Red. (Den of Mercenaries #1)(29)

Only once had he had the courage to venture back to that place in the dead of night, peeking through the windows of his old family home just to catch a single, quick glance at her.

Maybe it was ritual. Maybe he had caught her in a reflective mood, but she’d been sitting in the rocking chair, holding a picture of the pair of them, her eyes sad as she regarded them.

How easy it would have been, knocking on the door, letting her know that he was fine, that there was no reason for her to be sad anymore.

He could still remember the self-control it had taken for him to content himself with just the reminder of her face before he slipped back out into the night.

Some could still have a family—sometimes their assignments were actually sanctioned by various governments—but for Niklaus, whose introduction to the Den had been as brutal as it was, he couldn’t ever see anyone from his previous life.

And that led for a lonely existence.

That, on the other hand, he did deserve.

He didn’t want, or need, anyone else getting hurt because of him.

Slipping out of the bed, knowing that Reagan slept like the dead, he walked over to the small closet, reaching for the book bag he had thrown up there earlier. Maybe some part of him had known that he needed to leave, otherwise, why would he have stopped by one of his drop-spots and packed it full of bills he had on hand. He’d sat and counted it all out, making sure he had the exact amount that she said she needed to open up the place of her dreams.

No, Niklaus realized belatedly. It wasn’t because he was planning on skipping out on her again that he had gathered up the money. He had wanted to give it to her, hopefully see a smile—even as she asked him where he got it from—and be glad that he was finally able to give someone something. But he knew that it could never be like that. Not when she could be hurt just by his association with her. Once again, he found himself leaving another piece behind.

Why had he ever entertained the idea in the first place? He and Reagan could never be anything more than what they were, and he knew that without a shadow of a doubt.

Never mind another case of mistaken identity, after the things he had seen, and the men he had crossed, there was no guarantee that she wouldn’t be hurt, and then the next time around, he would have no one else to blame but himself.

Not her too…he couldn’t have her on his conscious.

Dressing quickly, he packed what little he had left in the room, scanning to make sure, leaving the book bag on the table for her to find in the morning.

As he was leaving, Niklaus turned back at the last moment, drifting to her side. He smoothed her hair back out of her face, gently so as not to wake her. Tracing her face with his eyes, he pressed a kiss to the center of her forehead, another light one to her lips, then drew back.

There was no farewell, not even in his thoughts as he backed away.

Though he knew it was, he still didn’t want this to be the end.

Not yet.



* * *



Before she had even opened her eyes, Reagan knew he was gone. She could feel it in the chill of the air, the way the silence of the room seemed to try and swallow her whole.

She turned, reaching out anyway, finding the spot where Niklaus had lain before empty and cold. It shouldn’t have bothered her—it wasn’t like this was the first time he had done it.

But as she sat up, holding the sheet to her chest looking around at how barren the place felt without presence, it felt like her heart was fracturing.

It had only taken mere days for her to recall why exactly she had missed him so much. She should have known better. Once should have been enough for her to know not to give him more, to be careful with her feelings and thoughts and dreams.

Her gaze landed on the bag, the lone item in the room that didn’t belong to the motel and she hadn’t brought along.

Maybe Niklaus had forgotten it in his haste to get away from her…

Before, she might not have looked, would have held onto it hopes that he would come back looking for it.

She would still hold onto it now, but not before she had a look inside.

Tearing at the zips, she tugged them down, pulling at the edges of it to look inside, and promptly blinked, just to make sure she was seeing correctly.

With a shaky hand, she reached in, pulling out one stack of twenty-dollar bills, another of hundreds, and even some in fifties. Reagan didn’t even realize she was dumping the money out of the bag as she tried to make of what she was seeing, but it wasn’t until she got to the change in the very bottom of the bag that she got an idea.

She could not have been sure, she had only mentioned it in passing, just an afterthought in the conversation they’d had, but as she sat at the table, counting each bill, tallying the numbers up in her head, and by the end of it, it felt like he had taken her breath away all over again.

$167,852.36 exactly…

This wasn’t a mistake on his part, but a goodbye.

He wasn’t coming back.





Part Two





Chapter Fifteen





2014



One year. Eight months. Twenty-one days.

Finally, Niklaus thought with some grim satisfaction as he watched the Russian and one of his men drag Jetmir through the freezer towards a hook that hung from the ceiling. Even as he struggled against their hold, a blindfold keeping him oblivious to his surroundings, he was no match for them. Not when he was bound.