Red. (Den of Mercenaries #1)(33)

“Dead, but that isn’t of any importance. I need you for a job.”

What the actual f*ck?

Z was dead?

How the hell hadn’t he heard considering word got around quick enough when someone bit the bullet. He was tempted to ask the man how it had all went down, but with one look at him, he thought better of it, figuring the man wouldn’t be revealing details.

“Listen. I don’t know where you’re from, but I just finished a contract and I have some down time before I need to report in. Catch me later.” By that time, Niklaus would be gone and almost impossible to track down. While he didn’t mind his job on the best of days, one meeting with this guy told him that they were not going to get along.

The man laughed, though it didn’t sound amused in the slightest. “I would have thought that after you killed Rayne, you might be a little more inclined to listen to reason.”

Shit.

That’s what he got for helping the Russian with a problem. Having come back to New York City to settle the score, he hadn’t thought it would get him here. He remembered that day well.

Trailing the Russian, waiting for the perfect moment to put a bullet in his head. There had never been much love between them—it was only a touch better now—and though the thought of killing him hadn’t fazed Niklaus in the slightest. It was only after he was staring through the scope of his rifle at Brahim Besnik—the brother of the man that was at the bottom of the river by now—and the girl he held at gun point did Niklaus feel a shift.

He had hesitated, and to this day, he didn’t know why, but ultimately, he had ended up putting a bullet meant for the Russian into Brahim instead, effectively saving the girl and putting an end to a problem he hadn’t known about.

It was for that same girl, Lauren, who was now married to the Russian, that he had killed a fellow mercenary, one that hadn’t been in his organization, but one nonetheless. While there were no alliances in their trade, it was frowned upon to take out the competition. But Niklaus hadn’t been thinking of that when he saved Lauren’s life.

Even after all these years, the Russian was still f*cking up his life.

But more curious was the fact that the man knew that it was Niklaus that had taken her out. It wasn’t like he was sharing that information, and he doubted Celt would have told anyone.

So how did he know?

Niklaus was too seasoned to display any physical reaction to the man’s words, but inside, he was squirming. With a casual shrug, he explained, “I was on the job. Not much I could do about that.”

“Interesting. I don’t believe I asked for an excuse,” the man said with a lift of his brow.

Niklaus really f*cking hated arrogant people like him, especially when they had some power over him. Despite the risks and dangers of the life he lived, he wasn’t ready to die, so turning down this assignment was obviously not an option.

“Who’s the target?”

Niklaus was handed a single photo, and once he looked it over, focusing on the lone face circled in red ink, he cursed under his breath.

Maybe death was a better option.

Not because the particular individual featured there terrified him in anyway, quite the opposite in fact, but because of how heavily guarded he was at all times, especially when he was back in his home country.

Russia was notorious for protecting their own, even if the one they were protecting was a Bratva boss…or maybe it was because he was a Bratva boss that they felt the need to protect him.

The last thing on his mind, however, was the fact that the man was connected to him.

“How much, and how do you want it?”

“You misunderstand. I don’t need him dead—though what you choose to do with him after is entirely up to you.” The man rested one hand on his leg, tapping his thumb again his thigh as he seemed to contemplate what he would say next. “Six months ago, he brokered a deal that garnered him around seven-hundred-and-fifty-thousand dollars. I need the name of the man behind the deal.”

“Right.” Sounded simple enough, but what Niklaus didn’t understand was why all the extra drama?

“And I’ll need this handled quietly. If you require assistance, only look to those within the Den. If anyone stands in your way, kill them.”

Niklaus didn’t offer a response to that, but did raise his gaze so he could look at the man. Though mostly concealed by shadows, Niklaus could see that he was young, much younger than Z had been, but definitely older than Niklaus. Late twenties to early thirties? Light hair—strawberry-blond maybe?—cold gray eyes. He looked like any other rich bastard with a taste for violence. But Niklaus could tell there was something more to him, something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“What do I call you?”

The door to the Escalade was opened suddenly, letting in the cold night air, signaling that it was time for Niklaus to leave, but as he readied to do just that, believing that he wouldn’t get an answer to his question, the man spoke.

“You can call me the Kingmaker.”





Chapter Sixteen





Present Day

“Kill the gate.”

Niklaus issued the command seconds after he and Celt dropped off the back of the speeding truck, its hulking frame still carrying on down the road even as they moved towards the reinforced iron gate that surrounded the massive property they meant to infiltrate. In seconds, there was an audible click as the lock disengaged, the rolling gate shifting open just far enough for Niklaus and Celt to slip inside, closing again once they were on the other side.