Red. (Den of Mercenaries #1)(36)

“And I hear you’ve taken your revenge, no? The Besnik family is no more. You should be appeased.”

Niklaus shook his head, stepping forward so that he was close enough to Mikhail to see the look in his eyes. “Is the man who leads the lamb to slaughter not just as guilty as the man who slits its throat? I know the part you played in it all, Mikhail.”

Mikhail shook his head frantically, still in disbelief. “Mishca wou—”

“Mishca sends his regards,” Niklaus said as he pulled the trigger, leaving the man to bleed out on the polished wood floors.



* * *



Niklaus hated New York City and everything it stood for.

It was portrayed as such a glamorous place, one where people would kill to be, but his first introduction to the city left him resenting the very name.

How long had it been since he was last here?

Not that long, maybe a year at most—which also happened to be the last time he was on US soil at all—when Lauren gave birth. Despite his attitude towards the Russian, he still made it a point to be there when he was needed.

But when he had called the Kingmaker with an update, the man had wasted no time in giving him a location, and instructing him to go to the one place Niklaus had been trying to avoid.

It was what it was.

Before the meet, he stopped by a storage unit he kept in Brooklyn, unlocking and lifting the garage door, smiling at his baby inside.

If there was one thing he missed, it was definitely his car. It had taken a few years and a hell of a lot of money to get her back in running condition, but now that she was, he loved her all the more.

The ’67 Chevy Impala was a masterpiece, and one of the few possessions to his name that he actually cherished.

Before leaving again, he popped the trunk, lifting the rolling case he had left behind during his last visit, and after he stowed it away, he skipped heading to a hotel, going to the Kingmaker first instead.

As expected, he was exactly where he said he would be, and at Niklaus’ approach, the man smiled though it didn’t ring true.

“Niklaus, always a pleasure.”

Control was one of the many things Niklaus had learned to appreciate after his had been taken away so easily. In his line of work, control was essential in making sure everything went according to plan.

And maybe it was because he lacked control around his new handler that he disliked the man so much. By nature, Niklaus wasn’t very trusting, but with his handler? Even less so. It didn’t help that he knew nothing about the man, and because of this, didn’t know what his motives were. And worse, his actions were too calculated.

Before, Z would call and set up a meet at one of his offices—one that was unlisted but always the same building—and they would be wrapped up within the hour.

When the Kingmaker—and that name was annoying as f*ck to say—called, there was no guarantee where the meeting would be held. Their first had been in the back of an Escalade under the Brooklyn bridge, another in a sweatshop in the middle of Columbia—with Niklaus still not knowing how they had both ended up there in the first place—and now, they were standing in a trinkets shop in Chinatown, in a back room where years-old gambling machines were set up as men slouched over them in sweaty clothes, testing their luck.

The Kingmaker was seated at a leaning card table, currency from varying countries stacked in front of him as an older Asian woman stood next to him counting it all, tallying each bundle with a quick scribble of her pen.

“Do you have an update for me?”

“It seemed he didn’t mind talking business in front of strangers. The Russian knew nothing about the buyer, says he went through an Irish family—McCarthys—and through them we can find the buyer.”

“Interesting.” Tapping his thumb against his leg, the Kingmaker stared off to the side, not looking at anything as he was lost to his thoughts.

Niklaus was more than ready to leave, even if he had only been there for a few minutes—but he knew better than to leave before dismissed.

“The timeline has moved up,” the Kingmaker said breaking his silence. “I have reason to believe whatever deal was struck, it’s going to finish in sixteen days. I suggest you get a move on lest you lose your target.”

Usually, Niklaus spent months surveying his targets, learning their weaknesses, and their patterns of behavior. Going after an entire family, however, not to mention a mystery person whose name Niklaus didn’t even know…sixteen days was not enough time.

“That’s not going to work.”

The Kingmaker met his gaze, his expression telling him his thoughts on the matter, but Niklaus ground his teeth, choking down what he really wanted to say.

“If you want the job done—”

“If I recall, I gave you this assignment over a year ago. In that time, you’ve chosen to do everything but, including picking up a smoking habit.” His eyes skirted to the cigarette tucked behind Niklaus’ ear. “I’ve elected to ignore the latter, but you need to understand something, Niklaus Volkov.”

The room grew so silent that Niklaus’ defenses rose, waiting for a threat to appear.

His voice didn’t shift in pitch, nor had he changed his expression from the complete ease that was resting there, but in his next words, the threat was clear.

“The moment you no longer serve a purpose, you become useless to me.”