Celt. (Den of Mercenaries #2)(72)

“Easy,” Red said, the voice of reason for once. “She’ll want that necklace more than she’ll want to hurt Amber.”

But that didn’t mean Elora wouldn’t have her hurt in the meantime. And now that the woman had gotten to Amber, he had lost control over the situation. Now he was chartering into unfamiliar territory where he would have to play by her rules.

“Birds like her won’t leave it at that,” Kyrnon said. She would want to make Amber pay, even if the notion was misplaced.

“We can try to take her by force.”

“But we don’t know where she’s being held,” Kyrnon finished, feeling the throbbing headache start behind his eyes.

No matter what strategy he came up with in his head, there were too many unknown variables.

Except …

There was only one man he knew that had enough power to quell whatever Elora planned.

Kyrnon just needed the man to name his price.





Chapter Eighteen





It had all been a blur …

As safe as she was in Kyrnon's loft, she hadn't thought that anyone would have ben able to find her in it. And that was why she hadn't given much thought when the buzzer sounded, a delivery man waiting downstairs for her to sign for the painting Kyrnon had bought at the auction. One minute she was headed downstairs, ready to sign the slip, the next she felt a pinch in her neck and everything went dark.

She didn’t know how much time had passed since she was taken. For all she knew, it could have been hours, but however long it was, she wished she could escape from the darkened room.

Her hands were bound behind her back, and her ankles had been tied together as well until a man had come in not too long ago and cut them free.

Amber couldn’t get her hopes up that she might have been able to find her way out of there, not when there was nothing but a mattress on the floor and a toilet in the corner, yet nothing that could cut the cloth from her wrists.

A part of her knew, as she paced the small space, that she had made a stupid mistake by going downstairs. It wasn’t that she had meant to break Kyrnon’s rule of never leaving his place until he got back and gave her the all clear, but she hadn’t thought that they would have been able to find her at his place, especially when she had barely stepped outside.

But here she was, and if she made it out of this room alive, she would never, ever make the same mistake again.

There was a commotion beyond the door, the raised voices on the other side of it making her sit up, heart hammering in her chest as she waited with baited breath to see whether or not it was for her they were coming.

Sure enough, the door sprang open, a bald man with a stern frown came walking in, the gun tucked in his waist on display.

Using her legs, Amber moved backward until her back was against the wall, and should there be a need for it, she could fight them off, but the man merely moved to a corner, folding massive arms across his chest as he kept cold eyes on her.

It was the woman walking in after him that was clearly the head of the operation. She wore a figure-hugging black dress, her dark hair falling in elaborate curls around her face. As pretty as she was, there was something dangerous in her gaze as she settled on Amber.

“It’s a shame we had to meet under these circumstances,” she said with a radiant smile. “Your skill at forgeries is some of the best work I’ve seen. Had a friend not come by my office and remarked upon it, I would have never known.”

Amber may not have known who this woman was, but she knew better than to respond to a statement she knew had no right answer.

“I have money.” Not just what she had from the painting, but if she called her father, he would give her anything she asked for. “Whatever—”

“And what about that Irishman of yours? What would he be willing to give for your safe return?”

Licking her dry lips, Amber glanced at the other man in the room, then back to her. “Anything.”

The woman’s smile was slow and mocking. “I’m counting on it. Bring her.”

Heavy hands fell on her as she was dragged to her feet, then pulled from the room. Without preamble, they followed behind the woman in the expensive heels.

A black sedan waited for them outside the building she was stored in, and as she was shuffled into the back of it, she didn’t know what to feel.

Fear was there, strong and incessant, making her feel like she could hardly breathe, but as she stared across the seat at the woman that was holding her captive until Kyrnon got back, it wasn’t fear for herself that was consuming her, but fear for Kyrnon.

It made no sense, especially since she knew he was fully capable of taking care of himself, but that didn’t stop her from wondering what would happen once the woman got Kyrnon where she wanted.

And what was worse, she had yet to tell him she loved him. Three simple, little words that would mean so much. It might not have changed where they found themselves, but at least he would have known had she just told him.

Now, she might not get the chance.

“Don’t look so forlorn,” the woman said, mistaking Amber’s expression. “Men love to be the white knight.”

It wasn’t long until they were arriving at another industrial building, this one far more upscale than the last.

“Attempt to run,” the woman said as she donned her sunglasses. “And you’ll be dead before you reach the end of the block.”