Nix. (Den of Mercenaries Book 3)(4)

He had been a ghost in a matter of twenty-four hours.

But Kit was in the habit of finding ghosts—it was his specialty.

Kit snapped his fingers, setting his enforcers into movement, dragging the man further onto the tarp covered floor. It was only then that the Clarksons seemed to realize just who they were in the room with.

His enforcers wore masks that ensured their identities weren’t compromised, especially considering when they weren’t working for him, they robbed banks in their past time.

Had they not been as good as they were—and they only made it a habit to steal from those they knew wouldn’t report it—Kit might have been worried that they would compromise his operation.

Two held Reginald in place while the other duo guided the Clarksons forward, taking one of the guns from each of their belts to slap into their hands.

Mr. Clarkson stared down at the weapon as though he had never seen one before, his tremors visible. “Perhaps we should turn him into the police?”

Kit didn’t get upset by the man’s hesitation, he understood that the decision he’d made was not one that was easy.

Everyone had last minute doubts.

“We could, but he was acquitted once, no? I would hate for it to happen a second time.”

Their case was recent, within the last year, but Reginald hadn’t become a predator overnight. No, his predilections went years in the making.

Five years ago, he had been charged with the rape of an underage boy, but he had been found not guilty because the boy had been drunk and disoriented. Unfortunately for the rest of society, he was released and free to do as he pleased.

And years later, he had struck once more.

Except, this time, he hadn’t stopped at rape when it came to the Clarksons’ son.

No, in a bid to keep his victim silent, he killed him.

That was his mistake.

Because had he not taken the only thing that mattered to the Clarksons, they might not have set Kit onto him.

Reginald jerked his head back and forth, screaming behind the tape, turning pleading eyes to desperate parents.

But he would find no sympathy in the eyes of Mrs. Clarkson.

The second they made eye contact, his muffled pleas fell on deaf ears. She was thinking about her son, Kit knew—the boy who would never grow up and experience everything life had to offer.

She raised the gun, a single tear falling before she pulled the trigger, then again, and one final time until Reginald was slumped on the ground, no longer fighting, no longer pleading.

Kit barely blinked, though he did pull his vibrating phone from his pocket, checking the caller ID.

Unknown.

Which meant it could only be one person.

“My men will clean this up,” he said gesturing to the body, “and Aidra will walk you through what happens next.”

With a nod, Kit walked back out the way he came, accepting the call before he’d even made it out the door. “Uilleam.”

There was a smile in his brother’s voice as he said, “Must you always sound cross with me, brother?”

Though they shared the same DNA, Kit didn’t think they had much else in common besides their predilection for certain work. When Uilleam said, ‘brother,’ there was no affection in his tone, but rather a hint of wryness that always made Kit frown.

“Only when you call me while I’m working. What is it that you want?”

“I need a favor.”

Absolutely not.

The last time Uilleam had asked for a favor, an army of men had been taken off the grid and slaughtered—he was in no mood for whatever his brother was intending to do.

“You’re all out of those,” he settled on saying, watching the bird overhead swoop down before perching on a branch.

“I assure you it is nothing like the others,” Uilleam returned. “I’ve bought one of Emmett Kendall’s girls, but I’ll explain everything once I see you.”

Kit cast his gaze skyward, as though that might provide him answers. “You bought a whore, Uilleam? What on earth for?”

“Whore is such an ugly word, isn’t it? But, as I said, we’ll discuss when I see you next.”

For f*ck’s— “My answer is no now, it’ll be no later. There’s nothing to talk about.”

“We touch down in four hours. I’ll see you then.”

Kit didn’t get a chance to say anything more before his brother had hung up. There was no point in calling back—Uilleam wouldn’t answer.

Tamping down his annoyance, Kit turned back to the cabin in time to see Aidra walking toward him with a curious expression on her face.

Already, he didn’t like the sight of it—he knew that expression spelled trouble. “What’s happened?”

“The Kingmaker,” Aidra said—she never called Uilleam by his name. “Apparently, he took out Emmett Kendall.”

Now more than before, Kit knew that whatever favor his brother would ask of him, he wouldn’t like.





Chapter Two





2009 October 31



1,038 … 1,039 … 1,040 …

Each of those seconds passed with excruciating slowness, but Luna Santiago counted each of them from the very first when she had been forced to her knees, to the very last—a moment before the bitter taste of semen spilled on her tongue. Even three years later, she still had to fight the urge to vomit as soon as the milky liquid hit her tongue.