Celt. (Den of Mercenaries #2)(67)

“I have to admit, I’m quite a fan of your work,” she said once she was behind her desk and seated. “You’re one of the Kingmaker’s … how do I say … pets, right?”

Women like her liked to challenge men, just to see what all they could get away with before one snapped and they had an excuse to kill them.

It was a game for her.

But Kyrnon had once played someone else’s game, and that had taught him better than to have a go at chance.

Though he didn’t like the way she worded it, he still said, “I am, but that’s not why I’m here. I hear you’ve been looking for me.”

Her hand fluttered to her chest as amusement danced in her eyes. “I’m sorry? You called me, if you recall. What on earth would make you think I needed something from you?”

“L’amant Flétrie. You bought the fake.”

Very soon, anger was replacing that amusement. “And how would you know of this?”

“Because I took the original.”

Surprise flickered over her features at his daring. “Do you think I won’t kill you simply because you answer to the Kingmaker? I’d mail him your head if I was in the mood to get bloodstains on my floor.”

No. She wouldn’t.

He could hear the false promise behind her words, but because she thought he didn’t understand the score, she meant to intimidate him.

She wouldn’t be the first to try it, and she wouldn’t be the last.

“And how do you think he would respond should you do that?” They both knew the answer to that. “If you were going to kill me,” Kyrnon said easily, “I’d already be dead. Yet, we’re here having this conversation.”

“You’re mistaken,” she said as she came around her desk, leaning over him, wanting to remind him that she was the one in charge. “You’re breathing only because I would rather have you do something for me than to watch Donovan chop you into pieces. This is why you came to me, yes? So I will spare your life in exchange for something I might want more?”

“Aye. I’ll grant you a boon if you back off the painting.”

Her head tilted to the side as she considered his words. “Then I wager this isn’t just about you, is it? The artist, whoever it was that painted the forgery, you know who they are.”

“I know of everyone involved,” Kyrnon said, not giving anything else away.

“Interesting.”

There was an inviting note to her voice, meant to make him ask what she meant, and for the sake of time, he did. “Interesting?”

“If you truly were the one to steal my painting, that would mean you were at the auction—Gabriel was kind enough to clue me in as to when the original went missing,” she clarified when Kyrnon just stared at her. “You would have known about the fake, and only the artist would have been able to tell the difference between the two without having them examined.”

Now that she thought she was back in control, her smile reappeared. “And here you are, offering your services with all the conviction of a man putting his life on the line for the person he loves. I presume it’s a woman? Men. Such predictable, stupid men.”

“I care,” Kyrnon spoke up before she could go off on a tangent, “about my bottom line. If you continue to kill off my people, that means bad business for me. So, either you want me for a job, or you don’t, but either way, I’m walking out in thirty seconds.”

He didn’t bother counting, merely took a breath before he started backing toward the door.

“Very well.” Elora stood up a little straighter, eyeing him carefully. “Last year, Amanda Washington bought a mansion at auction in the California hills for well over sixteen-point-five million. No one thought anything of it until an underground safe of valuables was found. During the few days I spent with her husband, I asked that he give me the necklace he found inside it—he didn’t. Sadly, I had to make his wife into a widow because of that, but that’s not important now. I spent some time in Europe and forgot all about it, but who better to bring it all to me now than someone with your skill set? Inside the safe, you’ll find Snowflakes on the Wind. If you deliver it to me within thirty-six hours, I’ll call my men off.”

Kyrnon didn’t react to the name. While he didn’t know what Elora was asking for off the top of his head, he did remember hearing something about a wealthy heiress having bought something for that amount, whose husband had been found poisoned. The police had suspected the wife of it, but with no evidence, no charges were brought.

She had gone out of the spotlight then, living in seclusion in the Hills.

Easy enough target.

And if he called in a few favors from his team, they could get this done in no time.

“I’ll see it done.”

Elora smiled brightly, extending her hand. “Then we have a deal.”

Taking her hand, he did his best not to crush the delicate bones there when he squeezed, only releasing when she gave a wince of pain.

“Oh, and Celt?”

He had his back to her, heading for the elevators when she called out to him. Pausing, he glanced back.

“I do hope you get back in time before I find out where you’re hiding Amber, our mystery forger. You know what I’ll do to men, just imagine what I’ll do to her.”