Celt. (Den of Mercenaries #2)(54)

The first thing she noted as she walked in was how quiet it was. Even if it were the click of keys, the sound of Elliot’s humming, or something, there was always noise present unless necessary for a showing.

And it took her a moment to understand why that troubled her, but when she did, she looked to the top of the door.

The bell hadn’t chimed.

She might not have paid attention to it on a regular day because she was so used to it, but now that it hadn’t, a sliver of fear worked through her.

It wasn’t just silent. It was also dark.

Tugging her phone from her pocket, she swiped her fingers across the screen, unlocking it before sending Elliot a text to let him know she was there.

But what she hadn’t expected was the ping of his phone, just loud enough for her to hear.

Frowning, but at least at ease knowing he was back there, Amber started toward his office, but the closer she got, the more she could hear the soft, but firm voices of whoever was on the other side.

Elliot hadn’t mentioned he would be having company … and when she was at the partially cracked door, and could hear Elliot’s panting voice, she knew then that something was seriously wrong.

“I don’t know what …”

“How long do you want to play this game?” the other occupant of the room asked, and as the sound of his voice washed over her, it felt like all the blood drained right out of her.

She knew that voice—that accent—heard it more times than she could count over the last month and a half.

She loved that voice.

Even as she tried to wrap her mind around the fact that it was Kyrnon in that room with her boss, she had her hand pressed against the door in the next second, needing to see.

It could have been innocent, the pair of them having a conversation that she wasn’t privy to, but another part of her—the part that had been able to see mafia guys up close and personal—knew that whatever was happening inside of that room, it wasn’t good.

How did Kyrnon know her boss anyway?

Even knowing that she wasn’t going to like whatever she saw on the other side of that door, she very carefully pushed it open, glad for once that Elliot had had the foresight to install doors that didn’t squeak as they opened.

The scene unfolded itself slowly, then all at once.

Elliot was sitting in his office chair, his hands zip-tied to the arms of it, his face badly bruised, and his lip split with blood still leaking from the wound.

But it was the man down on his haunches in front of him that stole Amber’s attention.

Same hair. Same build—though this could be argued considering all the gear he had on—but from what she could see, it was him.

It was Kyrnon.

The phone slipped out of her hand in the next second, the device clattering to the floor loudly, drawing all eyes to her.

In the span of a heartbeat, Kyrnon was on his feet, spinning around, the gun he held aimed at her head. There was no emotion in his eyes as he stared at her, and she was sure with the quick, terrified breath she drew into her lungs, she was about to die.

Then, he blinked, seeming to realize who was standing in front of him, his aim faltering as he lowered his weapon just slightly.

“Amber—”

She didn’t give him a chance to finish speaking before she bolted, running for the door, not stopping even as he shouted her name with a curse, his steps heavy behind her.

Amber didn’t stop or look back, not when she was outside the gallery, or even down the street. Only when she saw a yellow cab did she slow, glancing over her shoulder to see if he was still chasing her, but when she couldn’t spot him through the sea of faces, she threw her hand up, already rushing toward the cab before it could even stop.

Throwing herself in the backseat, she locked the door, telling the man to just drive—she just needed to get away.

Her hands were trembling, adrenaline racing through her as she tried to think of what to do.

She couldn’t go home—he knew where she lived—and there was no telling what all he already knew about her family besides what she had already offered up.

But there was one place.

Patting her pockets, Amber searched for her phone, but realized almost belatedly that she had left it on the floor of the gallery in her haste to get away.

“Can I use your phone?” Amber asked.

The cabbie, though he did glance at her through the rearview mirror like she was crazy, handed her his own, and with shaking hands, she typed in a number she didn’t think she would ever have to call—at least not for something like this.

As it rang in her ear she prayed he answered, and the moment the call connected, and she could hear his voice on the other line, Amber breathed her first sigh of relief.

“Mish? I think I’m in trouble.”



* * *



He f*cked up.

Kyrnon knew it the moment he had turned around and saw Amber’s terrified face staring back at him, that fear only made worse when he had his Sig in her face. His training had always taught him to be prepared for anything, to go into any mission and assume he was going to die, that way, he would do everything in his power to make it back out alive.

But that look on her face …

It had managed to break through the fog of his latest job because that was the last thing he had ever wanted to see on her because of him.