Shadows & Silence: A Wild Bunch Novel

by London Miller

  Winter pulled out the thumb drive she carried with her everywhere, dropping it into his hand when he reached for it.

  Already, she could feel this was going exactly the way she hoped, and she hadn’t even needed to bribe him to get him to agree.

  Once he had it plugged in, he plucked a wireless keyboard off a shelf and hit a few keys, darkening the lights in the room while a projector flickered to life.

  “No one told me you were a techie,” she said in wonder, coming up to stand beside him. “Where’ve you been all my life?”

  Most people had a basic understanding of the way technology worked, able to make it through mundane tasks, but with the way Răzvan’s fingers shifted over the keys, and she saw the system he was working on, it went beyond that.

  He actually knew what he was doing.

  It wasn’t long before he had the file open and was scanning through the contents. She didn’t interrupt him, letting him make of it what he wanted because, for all her playfulness, this wasn’t something to play around with.

  She already knew what they were up against, the players involved, and what was at stake, but he needed to see it for himself without her commentary.

  Răzvan was thorough, going over every bit of information she had gathered until he set the keyboard on the table.

  —I need the blueprints and security schematics.—

  Now it was her turn to pick up the keyboard. “The schematics were already in the file.”

  —No, I need the protocols for any breach in security.—

  Most businesses, especially private firms and security practices, had protocols should anyone try to hack or just plain steal any information.

  “We won’t need those, right?” she asked, glancing in his direction. “Considering it’s a one-shot deal.”

  —We’ll need everything.—

  She couldn’t exactly argue with that. “Coming up.”

  The blueprints were the easiest to find—these happened to be public record—but the protocols took a bit of time to find by hunting through the Lofton servers.

  —The hackers you’re working with, you trust them?—

  “I do.”

  After years spent getting to know each other in private chat rooms, then finally in person, she trusted them implicitly.

  They were her friends.

  “Since you’re part of the team, you’ll need to meet them.”

  —No.—

  “No? What do you mean no?”

  —It means I don’t have time.—

  “It’s not like they haven’t already seen you at The Hall.”

  His expression didn’t change.

  Big stubborn man.

  “Ollie has a plan in mind that he wants to go over tonight, so I’m pretty sure you’ll want to hear it.”

  Răzvan actually looked pained. —Yeah, I wouldn’t want to die on account of that idiot.—

  “Harsh, Răz. He means well.”

  —Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind. Let’s go.—

  She followed him out of the room. “Are we taking your bike? Not that I mind, but I’ve always been curious whether any of you actually own cars.”

  Contrary to what she thought on the way in, there was another floor beneath the level she’d come in on. She wasn’t sure until he flipped a switch on the wall and lights came on one by one that they were standing in a garage.

  Not only were there an assortment of motorcycles—far more of those than anything else—but there were at least ten cars lined up side by side, ranging from muscle cars to high end sports cars.

  “These … these work. Should I guess which one is yours?”

  Răzvan didn’t make a point to hang around hackers.

  To be fair, he didn’t like to be around anyone for too long, but unlike the others he dealt with who tried to go for the kill rather quickly, hackers were nefarious and didn’t just go for the jugular.

  They took their time and liked to destroy the person they were targeting in a far more damaging way.

  They had the ability to take away everything you held dear without ever showing their faces.

  And now, he was about to be in a room full of them.

  “You’ve got that look on your face.”

  Dragged from his thoughts, Răzvan blinked and glanced at Winter.

  She reached up and brushed her fingers along his forehead, easing the lines away. “Resting bitch face isn’t a good look for you.”

  His glare had zero effect on her as she kept walking into the apartment just outside the city. He usually didn’t make it a point to go anywhere he didn’t at least know the layout of, but Winter seemed to know the place well enough, and he had his Glock on him.

  “Fair warning, Ollie and the others aren’t mercenaries or hardcore thieves or anything you’re probably used to. While the mercs won’t blink an eye at your brooding silence, they will, and I don’t need you scaring my friends.”

  He didn’t have to sign the question that was on the tip of his tongue because his expression said it all.

  Are you fucking serious?

  Inside the apartment, he was greeted by the sight of the three he’d seen Winter with at The Hall.

  “You remember Ollie, right?”

  Of course, he did.

  He’d been there that first night in The Hall, and judging from his expression, he was just as afraid of him now as he had been that night.

  If he were a better man, he would have had Winter tell him he didn’t have shit to be afraid of, but it was clear as his expression shifted that it was Răzvan’s size that intimidated him.

  Ollie was several inches shorter than he was, yet he still tried to look down his nose at him.

  Which meant he thought he was smarter—and therefore better—than Răzvan, which made him a fucking idiot, and if Winter hadn’t grabbed his hand at that moment, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking, he might have given him a real reason to be afraid.

  As far as first impressions went, he didn’t like the look of this one.

  “And Tessa,” Winter went on, “Ollie’s sister.”

  She was as tiny as Winter with hair that seemed almost too dark. Friendlier than her brother, she offered an almost shy wave of her hand. “I’ve heard very little about you.”

  Good.

  That was the way he preferred it.

  Before Winter had a chance to introduce the other girl, she quite happily strode forward and introduced herself.

  “Nicole.”

  Instantly, he knew her type. He knew enough narcissists to recognize one.

  She was pretty and knew it, though there was nothing wrong with that—he could appreciate a woman knowing what she was worth—but he didn’t like the way her gaze flickered over Winter dismissively like she wasn’t even there.

  “Are we ready to get started?” Winter asked.

  “It’s simple,” Ollie jumped in. “We hack the security feeds and the elevator and take it up to the offices on the forty-fifth floor. From there, we download what we need, leave a worm behind to cover our tracks, and leave back out.”

  Răzvan blinked, drew in a breath, and then blinked again, wondering if he’d heard right.

  But it was obvious he did because Ollie stood there with his chest puffed out like he’d actually come up with a brilliant plan and not one full of holes and impossibilities.

  Had he ever been this young and stupid?

  Even during his training with the Lotus Society, he’d never once approached a job as if it would be anything less than a challenge. Whether it was eliminating a war criminal or entering a store and walking back out without ever getting caught on camera, he’d not once thought it would be easy.

  He’d foolishly thought because Winter had a way of seeming older than she was, the team she brought onto this job would be the same.

  But the more Ollie talked, the more Răzvan could only stare and wonder how he’d made it this long on his own.

  His gaze cut to Winter. —Is this why you
needed me?—

  —More or less. We’re hackers. We can’t do what you do.—

  “What’s he saying?”

  —Your plan sucks.—

  “He wants to revise the plan,” she translated, far nicer than he would have been. Then to him, —You could be nicer.—

  —Nicer will get you killed.—

  Besides, he was being nice. If it were anyone else, he would have walked the hell out of there and not looked back.

  —What would you suggest then?—

  —Dumping them entirely. Him, especially.—

  —This was their idea, Răz. I can’t cut them out.—

  —Then whatever role they play needs to be as far removed as fucking possible.—

  “Here’s the plan,” Winter translated. “Tăcut and I will go in the building for the data. Someone needs to monitor the security feed, another needs to make sure we’re going in the right direction, and Nicole, you can scan the parking lot or something to make sure nobody else comes along.”

  There was definitely history between them, and judging from the satisfied smirk on Winter’s face and the disgruntled frown on Nicole’s, it went far back.

  Ollie, who’d seemed annoyed before, didn’t seem as bothered now. “When do we start?”

  Winter looked back at him, waiting for an answer.

  —We need to wait for them to move the server.—

  “Wait, what? What do you mean move the server?”

  He felt all eyes on him, but it was only to her he gave his response. —Remember the protocols? If this is a contest and more than just you are going after this ghost account, there will probably be a rash of breakins. If the other people are half as eager to jump on this as your boy seems to be, they’ll make mistakes resulting in the server being moved.—

  “Moved where?”

  —How am I doing your job, Îngeraș?—

  He liked the shade of pink her cheeks turned when he used that name for her.

  Her voice softer than usual, she said, “I didn’t account for that.”

  “You know we don’t understand anything you’re saying,” Tessa commented with an amused smile.

  “Tăcut wants to wait until the server is moved before we go after it.”

  “Wait?” Ollie exclaimed. “Do you know how much money is at stake? If we wait any longer, we aren’t going to win!”

  —If you don’t wait, you’re going to go to jail, dumbass.—

  Winter, wisely, didn’t translate that. “If Tăcut thinks we should wait, then we’re going to.”

  “Who the hell is he anyway?”

  “Ever heard of The Wild Bunch?”

  “You mean those bank—”

  Ah, there it was.

  Recognition.

  It wasn’t often people had heard of him and his brothers, but if they had, their expressions were usually identical to the one Ollie was wearing now.

  “And don’t forget he wears a mask for a reason. If anyone ever finds out who he is, he’ll more than likely break your neck. Just something to keep in mind.”

  Poor Ollie looked shook. “Noted. We’ll just … We’ll go with whatever he says.”

  “Right then. We’ll fine tune it, and I’ll let you guys know when and where.”

  As they were leaving, she asked, “Do you like anybody outside your brothers?”

  —I like you.—

  More than she knew.

  Chapter 7

  What she thought would take a week of waiting had turned into twenty-one days of twiddling her thumbs.

  “You know, when you said you had a plan, I didn’t think you were going to wait this long to implement it,” Winter commented as she pulled the containers full of fried rice, Mongolian beef, and teriyaki chicken from the brown paper bag they came in. “What are we waiting on again?”

  Răzvan was stretched out on her newly purchased couch—the one he had practically carried in himself, though she’d helped a little. He held a beer in one hand, his gaze trailing her as she worked.

  —It’s about being strategic. If you’re not the only one after something, you need to raise the stakes to make the competition drop out.—

  “Totally get that, but how long is that going to take?”

  —Are you on the clock?—

  She grabbed plates from the kitchen, dropping down onto the couch beside him. “Not necessarily, but I wouldn’t want to miss out on all the fun.”

  The game went on until someone won, so there was plenty of time on that front, but if The Kingmaker needed her for something—or Syn finally decided to come Stateside for a spell—she would be pulled away. When that happened, there was never any telling how long it would be before she was back.

  —Patience is key.— He picked up one of the white containers, deftly scooping rice onto his plate.

  “But wouldn’t you rather tell me?”

  His look said everything his words didn’t.

  If he’d wanted to tell her, she would have known by now.

  “Fine.” She glared at him. “Leave me in suspense.”

  Răzvan didn’t smile often, but when he did, it sent butterflies fluttering to life in her stomach.

  It was always lopsided, one side of his mouth always turned up a little higher, and amused.

  He was too attractive for his own good.

  —How’s a girl like you end up working for someone like The Kingmaker?—

  She shrugged, looking away. “He needed a hacker—I hack.”

  —Yet you didn’t sign a contract … or the training.—

  Winter looked up in surprise.

  His smile grew. —You hack, I listen.—

  And if he frequented The Hall, the people there had a tendency to discuss any and everyone. “I really hope no one underestimates the quiet ones.”

  His shoulders shook with silent laughter. —I’m all ears.—

  Despite their many conversations, they had never gotten around to talking about The Kingmaker or her relationship with the mercenaries.

  Not that she was hiding anything—they just never came up.

  “The way I’ve always heard it, a man named Z usually found those broken enough to accept a deal to become one of The Kingmaker’s mercenaries. Only those who are going in to become a mercenary do the training. As you can see”—she gestured to herself— “I’m no mercenary.”

  Răzvan chewed. —What broke you?—

  It was a day she didn’t like to remember.

  Seven years ago …

  School was the worst.

  The absolute worst.

  Winter hated her teachers—who all seemed so bored as they droned on about lessons she didn’t care about—and the other kids were even worse.

  It was never easy being the new kid in class—she was used to that, having switched schools three times in the past year—but she decided this was the worst move by far.

  Her last school hadn’t been any better, but at least she had made somewhat of a friend in Jenny from third period while she was there.

  Now? The only thing she wanted to do was stick around the bar with her Uncle Steve and let him teach her. He knew everything.

  The rain was beating down harder, making her dash through the streets toward the pub, knowing Uncle Steve would already be in and setting up.

  Monday nights were always the best for the pub. People crowded in to watch the games and place their bets with Uncle Steve.

  They were good at hiding what they were doing too, just covert slips of money, but Winter had caught a few of them. She knew what they were really doing.

  He usually forbade her from coming down, making her go up to their little apartment and hang out while he handled business down below.

  But tonight was supposed to be slow, and she was allowed to stick around as long as she stayed out the way.

  “There’s my girl!” Steve yelled as soon as she pushed through the door, her first smile all day blooming on her face.

  “Hey, Uncle Steve.”

&nb
sp; “How was school, huh? Givin’ ‘em hell?”

  “Of course!”

  He didn’t have to know that she spent most of the day sitting away from everyone else.

  As soon as she was within reach, he pulled her into a tight, back slapping hug that never failed to make her laugh.

  Sometimes, he forgot she was his niece and not his nephew.

  “How’s about I have Roger fix you up something in the kitchen? Whatever you want.”

  “I’ll ask him,” she said before stepping around him, walking toward the back of the pub where she could be by herself.

  One of Steve’s special customers came in then and stole his attention.

  She never bothered asking Roger to fix her something to eat, not when she was more excited about finally being alone so she could work on the mini laptop Steve had gotten her from one of his ‘clients’ a few weeks ago.

  It was the smallest one she had ever seen, but she loved it because it was hers, and she loved learning how to use it.

  She was tucked beneath one of the tables when the men—and woman—came in, the bell ringing.

  The wooden tables blocked much of her view from where she was sitting, but from what little she could see, the first thing she noticed were the heavy boots one of them was wearing—much like the secondhand Docs she was wearing.

  His shoes were tied funny. Instead of the bow she usually tied hers with, his laces were wrapped around his boots before being knotted at the front.

  Ever since Steve had bought her that first pair of what he liked to call ‘Princess shit-kickers,’ she had never wanted to wear anything else.

  The kids at her school made fun of hers and not just because they were old. Girls aren’t supposed to wear boots like a boy, they said. You’re so weird, said others.

  They just didn’t get how cool they were.

  It was his cool shoes that had her peeking out from her hiding spot, wanting to get a better view of the man they belonged to.

  She had never seen anyone wear cool shoes like his. People always wore dusty tennis shoes that seemed far too big most of the time, and Katie, the biggest bully of all, wore ballerina shoes that looked like they pinched her feet.

  She followed those boots up his jeans-clad legs and over the leather jacket he wore with a monogram across the back of it. Wraiths was written in thick letters along with a skull.