Dark Horse: The Kingmaker Saga #5

by Miller, London

  Now, it was time to make her own impression.

  Orion flanked her right, looking every bit as imposing as he was meant to. And whether it was because they knew she’d been coming, or they had some idea who she was, no one attempted to stop them as they approached the double doors.

  And that was all the invitation she needed.

  The moment she stepped into the room, recognition lit up their eyes. They might not have wanted to take this meeting initially, but it was abundantly clear why they had ultimately agreed.

  She also didn’t miss that one chair in particular was deliberately empty—a seat she was expected to fill.

  It was easy ignoring the men’s skeptical gazes. She understood why they were concerned, and it didn’t help that she was a woman playing a predominantly male game. But if they thought that was enough to scare her off, well …

  There was one man in particular, however, that held her gaze longer than the others. And despite what he probably thought was a stony expression, she saw beneath it.

  Carmelo Albini—godfather of Cosa Nostra, notorious criminal, and one of the few associates of Uilleam Runehart.

  Except, she wouldn’t necessarily call him a friend—Uilleam didn’t have those. But she couldn’t begin to describe their relationship.

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen.”

  Haruto Nakamura opened his mouth, to respond or ask her to leave, she wasn’t sure—but when he couldn’t seem to find the right words, he shook his head harshly.

  “Who are you to demand an audience of us?” he asked in Japanese, assuming she didn’t speak the language.

  “Apparently the one you’ve been reading about,” she responded in kind, gesturing to the newspaper he’d left abandoned on the table.

  The American media didn’t have any photographs of Uilleam, nor did she think they would release his image in the near future even if they had, but the former sitting governor drew attention enough.

  Couple that with his grieving widow, it made for good journalism.

  “Did you think that happened by chance?” Karina asked, stepping toward the table, mindful of the way they looked from her to Jackal as he trailed behind her.

  “You mean to say you’re responsible for this?” Carmelo asked, his voice not nearly as friendly as it had once been.

  The years in between had been kind to him, though there was a touch more gray in his dark hair, and the lines beside his eyes a little deeper.

  She smiled. “My work speaks for itself.”

  “What do you expect to contribute?”

  Coming from anyone else, Karina might have ignored the question entirely, or at the very least, she wouldn’t have entertained it.

  The answer was so obvious after all that she was almost sure the man was attempting to be condescending, but Katherine was expecting good results from this meeting, so despite what she wanted to say, she chose a diplomatic approach.

  “At minimum, I have connections with dozens of shipping ports, the ear of dictators willing to give just about anything to ensure their reign, and far more business connections than you could achieve without me. But none of that really matters,” she finished with a shrug.

  “No?” Carmelo asked. “Why not?”

  “Because there’s only one thing you really need to know about me,” she said, meeting his gaze solely. “I was the one who took down the Kingmaker.”

  No one, she was sure had thought it was possible. Uilleam was all but untouchable, and to some, he was something of a god.

  But they had to know, even gods fell.

  “If you know of someone more worthy of the position than me …” Karina trailed off meaningfully, giving them a chance to correct her.

  “The buy-in would be significant.”

  “Money is no factor,” she said, even as she hadn’t a clue what the actual numbers were.

  But if it came down to it, she was sure her mother would sacrifice just about anything to secure their place here.

  Of everyone at the table, Carmelo was the only one who didn’t look convinced, but she knew it was because of his loyalty to Uilleam more than anything.

  6

  War Dogs

  He had long since suspected his sister was a bit … touched in the head, but he hadn’t realized just how far off the deep end she had gone until now.

  Uilleam rubbed his temples, summoning every bit of patience he could muster before looking in Elsie’s direction.

  “You expect me to what … turn myself in to the American authorities? You understand this is exactly what I’ve been attempting to avoid, yes?”

  She had to. Otherwise, they wouldn’t be here. From the very beginning this had all been a part of whatever convoluted plan she had thought up inside her head. The only problem was, he wasn’t seeing the vision.

  “I’ve often found its better to face my problems head on. Perhaps you should adopt this philosophy.”

  “How exactly do you expect me to do this anyway?”

  Not only was he risking significant jail time, but he was currently in a precarious situation without his mercenaries.

  Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was vulnerable and it was only a matter of time before someone tried to exploit that.

  “Is this conniption you’re suffering because of your mercenaries?” Elsie asked, poising the question too innocently for his liking.

  “No.” Of course she would know where his thoughts had gone.

  It was an answer that came easily, even as it was a lie.

  That wound was still a bit fresh despite how long it had been and the fact that he had all but pushed them out himself in the end. For once, he couldn’t lay the blame of their departure at someone else’s feet.

  And that was just a bitter pill he would have to swallow.

  “Nothing is ever lost forever.”

  His sister, ever the optimist. “If your plan includes them, I’m afraid we’ve already lost before we’ve begun.”

  “Fortunately, it wasn’t your mercenaries I had in mind for this. You need someone more neutral—willing to do the dirty things your mercenaries wouldn’t.”

  Uilleam arched a brow as he regarded his sister. She couldn’t know what she was saying. Considering how far his dollar could stretch, there was very little his mercenaries hadn’t been willing to do for him.

  There was also the contract he had to fall back on. When there were questionable demands, he didn’t always give them a choice but to comply. He couldn’t imagine anyone would willingly sign on to his Den considering the storm coming his way.

  But his curiosity got the best of him. “Who did you have in mind?”

  “War Dogs.”

  “Sorry, war what?”

  “The men you liberated from the black site in Romania. Bishop, and the others.”

  As far as he knew, his mercenary had been the only one freed from containment. But then again, the mercenaries he’d lost had taken it upon themselves to go and find him without any input from Uilleam.

  “What about them?” he finally settled on asking.

  “They weren’t all being held in that facility because of one person’s vendetta. They all possess certain skills that could prove beneficial for you.”

  Then by all means … it wasn’t as if he could afford to be picky about this now considering he would be defenseless without them.

  “Care to make the introductions.”

  Elsie finished her tea, resting the cup on its matching saucer. “They should be arriving shortly.”

  So this had already been set into motion no matter what his answer could have been … “Have you stopped to think perhaps I didn’t want you interfering?”

  “If I didn’t,” she said smiling sweetly, “you’d be hopelessly lost without me.”

  * * *

  The rumble of car engines the following day were the only indication he was given that he would be meeting Elsie’s idea of a new team.

  While Uilleam wasn’t sure what to think of them
just yet, he was reserving judgment until he formally met them. It wasn’t their fault the ones who came before them were impeccably good at their jobs.

  They had rather large shoes to fill.

  Straightening his tie and glancing over his attire one last time, Uilleam made his way out into the foyer, feeling more like himself with every step he took.

  This wasn’t the interview process he was used to. Normally, he was in a position of power, and though he wasn’t necessarily proud to admit it, they were supposed to be groveling—too desperate to put up much of an argument when it came to the semantics of the contract.

  Not only would this be different from every other mercenary who’d called his Den home, but they also wouldn’t be subjected to the same rigorous training the others had. It hadn’t just been about breaking their bodies and slowly tearing apart their will to live—he’d had them made over to the point that the people they were versus who they became had been entirely different.

  Fortunately, the process wasn’t all too unfamiliar. He was still handed a set of manila folders, each one a few inches thick with relevant information about the men currently standing before him, all with varying expressions of distrust.

  At least they knew to be wary of him.

  Reading off the label from the folder on top, he looked over each of them. “Which one of you is Hawley Flagg?”

  After a moment of reflection, he could have guessed which one of them it belonged to if only because it sounded so quintessentially American.

  And the man in question did as well.

  Levi jeans that had seen better days, scuffed brown boots, and a white T-shirt beneath a brown leather jacket with fur around the collar.

  Of the four, he looked at him with the most distrust and if Uilleam had to guess, the man had heard the rumors and had probably read the stories in the paper about what he’d been accused of.

  Of course, no one knew it was actually true, and he’d long ago put a bullet in the middle of the governor’s forehead because he’d been thinking irrationally.

  But it was never polite to assume.

  Uilleam, instead, focused on the two standing beside him, both identical save for the clothes they were wearing. He’d have to tread lightly with the pair of them—he didn’t have a particularly good history when it came to twins.

  “You’re free men,” Uilleam announced, meeting their gazes in turn. “I can think of more than a dozen reasons I would try to avoid being in this line of work after escaping from a place like that, which brings me to my next question. Why are you here?”

  “Consider it a favor owed amongst friends,” Hawley answered with a shrug, making it clear Uilleam wasn’t the friend he meant.

  Then Bishop must have something over them ...

  Or perhaps, they were merely grateful because had it not been for him being held at the site, there was a strong possibility they would still be there as his mercenaries had had no other reason to venture there.

  “And you understand what I intend to ask of you?”

  Because this wasn’t normal, not even for himself.

  There was a chance this could all get bungled and he would lose everything despite how the lengths he went to to prevent that.

  “A debt’s a debt,”Flagg said with a nod.

  They would get along swimmingly.

  At least he wouldn’t be completely defenseless, Uilleam thought to himself as he watched the men.

  “That went well,” Elsie said with an approving nod, as if this meeting were merely another thing to check off. “I’d say we’re almost ready.”

  “What comes next?”

  “The Chancellor.”

  7

  The Chancellor

  Uilleam knew, rather objectively, much had changed in his sister’s life during their separation.

  She couldn’t possibly stay the gangly teenager she had once been, or even the quiet, thoughtful adult he vaguely remembered, so it only made sense that she would know people he would expect her to stay well away from.

  Like the Chancellor.

  Every culture had their own boogeyman, and it might have been arrogant of him to say so, but Uilleam was sure he was the thing that went bump in the night for plenty. But even he could admit that he had never crossed paths with anyone quite like the reclusive billionaire.

  And while he might have been known for his ability to corrupt even the most pure of souls, the Chancellor had never been one to agree to make a deal with him.

  Oh, he would have absolutely loved making a deal with the man—one could never have too many favors owed to them by wealthy men—but despite plenty of offers, the Chancellor had never been one to bite, much to Uilleam’s annoyance.

  Apparently, though he hadn’t heard a single whisper about it, Elsie had managed to form some sort of relationship with the man.

  “Should I even ask how you managed this?” Uilleam peered over at his sister, trying to remember the last time he’d been the one to be introduced to someone rather than the other way around.

  Elsie adjusted the wide-brimmed hat she wore that concealed much of her face, but not enough that he missed the ghost of a smile on her face. “I was at the right place at the right time.”

  Which told him absolutely nothing.

  Uilleam didn’t know whether to be frustrated or grudgingly impressed. After all, it was an answer he would have given.

  Though he had done business in New York for decades now and was almost sure he knew the city like the back of his hand, the building they approached didn’t seem the least bit familiar.

  It stretched up as far as the eye could see, the very top disappearing into the gray clouds above. The exterior was painted black, a nod to its title, he imagined.

  The Obsidian Hotel.

  It was certainly a work of art, the structure reminding him of the gothic renaissance period. A doorman waited at the base of the stairs, wearing all black with crisp white gloves on his hands.

  His gaze darted over Uilleam quickly, but his expression turned a bit more friendly when he looked over at Elsie. It didn’t need to be said that she was a familiar patron of the establishment.

  “Good evening,” the man said with a cultured accent Uilleam couldn’t immediately place. “Welcome to the Obsidian Hotel. Please enjoy your stay.”

  To Uilleam’s bemusement, the doorman unclipped the black velvet rope, stepping to the side to allow them past. It seemed like such an unnecessary step for a hotel—especially one where no significant event was being held—but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was, exactly, that bothered him.

  Elsie led the way upstairs and into the building itself. The dark marble floors reflected their image back to them, their footsteps echoing as they entered through the lobby.

  “A word of caution,” Elsie said as they stopped in front of the elevators and called one down. “He can be a bit ... eccentric.”

  Great. Exactly what he needed at the moment. “How eccentric?”

  Elsie waved that question away. “I wouldn’t stress about it.”

  They took the lift up to the seventeenth floor where the private lounge was located. Women in tall heels and dark attired flitted through the room, carrying drinks and taking orders

  The hostess standing behind a podium made of onyx took one look at Elsie and quickly moved into action.

  “Just how many times have you been here?” Uilleam asked as they followed the woman to a private booth near the windows.

  “This is my first, actually. Sometimes, it’s not about the fear you inspire in others, but rather the gratitude.”

  Which begged the question, what had she done to earn favor with the mysterious Chancellor?

  When Elsie had first mentioned they would be meeting with the man, Uilleam hadn’t known what to think. Despite having worked with quite a few people around the world over his many years in the business, his path had never crossed with the Chancellor’s.

  Truthfully, he wasn’t an easy man to get
ahold of.

  And more important, the man rarely asked favors of anyone so he had very little debts to repay.

  They hadn’t been sitting long before footsteps announced the arrival of the man they had come to see.

  He was tall with broad shoulders and a head full of silver hair. Despite it, he didn’t look a day over thirty.

  And his eyes, glacial and hard didn’t seem to miss anything as he took a seat at their table.

  The man smiled rather fondly at Elsie, taking her hand in his before kissing the back of her knuckles. “Always a pleasure, Elsie.”

  “It’s good to see you too. Thank you for making the time to see us.”

  He waved that away. “I’ll always make time for friends. And truth be told, I was intrigued at the thought of meeting the man they call the Kingmaker.”

  He turned to Uilleam then, his eyes like a wolf’s, seeming to miss nothing. It was slightly unsettling though Uilleam wasn’t one to look away.

  There was always something off about the people that did what they did for a living—it was the only way one could survive in this world—but being in his presence was more … unsettling.

  “Are the rumors true?” the Chancellor asked as he rested his elbows on the table, flashing the silver cufflinks at his wrists. “Can you truly get anyone what they want for a price?”

  For that, the answer was easy. “Without question.”

  “Which is why I was hoping to acquire your assistance,” Elsie said speaking up. “For a favor in return, of course.”

  “Whatever you require.”

  His attention was momentarily stolen by something over their shoulders, prompting Uilleam to turn and look.

  While everything and everyone seemed muted around them, the woman walking in their direction stood out in a gold sequin dress that complemented her curvy frame and drew attention to every inch of her.

  A ring adorned her every finger, the low lights of the room reflecting off the diamonds.