Den of Mercenaries: Volume Two

by Miller, London

  She was looking forward to it.

  Chapter 7

  Iris couldn’t say what drew her back to the Wraith compound—maybe it was her curiosity about Synek, or maybe it was the lingering guilt she felt, but all the same, at around eight that night, she walked inside and headed for the bar.

  She needed a drink—or two—before she ventured anywhere near him.

  Iris wasn’t surprised to find Bear perched on one of the many barstools, one of his long legs kicked out in front of him, his intense gaze focused on one of the girls sweeping the floor a few feet away.

  Wren, Iris thought her name was.

  She’d popped up nearly three years ago, her brother having owed a debt from what she understood, but that was the case with most of the girls on the floor and working behind the bar.

  Either their family needed to pay back a loan or the debt was their own, but until the balance was paid back, they were stuck here, doing whatever was asked of them.

  Most didn’t make it six months.

  Bear didn’t slant his gaze in Iris’s direction until she slid onto the barstool one over from his own, and judging from the expression on his face, her presence wasn’t welcome.

  “Didn’t think I would see you back in here,” he said as he looked away from her and back to Wren. She seemed oblivious to his attention.

  Iris wished she had an answer good enough to explain why she wanted to see Synek again, but she didn’t. It didn’t even make sense to herself. “I never asked,” she said, ignoring his statement altogether. “Was he really as bad as they say?”

  “Syn? He was worse.” Bear gestured Margo over with a crook of his finger; her eyes lighting up when she saw it was him.

  Bear could be considered attractive if one were to ignore the bad attitude, rude disposition, and the look of judgment he always wore. Beyond that, the beard was nice, and the hair that was mussed in the middle and shaved on the sides was a sight to see.

  But Iris had never been attracted to him or any of the Wraiths. Maybe because she’d spent too much time with them. She saw them at their worst, and the deplorable things they did.

  Yet, despite herself, she’d been attracted to Synek—if that was even the right way to explain it. The word felt too mild to describe the way her heart had raced and molten heat swept through her the moment he’d grabbed her to kiss her.

  Even now, the memory was enough to make her blow out a breath, her skin feeling too hot.

  She’d known all about him before that moment—both from Rosalie and from the file Belladonna had left behind—but it hadn’t seemed to matter to the rest of her once they were outside the Hall.

  The cold, winter air should have been enough to cool whatever bad intentions the liquor had inspired, but she hadn’t been able to blame it on the drink.

  Not only had she only had the one, but she’d had every chance to push him away, to distract him in some other way until the Wraiths arrived in the van.

  But it was that first kiss, that first moment of contact when he’d made her forget her own name that had her forgetting everything there was to know about him.

  He hadn’t been a traitor to the Wraiths at that moment; he’d just been a man.

  A man who was fucking ridiculously attractive with a mouth that made her soul sing.

  Clearing her throat, Iris focused back on Bear. “Define worse.”

  Bear tossed back a shot of bourbon before passing her one—a Wraith custom. “He did everything. All the bad shit you can possibly think of, he was in charge of it. The shit everybody else was afraid to do.”

  She thought of the jobs she’d seen others back out of—the ones where it almost meant certain death if you took it on. “Why? What did Rosalie have over him?”

  “You’re asking a lot of questions,” Bear mumbled, a new expression on his face that she couldn’t read. “A little late for that, ain’t it?”

  “She made him seem like some sort of savage—all of you did—but when we were at the Hall, he just seemed …”

  Normal?

  A little intense, maybe, but nothing she hadn’t seen before—and not even the worst she’d seen.

  Bear scoffed, as if he knew exactly what she was struggling to put into words. “You forget, Rosalie can make a monster out of men. This place,” Bear went on, finishing his shot before gesturing around, “shows you the worst you’re capable of.”

  She didn’t verbally agree, but she knew exactly what he meant.

  When she’d first come to the Wraiths years ago with nowhere else to turn, Iris had never doubted that she would be able to slip in and out of the role Rosalie had placed her in.

  But since then, she had focused less on the vendetta that was most important to her and more on her position as a bounty hunter of criminals.

  Day after day, and month after month, she’d set aside times when she could have been surveilling the governor or gathering evidence in favor of hunting down those who had crossed the Wraiths.

  Some part of her had even grown to enjoy it.

  “Then why’d he leave?” Iris asked, not quite understanding. “If he was who he needed to be to survive in here, why did he leave?”

  Bear’s jaw tightened as she spoke, but not because of anything she said—his attention was on Wren and the way one of the recruits kept trying to draw her into a shadowed corner even though it was clear she didn’t want to.

  “Bear?”

  “What?”

  Right … he was obviously no longer in the mood to entertain her questions, but she pressed on anyway. “Why did he leave the Wraiths?”

  “His last order could have been someone he didn’t want to kill, or maybe it was just because he was tired of sticking his dick in Rosalie. I don’t know. Only person who knows for sure is chained up back there. You wanna go back there and ask him, be my guest.”

  She remembered the last time she’d been in a room with Synek, his threats, and the fear she felt even as he’d been restrained. No, she wouldn’t be asking him anything.

  “He was your best friend, wasn’t he? I’m surprised you haven’t gone to see him.”

  “You make it sound as if I have a choice in the matter? Rosalie wouldn’t let me within a mile of that room.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m the person he’s least likely to kill when he gets free.”

  Bear stood then, dismissing her entirely as he walked toward Wren, who’d been slyly trying to back away from the recruit who hadn’t seemed to notice her resistance—or maybe he had and just didn’t care.

  The man was a second too late as his eyes widened dramatically. Bear had his hand twisted in the man’s shirt before shoving him back with enough force to shove him up against the wall with one hand.

  Iris might have entertained the display longer, but her mind finally caught up with what Bear had said.

  Not if Synek got free, but when …

  The thought bothered her more than it should have.

  *

  Now, she was officially fucking worried.

  He hadn’t traveled back to London, and none of the other mercenaries had seen him stateside—it was as if he’d completely disappeared off the face of the earth.

  Winter tried not to panic at the thought, knowing her panicking wouldn’t bring him back—she needed a clear head.

  First, she needed to think like him.

  If there was one thing about him, Synek was a creature of habit. He didn’t bar hop or venture to any place that wasn’t familiar and comfortable. If he was in New York, he went to the Hall—and after a little digging through his aliases, she’d found that he’d bought a plane ticket to New York.

  A fact that surprised her, considering she would have heard if he was back in town for this long… not to mention how much he hated the state entirely.

  The moment she’d found his itinerary, her thoughts shifted to his past and the things he didn’t like to talk about unless absolutely necessary.

  But even distract
ed, Synek was always careful enough not to leave any trace of his presence behind when it came to avoiding the Wraiths.

  Before her mind could run away with that thought, Winter had gotten dressed and headed to the Hall, Răzvan right beside her.

  “When was the last time you saw him?” Winter asked Dismas, watching as he circled around the bar, holding his infamous ledger in his hand.

  “A week ago … maybe longer.”

  “You don’t know for sure?”

  He gave her a bland look before setting his ledger on the bar top and flipping it open to the last page. “When you’re here, I see you. When you’re not, I don’t give a shit.”

  Dismas had a rather hands-off approach in the business—out of sight, out of mind was his philosophy. As long as no one brought trouble to his doorstep, one could be whoever they wanted inside his four walls.

  “Oh, come on,” Winter said, walking closer, “you can give me something better than that. You and I both know if Syn ever steps foot in here, you’re making sure he’s not breaking anyone. We already promised to pay you back for the wee bit of damage he and Tăcut inflicted.”

  The expression on Răzvan’s face said he had no intention of paying anything back.

  “Listen, doll, I’d help you if I knew anything, but after he left with the brunette, I wasn’t paying attention anymore.”

  “Brunette? What brunette?”

  Dismas shrugged. “Dark hair. Dark eyes. Tan with a nice ass. That’s about all I can tell you.”

  The most basic description and not even a very good one. “Anything else?”

  “Look,” he said, dropping his pen in the middle of the book, “even if I had seen anything worth noting, you know where I stand. Syn is good people, but if I go and break my rules for one of you, others will expect the same treatment. Good luck tracking him down. You know better than I do that if he doesn’t want to be found, he won’t be.”

  Yeah, unfortunately she did.

  Realizing he wasn’t going to be any more help, Winter turned for the door. “I’ll call you when I find him.”

  Where the hell was she going to start now?

  Without any trace of him, and the vague description of the woman he’d been with, there was nowhere else for her to look.

  Winter dragged her fingers through her hair, trying to come up with a solution when Răzvan’s sudden hold on her arm had her looking in his direction, before pinpointing what had his attention.

  They already knew, before it stopped, who the sleek black truck belonged to. What concerned her was why the Kingmaker was here in the first place.

  She hardly ever saw him, but when she did, it was always prearranged via a phone call—he’d never sought her out personally.

  As the truck rolled to a stop, the back window cracked just far enough for her to make out his profile and his sunglasses. “Get in.”

  There was no use in ignoring him—the Kingmaker usually found a way of getting what he wanted. “As much as I’d love a new job right now,” Winter said as she slipped into the back seat, “I’m a little busy.”

  The Kingmaker completely ignored that. “I have a job for you.”

  “Isn’t that line usually reserved for the mercenaries?” she asked, remembering one of many conversations she’d had with Synek.

  “Mercenary or hacker, you all work for me, so it’s all the same. Now”—he pulled a photograph from his pocket, handing it to her— “I need you to find me everything you can on this woman.”

  It was hard to see much of anything thanks to the rather large tree the woman was sitting in her car under, but Winter could make out the majority of her face, and her scanner could get a better look.

  “Who is she?”

  “If I knew the answer to that, I wouldn’t need you, would I? I expect an answer within the hour.”

  “That’s not how it works. Facial recognition can take a while.” Not to mention, she was busy with something else. “I can—”

  “In less than an hour after I came across her, she managed to upload a picture of me. While I trust you did your job well enough to ensure she can’t find anything on me, I would prefer no one have my image readily available to them.”

  Fair enough.

  Since she’d known him, Winter had learned rather quickly that he had to be one of the lone attractive people in the world who hated to have their picture taken.

  “Must’ve dropped the ball earlier. Spidey senses weren’t tingling?”

  He removed his sunglasses to level a dry look on her, not even remotely entertained. “Once you have what you need, have the Romanians destroy any information she has on me.”

  Winter frowned, laughing lightly. “You know I don’t command them, right?”

  “No, my brother does, but considering Nix is not around to do my bidding, I’m using my second option.”

  He could find a solution to any problem.

  “Right … I’ll get right on this, and let you know what we come up with.”

  He nodded once. “Good night, Winter.”

  She folded the photograph and tucked it into her pocket, reaching for the door handle when he spoke again.

  “Is there a reason Syn hasn’t been returning my phone calls?”

  Of all the things he could have asked her—and he’d asked for some sketchy things in the past—the very last thing she was expecting him to ask was that. “You’ve tried calling him?”

  It was one thing not to answer her phone calls—it wouldn’t be the first time he hadn’t when he was in one of his moods and needed to come down—but it was something else entirely when he didn’t answer for the Kingmaker either.

  “While he might have a bit more string on his leash than the others, it’s growing a bit thin all the same. Let him know he has seventy-two hours to get back to me or our agreement will be terminated.”

  Winter thought of explaining her fears that something had happened to him, but a part of her didn’t think the Kingmaker would care. Instead, she silently got out of the car and walked back to Răzvan’s side, watching as the Kingmaker drove away and disappeared around the corner.

  —Are you okay?—

  She wished she could answer that and say yes.

  She wished the only thing she needed to worry about was the picture in her pocket, but as she pulled her phone out, not realizing until that moment her hands were shaking, Winter knew her answer wouldn’t be what either of them wanted to hear.

  “I think something happened to Syn.”

  Chapter 8

  For the second time in two days, Iris found herself seeking out Synek, this time watching him from an observation room cleverly hidden behind a two-way mirror.

  The Wraiths rarely used the room—most preferring to see their violence up close and personal—so she was left undisturbed as she watched Synek’s torture continue.

  Of all the people she’d seen enter this room, he was by far the strongest.

  He was a bloody mess, rivulets running from wounds in his back, his torso a mess of bruises, but even kneeling on the ground, his head was still held high and that mask had yet to slip.

  If they thought to break him, this wasn’t the way to do it.

  Iris wasn’t sure how long she stood there watching, but knew that every time she watched a tool of pain whistle through the air, she had to close her eyes the moment before contact, unable to watch it happen.

  Finally, after what had felt like hours, Rosalie waved for the men to leave the room. Only after she kissed the top of his head and he gave a half attempt at grabbing her as she laughed did she finally leave the room.

  A moment passed as the door clicked shut, then another, and another, until gradually, Synek’s shoulders relaxed. The tension fled his body, and for just a moment, he allowed himself to take a proper breath.

  At that moment, the chains were all that prevented him from hitting the dirty floor.

  This, none of it, made sense.

  She knew all too well what Rosalie did to tr
aitors. Yet more than a week later, Synek was still here. And it wasn’t as if he was getting around-the-clock torture. She allowed him to rest for spells before she came back.

  And even then, it wasn’t always torture.

  Sometimes, she just talked. Other times, she watched him in silence.

  But during each of those occasions, she always asked him one question.

  Have you changed your mind?

  Had he changed his mind about what?

  The bigger mystery was why did she care?

  Her presence here couldn’t be blamed on just curiosity alone anymore—she’d gotten everything she needed from Bear. There was just something about Synek.

  She’d never been prone to reckless behavior before, but Iris still found herself slipping out of the observation room and into Synek’s cell. Surprisingly, there were no guards standing outside the door, nor any inside the room.

  Just Synek.

  What she was doing was stupid, reckless even, but all the same, Iris found herself taking a step forward.

  Synek didn’t move besides the rise and fall of his chest until she was within a foot of him. When he looked up, his face was carefully blank—void of any emotion whatsoever. At least until he seemed to recognize her.

  He didn’t lash out like he had the last time.

  Just stared.

  “Is it true?” she asked, finding that she needed an answer.

  If she heard him say it, maybe then she would be able to walk away and leave him to his fate. She just needed to hear him say it. She needed to see the monster so many others did.

  When he didn’t respond, she elaborated. “Is it true that you killed a little girl’s uncle right in front of her?”

  An emotion flitted across his face, there and gone in seconds. “Is that what you’re concerned about? Whether I’m a killer?”

  “I—”

  “Because you already know the answer to that, don’t you?”

  Iris couldn’t think of a response to that. She did already know the answer.

  “Or is it about that, in particular, that has you in here? You letting things get personal, Iris?”

  She tried not to react to the way he’d said her name. He hadn’t known it when they were at the Hall, but the way he said it now transported her back to that moment, if only for a second.