“They don’t know where I live.”
“Yeah, I didn’t know either.”
Yet here he stood.
“I don’t—”
“Shh.”
“Did you just shush me?”
He placed his hand over her mouth, but before she could get worked up about it, she finally heard what made him go still in front of her.
Footsteps in the hallway, then the subtle scratch of tools that was as familiar to her as breathing.
“The Wraiths aren’t finished with you yet.” When her gaze shifted to her desk where her gun was resting, he noticed and said, “You won’t need it.”
“Why not?” She doubted they would be willing to talk, let alone listen to whatever she thought to say.
“Because I’m not drugged this time.”
She couldn’t think of a reply good enough for that pointed remark, so instead, she remained silent.
“Besides,” he said as he stepped backward, pulling out his own weapon from the waistband of his jeans and quickly twisting on the silencer. “I’ve called dibs.”
Again, she was reminded that he hadn’t come here to hurt her. He obviously had a gun on him, and undoubtedly had a few knives tucked away, yet he had never reached for any one of them while talking to her.
She wished she knew what to make of that.
“What does that even mean?”
“It means that until I decide what I’m going to do with you,” he said as he trapped her in place with his gaze, “you’re mine.”
Iris really didn’t like the sound of that.
Chapter 13
She’d spent years ensuring that she kept her life—what little there was of it—separate from the Wraiths. She parked well away from the clubhouse, sometimes drove twenty minutes out of the way, and had even used a number of different aliases to cover her tracks, yet in the span of a month, Synek had managed to disrupt everything.
Though she wanted to tell him she didn’t need him, and the little fact that she didn’t think there were strictly pure intentions behind him wanting to keep her alive, Iris didn’t have a choice. Her back was against the wall, and they both knew it.
“I need five minutes,” she said, looking from the door, then back at him.
“You have two.”
She didn’t waste time arguing with him. Instead, she turned on her heel and walked back into her bedroom and over to the closet. From behind a panel in the back, she removed her go-bag—a bookbag already packed with everything she would need in case she ever had to leave this place in a hurry.
The only thing she would regret not being able to take with her were the images tacked up on the wall. Sure, she had a flash drive with backups of everything she needed, but she would miss the visual aspect of it.
But the pictures weren’t worth her life.
Nothing in her apartment was.
Slinging the backpack on, she grabbed her favorite boots from the floor and tugged them on, giving the room one last cursory glance before standing again. She readied to speak again, but one look at Synek had her swallowing whatever she thought to say back down.
She hadn’t gotten the chance to see him when he wasn’t trying to charm her jeans off or suffering from torture. She hadn’t realized how intense he could get when he focused. It went beyond just holding a gun and waiting for someone to show their face so he could shoot.
He was poised, using the edge of the wall as a buffer. She could see the tension in his shoulders—how it looked like he had hardly taken a breath in the seconds it had taken her to grab what she needed.
Synek had been intense when he had her backed against a wall, but he had still been loose-limbed. Probably because he hadn’t perceived her as a threat.
Disregarding his remark that she wouldn’t need her gun, she hurried over and grabbed it, checking the clip before sliding it back into place. When she turned, she saw Synek watching her.
“What?”
“D’you even know how to use that?”
“Of course.”
“Wraiths teach you?”
“No, my—”
She stopped just short, realizing what he’d been doing. The smile on his face told her she was right. She would have to be more careful around him.
“Do stay out of my way, yeah?” he told her once she was back across the room.
“By all means.”
If Syn distracted the intruders, there was a chance she could get away without either noticing her absence.
She just needed the opportunity.
Before she could consider the possibilities, the door swung open, and two men slowly moved into her apartment. She only saw the shadow of their weapons before Synek moved a half step away from the wall. Enough for him to aim and fire two shots that slammed into their heads and crumpled them to the ground. It was over in seconds.
Iris was about to say as much until the crack of a bullet made her lurch back against the wall, her heart hammering in her chest. The sound of gunfire was something she’d never get used to.
Synek wasn’t afraid, though. He just counted to five before firing back, moving closer to the door. She was still standing in place when she heard two more muffled shots before a man’s groan sounded.
“Come now, Oscar,” Synek said, a smile blooming on his face. “Let’s not run.”
Whoever was left out there, it was clear Synek didn’t think he was a threat. He even stuffed his gun away as he ventured out into the hallway.
As Iris hurried after him, she saw that Oscar wasn’t, in fact, trying to run. He was trying to crawl, but he didn’t make it far before Synek grabbed his leg and started dragging him back.
“Jesus, fuck, Syn, listen,” Oscar rambled on, his voice rising as he became more panicked the closer they got to the door.
But if he thought one of her neighbors would come to his rescue, they wouldn’t—even if any of them had been home.
Synek got him inside the apartment, leaving him bleeding on the floor next to the men he’d come with. Only then did Oscar notice Iris standing across the room.
“No, let’s not look at her,” Synek ordered as he came back around once the front door was closed. “I’m the only thing in this room you need to fear. Now, you can either answer my questions, or I’ll remind you why you hated going on jobs with me.”
Though she didn’t care one way or the other what Synek did to the man, she did care whether she had to watch. “We need to leave. There could be more coming.”
She wasn’t quite sure who looked more surprised by the question—Oscar or Synek.
Synek slapped the man in the face. “That’s not how it works. Isn’t that right, Oscar? They’ve got twenty-four hours to either bring your head in or suffer the consequences of their failure. Unless that’s changed since I’ve been gone?” Synek asked before putting his cigarette out on the man’s arm.
Oscar nodded his agreeance. “I-I’ve never crossed you, Syn. I never raised a finger against you.”
“No, you didn’t. Didn’t have the stones, did you? Pathetic. But it doesn’t matter now.” He patted the man’s arm. “I need you to give a message to Rosalie for me.”
“Anything,” the man said, this close to begging again.
Yet as hope flared in his eyes, Synek pulled out his gun and shot him point blank.
“Jesus. What the hell?”
He hardly spared her a glance as he grabbed the man’s ankles once more, unmoved by the fact that he had just killed a man. “What’s that?”
“You’d already made sure he would never walk again, why did you have to kill him? What about the message?”
“He is the message. As are the lot of them,” he said with a gesture of his head at the bodies on the floor.
Iris shook her head. “You didn’t have to kill him.”
“No? What do you think he planned to do to you when he got in here? Tie you up and deliver you to the Wraiths untouched? Are you mental?”
She didn’t offer a response to that, not th
at he needed one.
His smile was cruel as he said, “He would have ripped those pants off you and showed you that in his mind, no means yes. He would have broken you long before Rosalie ever got her hands on you.”
He said it with such cruel detachment that she wondered how long he had been like this. “You disgust me.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time. Now,” he said as he finished dragging the man’s body in line with the others, “are you going to argue with me some more, or are you ready to get out of here?”
Whether she liked it or not, she didn’t see any other choice but to stay with him.
End game. She needed to focus on the end game.
The last thing she should have done was hand over the keys to her Mustang, but when he’d stood at the curb glaring at her, Iris figured it was better not to fight him on it. He had, for all intents and purposes, saved her life.
They rode in silence. As she gazed out the window, watching the city lights pass them by, he drove, seeming lost in his thoughts. She’d tried to place where he was taking her, but after the first dozen turns, she’d gotten lost and quashed her fears with the reminder that if he’d wanted to kill her, he would have done it by now.
Finally, after more than an hour, he slowed on a quiet, dark street and expertly navigated her car between two others at the curb.
“Where are we?” she asked, glancing over at him.
He shoved open the car door and stepped out. “We’re not staying.”
That didn’t really answer her question, but judging from the way he kept walking, he had no intention of answering.
Okay then.
When the sound of a bottle shattering rent the air, Iris figured it was better to stick with him rather than sit alone in the car.
She followed him down a hidden staircase toward the faded, black door.
Synek removed a key from a necklace around his neck and unlocked the door, swinging it open for her to walk in ahead of him before he came in behind her.
A safe house, she thought as she peered through the darkness, finding nothing but old carpet and a dilapidated couch and table. It would make sense that he came to a place like this because it was off the grid and probably easy to get in and out of.
She stood next to the door as he maneuvered around, first disappearing into a bedroom before re-emerging with a bag over his shoulder, then he was going over to the table and picking up the trunk sitting on top.
The muscles in his arms bulged, but he might as well have been carrying a bag of feathers for all the reaction he gave.
He came toward her.
“Wait, are we leaving?”
His gaze came to her fast before drifting away again. “We’re not staying here.”
“Then where exactly are you taking me?” This time, she didn’t move out of his way. She stood firm and waited for his answer.
“To a safe house.”
Then where the hell were they now?
Maybe this one wasn’t as secure as he wanted it to be.
Seeing no other choice, she followed him back out again.
This time, they headed in the opposite direction, and before long, they were driving down a street on the Upper West Side that had her peeking out the window to make sure she saw correctly.
When she was younger, she had always wondered what these brownstones looked like on the inside—whether the interiors were as beautiful and timeless as the buildings themselves. Back then, she’d dream she would make enough money that she could get her and her father a place up here, but it had been just that—a dream.
Yet now it was her reality.
If only temporarily.
Synek didn’t seem nearly as enthralled by the luxury homes, still wearing that same dead expression as before. She wondered what he was thinking about …
They parked in front of the last brownstone on the left, this one painted a muted gray shade.
Iris tried to pretend she wasn’t as curious as she was as they approached. This time, when he moved to unlock the door, he didn’t use a key. Rather, he pressed his thumb against a black keypad next to the front door. Once a green light flashed, a lock clicked open audibly.
She was prepared for something even a fraction better than where they’d come from—though that wouldn’t be hard—but she wasn’t at all prepared for the opulence of the space.
The polished dark floors, white walls, and fixtures, and the farther she walked into the brownstone, the more she realized this place went beyond a safe house. It could have very well been a showroom.
That negated her theory that whatever he did for the Kingmaker didn’t pay well.
If this was their version of a safe house, she couldn’t imagine a better place to hide out.
But before she could be sucked into how beautiful it all was, Synek cleared his throat and drew her attention back to him, reminding her that no matter how pretty the surroundings, this might as well have been her prison.
And Synek her jailer.
In the span of six hours, Synek had thought of the vast number of things he wanted to do to Iris, but despite the different scenarios, only one had never come to mind.
Killing her.
Did he have an overwhelming need to punish her for what she’d done? Absolutely. But he wanted her alive to feel it.
When he’d arrived at her apartment, he’d had every intention of scaring her shitless, to see the panic flare in her eyes when she realized he’d caught her, but when he’d attempted to do just that, seeing her fear had done nothing for him.
It had felt like he’d seen her for the first time. When he was drunk off his arse or suffering the effects of torture. He saw a side of her he doubted many others had.
She wasn’t wearing makeup like she had that night, nor was her hair straight as a pin and flowing down her back. Instead, the strands had a natural wave to them, and the way she’d carelessly tossed it into a bun made her look younger. More innocent, if that were possible.
She was pretty, not that he expected otherwise considering he had seen her already, but now he saw her in a way that made him blink twice to make sure she was real.
That thought had managed to piss him off the most.
Fucking stupid for him to think of her in any way other than what he could use her for. That was her purpose, not him being some sort of protector.
No, he wasn’t protecting her, he told himself. He was protecting his investment.
“You’re staring at me,” Iris said after a moment, and he could tell from the way her gaze darted away that this made her nervous.
It was easy to see why he’d been a fucking idiot around her.
“Who told you what to wear that night?” he asked, the question hitting him suddenly.
He hadn’t given it much thought until he’d seen her tonight. Not for the second time, he thought she didn’t look like a Wraith.
His question seemed to be easier for her to face as her shyness dissipated. “I wouldn’t be good at my job if I couldn’t figure you out.”
“Yet you didn’t see this coming?”
“No, Synek, I didn’t.”
Her tone said she had been expecting him.
“Don’t call me that.”
She blinked, surprised. “It’s your name.”
“Which means fuck all. Call me Syn or don’t use my name at all.”
She wasn’t so afraid anymore. “Has that massive chip always been on your shoulder? Or is it just me?”
“Torture does that to a person, so yeah, I’d say it’s you.”
“I didn’t torture you.”
“Is that what you’re telling yourself? You didn’t hold the knife, so you’re not responsible?”
“And how many have you done it to?” she demanded, tilting her head up a fraction. “How many jobs did the Wraiths send you on where you didn’t ask questions and just did what you were told? Now, how many did you go back and try to make it right with? I’ll wait.”
Not a single one.
Truthfully, during that time, he hadn’t given much thought to what happened to the people who crossed the Wraiths. For those he didn’t have to execute … he’d forgotten they’d even existed at all.
The only time he had ever taken a second to think about what he did and who he did it for was with Winter.
“I helped your people find you, and now you have me here for … whatever it is you want. What more could you possibly want from me?”
Everything. “Nothing.”
If his response bothered her, she did a good job of hiding it, and as much as he wanted to decipher the look on her face, the adrenaline was waning and the fatigue was setting in.
“It’s simple. The Wraiths want you dead. I want them dead. If they’re coming after you, they won’t see me coming, and I’ll be at an advantage because you have current information on them. So the way I see it, we need each other.”
He scratched at his beard, hoping there were razors in this place. “So here’s what’s going to happen. You help me, and I’ll spare your life. If you run, I can’t make any promises about what I’ll do. I’m not going to chain you to a bed, yeah?”
She looked as if she was considering his offer. He didn’t tell her that she had no choice in the matter because while he wouldn’t chain her to a bed, he would drag her arse back every time she ran.
Shouldering her bag, she met his gaze. “When do we start?”
“Tomorrow,” he answered.
He was already running on three hours of sleep, and after Oscar, he was completely knackered. The only thing he wanted now was a shower and his own bed. “Upstairs, first door on the right is yours.”
He didn’t wait for a response before turning and walking away.
Chapter 14
If the past twenty-four hours had taught Iris anything, it was that the man currently moving around downstairs was unpredictable.
For years, she’d learned about her targets, making her own assumptions about them, but even after it was all said and done, she still knew very little about Synek.
Damaged was the first word that came to mind.
He could be calm, though a bit odd at times, at one moment, and then in the next, he could lash out and spew threats like they were enemies. Underneath all the bluster, it was clear there was more to Synek than what was seen on the surface.
Syn. (Den of Mercenaries Book 6) Page 14