Den of Mercenaries: Volume One (The Mercenaries Book 1)

by London Miller

  “I’ve learned a great many things about the Runehart brothers since my business began. And one thing I learned is that you never get in between them—there are often casualties in their wars.”

  “You know something,” Luna said—it was the only thing that made sense.

  “It’s not what I know that’s important, it’s what you don’t.”

  “Then tell—”

  “I think our business is concluded, Luna, don’t you? Unfortunate what’s happened to Mr. Kanekov, but I would wager you’ll find your way soon enough. But I do have something for you, because I’m sure it bugged you nearly as much as it bugged me. I finally found the owner of the warehouse I’ve been asking you to track down.” Belladonna’s gaze didn’t stray from Luna’s as she said, “I’m a bit surprised really, that Uilleam was willing to buy the place instead of having it put in someone else’s name—but I’m also sure he didn’t intend for anyone to filter through the shell companies under his employ.”

  There was a dangerous thing about fear and doubts. Sometimes they could be ignored, pushed aside because the worries were unfounded, but other times it only took the smallest bit of information to make those doubts morph into something bigger.

  Something like suspicion.

  And very much like realization.

  Luna didn’t even notice that the woman used a name most didn’t know.

  The roar of her bike wasn’t enough to quell the storm brewing inside Luna as she drove to the New York compound where she knew Uilleam was staying. Even as her mind was a thousand miles away, she still expertly navigated through traffic.

  Too many questions but not enough answers plagued her as she drove. There was so much that didn’t make sense, but more and more of the pieces were beginning to fit together.

  But the picture was not one she wanted to see …

  No, she wouldn’t jump to conclusions. She wouldn’t assume things she wasn’t sure of, not when she could get them from the source.

  Riding up to the steel reinforced gate that surrounded the acre of property, she keyed in her personal code, whipping inside once the gate was open far enough.

  With Uilleam’s attendance, the facility had been locked down, only those that he permitted allowed to come and go. One would have thought, considering the attempt on his life, that he would have requested more security to ensure that if anyone tried again, they would be dealt with quickly, but Uilleam had sent most of the security away.

  His trust was hard earned, she knew. And despite him being the one that wrote the checks, he knew there was always the potential of someone risking a foolish mission because someone else offered more money.

  The entire west wing of the facility was off-limits, but Luna was permitted to enter. Perhaps because she had Uilleam’s trust.

  Or maybe because he didn’t see her as a threat.

  Whichever the answer, it wouldn’t end well for one of them.

  Uilleam was sitting in the rec room, a cloth napkin tucked into the collar of his shirt, a knife and fork in his hand as he cut into the massive steak on a plate in front of him. He was paler than usual, bruise-like shadows beneath his eyes, but as his gaze shot to her, she could see that underneath it all, he was still The Kingmaker.

  “Luna, always a pleasure. What can I do for you?”

  “Hamilton and 42nd,” she said without preamble, refusing to look away from him. Needing to see even the most minute expression on his face. “You own the warehouse there.”

  Uilleam didn’t blink. “I own many warehouses.”

  She had spent enough time around the younger Runehart brother to know when he was evading, and that realization made her snap. Jerking one of the knives she kept hidden at her wrists, she palmed it before walking over to him and slamming it down hard into the steak, shattering the plate beneath it.

  Uilleam looked from her to it and back again. “You have my attention.”

  “Don’t do that,” she said, her voice betraying the emotion brewing inside of her. “Don’t treat me like a fool.”

  For once, she hated how calm and unbothered he was—how indifferent. She remembered once when she had wished she possessed that trait—wished she was capable of hiding her thoughts and feelings the way he and his brother could.

  “You’ve never been a fool, Luna,” Uilleam said with surprising conviction. “And I’ve never treated you like one.”

  “Then tell me the truth. Tell me about the warehouse.”

  “Does Kit know you’re here?”

  Luna was taken aback by the question, not because it was particularly shocking, but because she didn’t think in all the years she had known him she had ever heard him use Kit’s name.

  He was always, “my brother” or “the facilitator,” or as of recently, Uilleam just referred to him as her husband.

  It was then she knew.

  She knew.

  “Tell me what you did,” she said, feeling like a fool as emotion clogged her throat.

  Uilleam sighed, but there was no regret in his eyes as he pushed away from the table, tossing his napkin on the table. “It wasn’t what I did that matters, it’s what I didn’t do.”

  “I swear to God, I’m not in the fucking mood for your word games, Uilleam. Did you do this to me?” she demanded, pointing her knife in his direction.

  She expected him to make an excuse, to continue with his word games until she grew too frustrated to continue.

  The last thing she was expecting was his answer.

  “Yes.”

  All the fight drained out of her as horror took its place. “What?”

  “You asked if I’m responsible for you being here, right now, wielding a knife—the answer is yes.” His words were unapologetic, blunt in the pain they delivered. “I had you taken from your home and brought to a warehouse—the one on 42nd and Hamilton.”

  Luna realized almost belatedly that her hands were shaking, that she didn’t have a firm grip on the weapon she was already picturing plunging into his neck.

  “How … why …” But she couldn’t think of the right question to ask.

  Uilleam answered them both. “The how is rather simple. I sent a team to extract you. The why, however, is a bit more complicated.”

  “Then make it uncomplicated!”

  He sighed as he regarded her, as though he knew what he was saying would hurt her, but he would tell her anyway. “You were a job.”

  I’m talking about a martyr—about a girl whose life was taken to give another power. The words whispered in her mind, but her brain still hadn’t caught up to what she thought she knew.

  “A job,” she repeated, disbelieving. “I was a job … I don’t understand.”

  Uilleam, a man that always seemed so sure of himself, hesitated. “Luna, leave this. The answer is unimportant.”

  She lost it.

  It only took two steps for her to get close enough to press the blade against his skin, digging just hard enough to draw blood.

  “Speak.”

  “About six years ago, your mother came to me—she wanted to have power, and all the money that came with it. Her idea was to run for local government. Carmen wasn’t doing it for the people, mind you, she was doing it under the notion that she would get close with the cartels that worked with them. Morals, she had none, nor did she care what needed to be done to ensure that she got what she wanted.” Uilleam didn’t take his eyes from her as he spoke, nor did his tone soften as he delivered deadly words that she had begged him for. “But her vision was too narrow, she lacked the vision to know what she could become, so I made her an offer as I’ve done hundreds of others. I could give her power, for a price.”

  “A price,” Luna echoed, feeling tears betraying her. Her arm had fallen to her side, the bead of blood she’d drawn sliding down his throat.

  He made no move to wipe it away, nor did he make a move to retaliate.

  They just stood there.

  “The masses, you see, they love a victim. They can rela
te to one because they’ve all felt the pain of losing someone they love—and a woman advocating for change once she loses her daughter to vicious human traffickers? A prime candidate. You were the price she had to pay.”

  Luna wanted to take it back.

  She wanted to erase going to Belladonna’s offices entirely. She wanted to pretend like none of it had happened.

  Because this—this crushed her in a way that Lawrence had never been able to.

  Her mother.

  The one person in the world that was supposed to love and protect her had …

  She was going to vomit.

  But a sudden thought hit her. “Then why did you buy me?” she asked.

  It didn’t make sense. If he had ensured she was out of the way and her mother could do as she pleased, why had he bought her from Lawrence?

  Uilleam sighed. “My intention had always been to use you against your mother. While she plays checkers, I play chess. I’d wagered she would make it just far enough that I could make back my investment by using you as leverage.”

  Beautiful girl, she was, made into a pawn in a game she didn’t know she was playing.

  Belladonna had told her everything.

  Luna gave a bitter laugh, a tear spilling over. “How? By showing her that you made her daughter into a whore? You’re proud of that? She didn’t even care!”

  It felt like she was dying with every breath she took, the agony of it all bearing down on her shoulders.

  “You’re not a whore—you never were,” Uilleam returned viciously, as though he hated the very idea. “Things didn’t go as I intended.”

  “But you told them to give me to the first buyer—whoever would pay the most,” Luna said, remembering the goons that had grabbed her and their conversation.

  They hadn’t thought she was paying attention to what they were saying. They didn’t realize she was crying because of how callous they sounded as they discussed her life like it was theirs to destroy.

  There was a split second of confusion on his face before he masked it.

  But she saw it.

  She saw it.

  Why was he confused?

  He remembered everything else. He should have remembered that conversation as well.

  “Andrei said that you were sending me after him—that you were upset because of what he had done. But you didn't know, did you?”

  “Luna, leave it.”

  “Why would—” And like a freight train, the answer slammed into her. “No.”

  “Don’t,” Uilleam said, and actually looked apologetic.

  He knew that she knew.

  Luna didn’t give him a chance to say anything, or rather she was just done listening.

  This didn’t end with him.

  It ended with the man she loved.

  That was the thing about grief—it manifested itself differently depending on the person.

  There were some that were crippled with sadness—that lost track of time as they desperately tried to forget whatever had brought on the grief in the first place. But some grew enraged. Even as the sadness clung to their hearts trying to stop its beating, it was rage that coursed like adrenaline and kept them from succumbing to the anguish.

  Luna couldn’t say when the emotions had shifted for her, but the minute her mind had ceased its noise, replaced with a fuzziness she didn’t want to think about, she was climbing onto her bike, tugging her helmet into place as she raced off, letting the view of Uilleam’s building disappear behind her.

  Accelerating well beyond the speed limit, Luna could only think of the conversation they’d had that morning—that he said he would be leaving out again.

  They had fallen into a comfortable routine while they worked. Should she be on an assignment, he didn’t linger around to see whether she would be home before his flight, or vice versa.

  Luna didn’t know how long she rode before she was parking along the street, but it was long enough for the chill to sink into her skin and make her feel nearly as cold as the elements.

  Starting up the drive, she caught sight of a familiar Maserati, parked haphazardly in front of the garage.

  Trepidation filled her as she walked up those stone steps, but why was there fear? That was the last thing she should have felt confronting the man she loved.

  It was a misunderstanding, she tried convincing herself.

  It was all just a misunderstanding.

  Kit’s voice carried through the door, the loudest she had ever heard him. He was on the phone, she could see once she cleared the door. There was a fire in his eyes as he swung his gaze in her direction.

  The moment he saw her, he ended his call, tossing the phone on the table nearby. It didn’t matter that the person on the other end was still talking, his entire focus was on her.

  And while once that might have thrilled her, he was too still—too assessing of her every step to make her think that it was because he was happy to see her.

  Kit was on guard.

  And with that thought, she realized that everything she had feared on the long drive back to him was true.

  It was all true.

  “What did you do?” she asked, the words like razors in her throat.

  Had she not been looking for it, Luna might have missed the way he carefully blanked over his expression, revealing nothing.

  She hated that look—such easy indifference in the face of her hurt. She couldn’t hide it, not if she wanted to, and the implication of that expression made her feel like he had shoved a knife into her chest and twisted.

  “Tell me,” she uttered, furious with herself for begging.

  “I didn’t know,” he finally answered, softer than she had ever heard him. “You—”

  “Have to believe you?” There was a sort of numbness that was working its way through her, but not quick enough. Not before the pain of what he was admitting nearly took her breath away.

  But before she could say anything more, he was speaking again. “I didn’t know it was you, Luna. You have to believe that.”

  “Is that supposed to make it better? Do you think that absolves you? It’s because you didn’t know who I was that …” she couldn’t find the right words, emotion clogging up her throat. There was so much she wanted to say that her thoughts were scrambled. “It’s the fact that you didn’t know who I was! How could you condemn someone to hell just because you’re upset with your brother?”

  Kit wasn’t one to cast blame.

  He didn’t mention his brother’s role in it, nor had Uilleam mentioned Kit. It seemed only appropriate that the two responsible for helping fuck up her life were covering for each other.

  How could she have been so stupid?

  So blind to the truth that had been sitting right in front of her had she ever bothered to look. She couldn’t even use naïve as an excuse—gullible sounded far better.

  How happily she accepted whatever they told her, only glad that she had been rid of Lawrence and nothing more.

  And Kit … she had wanted his love.

  Attention.

  She wanted him.

  Not once had she further questioned why she couldn’t reach out to her family, or ever go back there. His word had been law to her.

  But no more.

  That was done.

  “You misunderstand,” he tried, this time successfully closing the distance between them.

  “No,” Luna said holding a hand up, making it clear that he was as close to her as she would allow. “I didn’t misunderstand anything. You told me everything I needed to know. Now, we’re done here.”

  The finality of her words struck him mute momentarily. Then, as though he was only now understanding what she was telling him, he gave a harsh jerk of his head.

  “You promised you would never leave,” he said, and only now was she seeing emotion in him.

  Not for what he had done, but because she was walking away from him.

  “You promised you wouldn’t give me a reason to.”


  A look of anguish crossed his face, but this time when he reached for her, she let him.

  A moment, just one, was all she needed.

  Luna wanted to be selfish, to remind herself that the dream had been just that.

  That the smile she thought she knew, and the skin that she was so familiar with had all been a lie.

  It wasn’t real.

  “I can fix this.”

  That was probably true.

  She had no doubt that if she nodded and agreed to let him fix it, make amends, or whatever it was he intended, she would forgive him. She would try and force herself to forget the knowledge she knew, but she couldn’t.

  Because she didn’t want him to fix her, especially when he was a factor behind what happened to her.

  “I’m leaving,” she repeated, and it didn’t matter that her voice wasn’t as strong as she wanted it to be, her words were loud enough for him to hear.

  And they were enough to make him flinch.

  “I didn’t know!” he said, composure cracking completely. “You can’t punish me for that.”

  “I’m not punishing you, Kit. It’s not about you.”

  Though it was.

  It really was.

  Yes, she was angry with Uilleam for the role he played—and words couldn’t describe what she was feeling toward her mother and sister.

  Yet, Kit topped them all.

  His betrayal had hurt the most.

  But she couldn’t tell him that, not when it felt like her throat was closing up and she couldn’t catch an adequate breath.

  Luna just needed to get out of there.

  His wild gaze dropped to her hands as he noticed her movement, the way her fingers were toying with the ring that marked her as his.

  “Don’t,” he said almost savagely. “Don’t you dare take that fucking ring off.”

  God, just hearing him speak those words hurt.

  Hurt, like he had struck her because not once since he’d smiled and placed it on her had she ever thought that she would want it gone—that the sight of it would ever fill her with anything but joy.

  Right now, it felt like a shackle.

  “I love you, Kit,” she said, voice cracking at the end as she backed out of the room. “But I don’t think I ever want to see you again.”