“My apologies, Luna,” he whispered.
And he actually sounded sorry, but Luna didn’t care—she was under no obligation to.
“Can I go?” she asked looking down at her hands.
She wanted to get out of there, to escape from this disaster—at least before she made a fool of herself and actually cried. She had learned to hold them in when she was with Lawrence because he craved them—her tears were what got him off the most besides her pain—and she wasn’t going to let him make her cry just because he hurt her feelings.
“You haven’t eaten,” he pointed out, oddly.
Did he think that really mattered?
“I’m not hungry.” It wouldn’t be the first time she went to bed on an empty stomach. Another day wouldn’t hurt.
But Kit wasn’t willing to give up that quickly. “I offended you, that wasn’t my intention.”
Maybe he hadn’t, but the damage was already done. So for once, Luna did something she usually didn’t.
She squeezed her eyes shut a moment before saying, “Please.”
Kit looked like he wanted to argue further, but ultimately he sat back with a sigh, and nodded once.
Luna was out of her seat in seconds, careful not to disturb the new place setting as she slipped out of the chair and darted off back down the hallway.
But when she got back to her room, she didn’t go to bed as she’d intended, but slipped out the French doors, sitting down near the very edge of the stone balcony where she had the best view of the moon and stars.
This, she thought with emotion squeezing in her chest, this was as close to freedom as she would ever get.
But … it didn’t have to be.
Uilleam had told her before he disappeared that she was free to walk the grounds, so at the very least, she could leave this room.
She wanted to feel the grass beneath her feet—feel the cool air on her skin and breathe it all in.
She wanted to feel alive.
Glancing over the balcony once more, she tried to gauge the drop before carefully swinging one leg over, checking her balance, then did the other. Carefully, she laid her palms on the stone and dropped, wind whistling through her hair as she rushed to the ground, landing with a stumble before losing her footing.
With a triumphant smile, Luna rolled onto her stomach before pushing to her feet. The blades of grass were slightly damp, though the sky was clear.
She was walking at first, content at just feeling the blades of grass beneath her feet, then she was running, away from the château, away from the man inside it, and away from the reminder that her life was not her own.
Luna didn’t know where she was going, if there was anywhere to go, but she ran as fast as her feet would carry her.
There was a lightness to her step as she darted across the lawn. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Luna didn’t stop until she was yards away from her new home.
Out here, the strain lessened.
She could do this.
She could survive for a little while longer until her debt was repaid.
In her haste to get away, Luna hadn’t considered where Kit’s guards were stationed. She was just coming around a marble sculpture when she stopped short, nearly running into one of the four from earlier.
His mask, or rather the glowing art that decorated it was all Luna could see—the only one that hadn’t added any design to his besides the void where the mouth should have been.
Never mind the disturbing mask he wore, he was still dressed as though he were going to war with a gun in his hands.
He didn’t speak, and she almost wished he had because the eerie silence they were standing in only made her more nervous. When she took a step back, his head canted to one side like an animal.
When she took another, he cocked the hammer back on the gun in his hand. She didn’t move another inch.
Though she couldn’t see his face, she could tell he was looking at her as he pressed a button on the side of his vest.
Not a minute later, footsteps sounded behind her. She was almost too afraid to turn around and face whoever was standing there—and despite their conversation, a part of her hoped it would be Kit, if only because he could call this man off.
Her wish was granted as she turned and found him standing there.
Was he upset?
Was he annoyed?
She couldn’t tell, his face revealed nothing. Not sure if she was in trouble or not, she remained silent, clasping her hands behind her back, though she quickly moved them back. She wasn’t with Lawrence anymore.
Kit caught her movement though, his eyes darting down a moment before returning to her face. “Perhaps you would like to go through the door next time? And don’t,” he said when she opened her mouth, “don’t apologize. There’s no need. You’re not my prisoner—you can venture where you like.”
Gaze going beyond her, he offered clipped words to the man standing behind her, but she got the gist of what he was saying as the guard stashed his gun away and started around them, though not before giving a two-finger salute as the shadows swallowed him.
Unbidden, Luna asked, “Is he always so silent?”
“Tăcut can’t speak.”
“Is that a rule of yours?”
“His vocal cords were removed.”
Luna put her own hand up to her throat, looking to where he had disappeared. “Why would you do that?” Luna didn’t think that anyone would want that willingly.
“It was before I knew him.”
An apology was at the tip of her tongue, but she remembered the way he told her not to, and decided to keep it to herself.
She had been looking so intently toward the château that she hadn’t realized Kit was studying her until the silence seemed to echo.
“I apologize for what I said earlier,” he said, his voice a touch kinder than before. “My intention wasn’t to offend.”
Luna couldn’t remember the last time someone had apologized to her, especially for something that most wouldn’t consider a big thing. The ridiculous urge to tell him that it was fine, he hadn’t hurt her feelings that bad, came over her, but she swallowed those words back down.
Instead, she said, “You don’t have to apologize.”
“When I’m wrong, I will.” Holding his hand out toward the house, he asked, “Shall we?”
He led her to a door, stepping off to the side to allow her to go ahead of him. She could smell the chlorine scenting the air wherever they were, but it wasn’t until he had the door closed once more did the lights suddenly flicker on and she could see the pool.
It was … amazing.
At home, hers had been one of those above-ground pools that was large but unsightly. This one was a beauty to see.
Blue mosaic tile lined the interior of the pool, making the water shine brighter, but it was the light fixtures on the ceiling that made the water sparkle.
“Constellations,” Kit explained reaching her side.
She had figured they were stars, but she had never been very good at seeing the patterns. “Is it the Big Dipper?”
A corner of his lips tugged, but he didn’t smile completely. “Look here.”
He pointed, tracing out the shape for her to see, but even as she smiled, she still didn’t know what he had shown her.
“The Phoenix.”
If she squinted, she could almost imagine it up there. “Why the phoenix?”
His smile was distant, secretive. “You’ll learn soon enough.”
Outside of the pool room, there was a sauna and a personal gym, and once the hallway narrowed, there was a stone staircase that led back up to the main floor of the château.
Luna thought that he would venture off now that she was back inside—and probably thoroughly locked in—but he walked her to her room instead. And when they got there, Luna understood why.
There was a tray of food waiting for her in front of the door, laden with more than she had seen in days.
�
��Aidra will find you in the morning,” Kit said glancing from it to her. “If there’s something you don’t like, let her know and she’ll make sure the chefs are properly informed.”
“You don’t have to go through that trouble.”
“It’s not a problem at all.”
Well … “Thank you.”
“Rest. I’m sure you’re tired.”
Now that she had come down from the high of being outside, Luna was more than ready to climb into bed and shut her eyes.
“Tomorrow, we’ll discuss things more so I can give you a better understanding of why you’re here. Should you need me, my room is one floor up, last door on your left. I—”
“Is everyone upstairs?” she asked quickly, not having considered that at some point, the guards had to sleep.
The idea of them walking around while—
“No one is going to hurt you here,” Kit said, interrupting her train of thought. “And if it makes you feel better, this door has a lock on it—feel free to utilize it.”
It was hard not to express how relieved that made her feel. Maybe now she could actually sleep without fear of someone coming in while she was unaware.
“Thank you again, Kit.”
He smiled when she said his name, one that reached his eyes and made her want to smile back.
The notion was baffling.
Before she made a fool of herself, she quickly grabbed the tray and walked back into her bedroom. By the time she finished setting it on the bed and coming back, Kit was already gone.
Chapter 5
“It’s not often you put your foot in your mouth, Nix. I thought they trained you better than that,” Aidra pondered aloud while Kit walked to his office after seeing Luna to her room.
Luna.
There weren’t many complications Kit faced that he couldn’t overcome, that was one of his specialties, but he could already see that she was going to be one.
After his blunder at dinner, he hadn’t expected Fang—one of the Wild Bunch—to find him, letting him know with an amused sort of smile that the girl had hopped over her balcony, and taken off.
She had to have known she wouldn’t get far, not with the tracker affixed to her leg.
“Where did you find her, exactly?” Aidra asked.
Tone clipped, Kit responded, “I didn’t. Tăcut did. She was nearly to the tree line when he saw her.”
“Do you think she was running?”
Even if she wanted to, there had been no point in trying, not when Uilleam had put a tracker on her, and he had guards around constantly. She had to have known she wouldn’t get very far, but Kit didn’t think she was trying to run.
She hadn’t fought when Tăcut caught her, nor did she fight him in coming back into the house.
Luna had needed a moment, he understood that all too well.
Back in Wales, living under the hospitality of a tyrant, Kit had longed for quiet moments where he could get lost in his own thoughts without worry that his time was limited before someone came to hurt him.
Sometimes, those moments had been the worst, especially when that hope for it was crushed the moment he heard excited voices outside his bedroom.
There were still times now that he had to go off on his own to remind himself of who he was rather than who he’d been.
Sometimes, those were the moments he lived for.
“She wouldn’t have gotten far if she was,” he said.
Never mind that he had enough security out there to man a small army, but those woods were treacherous, and she hadn't even worn shoes.
“Still, you haven't told me who the girl is.”
“Because even I’m not sure who she is.”
Or her purpose.
His conversation with Uilleam before his brother had left as quickly as he’d come hadn’t shed much light on the girl’s origins either.
“I’ve known for the last twenty-two years of my life that your actions are reckless and premature, but I would never think that you would let hubris get you killed. What on earth has possessed you to make an enemy of Lawrence Kendall?”
The second Aidra had told him about the eldest Kendall, Kit had made a few calls, wanting to verify the information before he confronted his brother with it.
It had only taken one phone call to tell him that his brother was making moves he shouldn’t, but that was nothing new. Uilleam always made a habit of acting before he thought it through.
“An enemy?” Uilleam questioned with a shake of his head. “He came to me. Apologies that I don’t recount my every move with you, brother. Should I call you when I wipe my ass as well?”
Ignoring his last comment, Kit asked, “And the girl? What is she here for?”
Uilleam offered a smile. “For the same reason that the rest of the broken souls are brought to my compound.”
“You mean to make her into a mercenary? Though your depravity doesn’t surprise me, that still doesn’t explain why she’s here.”
Circling around his desk, Kit grabbed a pair of tumblers, then a bottle of scotch he kept in his desk, along with another of vodka—Uilleam had never been able to stomach brown liquors.
“Zachariah is busy at the moment working with another recruit—a Russian. Pathetic little thing really, but he shows promise. Besides, he has this new rule where they need to be of a certain age—men and their ridiculous morals.”
Kit could only imagine.
“And,” Uilleam went on as he picked up his glass, examining the liquid as though he thought Kit might have poisoned it. “Considering where she’s been, I thought it might be better if she could focus on her training rather than the scores of men at the compound.”
“You care about her feelings?” Kit asked. “You?”
“I care about my investment.”
“An investment you made … today? You decided to just buy her?”
Uilleam shrugged. “He happened to be holding an auction—who would I be if I didn’t partake? It was the spirit of the evening.”
“It wasn’t that simple,” Kit said folding his arms across his chest. “It never is with you.”
“No, I’m far too clever for that.”
“Then my question remains the same—why have you brought her here?”
Uilleam’s gaze narrowed as he contemplated what he would say next. “Let’s call it a test run. I want you to train her.”
Kit thought of the girl he had seen in the hallway. She was tall, willowy, with curves he knew would fill out once she was eating properly. There had been fear in her gaze when he spoke to her—even in the way she jolted when he touched her, but there had also been a spark of daring there that caught his attention.
“You misunderstand,” Uilleam said as the silence stretched between them. “If I thought you were incapable of seeing this done, I wouldn’t have come to you in the first place—waste of both our times, no?”
“If I am to do this, I’m not going to be quick about it,” Kit said. “She won’t be ready for some time—six months at a minimum.”
“Not to worry,” Uilleam said with a shrug. “It’s not an election year.”
Kit frowned, though he didn’t question him—his brother was known for saying odd things that only he understood. “What game are you playing at?”
“Do I have your agreement that you’ll train her?”
“You do.”
“Very well.” Uilleam got to his feet, sitting his untouched drink on the desk. “And, the game? It’s not one that concerns you presently.”
“Not everyone enjoys the games you play, Uilleam.”
Uilleam tsked. “Yet so many profit off of them.”
Kit nearly rolled his eyes. “Of course.” As he was leaving the room, Kit called, “It doesn’t sound like you’re giving me much of a choice.”
There was a smile in Uilleam’s voice as he said, “We always have choices, brother—the question is whether or not you’ll pick the right one.”
It was never easy to know whi
ch side was right when it came to his brother, and Kit had long since stopped wanting to guess.
Kit didn’t particularly like mercenaries—too disloyal and dishonest—but his brother had had the bright idea to form a team of them, an elite group that, despite their nature, would perform tasks as well as any other hit squad in the world. As only Uilleam could do, he had forced their loyalty to him by presenting them with something they wanted.
He understood the need to protect himself, and to have a team that was willing to do his dirty work—that was why he had the Wild Bunch—but despite his feelings on mercenaries, he had very little say in how Uilleam conducted his business—though even if they were closer, he doubted Uilleam would listen to reason.
He never had in the past.
Besides, Kit had grown rather used to his brother’s games since they were only a slightly milder version of those their father used to play—games meant to sharpen their minds and hone their skills.
While he had turned in one direction, using everything he had learned to become a member of a firm of assassins, then ultimately using those contacts to venture into different practices, his brother had gone in a different direction entirely.
Their father had expected them to follow blindly in his footsteps, and despite their thoughts to the contrary, they had in many ways.
He had also wanted them to go against one another, constantly battling to see who would end up on top.
But Kit had wanted none of that.
As long as their business dealings never intersected, Kit didn’t care about the games Uilleam liked to play.
There was just something about this girl, however … something that he couldn’t quite put his finger on.
“A mercenary, then?” Aidra asked as they stopped at the foot of the stairs, her voice drawing him from his thoughts. “D’you truly believe you can train her to be one? Despite what The Kingmaker seems to believe, not everyone is cut out for this life.”
Den of Mercenaries: Volume One (The Mercenaries Book 1) Page 54