching into his pocket and taking out his phone. Two minutes later, he was showing Uilleam the screen.

  “We’re done here.”

  Those words sounded innocent enough, at least until the sharp crack of gunfire sounded in the main house, the screams of the people inside just as loud.

  Uilleam stood, helping her to her feet. “It was a pleasure doing business with you, Lawrence. Let’s hope we never cross paths again.”

  Luna wasn’t given a choice as The Kingmaker made to leave, the fingers he had wrapped around her arm forcing her to follow at a rapid pace she could hardly keep up with.

  People were running, fleeing from the gunfire that was still going on, but Uilleam didn’t run, nor did he particularly rush.

  Like he wasn’t affected by the chaos around him.

  Who the hell had she been sold to?

  Chapter 3

  If she thought she would get answers from The Kingmaker once they left the Kendall estate, Luna was mistaken.

  Not only did he not speak another word to her besides which way to walk and where to sit, he didn’t pay very much attention to her at all, hardly even looking in her direction.

  She didn’t even get the chance to try and find Cat in the chaos before she was pushed into the back of a waiting car, two thumps on the roof sounding before they were starting off.

  Over the span of what couldn’t have been more than an hour, Luna was once again being uprooted from everything she knew, and taken somewhere—with someone—she didn’t. Everything she cared for, though there wasn’t much at all in this place, was left behind.

  It was silly to miss old textbooks, but she wished she could have taken them with her—though she couldn’t be sure she would get to use them wherever she was going.

  Only once they arrived at a private airfield that was warded off by barbed wire did Luna dare ask her first question. Had it not been for the men—and these men looked more like soldiers—standing alert from the front end of the town car to the jet waiting on the tarmac, she would have tried to run.

  But one look at the rifles they were holding, she knew she wouldn’t be faster than a bullet.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Is that really the question you want to ask?” he asked, not unkindly, but rather curiously—as though he genuinely wanted to know the answer.

  There were plenty, a number of which she probably hadn’t thought of yet, but she didn’t think he would answer the question she really wanted answered: What did he plan on doing with her?

  Instead, she nodded, figuring this inquiry was one he might be willing to answer.

  “New York,” Uilleam said as he gestured for her to go ahead of him onto the jet, pausing a moment to speak with one of his soldiers.

  Ariana, Luna’s sister, had gone on a trip to New York. She’d described the lights and tall buildings, the food and the blending of cultures. Luna had always wanted to visit.

  She could count on one hand the number of times she had been on a plane, but none of those were anything like this one. While it might have been half the size of a traditional airplane, the interior made it feel far more spacious.

  There weren’t traditional seats on the jet—though a few were strategically placed by windows—majority of the floor was open, with a couch in a U-shape facing a television that lowered from a hidden panel in the ceiling.

  Luna stood awkwardly in the middle of the floor, not sure what to do. She wasn’t even sure how to act. Was she to assume that he wanted her ready for whatever he wanted to do to her?

  Her gaze was drawn to a rather large bed in the rear of the plane, the monstrosity making a lump form in her throat.

  “There’ll be none of that,” Uilleam said as he appeared at her side, reading her expression. Almost absently, his gaze moved beyond the bed as he mumbled, “My heart is not my own.”

  She wasn’t sure what to make of him.

  “Please,” he said when she didn’t offer a response. “Have a seat.”

  Going to where he pointed, she sunk down onto the very end of the sectional, folding her hands in her lap as she waited as he did the same. A part of her knew she should have been more afraid than she was, but she didn’t think he could do anything worse than what Lawrence had done for the last few years.

  Drawing in a breath as he regarded her, Uilleam said, “As I’ve secured your freedom, I would like to ask for something in return.”

  This was where she thought he would tell her that she would have to pay him back on her back, but he had said that they wouldn’t be doing that. So what could he want?

  “You bought my freedom?”

  There was no hesitation. “I did.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said with a shake of her head. “Why would you do that?”

  “The reason is immaterial, though I would be remiss if I didn’t mention that your freedom comes at a price.”

  “Then what do you want?”

  “We’re not quite there yet, are we? For now, how about you tell me how you came to be at Emmett’s infamous brothel. And please,” he said as he pressed a button on a remote he held, “spare no detail.”

  It was the hottest summer ever.

  Having lived in San Jose all her life, Luna knew all too well how punishing the summer heat could be, but even she had decided against venturing outside to lie by the pool. A few days prior, though she hadn’t been outside more than a couple of hours, by the time she came in, she’d had the most painful sunburn that was only now healing.

  Blanco had trailed behind her wherever she went, plopping down next to her feet once she finally settled onto her bed with a sigh, pulling out the journal she kept hidden between books on the shelf in her room. Within its pages were all of her hopes, dreams, and ambitions, an abundance of things that her fourteen-year-old heart could possibly love. Between those, and the random scribblings about her favorite American celebrities, one could learn the most about her just by reading through it.

  Even Luna did sometimes—going back over entries she’d added just to remember what she had felt during certain days of her life. This particular journal had only lasted her a couple of weeks, because no matter how insignificant the detail, she made sure to add it.

  Every moment was worth remembering, Luna had always thought.

  Plus, it made her feel less invisible when she was reading her own thoughts and telling herself how best to work through those feelings should they ever arise again.

  Her mother, Carmen, was often too busy to listen to the trivial things that upset her—she was trying to run a household after all—and if she wanted everything moving smoothly, she had to devote every waking moment to her goal.

  Her father, Juan, was very much the same, caring more for his work than having a relationship with his daughter—that was a woman’s job after all, he liked to say.

  And there was her sister, Ariana, who was four years older and liked to remind her of that fact any chance she got. She had her own set of friends—friends
that wouldn’t want to hang around her younger sister, she mocked with a roll of her eyes.

  But despite how alone she felt at times, Luna loved her family, and her family loved her.

  One could never know how much time would be spent with loved ones—most took it for granted, assuming they would have another day to make it up—but as Luna looked up from her journal, a movement just outside of her window catching her eye, she hadn’t known at the time just how little time she had left with her family.

  Luna was used to men around the house—Juan made good money working at his company and liked to keep the landscaping around the house well maintained—so she wasn’t surprised that there were men walking about.

  But she was surprised because they weren’t dressed as the gardeners usually were.

  There were no jeans.

  No sweat-stained shirts and tools at their belts.

  They were dressed in all black as she had seen the local policía when they were hunting bad men through the streets. It all looked heavy, that gear, but it didn’t seem to weigh them down—they moved without hindrance. But it wasn’t their clothes, or the masks that covered half of their faces, it was the assault rifles they carried that made fear slither through her chest.

  Something was terribly wrong.

  Very quickly, she dashed over to her bedroom door, grabbing her phone as she went. Blanco, seeming to notice the disturbance outside as well, perked up, growls starting up in the back of his throat.

  Luna attempted to shush him by calling him to her, but while he came, he still huffed, ready to have a go at anyone that thought to come into his house—even Luna’s family had to tread carefully around him when he was in a mood.

  Luna was dialing her father when she heard glass break, the sound unmistakably loud in the silence of the house. Ariana was out with her friends, Juan was at work as usual, and Carmen … well she wasn’t sure where her mother was, only knew that it had something to do with shopping for Ariana.

  But when she heard the shards of glass hitting the floor, Luna no longer hesitated.

  She ran.

  As fast as her legs could carry her, she took off in the opposite direction from where they were coming in. They were coming through the front, but thankfully, Ariana’s bedroom was on the other side of the house with a screen door that led to the pool in the backyard. If she could get through it and the side gate, she could go unnoticed.