Nix. (Den of Mercenaries Book 3)

by London Miller

  At one time, Luna hadn’t understood why he acted the way he did. He wasn’t bad looking, nor was he unintelligent, and if he were a touch kinder, he could probably willingly have anyone there, but she had learned that it had nothing to do with looks—he was just a monster that liked to hurt things.

  When dark eyes landed on her, he gestured for her to come to him with a crook of his finger and a smile on his lips. He had showered too in the time he’d been gone, hair neatly styled and suit freshly pressed.

  Cat squeezed her fingers a moment before Luna shuffled to her feet and slowly crossed the floor. What could she do against him? He was bigger, taller, and had a gun that he kept in the waistband of his jeans—she didn’t stand a chance.

  “And you,” he said, gesturing to Cat with a flick of his fingers.

  He didn’t just stop at Luna and Cat however, pointing to more of the girls, until they were all lined up, waiting for his instruction.

  Glancing back at the textbook still on the floor, Luna was forced to leave it behind as Cat tugged her hand, a silent command for her to follow along.

  As Lawrence walked them through the building, not for the first time, Luna thought of how easy it would be if they all worked together. At the very least, they could kick his ass and attempt to escape, but that idea wouldn’t work well … not when Emmett had security all throughout the place to make sure no one stepped out of line.

  It was one thing, trying to fight off someone who was unarmed—they had him in numbers—but those guards had guns, ones they weren’t afraid to use.

  Filing into the spacious sitting room, they stood shoulder to shoulder as Lawrence walked a path in front of them, appraising them with cold eyes. When he reached Luna, a smile curled his lips, and right then, she knew she probably didn’t want to know what he was thinking.

  The soft tap of Emmett’s leather shoes sounded on the floor a moment before he appeared, a thick cigar in his left hand, his eyes on them. He looked like an older version of Lawrence. Same hair, though his was peppered with gray, and the same eyes—though his were cold, they weren’t unforgiving like his son’s.

  It was Emmett, actually, that was behind having Luna taken from her childhood home in San Jose—the only home she had ever known.

  A life she longed to return to.

  Sometimes, in the dead of night when Lawrence had finally passed out and his snores echoed throughout the room, Luna liked to close her eyes and try to picture that life with her mama and papa and sister.

  Luna missed them the most.

  Her memories were usually fleeting, only brief bursts of images and smells.

  She missed the blazing sun on her face, the water from the sprinkler on her skin as she ran around the backyard, chasing behind the labrador she had begged her mother for.

  Oh, how Luna missed Blanco and his snow white fur that he constantly got dirty on a regular basis, just from running through mud and dirt. She wondered if she ever found him again, would he even recognize her.

  “Tonight,” Emmett began, dragging Luna from her thoughts. “There will be an auction held. You’re to cater to the guests’ needs, whatever they may ask of you. Is that understood? You will do as your told, no matter what is asked.”

  While affirmations sounded around the room, Luna kept her mouth shut, not sure what to say. She didn’t miss that he hadn’t made mention of what kind of auction it would be, but if she had to guess, it wouldn’t be a worldly possessions they bid on.

  “You have two hours to get this place spotless, and dressed standing as you are. Attire will be given. Do you understand?”

  Again, they all agreed.

  But Luna, once more, didn’t say anything at all.

  A lot could be accomplished in a couple of hours, Luna thought as she carefully zipped up the side of the dress that had been left for her on the bed. It was better than she had expected—just a simple little black dress, though it did stop a little higher on her than past choices.

  The main house had been scrubbed and cleaned by the staff, leaving the marble flooring clear and the fixtures sparkling. Appearances were important, and seeing this place, one wouldn’t have the slightest clue what took place on the premises.

  All the girls were dressed the same, though some only wore shimmery lingerie that barely covered anything. Lawrence and Emmett had both changed as well, in fresh suits with hair gelled in place. By the time the first few guests started trickling in once the doors were opened, Luna already felt nauseous.

  Most of the guests were men, though a few came in with women hanging off their arms, delighted smiles on their faces. Sometimes, Luna had seen, the women were worse than the men.

  “Don’t react,” Cat whispered in her ear as they stood next to the bar that had been set up.

  Don’t react.

  She tried to force herself to process those words, to do exactly as Cat had said, but she was scared of what the night would bring. She had never been to one of the events Emmett held—Lawrence kept her tucked away—but she didn’t think it would be anything good.

  Luna was gripping the table’s edge so tight her knuckles blanched. Carefully, she released her hold, taking a deep breath as she tried not to let her panic get the best of her.

  Lawrence’s punishments were usually swift and unmerciful.

  Cat, on the other hand, seemed to be processing it all pretty well, though there was a touch of apprehension in her eyes. At least until Lawrence came striding over to them, sending her darting off in the opposite direction.

  “How’s my favorite pet?” he asked with a warm smile, as though those words were caring and complimentary.

  Luna didn’t trust herself to speak, so instead, blinked to let him know she was listening.

  “There’s someone I would like you to meet,” he said gesturing for the bartender to hand him the bottle of amber liquid that sat on a top shelf. “You’ll do any and every thing that I ask—and should he ask something of you, you know what to do.”

  He grabbed her hand, pulling her in the direction of her familiar hell. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, drowning out everything else as she followed behind him, wishing she could escape to some part of her mind that wouldn’t be affected by the trauma she would face.

  But she had always stayed right in the present the entire time, feeling every last bit of pain offered.

  Though she wasn’t able to leave her own mind, the tears had stopped.

  A small consolidation.

  As they neared, her senses perked up a bit seeing the men that stood guard around the house. They weren’t anything like Lawrence’s guards, portly men that hadn’t eaten a vegetable in years, instead they were tall and muscled, wearing more gear than she had ever seen.

  Who the hell were they protecting?

  “I suggest you not anger him, pet,” Lawrence said as he swung the door open. “You won’t like how he responds.”

  He?

  The minute she cleared the doorway, she saw him.

  He sat with his back to a wall, just to the side of the windows where the moonlight that streamed in illuminated the planes of his face. There was definitely a difference between him and the men Lawrence usually brought into this room.

  But Luna wasn’t so sure that was a good thing.

  As she came upon him, mere steps away now, she could see him more clearly—the strawberry-blonde hair, the chiseled line of his jaw, and the dark suit he wore.

  He was pretty, in a masculine way, but pretty all the same.

  “Pet, grab the glasses,” Lawrence said, voice resonating around the room as he gave her a slight push.

  Tearing her eyes away from the man that had yet to speak, doing as she was told, she found the set of crystal tumblers set on a serving tray that also held a freshly filled ice bucket.

  She carried it across the room with her eyes on the floor, setting it down and waiting for her next instruction. Lawrence passed her the bottle—bourbon, the label read—twisting the top off and pouring two f
ingers of the liquor as he had once instructed her to do.

  Once she finished, first giving Lawrence his drink, then turning to the stranger, but this time, she couldn’t avoid his gaze.

  For a moment she thought she saw recognition in the dark depths of his eyes, but it was gone before she could be sure.

  It was uncomfortable, standing under his scrutiny, and if she wasn’t afraid of what would happen should she move away from him, she would have immediately tried to escape his presence.

  “What’s your name?” he asked, picking up his drink, the heavy gold ring adorning his left hand making a clinking sound as it came in contact with the glass.

  Give them whatever they ask for.

  Those words rang in her head as she forced herself to answer his question—most didn’t ask, or care. “Luna.”

  “Your entire name,” the stranger said carefully, an accent coloring the words, “if you would.”

  Glancing back at Lawrence to make sure that she was meant to answer this, she spoke when he nodded. “Luna Aristoria Santiago.”

  When was the last time she gave someone her name?

  A corner of his mouth kicked up, but it wasn’t a true smile—there was something not so nice about it. Extending his hand, he offered, “Uilleam, but most call me the Kingmaker.”

  Lawrence coughed, as though his drink had gone down the wrong pipe. Not sure what was wrong, Luna accepted the man’s hand with some trepidation, but as his fingers closed around hers, he didn’t squeeze and yank her to him, but rather just turned her hand over, his gaze dropping to her wrist and the birthmark that was there.

  How did he even know to look?

  And why was he called the Kingmaker?

  What did that even mean?

  When Luna attempted to pull her hand away, Uilleam held fast, and whatever kindness she thought he possessed, it vanished when he gave a command.

  “Kneel.”

  The command caught her off guard, silence stretching between them as she just stood there staring at him.

  “Did you not hear what he said?” Lawrence asked, the threat in his voice clear for anyone to hear.

  Do as your told.

  Gritting her teeth, Luna carefully sank down onto the floor, hands clutching at the hem of her dress to keep it from riding up further.

  “Crawl to me,” he said, making her cheeks darken with anger and embarrassment, but she followed his direction, not stopping until she was mere inches from his seated form.

  Once she was close enough, he reached for her, brushing strands of her hair out of her face, his voice low as he whispered in Spanish, “Play your part, and you may leave this place tonight.”

  Not given a chance to question his meaning—or even to process that he knew she spoke Spanish—the Kingmaker looked away from her and to Lawrence.

  “Where have you been hiding this one?” Uilleam asked and laid a hand on her shoulder, his hold possessive, but it didn’t feel sexual.

  “She’s special,” Lawrence said with pride, as though he had been paid a compliment.

  Uilleam’s expression changed, but Luna couldn’t read it. “Of that, I have no doubt.”

  Lawrence must have noticed it too, but he ignored it. “Business, let’s discuss.”

  “I’m not sure what’s left to discuss,” Uilleam returned. “It’s already done.”

  “But when—”

  “Very soon, but that matter isn’t of importance at the moment. Your payment for services has come due, and I’m here to collect.”

  That easy smile that had once graced Lawrence’s face disappeared. “We agreed to after the job, not before.”

  “Considering the circumstances, I thought it best to collect now.”

  “Why? Do you think I’m going to lose it all once my father is dead?” Lawrence asked snidely, a touch of his temper showing.

  “Well, yes.”

  Lawrence, not liking this answer, nor the way Uilleam spoke, set his drink down. “This is not your place, Kingmaker. You play by my rules.”

  “Your father’s rules, you mean,” Uilleam said, his tone never changing. “You’re not at the top just yet, Lawrence. So is it you that intends to check me?”

  Luna didn’t notice it, not at first, not until the silence had become too much and she was forced to look up. She expected to find anger in Lawrence’s face, outrage even, but neither was there.

  Panic, instead.

  Even his men looked about nervously.

  As though he had to force himself to say the words, Lawrence shook his head and said, “Not at all. Your payment, yes. Cash or wire—”

  “I know with some certainty that you don’t have one-point-five million here in cash, Lawrence. Are you attempting to annoy me?”

  Luna knew Lawrence’s family was rich, but that number still boggled her mind.

  What had he bought for that much money?

  “Perhaps I can offer you something else,” Lawrence said glancing in her direction. “For an extension, of course. If you would like her for the next hour—”

  Uilleam made a humming sound in the back of his throat. “Or indefinitely.”

  His words made Luna tense, but Uilleam’s hand on her shoulder tightened subtly, a silent command for her not to move.

  Lawrence’s expression changed then, and unlike Uilleam, she could read him just fine. He didn’t like the idea of giving her to someone else—for a short period, sure, but not where she wouldn’t be there for him to torture when he felt like it.

  “I’m not quite sure I understand.”

  “I’m willing to forgive some of your debt should you give her to me,” Uilleam answered, his voice dipping low as though he were speaking to a child. “I’m not sure what’s left you don’t understand.”

  Lawrence forced a laugh, rubbing a hand over his jaw. “There are plenty of girls here, should you want one, but they’re for rent. What kind of businessman would I be if I sold off my best stock?”

  “A smart one if you were to name your price. Or have you forgotten the reason I’m here in the first place? Besides, after that unfortunate incident with the hacksaw, you’re not really in a place to argue, no?”

  Luna knew the ‘incident’ Uilleam referred to. It was only a few weeks ago that Lawrence had lost his temper, as he was prone to do, and killed one of the clients.

  “That has nothing to do with this,” Lawrence said.

  “There is also the small detail that the contractor I have doesn’t peddle in minors—and before you say a word, it is quite obvious this girl is underage.”

  How the hell did he know that?

  “Fake documents can be made,” Lawrence suggested.

  Uilleam, who seemed to have answer for everything shook his head minutely. “And should we run her DNA, would it be found in any database? Missing persons, perhaps?”

  It took every part of her being not to gape as she glanced up at Uilleam. Did he know who she was? Did he know that she had been forced here against her will?

  Was he helping her?

  “It looks to me, Lawrence, as though I’m doing you a favor. Because please understand, she is your problem, and yet I’m offering to pay to fix it—a far better deal than I usually offer.”

  The vein in Lawrence’s forehead made an appearance as he ground his teeth. “Pick another—”

  “I’ll have her, if it’s all the same to you.”

  But it wasn’t all the same to him, and it was clear that he wanted to argue further, but after a heavy moment of silence, Lawrence finally answered.

  “Seven-fifty.”

  “Your father will die this evening,” Uilleam said with a glance down at his watch. “Would you like to join him in hell? Continue to waste my time and I’ll have someone put a bullet in your head.”

  It was clear who held the power in the room.

  “Considering her … age,” Lawrence said grudgingly, “I can go no lower than five-hundred thousand. She would earn—”

  “It’s quite time f
or you to stop speaking,” Uilleam cut in before he could finish. “I’m tired of hearing your voice. That’s acceptable. Now, for the rest.”

  Though Lawrence was red in the face, he didn’t hesitate before reaching into his pocket and taking out his phone. Two minutes later, he was showing Uilleam the screen.

  “We’re done here.”

  Those words sounded innocent enough, at least until the sharp crack of gunfire sounded in the main house, the screams of the people inside just as loud.

  Uilleam stood, helping her to her feet. “It was a pleasure doing business with you, Lawrence. Let’s hope we never cross paths again.”

  Luna wasn’t given a choice as the Kingmaker made to leave, the fingers he had wrapped around her arm forcing her to follow at a rapid pace she could hardly keep up with.

  People were running, fleeing from the gunfire that was still going on, but Uilleam didn’t run, nor did he particularly rush.

  Like he wasn’t affected by the chaos around him.

  Who the hell had she been sold to?

  Chapter Three

  If she thought she would get answers from the Kingmaker once they left the Kendall estate, Luna was mistaken.

  Not only did he not speak another word to her besides which way to walk and where to sit, he didn’t pay very much attention to her at all, hardly even looking in her direction.

  She didn’t even get the chance to try and find Cat in the chaos before she was pushed into the back of a waiting car, two thumps on the roof sounding before they were starting off.

  Over the span of what couldn’t have been more than an hour, Luna was once again being uprooted from everything she knew, and taken somewhere—with someone—she didn’t. Everything she cared for, though there wasn’t much at all in this place, was left behind.

  It was silly to miss old textbooks, but she wished she could have taken them with her—though she couldn’t be sure she would get to use them wherever she was going.

  Only once they arrived at a private airfield that was warded off by barbed wire did Luna dare ask her first question. Had it not been for the men—and these men looked more like soldiers—standing alert from the front end of the town car to the jet waiting on the tarmac, she would have tried to run.