Celt. (Den of Mercenaries #2)(62)

“I have more questions, you know.”

“Ask and I’ll answer.”

“And you owe me an apology,” she said laying her hand against his chest and giving a push. “You pointed a gun in my face.”

Kyrnon pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, then tilted her face up to claim her lips. “Then let me apologize.”

“Okay.”

For a moment, she could almost pretend that they were back in his loft, and it was just the pair of them. It may have been the fear, coupled with not knowing what would happen next, but she clung to him, too afraid to let go.



* * *



“Since that vein in your temple isn’t jumping anymore, I’m wagering all is forgiven?”

Having left Amber after spending an hour showing her just how sorry he was, Kyrnon was not in any mood to deal with Red’s shite. With a keyboard in his lap, he scanned through a multitude of banking statements, doing as much as he could to find the buyer while Winter handled other things from her end.

Despite now having a name, he couldn’t find anything on the Bronson Organization, just as Elliot had said.

“I thought I changed the codes to my locks,” Kyrnon said, too distracted by what he was reading to truly care that the man had bypassed his system.

“Winter let me in.”

“For f*ck’s sake,” Kyrnon said as he tore his eyes away from the screen, even as he tossed the keyboard down. “Someone needs to put a leash on that girl before she goes too far.”

Niklaus was perpetually in a bad state, so he wasn’t fazed in the slightest in the face of Kyrnon’s anger. “You might want to take a breath. Mistakes are made when you let your emotions control you. You were the one that taught me that, no?”

And it had been a grueling lesson, one that Kyrnon had learned himself back when he was a lad, forced to fight in Duncan’s ring until the skin of his knuckles was split open and bleeding.

He had learned how to bury that fear, push it so far down that it was no longer a thought.

“It’s too late for that. The mistake has already been made.”

“But not one you can’t come recover from.”

Resting his elbows on the table, Kyrnon rubbed his hands through his hair. “Only if we find whoever owns the Bronson Organization. Who in the hell needs this much concealment?”

Nothing.

Not in the hours he’d searched, or what little Winter had been able to provide, was getting him any closer to the answer he sought.

“Still nothing?” Calavera asked as she came in.

“Just a bunch of corporations that don’t mean shite,” Kyrnon supplied.

“Anywhere?” Calavera looked troubled. “No one’s that good at hiding … unless they have help. Have you tried contacting the Kingmaker?”

Kyrnon’s hand tightened into a fist at the reminder of his last conversation with the man. “If he does, he’s not telling me. Perhaps he’ll respond if you ask.”

“Trust me, he won’t tell me anything,” she said carefully, but in the next moment, she looked uncomfortable—an expression rarely seen on her. “I know someone, I think. He may have a name.”

“Don’t hold us in suspense,” Red said throwing a hand up. “Who is he?”

“His name is Kit Runehart. He’s a facilitator—of sorts.”

Kyrnon rolled the name around in his head, trying to recall whether or not he had heard it before, but he came up blank. “What in the hell is he facilitating?”

He might not have known the name, but there was a possibility that he had heard of his work instead.

“A few years ago, the daughter of this judge in Massachusetts needed a heart transplant, but despite his connections, the judge couldn’t get her any higher on the list. He went to Kit who found him one for the right price.”

Kyrnon frowned. Despite the good intentions, there was one thing that didn’t sound good at all. “And what did he have to do to get a child’s heart?”

There were ghosts in her eyes as she said, “You already know the answer to that.”

Taking a heart from one to give to another … Kyrnon didn’t know what to think of that.

“What will he want in exchange for this information?” He had plenty of money and wouldn’t think twice about paying any price to get the information.

“I’ll take care of it. You’ll just owe me a favor in the future.”

Mercenaries and their debts. “You have my word.”

“Expect a call within the hour.”

Kyrnon hoped she was right as he watched her walk out the door. He had the feeling he was running out of time.





Chapter Sixteen





There were a dozen or more places many feared to tread, simply because of the danger that lurked around the corners. But the champagne bar on 22nd and Rosewood didn’t scare people off. No, with its elegance and flawless decor, it attracted a certain crowd, making the patrons feel as though nothing could touch them within its four walls.

But Luna knew what kind of secrets the place held—and knew that despite the appearance of the owner, he was the cause of some of the danger many ran from.

How long had it been since she voluntarily stepped into this place? There was always that fear in the back of her mind that should she ever enter, she wouldn’t be allowed to leave, like invisible shackles were tightening around her ankles.