Celt. (Den of Mercenaries #2)(70)
“So this is what you’ve been hiding?” she asked, taking one last look around the room, going over to the table in the center of the room that nearly stretched wall to wall. “Any other secrets I should know about?”
His watch chimed a loud, excessive sound. “Nothing that I won’t answer in due time, but for now, I need to go.”
“Where are you going?” she asked as they walked back to the elevator.
“California.”
She was silent for a spell. “For how long?”
“Not even twenty-four hours. I’ll be back before you get a chance to miss me.”
“I seriously doubt that.”
Her words brought a smile to his face as he grabbed the black duffel bag that was sitting in the corner on their way out.
And as they were back up in the living room, he kissed her like it was the last time, like he wanted to convey just how he felt if only by using his lips on her own.
She felt it down to her bones.
But as she watched him walk out that door, she desperately hoped he would be walking back in them.
* * *
“Why in the hell does an heiress need a security team?” Red asked as they boarded the jet flying them to California.
Kyrnon had filled them in on everything he knew so far, handing over every bit of information Winter could find on Amanda Washington’s security team. If they had happened to be a team of civilians that thought they were the real thing, he would have thought nothing of them, but these particular men were of the same grade as Kyrnon, and he didn’t want to go in unprepared.
He didn’t think they was going to be a problem by any means—he was finding a way into that safe regardless of who stood in his way—but it would make his job a bit more complicated, and with time not on his side, he didn’t need the added complication.
Worse, trying to work out the schematics in his head, while simultaneously worrying about Elora’s men finding Amber was driving him mad. For once, he understood why people forgot themselves when it came to the people they loved. He needed to be focusing, putting one-hundred percent of his focus on the task at hand, yet worry ate at him.
“Whatever gold mine she’s sitting on is obviously worth it.”
“We’ve taken on worse odds,” Niklaus said from his spot on one end of the jet, tossing the files down. “Six is nothing.”
“And Skorpion is in town,” Calavera noted. “I already gave him a call.”
Skorpion.
Unlike the rest of them, he freelanced. Though his years before he came to the Den were relatively unknown, he had worked under Z for years, doing whatever was asked of him.
Until the day he just stopped.
No one, not even Calavera who was closest to him, knew why he stopped taking on contracts.
Some said he had a problem with authority.
Others believed it had something to do with his last job—one he never spoke of.
But whatever the reason, Skorpion had left it all behind, found a place on a beach in Los Angeles, and surfed his days away, only taking on the occasional job when he felt like it.
“Skorpion’s finicky.”
“But you know how he loves to f*ck shit up,” Red added.
Skorpion wasn’t the man you called for undercover work, not at six and a half feet tall and at least a solid seventy-five pounds heavier than Kyrnon’s two-thirty.
He only came when there was damage to be done.
“Then we have nothing to worry about,” Kyrnon said.
There was no need to mention that there need not be any mistakes. He was already running low on time. Mistakes, as the Kingmaker had said, meant the difference between life and death.
The rest of the flight was spent in quiet contemplation, and before long, they were landing. The sun had already hidden behind the horizon, throwing off the bright shades of twilight, but as Kyrnon glanced out the small window as he strapped his vest into place, he didn’t see any sign of someone waiting at the end of the runway.
“Where is that big bastard?” Kyrnon asked Calavera as the plane finally rolled to a stop.
She gave him a look. “He’ll be here.”
Calavera was looking at him as though he were acting irrational, and maybe he was, but he didn’t know how not to react.
He just needed to see this done.
And sure enough, as they stepped off the plane, Kyrnon heard the thumping bass of music, muffled only slightly since the windows of the car it was playing in were rolled up, but grew louder as the car came to a stop and the driver opened his door.
Big wasn’t actually the right word to describe the man that was squinting at Calavera with a smile on his goateed face.
Fucking massive was better.
He palmed the top of Calavera’s head, dragging her closer to press his lips against the top of her head. “How’s my favorite girl?”
She smiled. “I’ll fill you in on the ride.”
Nodding once, he released his hold on her as he then looked at Kyrnon and Red in turn. “So, what’s the job?”
* * *
The street was silent, mostly deserted, and with the lack of proper lighting, they couldn’t risk getting any closer to the gated residence without alerting the team at the house to their presence.
Kyrnon was already short on time, the last thing he needed was to waste it dealing with a rival firm, but with the extensive collection of weaponry Skorpion had stashed in the trunk of his car, he at least had the fire power to match whatever they thought to bring.
London Miller's Books
- Where the Snow Falls (Seasons of Betrayal #2)
- Nix. (Den of Mercenaries Book 3)
- Until the End (Volkov Bratva #2)
- The Final Hour (Volkov Bratva #3)
- In the Beginning (Volkov Bratva #1)
- Valon: What Once Was (Volkov Bratva Novella)
- Time Stood Still (Volkov Bratva #3.5)
- Hidden Monsters (Volkov Bratva #4)
- Where the Sun Hides (Seasons of Betrayal #1)
- Red. (Den of Mercenaries #1)