Shadows & Silence: A Wild Bunch Novel

by London Miller

  “I love you.”

  The words were air.

  No resonance, or cadence, or bass.

  But he said them and meant them.

  “I love you too, Răzvan.” She clutched his shirt in her hands. “I’m also pretty sure this make-up sex is going to be great.”

  Chapter 18

  Things weren’t back to normal by any stretch of the imagination, but Răzvan was beside her, the tension inside him gone, and for now, that was all that mattered.

  “What’s the plan?” Fang asked, strapping his vest into place just as Thanatos and Invictus were doing.

  “We’re supposed to meet in an hour,” Winter spoke up. “But that doesn’t really explain what we’re going to do about the other thing.”

  Sure, they had the file from Ollie and everything inside it, but she had yet to even look at what she needed from The Kingmaker’s network.

  She would be lying if she said it wasn’t fear that prevented her from even logging into it.

  He was a man who always seemed to know everything, and she didn’t doubt he would know the minute she even looked at it.

  “Simple,” Syn said, finishing cleaning his gun. “You’re going to give him what he wants.”

  “Uh, are we sure that’s a good idea?” Calavera interjected.

  “I don’t see how we have much of a choice.”

  Winter looked at Syn in surprise.

  Of all the mercenaries, he was one that took his position under The Kingmaker seriously. He never crossed the man. Ever.

  “Are you sure?” Winter asked quietly.

  Syn frowned. “You and the Romanians handle this, and I’ll handle The Kingmaker, yeah?”

  She really didn’t want to know what that entailed.

  Răzvan’s hand on the nape of her neck calmed her, making her look over at him.

  His expression said everything would be okay, and she trusted him.

  It was time to get this over with.

  “Have you brought what I needed?” James Greystone asked.

  In the underground parking structure in the heart of Brooklyn, he stood next to a sleek black Bentley, his hands resting on a raven-topped cane.

  Winter hated how calm he looked. How sure he was that he would get what he wanted.

  Then again, she understood why.

  Tessa was standing across from him, a gag in her mouth, hands bound in front of her. Two guards stood on either side of her, preventing her from moving.

  Tear tracks made a path down her cheeks, but she wasn’t begging, and she looked far more angry than she did sad.

  “Let the girl go,” Calavera said. “Then you get what you want.”

  “Ah, Calavera, isn’t it? I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure.”

  “Trust me,” she said with a false smile. “You wouldn’t have enjoyed it nearly as much as you think.”

  Winter fought a smile of her own as she watched the way James’s expression fell.

  “Give the files to my guard here, and then my other associate will untie your friend.”

  Winter thought about arguing further, but they would only go in circles the longer they stood there.

  “Fine.”

  She held up the flash drive, giving it a little shake, but she didn’t take a step forward, forcing the guard to come to her instead.

  Beady eyes narrowed on her before the man snatched it from her hand and walked backward, passing it over to James who grinned and nodded his head.

  “Excellent. I think our business here is concluded.”

  The words were barely out of his mouth before the sound of guns cocking made Winter jump.

  There were guards, dozens of them, all with rifles trained on both her and Calavera.

  “My apologies,” James said, though he didn’t sound sorry at all. “You knew not to bring anyone to this meeting—you broke my rules.”

  “Probably not a smart idea,” Winter said dryly. “This won’t end well for you.”

  “Perhaps not,” he said, stepping over to the open door of his car, “but neither of you will be around to see it. Besides, with this, I’ll be unstoppable.”

  That was what they all thought.

  But Winter did wonder just who he had asked her to get information on.

  “Kill them,” James ordered before slipping into his car.

  They both watched as it pulled off with him.

  “One chance, boys,” Calavera said. “You get one chance to not risk your life for a man who obviously doesn’t give a shit about you.”

  Winter didn’t expect any one of them to respond, but one in front, feeling bolder than the others, yanked the black covering he had on his face off. “There’s only one of you, and you might be one of Kingmaker’s mercenaries, but even you aren’t that good.”

  “Oh, but you haven’t met The Wild Bunch.”

  The next second, both guards holding Tessa lurched back, crumpling to their knees with rivulets of blood trailing down their forehead.

  Fang, the sniper.

  A knife whistled through the air, sinking into the man’s chest that had done the talking with ridiculous ease.

  Răzvan with the metal.

  One minute, they weren’t there, and the next, Invictus and Thanatos sprang into action, taking out the rest before they even had a mind to defend themselves.

  They were … something else.

  Something she couldn’t think of how to describe.

  It was effortless the way they cut through the men, giving her a picture of what they must have been like before they stopped working for the Lotus Society.

  Before long, there was nothing but silence and Tessa’s pants.

  “Hey, you’re okay,” Winter called as she hurried over to her. “It’s all taken care of.”

  She untied her hands first then the cloth around her mouth.

  “Are you—”

  “Where the hell is Ollie, so I can kill him?”

  Winter laugh, relief rushing through her. “If you want to commit murder, at least you’re not panicking.”

  “Who did all the—whoa.”

  She turned, wondering what had grabbed Tessa’s attention though she should have known.

  Yeah, she understood the allure of those masks.

  “So one of them is—”

  “Tăcut? Yeah, one is.”

  She didn’t point him out, remembering the rule, but her gaze found him all the same.

  His mask was black, and to the naked eye, it looked plain, but in the dark of night, a grisly smile appeared.

  There was more beneath the surface, it said.

  Just like the man wearing it.

  “Are the others single?”

  Nope, not afraid at all. “Not Fang, he’s spoken for. And the other two like to share.”

  Tessa’s face turned red. “I’d probably be okay with that.”

  Winter couldn’t help but laugh.

  Răzvan touched her shoulder, leading her away from the group. —I need to go.—

  “Where? What do you mean?”

  —Syn. He sent me an address and wants me to meet him.—

  “Uh … it’s not an abandoned warehouse, is it?”

  He shook his head. —I’ll meet you back at the loft.—

  “In one piece this time.”

  —I was in one piece last time.—

  “Barely.”

  He cupped her face, making her smile as he brushed her cheek.

  Winter was glad she was keeping him.

  Răzvan sat in the armchair facing the door, his fingers drumming absently next to him as he waited.

  This was the part he enjoyed the most.

  The silence. The waiting. The anticipation.

  It gave him a chance to think and clear his thoughts—prepare himself for what he was about to do.

  Somewhere in this room was Syn, lingering in the shadows, more silent than even Răzvan. He hadn’t spoken a word since they arrived, slinking off to a corner and staying there.
<
br />   He wasn’t sure why the other man had invited him on this errand—it would even be a stretch to call them associates—but he’d agreed, if only because he needed to get along with him for the sake of the woman he loved.

  But he had a good idea what they were there for.

  He’d figured that out once Syn had unzipped a black duffel bag he’d brought along with them and pulled out a clear plastic tarp, spreading it on the polished hardwood floors.

  He didn’t speak as he completed his task, then went around the room and shifted furniture around until he had a clear and open space directly in the center of the room.

  From there, they waited.

  It could have been a few minutes, maybe an hour, Răzvan wasn’t sure, but as he heard the sound of tumblers coming undone, a soft giggling voice and the sound of male appreciation reached his ears before the door was fully open.

  The beauty of the shadows and silence kept him from being noticed right away, at least not until the pair were farther into the apartment and the door clicked shut behind them.

  James Greystone was oblivious to the danger he was in, too engrossed in getting the woman he was groping undressed to notice Răzvan seated mere feet away and a mercenary currently sneaking up behind him.

  Until it was too late.

  Răzvan shifted in his chair, finally gaining James’s attention as he looked up, his brow furrowing in confusion.

  “Who the hell are—”

  He didn’t get the chance to finish the question before Syn was there, snatching the woman back and plunging a needle into her neck, pushing the contents of the syringe into her.

  In seconds, she was out.

  James lurched away from Syn, his horrified gaze landing on his date, but he didn’t get far as he remembered Răzvan’s presence.

  Fear replaced his horror, and Răzvan could almost see his reflection glittering in the man’s eyes.

  It wasn’t the gun in his left hand or even the bulletproof vest that stretched across his chest that scared him. It was the mask.

  It was always the mask.

  “Please,” James begged, taking a step forward, realizing belatedly he was walking on plastic. “I’ll give you anything. Anything. Don’t—”

  “Save your breath,” Syn said. “What my silent friend can’t tell you is that there’s no talking your way out of this one, mate. Now, first things first, I want to make you a deal, yeah? You see, the silent one there doesn’t like to play with his food.” Syn tapped the man’s cheek hard. “I’d like to see how your muscles work up close and personal.”

  All the blood drained out of the man’s eyes as he stared at Syn in horror.

  “But before we get to the good bits,” Syn said clapping the man on the shoulder. “He’s going to gently explain to you why it wasn’t a good idea to threaten our hacker.”

  The first punch was always his favorite.

  The brief, shocking pain of bone against bone.

  The satisfaction of the follow through.

  But all of it was made even better because it was Greystone on the receiving end of it.

  He thought of how he’d found Winter—her wrists raw from the ties, her cheeks wet with tears—and he took every bit of that rage out on the man currently fighting to stand.

  One punch to his jaw, another to his kidney, and multiple to his ribs—by the time Răzvan checked his anger and calmed the storm inside him, James was a bloody mess on the floor.

  A shaky hand lifted, as though the veiny thing could ward off any more blows. “Please, have mercy.”

  With his other arm, he attempted to drag himself back, but he drew up short when he ran into Syn’s legs.

  “We’re all out of that.”

  James’ entire body lurched as Syn shot him twice in the chest, a brief stream of smoke spiraling up from the wound.

  Răzvan had never intended to let him live, but even he was a bit surprised it was all over so soon.

  When he looked in Syn’s direction, the other man didn’t blink an eye as he set his gun down on the table and removed a pair of gloves from his pocket.

  There was no pause to consider what he had done, and no momentary remorse for taking a life. He simply pulled on the gloves with a snap and started lugging the man’s body across the floor.

  Syn glanced up. “Don’t worry about this, mate. I’ve got it. Job’s done.”

  Once he had him where he wanted him—next to the dining room table—Syn dropped his legs and straightened. “I’m sure little miss explains what I do here?”

  Răzvan frowned though Syn couldn’t see it—he was never going to get used to Winter having a pet name from anyone other than him.

  To answer Syn’s question, he shrugged.

  “Then she might have also told you that I like to work alone. This was fun, but now it’s time for you to fuck off.”

  Brash and fucking annoying.

  The shit he put up with for her.

  He’d barely stepped a foot inside the loft before Winter was launching herself at him, wrapping her limbs around him and squeezing tight.

  “I was worried,” she whispered, pulling back to check his face. “Last time you two were alone, you came to me with a battered face.”

  Unable to speak carrying her, he walked them into his bedroom and shut the door with his boot.

  —It was fine.—

  “Invictus called me annoying since I kept bugging him about where you were going. He’s at the bottom of the favorite Wild Bunch member list now.”

  He laughed, but that was the last thing on his mind now. He had her here, where he wanted her, and that was all that mattered to him.

  —How’s your friend?—

  “Good but pissed at Ollie. She’s curious how he broke both his legs, though.”

  Syn had gotten a little excited when getting the file from him, but Răzvan didn’t bother mentioning that. —And you?—

  “Happy that you’re okay.” She stepped back away from him. “I’ve been doing some thinking.”

  —Okay …—

  “If I’m going to be staying here at the loft, maybe we should convert one of the bigger rooms into our bedroom. I’m needy, and my junk takes up a lot of space.”

  —Whatever you want.—

  “Maybe a bedroom for Syn?”

  —Don’t push your fucking luck.—

  She laughed before coming back to him. “We’re going to be great together, big guy.”

  He didn’t doubt that for a second.

  Chapter 19

  Over the course of thirty-two years, Răzvan had known pain.

  A lot of it.

  He’d had his vocal cords removed, bullets plugged into his chest and subsequently dug out, and a number of knife wounds he didn’t want to remember, but he would gladly experience any of them all over again if it meant he didn’t have to be in The Hall, sitting across from the one man, in particular, he really didn’t want to fucking see.

  Syn was the culmination of everything he hated about mercenaries—brash, psychotic, and a bloodlust that he didn’t want to know the reason behind—but it didn’t matter what he might have felt about the man.

  Winter loved him, and he was man enough to swallow his distaste to try to get along with him for her sake.

  Even if Syn was making it damn hard.

  “Now, I’m staring at the back of this geezer’s head, and I’ve told him, yeah? I told him to fuck off, and there he is, running off at the mouth, begging me to feed him his teeth. And you know what I did?”

  Răzvan gave him a droll stare, already imagining what the demented bastard had done. After a week of being forced to put up with him, he knew far too many stories of what Syn had done both before and after he joined the Den.

  All of them ended bloody.

  Waving his hand in the universal signal of get the fuck on with it, Răzvan guzzled his beer.

  One minute, Syn was telling the story with a jovial smile on his face, and the next, Syn was pulling a gun from his wa
istband and pointing the barrel directly between Răzvan’s eyes.

  “I showed him Lucille here and pumped six rounds of lead into his arse.”

  Fucking Winter and the things he would do to keep her happy.

  His gaze cut to the Russian at one side of Syn who tried and failed to hide a smile behind a pint glass then to the Irishman on his right who didn’t bother hiding his amusement at all.

  Fucking mercenaries.

  Syn dropped his gun on the bar top. “Fun bit is out of the way, so let’s get right to it. How about you tell us your intentions, and I’ll decide where we go from here, eh?”

  —Was that what all this was about?— Răzvan asked while Fang translated. —You wanted to ask me my intentions?—

  “Seems a fair question considering the company you keep.”

  Fang arched a brow. “I’m offended. We hit a few banks, and you lot turn your noses up. Let’s not get into the crazy shit you’re ordered to do by your handler.”

  Syn frowned and then shrugged. “Fair enough, but that doesn’t answer my question, does it?”

  —How exactly do you want me to answer that? That I’d kill for her? That I’d die for her? You already know the answer to that, or you wouldn’t be sitting here asking me stupid questions.—

  “What’s he saying?” Syn asked, looking at Fang who was studying Răzvan.

  “Sentimental, flowery bullshit. Short version? He loves her and will do everything in his power to make her happy—even putting up with you shits.”

  Syn was silent for so long, Răzvan thought he wouldn’t respond, but after several seconds, he shrugged. “Good man.”

  Syn sobered long enough to throw back the last of his drink, slamming his glass down on the bar top. “Take care of my girl, yeah? I always wanted her to stay away from the danger of it all.” Syn smiled as he shook his head. “Fucking girl’s going to be the death of me, but it looks like it’s your turn.”

  If anyone had asked Răzvan a week ago whether he’d be able to sit in the same room with this particular mercenary and be civil, it would have been over his dead fucking body.

  But now, things were different.

  They weren’t friends—acquaintances, at best.

  God help them all.

  “Just imagine,” Calavera said, pouring a generous amount of chocolate syrup over her popcorn. “This could’ve gone a lot different. Fortunately, they seem to be getting along.”