Nix. (Den of Mercenaries Book 3)(46)



“That’s a question you’ll need to ask one of the Den, I’m afraid. I don’t know how their process works.”

Luna kind of hoped it would be something memorable—something that stuck out amongst the sea of others there were.

“But enough of that,” Kit said as he passed her the iPad. “You have work to do.”

Accepting it from him, she settled in to read all about Kit’s target for the night.



By the time they were landing, Luna was sure that she could recite back every detail of that file if Kit were to ask.

She had grown rather used to the black SUVs that were always parked near the chateau, but as she stepped off the plane, shielding her eyes with her hand, there was another car just off in the distance—one that had her staring in open admiration.

It sat close to the ground, and looked as if it were better suited for a race track than at a hangar. Painted a light shade of cream, the car was pristine, with darkened windows that prevented anyone from seeing inside.

Luna might not have known what kind of car it was exactly, but she could guess it was very expensive—but seeing Kit’s chateau, she wasn’t surprised.

Kit handled their bags before walking her over to the car and opened the passenger door for her.

The leather was the same shade of cream as the exterior, and Luna was almost afraid to touch anything with how pristine everything looked—as though the car had been made and delivered minutes before they landed.

Glancing over at the steering wheel, she tried to make sense of the logo—what looked like a backward E and a B—but it was unfamiliar.

Once Kit was next to her, dawning a pair of opaque sunglasses, she asked, “What kind of car is this?”

He smiled at her as he started the car up, the low purr of the engine sounding. “Bugatti Veyron. Do you like it?”

Like was a bit of an understatement. “It’s a surprise, I guess.”

“Oh?”

“I thought you would drive something more … I don’t know, classic?”

“And what does classic mean to you, Luna?” There was a slight smile on his lips as he looked back to the road, his hand wrapping around the gear shift.

“Something a bit less …” she grappled for the right word. “Ostentatious.”

He shrugged. “But most don’t go from zero to sixty in two-point-four seconds.”

“Wow. Does it really?”

He didn’t answer her question, merely showed her. One minute they were shifting lanes, the next she was jolted back against her seat as his foot pressed harder against the gas.

With the windows down, her hair whipped around her face, making her laugh as she shoved the strands out of her eyes, wanting to make sure she saw everything.

Like with most things, Kit seemed to handle the car like he was born to do it, expertly navigating them through traffic at a ridiculous speed.

Her heart in her throat, Luna had never felt more alive.

Though he had been able to gun it through the streets of whatever barren place they had flown into, he eventually slowed when they got to the city proper.

Luna didn’t think she had ever seen so much traffic.

She tried to contain her wonder as she looked out the passenger window as they slowly passed buildings and parks alike. The city felt narrow, like everything was on top of each other—and even with all the cars honking and edging forward, there were just as many people walking on sidewalks, hurrying to their destinations.

Some slowed, doing double-takes as they passed, others more bold, taking out their phones to snap pictures.

It really was a nice car.

Another forty-five minutes passed before Kit pulled over in front of a building made of mirrored glass and steel. He had barely put the car in park before two men came forward, one opening the door for each of them.

“Mr. Runehart,” the one with hazel eyes and a sharp smile greeted respectfully.

How often did he come here?

Kit passed him the key, coming around the front to join Luna on the sidewalk. After passing the keys to one of them with a rather telling stare, he led the way inside and through the brightly lit lobby until they were at a bank of elevators.

Twenty-seven floors later, the doors were opening once more and she had to contain the awe she felt as she took her first step into the penthouse suite. Directly ahead of her was a wall of windows, allowing an unobstructed view of the city below. She could see the tops of trees, birds flying overhead, and a bridge in the distance.

Just outside, there was a wrap-around balcony, one that housed a rather large seating area and a swimming pool that appeared to be made of glass.

Unlike Kit’s chateau, this place was far more modern, with all the luxury fixtures one might expect.

“Our room is through there,” Kit said pointing, distracted by the phone call he’d received on their way up.

Our, he said.

Why did that thrill her so much?

Unlike his room back at the chateau, this one was more neutral with shades of cream and white. There was even a balcony that overlooked the city below, the sheer expanse of it breathtaking from this far up.

She wondered if it would always be like this. The jets, mansions, and penthouses that seemed almost unreal.

She wondered if she would always have Kit.



Robert Morrison was a man that loved fast cars, quick money, and women that were willing to give him the time of day—and sometimes those that wouldn’t. For the past seven years, he worked for the Adeline Construction Company in west Philadelphia as the lead accountant.

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