Celt. (Den of Mercenaries #2)(56)

“What did you do?” she asked, knowing without him having to say that something was wrong.

He didn’t have much time. “I’ve got a problem.”

“Wouldn’t happen to be because of the female that’s staying here?” Calavera guessed, her gaze skirting to the pair of heels on his living room floor.

“Not necessarily.”

The problem wasn’t because of Amber, but because of his own errors.

“Then how can I help?”

He waved for her to follow behind him as he headed down into his War Room. Stuck in the elevator with her, he gave her the condensed version of everything that had happened, leaving out details of his personal relationship with Amber as that had no bearing to the problem he was dealing with right now.

Once he finished, he gave Red another call, demanding that the Russian bring his arse right that second. With the way the man drove, he didn’t think it would be long before he was showing his face.

“Are you out of your mind?” Calavera asked as she stepped off the lift, folding her arms across her chest as she stared him down.

Kyrnon, though knowing she meant well, didn’t like her tone—and he was in no mood to explain himself. “Leave it.”

“Even if we ignore the immediate threat to her life, what was your plan for the long run? Were you going to tell her what you do—what we all do? And to make matters worse, Celt, you don’t exist.”

That was a truth that no one outside of his team knew. Whatever record there was on Kyrnon Murphy had been wiped, leaving no trace that he had ever been born. It also helped that he had come from travelers, making his past easier to get rid of.

This wasn’t something Kyrnon had considered much of a problem, especially since he could have someone make him a birth certificate and anything else should he have need of it.

“I was figuring it out.”

He would have found a way to ease her into the truth about who he was and what he did for a living, but this wasn’t how he had wanted her to find out.

Not like this.

“Have you thought of the consequences if she decides to go to the police?”

Just that thought made his hands twitch.

It wasn’t because it would harm him—though that would cause a problem—but if anyone, meaning the Kingmaker, learned of her cooperation with law enforcement, they wouldn’t hesitate in killing her and making it look like an accident.

And it wouldn’t matter that she meant something to Kyrnon—they would kill her anyway, even as a lesson to him to not make the same mistake twice.

He had to get to her first—her life depended on it.

His phone’s ringing dragged Kyrnon from his thoughts. “Speak, Winter.”

“You’re in the War Room?” her voice sounding loud even as he held the phone away from his ear.

“Ay—”

Before he could finish the statement, the call cut off, and the projector came down from the ceiling, turning on as the image reflected off the bare wall in front of them.

Despite the varying ages within the Den, Winter was the youngest by far. Only sixteen, she could do more behind a laptop than some of the mercenaries Kyrnon knew. But despite her talent with numbers and the darker bits of their lifestyle, she still retained her innocence.

And perhaps that was because Syn made sure of it.

While they could call on Winter for her talents, they were never to show her anything remotely bloody. The last time somebody had, Syn had made it a point to show them exactly how wrong they had been.

When it came to Winter, there were certain things he didn’t bend on.

So despite his short temper at all he was facing, Kyrnon was careful to keep his tone in check. “What do you have for me?”

Silver and gray dyed hair up in two buns at the top of her head, Winter looked every bit the computer geek she was, but usually where a smile was gracing her face, she was openly glaring at Kyrnon. “There was nothing remotely special that I could find—seemed rather mundane compared to what you guys normally send me. Of course—”

Slapping his hand down on the table as he took a seat, Kyrnon said, “Get on with it, Winter.”

Pushing her glasses up her nose, Winter didn’t look bothered in the slightest by his surly tone. “Unless you want me to drain every account of yours I can find—and even the ones you think I can’t—I suggest you watch yourself there, Celt. I don’t work for you, remember?”

Fucking hackers. “Please, get on with it.”

Realizing that was the best she was going to get, she moved on. “The owner of the phone, however, does know the Volkov family. I don’t know how well you know them but they’re a Russian crime …”

“Aye, I know of them.”

Fucking. Hell.

Calavera raised her hand with a frown. “I’m clueless. Who are they?”

Ignoring her question, Kyrnon asked, “What d’you mean by know? How close are they?”

“She’s like …”

“Best friends with the Russian’s wife,” Red said as he entered the room, his gaze landing straight on Kyrnon. “You’ve got a lot of explaining to do. You should have said you were messing around with Amber.”

“How in the hell do you know her?”

Dropping down in a seat, Red asked, “You heard a word I said? Amber, the woman you’ve been f*cking for weeks now, is best friends with Lauren. Where do you think she went when you put a gun in her face?”