Celt. (Den of Mercenaries #2)(53)

That disinterest that had always been present on the Kingmaker’s face disappeared, shifting to something that was as much a warning as it was a reflection of his mood. “Careful, Irishman. I came here offering you a gift, and here you stand, spitting at my feet.”

Kyrnon laughed without humor as he got up. “You consider this a gift? Then you don’t know the meaning of the word.”

“Tell me how, exactly, would it benefit me in any way by coming here and bringing your attention to Gabriel’s fate?”

He was ready to reply, a sharp retort at the tip of his tongue, but he realized, considering the Kingmaker’s words, that there was no benefit to the man. After all, he had gotten what he wanted.

“Zachariah coddled you too much,” the Kingmaker went on. “He treated you lot like you were more than just employees, and perhaps that is where you got the ridiculous notion that I give a single shit about what happens to you. Let me rectify that now—I don’t. You mean nothing to me, and have I not a need for you at a future date, you would be dead and incinerated before you could leave this property.”

The Kingmaker’s rage was not like others’. His was contained, still locked behind a sharp suit and a silent demeanor, but Kyrnon could feel it, and when he looked close enough, he could see it reflected in how the man’s mood shifted entirely.

“I’m not your parent, nor should I have to fix your wrongs because you’re too busy thinking with your cock. You made a mistake, Irishman. Fix it. If the buyer was willing to do this to the man that sold them a forgery, what do you think they will do to that pretty, little forger you’ve brought into your home?”

Kyrnon shouldn’t have been surprised that the Kingmaker knew about Amber—the man seemed to know everything while revealing nothing.

Glancing down at the Rolex on his arm, the Kingmaker added, “I suggest you get a move on considering whoever’s done this has a head start on you.”

Kyrnon didn’t waste time arguing, knowing that the Kingmaker was right.

The problem was, how in the hell was he going to protect Amber from a threat he couldn’t see?

And worse, how was he going to explain that she was in danger because of him?

He should’ve just taken the forgery when he stole the original, but he hadn’t thought for a moment that Gabriel would have done this. The man was, quite obviously, not the brightest.

Now he would need to play catch up before it was too late.

But, he had an idea where to start.

Elliot Hamilton.

He was the only connection between Amber and Gabriel, and if he could get to Elliot first, then perhaps he could find the buyer before anything happened to Amber.

Digging out his phone, Kyrnon dialed a number, sighing when the Russian answered. “Red, I need a favor.”





Chapter Fourteen





Something was wrong.

Amber didn’t know why that notion crossed her mind as she came downstairs from the roof where she had looked for Kyrnon. Waking up alone was something she was used to, but that either meant he was upstairs or on the floor in his living room repairing the other Harley.

But he never left without saying anything.

Vaguely remembering him sliding out of bed the night before, she hadn’t thought much of it as she readied for the day, though she had sent him a text just to let him know she was up. But that was two hours ago, and she had yet to hear anything from him.

A work emergency might have come up, and he had yet to get back to her.

No big deal.

Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling.

She was wrestling a rubber band over her hair when she heard her phone buzzing from its spot on the bed. Her elation fled when she saw that it was only her boss calling.

“Amber, I need you to come see me right away,” Elliot said in a rush, the wind whipping in the background as though he were running.

“Elliot? Where are—”

“I’m at the gallery. Get here.”

Frowning, Amber asked, “I thought you were closing for the day? You had a spa appointment or something.”

“That’s not important,” he said impatiently. There was the rattle of keys, then, “It’s an emergency. Get here as soon as you can.”

Then Elliot hung up.

A little freaked out, she dressed as quickly as she could. Thankfully, Kyrnon had given her the code so she was able to come and go as she liked.

Foregoing the train, she hailed a cab, relaxing back against the torn leather as she tried to figure out why Elliot sounded so frantic. Since the day of the auction, he had been acting strange—impatient, surly, and if she were being honest, paranoid, but she had chalked it up to his usual eccentricities.

Now, she wasn’t sure.

His odd behavior and Kyrnon’s sudden disappearance made that feeling of anxiety creeping through her chest squeeze a little tighter because she felt like she was missing something.

And for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out what.

Traffic was a nightmare despite the early hour so she didn’t arrive at Cedar until nearly an hour-and-a-half after their phone call. The front doors were locked, odd considering Elliot’s car was parked at the curb and he had told her to meet him here.

But thinking he was just trying to be safe since he was the only one in the gallery, she used her key to let herself in.