Celt. (Den of Mercenaries #2)(57)

He cringed at Red’s wording. “That’s not how it happened.”

Red rolled his eyes as he sat back. “Semantics. Either way, you have the girl f*cking terrified, and that’s trouble for you. She means something to Lauren, and you’ve seen that Russian. He’d give her your head if she asked for it.”

Winter cleared her throat. “Aren’t you Russian, Red?”

As though everyone was trying his patience, Red reiterated, “Semantics.”

Kyrnon didn’t care about any of that. “Where is she now?”

“At the Russian’s club. She’s under his protection after all.”

At least there he knew she would be safe.

And, it might make it easier for her to accept what all he was going to say. Kyrnon was on his feet without a word, heading back upstairs.

“You may want to calm down a bit before you go in there so heavy,” Red suggested, gesturing to all of the gear Kyrnon had yet to take off.

“Now’s not the time, Red.”

“Need I remind you that there is a crazy ass Albanian keeping her company who delights in the chance to inflict pain? He gets a bit twitchy when he hasn’t maimed something in a while. I’m not in the mood to get between the two of you today—I’ve got better shit to do with my time.”

Kyrnon had never had a problem with Luka—there was never any reason for one—but should he try to stop him from getting to Amber in any way, he would make his point loud and clear.



* * *



The first hour—or was it the second?—had been a blur after she arrived at Mishca’s club, disappearing inside with one of the bouncers at the door. The man she had come to see was in his office on a call when Amber made it to him, but once he got a look at her, he ended it.

She hadn’t known what to say when he asked what was wrong and had she already contacted Lauren. How did she explain Kyrnon? How did she explain everything she had seen and her connection to it?

But as she stumbled over her words, telling him everything she possibly could, he understood enough.

It wasn’t long before Niklaus had shown up. And while she wasn’t overly fond of the evil twin—as she had dubbed him a long time ago—she was glad he was there. Between him and Mishca, she was the safest she could possibly be.

“Don’t worry,” Niklaus said as he dropped down beside her. “The Russian likes to fix shit. He’ll take care of it. But in the meantime, tell me what you know.”

Before, she would have gushed, telling him everything, but now she wasn’t so sure that anything she told him would do any good. There was no way for her to gauge what was true and what wasn’t.

But she did tell him about everything she had seen, and even Elliot’s strange phone call.

Yet even as she tried to explain, Niklaus got a look on his face that she couldn’t read, but whatever thought he was having, he seemed to think better of voicing it.

“He’s probably not much of a threat if …”

“He didn’t seem like hired muscle.”

Not entirely, at least.

He seemed too organized.

“And it wasn’t that he was beating Elliot up—I think he was searching for something.”

Another curious look crossed his face. “You work at an art gallery, no?”

“I do. Why?”

“Kyrnon, you said his name was … how long have you known him?”

“A little more than a month. Why?”

“Twin bands tattooed on his arm?” Niklaus asked, gesturing to his own arm.

She didn’t think she had mentioned Kyrnon’s tattoos. “Yeah. How did—”

Before she could get an answer out of him, Niklaus was on his feet and walking out the door, tossing over his shoulder. “I need to make a run. Russian, a word.”

A tick working in Mishca’s jaw, he told Amber to stay put before heading out the door after his brother, leaving her to wonder what had just happened.

Curling up on the couch with a blanket wrapped around her, Amber went over everything she knew—or at least thought she knew.

Now it made her wonder whether running into him on the train had been an accident at all? He had driven his bike on every other occasion she had seen him … where had his bike been that day?

The way he shot the targets at Coney Island.

How secretive he was with his phone and the phone calls he got at random.

Everything had been right there in front of her, but she hadn’t connected the dots.

Everything she knew, or at the very least, everything she thought she knew, was all a lie.

It turned out, she didn’t know him nearly as well as she thought she had.

“But is she okay?”

Amber heard Lauren a moment before the doors to Mishca’s office were thrown open, and she was halfway into the room before Mishca even cleared the doorway.

Her gaze immediately sought Amber’s, her fear reflected there. “Are you okay?” she asked, the same question she had asked of her husband moments ago.

“Fine. I’m fine.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“You have Sacha and I didn’t want this following me there.” At least she knew Mishca would be able to handle himself considering all the men she had seen in and out of this place.