Den of Mercenaries

by London Miller

  Chapter 13

  Three days later …

  Peace had finally found him.

  He had finally fulfilled his promise to Luna, and no more obstacles stood in their way, but before he could take her away to give her a much-needed vacation, he needed to handle one last thing.

  Taking his jet back to New York while Luna remained in California, Kit told no one of his plans, not even Aidra, as he made his way to Manhattan, parking in front of a rather obscure office building right in the middle of the city.

  Riding the elevator up to his floor, he gave the building a cursory look around, from the glass walls, to the elegant but simple décor—clear that it had a woman’s touch.

  Once the doors opened with a ding, Kit cast his gaze around as he walked forward, carefully removing his leather gloves.

  A man with sharp and angular features in a powder-blue suit was seated behind the receptionist’s desk, his smile already forming before Kit was fully in front of him.

  “Mr. Runehart,” he greeted professionally, rising to his feet before coming around the desk. “I was instructed to bring you to conference room A.”

  Kit merely lifted a brow in response as he followed the man. He didn’t hasten his step to keep up. Rather, he took his time as he surveilled the floor, taking in as much detail as he could possibly need.

  At first glance, the décor seemed rather ordinary—the walls white with the occasional framed quote on the wall, and desks of the same color were broken up by brighter hues due to the vases of flowers on each desk.

  As he entered the room where he would be waiting, Kit wondered whether it was company policy to always keep fresh flowers, or whether they were offered.

  Frosted glass shielded the room he was in from curious eyes, and it too followed the same colorless theme as the rest of the floor, but the only color to be found here was the single blue rose in a vase in the center of the table.

  Blue roses …

  Kit tried to recall why that felt significant, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

  And on a wall—this one situated behind the chair at the head of the table—a word was painted in the center of it, the color only two shades darker than the paint on the walls, making it hard to distinguish.

  Kit didn’t think he would have noticed had he not been so close and able to see the difference in tones.

  There was only one word painted there …

  Legend.

  “So sorry to have kept you waiting,” a woman with a softly accented voice called as she entered the room with an apologetic smile. “I understand your time is valuable, and I terribly hope I haven’t wasted it.”

  This woman, whoever she was, was not who Kit had expected.

  This one had cropped hair, only a touch longer than Tăcut’s buzz cut. Four piercings lined her right ear, while the other only sported two, and despite the impressive heels she wore, it was obvious the woman was no taller than five-five, if an inch.

  Karina, Kit remembered, had wavy brown hair that she usually kept in a messy bun, and she had kind eyes that missed nothing.

  This woman might have tried to appear innocent, but Kit could see right through the mask.

  Whoever she was, she didn’t want Kit there, and if he had to guess, she wasn’t Belladonna.

  “Nearly two years ago,” Kit began, observing her, “a woman by the name of Belladonna contracted an assignment with The Kingmaker—I’d like to speak with her.”

  “Yes,” the woman said with a blink. “You’re speaking with her now, but you don’t have to call me Belladonna—Kava will do just fine.”

  Kit doubted that.

  It could have been that his mind had seized on Karina, and fully expecting her to be the mysterious Belladonna, he wasn’t prepared for the woman standing before him.

  “My apologies,” Kava said with a slight shake of her head as she gestured toward the table for them to sit. “I was under the impression that a contract with The Kingmaker offered anonymity. While I understand your relation, I don’t understand why you’re here today questioning a job I asked of him.”

  “I’m not here about whatever contract you signed with him—I’m here because of Calavera.”

  Kava’s expression didn’t change as she regarded him. There was no fear at what he might do to her, though even she would have to know there was a reason to be. “Your wife, is she not?”

  The way the woman emphasized the word made Kit believe she knew about Luna’s leaving—which only made sense considering she had been the reason Luna left in the first place.

  “Your business is your own,” Kit said, eyes narrowed. “But once you decide to make my business a concern of yours, you open yourself up to scrutinization.”

  “You misunderstand. As I’m sure you’re aware, I contracted one of The Kingmaker’s mercenaries to find a man who owed me a debt. If your wife happened to learn the truth about other matters in the process, I can’t possibly be blamed for that, can I?”

  Kit leveled his gaze on her. “I don’t believe in coincidences.”

  “Duly noted. Now, are you going to tell me why you’re here, or shall I guess?”

  “Who told you his name?”

  Now, she blinked, momentarily confused. “I’m sorry?”

  “Andrei Kanekov may have done work for my brother occasionally, but he worked for me—meaning very few even knew of the man, let alone how to find him.”

  “You’re treading dangerously close to asking about my business, and I regret to inform you that my business is none of your concern. As I’ve said, if your wife stumbled upon information, that’s no fault of mine.”

  “Don’t make an enemy of me, Kava,” Kit warned, meaning every word. “You won’t like how I play the game.”

  “I welcome you to try, Mr. Runehart—I know how you Runehart brothers feel about idle threats, so I won’t bother issuing a warning. Move against me, and I’ll ensure you regret it.” Kava stood, smoothing the front of her skirt. “Besides, you have far more important things on your plate at the moment, no? I suggest you finish what you started in California. Carmen Rivera isn’t done with you yet, and rather than try to bully me, perhaps you should prepare for the problem you’ll face with her.”

  He wouldn’t break her, not today—Kit could tell from the assurance in her voice, the way she spoke with absolute clarity.

  Whether he wanted to admit it or not, a part of him knew she was right. Carmen wasn’t the type of woman who went down without a fight. And Elias was still in play as well.

  She didn’t seem to care who he was, or what he was capable of, and for Kit, that was answer enough.

  The only people who didn’t feel fear were those with nothing to lose.

  Whoever this woman was, she wasn’t Belladonna …

  But she knew who Belladonna was.

  “Understand something, Kava,” Kit said as he slowly rose to his feet, pulling his gloves back on. “Ghosts don’t stay hidden forever—I’ll always find them. And you tell her, or whoever it is you work for that the second I become available, I will make it my mission to flush her out.”

  Kit didn’t wait to see her reaction to his words. He left, and it was on his way back out, driving back to the airport, when he got a phone call he couldn’t ignore.

  Sitting in the office well above the city, Kava Alexion removed the earpiece from her ear, tossing it down on the table as she took in a much-needed breath.

  No amount of preparation could have told her what to expect with Kit Runehart.

  “You did well,” came a voice from behind her.

  A hidden panel was built into the wall behind her, a secret office of sorts only used by one person in the entire staff. When the door was closed, the wall was seamless.

  “I’m not so sure,” she said softly as she faced the woman who had become her mentor over the last two years. “He’s not giving up on this—I can tell.”

  Belladonna’s smile was wistful as she took a seat at the table, her gaze
drawn to the bouquet sitting in the middle of the table. “They’re like dogs with bones. If I didn’t want his attention, I wouldn’t have approached his wife.”

  “Then you know …” Kava said hesitantly. “You know they’re going to figure out you’re alive then.”

  All of the staff—all twenty of the women who Belladonna had personally selected to work for her—knew her secret, the one they had all swore never to speak a word of. It wasn’t that she hid who she was or the life she led in the past. In fact, she liked to use her own experiences to teach them—just as her mother and sister had done before her.

  But as she liked to remind them, names had power, and Belladonna was the most powerful of all.

  “Kit knows—he just wants proof to offer that thick-headed brother of his—he’s practical that way. Uilleam …” Her eyes flashed as she said the name, as though it conjured all the best and worst emotions. “If he doesn’t believe by now, then he’s in denial.”

  Kava wasn’t so sure.

  She knew her mentor had faked her death—though the reasons behind it had never been revealed—and the way she had gone about it would have made anyone believe she was truly gone.

  But it wasn’t Kava’s job to question her boss—she was merely meant to be Belladonna’s voice when she couldn’t.

  “Are you planning a big reveal?” she asked, her mind still on the former assassin and their rattling conversation.

  She didn’t think anyone had ever looked at her with such coldness before.

  “I have one more thing in play, and should that happen as I anticipate, I’m sure The Kingmaker and I will soon be having a very nice chat.”

  “And Kit? What do you plan to do about him?”

  Belladonna’s smile was gentle, as everything else seemed about her.

  When Kava had first come onto the team—thanks to the opportunity that changed her life forever—she hadn’t anticipated for a second that Belladonna was capable of the things she did daily. She’d seemed fragile almost—even more so than the women she saved.

  But it had only taken one interaction with a client to see why Belladonna was to be feared.

  Beneath the prim outer layer, the softly spoken words, and gentle demeanor was the heart of a savage—one who was intent on getting even with The Kingmaker for a slight only she knew.

  “Kit will be too preoccupied with his wife and his orphans to devote too much of his time on me. But considering his brutish behavior this afternoon, perhaps I should show him that he’s not the only powerful one in this city.”

  Kava glanced down at Belladonna’s hand, studying the intricate tattoo—solid lines, loops, and dots—that covered nearly the entire breadth of it. It was hard unless one was looking for it, to notice the name hidden within the ink.

  “And The Kingmaker?” Kava asked, looking from the man’s name carefully placed there to her mentor’s face. “What will you do about him?”

  “I’m going to make him feel what he has made so many others feel over the years.”

  “And that is?”

  This time, nothing was gentle about Belladonna’s expression, it had turned almost feral—as though she had transformed right before her eyes.

  Plucking the blue rose from the bouquet, Belladonna brought it to her nose and inhaled. “Pain.”

  Chapter 14

  A chill in the air, with the heavy blues of the night sky just starting to break, Luna ventured outside, her helmet under her arm as she locked up.

  “No one should be up this early,” she said with her phone to her ear, though most of her grumpiness at being up so early in the morning had been sated by a nice cup of coffee.

  “You catch the best waves at this time,” Skorpion replied, a smile in his voice, even as she heard the water crashing into the shore in the background. “And Soleil likes to collect shells.”

  Luna couldn’t fight her smile even if she tried.

  Having known Skorpion as long as she had, not to mention what he was capable of with a weapon in his hands, when he spoke about his daughter, the reverence he felt for her was clear.

  She was what made him better.

  “Then I’m doing this for her,” Luna said as she straddled her bike, switching the call from her phone to the Bluetooth in her helmet. “Definitely not you.”

  “Whatever gets you here in the next half hour.”

  “Only if I’m lucky,” Luna scoffed.

  She hadn’t been in California very long, but the traffic was worse than what she experienced in the city in New York. No matter which way she tried to go, every street imaginable was packed.

  “When’s Nix getting back?”

  “You know, I’d think you still worked for The Kingmaker with the way you keep up with them.”

  During his previous position as Uilleam’s personal guard, Skorpion had picked up a few of his traits, notably the way he kept people around who were a vital source of information.

  And in a city like Los Angeles, it was probably important for him to keep contacts.

  “Don’t worry,” she said merging lanes. “I’ll have adequate time to spend with you and Soleil before we’re leaving.”

  Before we’re leaving …

  They were going home—to their home—not her to Vegas (though, at some point, she would have to go back to pack up her condo) and him to whichever of his properties he was staying in. They were going to be together, and she was sure, without a shadow of a doubt that things were going to be good between them.

  Better than ever.

  They already were.

  “Yeah, all right. I’ll see you when you get here.”

  After a quick goodbye, she ended the call, focusing her attention on the road and the quickly approaching red light. Despite the traffic, there was one good thing about Los Angeles, and that was the ability for motorcyclists to drive between cars.

  Not a lot of people knew that, but Celt had given her the heads-up—he had a habit of giving out random facts.

  And maybe, had she not been distracted by random, useful facts, she might have noticed the unmarked black van—though this one was made by Mercedes and didn’t have the sketchy quality about it—but she drove past it too late to notice that something was off about it, and even with all the training in the world, nothing could have prepared her for the back door to crash open and men in plain black ski masks jumping out, assault rifles in hand as they aimed in her direction.

  For a split second, she was frozen in surprise, at least until the first crack of a gunshot, the answering screams of people in their cars, and the sharp screech of tires on asphalt before all hell broke loose.

  A driver veered in front of her before she could turn, forcing her to brake hard, sending her flying over the handlebars as the bike crashed into the side of the car. She landed on the hood with a jarring impact, the pain making her breath catch a moment before she hit the ground and rolled.

  But even with the pain that flared to life, adrenaline dulled it.

  Shuffling behind a car left abandoned by its terrified owner, she unsheathed her guns in rapid succession, clicking off the safety with a touch of her thumbs.

  Waiting until there was a break in their shooting, she sprung up, firing off a multitude of rounds. She didn’t take a moment to take aim and get her targets in sight as she’d been taught—she fired blindly in the direction they shot from.

  The first grunt of impact had her ducking back down, breathing in heavily through her nose as she tried to center her thoughts, but she was panicking whether she wanted to or not.

  She could do this.

  She could do this.

  She could do this.

  At least until she saw another van screech to a stop, the doors opening as more men jumped out with her in their sights.

  She was outnumbered and outgunned.

  And with her helmet crackling with static filling her ears, there was no way she could call anyone for help—not that they would have been able to reach her in time anyway.<
br />
  She needed to get the fuck out of there.

  Luna didn’t think, taking off across the street for the alley, bullets whizzing past her head, but she didn’t dare slow her momentum.

  It didn’t matter that she didn’t know the streets of Los Angeles that well, or that she could hear them giving chase, she was smaller and lighter on her feet.

  Reaching the clearing, she veered left, then made another sharp right as she entered another alley, braving a glance back. They were only seconds behind her, their heavy feet loud as they ran.

  But she had just enough of a head start to make it around another corner, and if she was lucky, she could lose them inside one of the many buildings that lined the street.

  Almost. Almost. Almost.

  Her fingers just wrapped around the knob of a door handle when a searing pain shot through her, locking her every muscle, her body seizing with the intensity of the volts of electricity shooting through her veins.

  The last thing she saw before the black spots in her vision overwhelmed her was Elias’ smiling face.

  Fang

  Across the city …

  “I don’t understand why we’re still having this conversation.”

  Fang sighed, scrubbing a hand down his face. He watched Aidra climb out of bed, disappearing into the closet with her face screwed up in anger.

  He should have known better than to bring it up again, especially after their last argument about it, but Fang had never been one to hold his tongue. Honesty was a strict policy of his.

  Even if it hurt.

  “Nix is a big boy,” Fang said as he pushed the sheet off his legs, twisting so he could put his feet on the floor though he made no move to get up. “He’s already said that you don’t have to shadow him everywhere.”

  “Since when did you start having a problem with my job, Fang?” Aidra asked, reappearing in the doorway with a dress in hand as she quickly stepped into it and zipped it up.

  “Since there was a chance that you could get hurt because of it.”