Nix. (Den of Mercenaries Book 3)(53)

“I would be too if I knew an assassin was nipping at my heels.”

“Former assassin.”

“D’you honestly believe he’ll see a difference? I wouldn’t want to be the reason an assassin decides to come out of retirement. Do me a favor though. When the deed is done, take pictures, would you?”

“I would ask if you were dropped on the head as a child, but I believe we both know the answer to that.”

It hadn’t been abuse he’d taken as a newborn, but rather when he’d been a child up through puberty.

“I should really get back to the torture and things. I’m on a schedule, you know.”

“You’ve still yet to tell me why you’re gifting her with knives.”

“If she does well—and I trust she will—those knives will give her a name.”

A name.

A new identity, and sometimes the only one that mattered.

“What do you think to name her?”

“Calavera.”

Kit thought of sugar skulls … “Why?”

“I found her on the first of November—day of the dead. Quite fitting, I think.”

Uilleam didn’t elaborate before ending the call, but as Kit tossed the device on his desk, he thought he should have asked.





Chapter Fourteen





Leaving Kit’s chateau a second time, Luna didn’t feel the same wonder as she had the first time when they had gone off to Europe for her test run.

It could have been that she was now used to the luxuries money afforded Kit, or it could have been because she knew by the end of the night, the man who was responsible for nearly every bad memory she possessed would be dead.

Luna poured over every inch of the file she’d been given, memorizing facts that she was sure weren’t relevant to the task she was going to perform.

She didn’t need to know Lawrence’s birthday to know that he deserved a stab wound to the heart.

She didn’t need to know that Lawrence had strangled his childhood pet to death with his bare hands—though that would explain a lot.

The only thing she cared about was the schematics of the building she would be entering, complete with exit routes mapped out, and the role she was meant to play.

It was simple really …

She would dress the part, as any other guest at the masquerade party would, then she would lure Lawrence away where she would then remove her gun with the silencer affixed to the end and put a bullet in his head.

She would be out in a matter of minutes.

He would be reduced to nothing in a matter of minutes.

By the time they landed in San Diego, Luna was ready.

This time, as she showered and readied herself in the penthouse suite, , the girl staring back at her in the mirror didn’t surprise her. She was proud of who she saw.

Now, she possessed the confidence that had been sorely lacking over the years.

Kit had disappeared into the walk-in closet to change, selecting a navy blue suit with a crisp white shirt beneath.

She didn’t have to ask whether he liked what she was wearing—she could see it reflected in his gaze. In that unguarded moment, the languid heat in his gaze revealed everything.

Lust … such a dark, heady emotion. And when it was reflected in his eyes, she felt it all the way down to her bones.

Not once had she ever responded to it in another’s eyes—the sight of it usually sickened her. But on Kit, she felt it in return.

Sometimes she forgot how much taller he was, the way she had to actually crane her neck back to see his face when he was close.

Or just how much bigger he seemed.

All that muscle packed beneath a tailored suit.

Neither spoke as each studied the other.

As his gaze drifted over her skin-tight dress and back up again, he only said one word. “Soon.”

A promise … and a threat.

She couldn’t wait.

Luna noticed then that he was carrying a silver case, one that he set on the bed and gestured for her to open.

Curious, she clicked the locks, watching them spring free before pushing the top open.

Knives, crafted from heavy silver. They were exquisite, with skull detailing around the handles. At this point, she was so familiar with knives, she could appreciate the craftsmanship.

Luna didn’t think twice before she was plucking one from the case, familiarizing herself with the weight.

“They’re yours,” Kit said with a nod of his head. “Should you need them.”

Glancing down at her dress, Luna frowned and asked, “where would I keep them?”

With deft fingers, Kit held up a holster, and she only had a moment to wonder where it went before he was kneeling in front of her, strapping the thing to her thigh and placing the knives inside of it, his touch barely lingering though he left goosebumps in his wake. It was just hidden beneath the hem of her dress, and while no one else would see it, she felt secure in the knowledge that it was there.

“I’ll be around should you need me,” he said as he got back to his feet, “but this is your op. I'm not meant to interfere.”

“I understand.”

“Regardless,” he said stroking her cheek with the back of his hand. “Nothing is going to happen to you.”

She believed him, with every fiber of her being.