Nix. (Den of Mercenaries Book 3)(55)

Luna risked one more glance in Kit’s direction. He still watched them, a peculiar look on his face, but when he caught Luna’s gaze, he tipped his glass in her direction.

Her cue.

Sliding off the bar stool, Luna straightened the front of her dress, mindful of Lawrence’s eyes on her. The thumping bass of the sound system faded as they started down a private hallway toward a room off to the right in the hall.

It wasn’t a bedroom they entered, rather an office that was nearly as big as one. Luna didn’t pay much attention to the decor of the space, only took in the window that was closed with the shades drawn, and the position of the desk in relation to the door.

Venturing further into the room, she stopped at the desk, leaning back against it as she rested her hands on either side of her.

His gaze dropped to her breasts, hunger reflecting there before he finally dropped it even lower, lingering on her legs.

Not once did he bother to actually look at her, and she was thankful, because had he, she was sure he would recognize her.

He shrugged out of his jacket, tossing it aside as he came toward her, and by the time he was standing directly in front of her, her spine had to be made of steel with how straight she was standing.

She imagined he was Kit.

That was the only way she could stomach feeling his hand drift down her stomach, rushing to the hem of her dress. For once, there was no nausea churning at the feel of him.

But there was no fury either.

There was nothing because for once, by the end of this night, it would be his turn to be the victim.

Before he could get ahold of her dress however, she grabbed his wrist, not hard enough to scare him away, but just enough that he looked at her eyes in surprise.

“Get on your knees,” she said, releasing him as she placed her hand back on the desk.

How many times had he uttered those words?

How many times had she been forced to do his bidding though she had wanted to do anything but?

Now, it was his turn, and as she watched him sink down, she felt a thrill at the flare of temper in his eyes. He would make her answer for this, she knew.

“I’m not one to follow commands,” Lawrence said with a bit of an edge to his voice, “but I’m willing to make an exception for you.”

Removing her heels, Luna circled him until she was at his back. Then, she finally removed her mask and opened the clutch she carried, removing the Beretta from inside it.

“Will you do something else for me?” she asked sweetly, running her fingers up the curve of his shoulder and through his curling blonde hair. The moment she felt him relax, she fisted her hand hard enough to make him hiss out a curse before pressing the barrel of her gun to the side of his head. “Tell me where Cat is and I won’t kill you.”

That was a lie—her job was to kill him after all, and she would gladly do as she’d been instructed … but only after.

He was confused a moment, jerking his head around to try and see her face, but a mirror hung on the other side of the room, and as she forced him to his feet, he saw who she was all too clearly.

“Luna?” There was genuine surprise in his voice before he masked it with an arrogant smile. “You couldn’t stay away, could you?”

Luna wasn’t fazed. “Where is she?”

“I’ve missed you,” Lawrence went on, as though he didn’t feel any fear, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him.

Instead of feeding into his game, she cocked the hammer back, and could almost hear him swallow as the sound echoed between them.

“I guess the Kingmaker found use for you after all. In this, I assume, you’re good at doing what your told.”

Luna didn’t respond.

“Oh, but she was a sad little thing once you were gone. After all, I had to find someone new to keep my interest. No one could hold a candle to you, I’m afraid. Not even your precious Cat, though she has been of good use.”

Her grip on the gun tightened, but she was careful, very careful, not to react to his goading.

“I won’t ask a second time.”

“You’ll never be anything more than a whore,” Lawrence spat at her. “The only difference is now you’re a whore with a gun.”

Luna struck without warning, sending the butt of the gun into Lawrence’s face, feeling the satisfying crunch of cartilage.

Now, it was her turn to smile. “That makes all the difference in the world.”

Barely catching himself with his hands, his grunt of pain masked by mocking laughter. Looking back at her with hate-filled eyes, he said, “By the end of this eve, I’m going to f*ck you bloody.”

Aiming her gun lower, “The first one will go in your cock.”

“Fine,” he said, a bit too agreeably. “I’ll take you to her.”

Lawrence struggled to his feet, holding his hands out when she raised the gun a little higher, but he didn't try anything. Not yet. Instead, he pushed a rolling bookcase out of the way, revealing a door behind it.

He didn’t hesitate in entering, bright light spilling out, but Luna was a bit more hesitant as she followed, not sure what to expect.

But what she found …

Now the nausea returned, bile clawing its way up her throat.

She couldn’t help but notice the smell first—the sharp tang of blood mixed with the foul odor of someone soiling themselves—but once she found the source of it, she couldn’t believe her eyes.