Red. (Den of Mercenaries #1)(50)

On the job, the most important thing to remember was to come prepared. Sure, he was good with his fists, probably a hell of a lot better than anyone who might await him inside the warehouse, but his hands could only do so much, especially if they were armed.

First came his vest, the kevlar carefully strapped into place. Then his thigh holsters—as well as another set at his waist. His beanie followed, and finally, the black mask.

It was a bit unnecessary for others, the mask. Not one of his associates felt the need to conceal their identities, but for Niklaus, it was a necessity.

Armed for bear, Niklaus made his way to the warehouse, picking the lock for one of the side doors. He could hear voices not too far from his place, mostly male though he thought he did hear the soft laughter of a female.

Slipping around the corner, he headed in the direction of the office. Having studied the blueprints and going over the schematics in his head, he could guess where the office would be, and it might have been because of his years on the job, or the fact that most people were predictable, that it was easy or him to reach it.

In most cases, the main office was situated towards the back, definitely away from the entrance, but close to a rear exit for a quick getaway. If this was more than a dumping ground, the office would definitely be back there.

Then again…it could also be because of the way buildings were designed.

Carefully, he made his way across the floor of the warehouse, glancing back every few steps, listening for any change in the space around him.

He slipped into the office easily, closing the door shut, then hunting through the folders, looking for anything of value. It wasn’t until he noticed a spare piece, one that was partially tucked beneath the phone sitting on the desk that he finally found something of value.

To anyone else, it could have meant nothing, but considering Niklaus had an idea as to the deal’s date, he could make sense of the numbers written. What followed was an address.

Snapping a picture, he placed it back as he’d found it, going through what was left of the filing cabinet next. There wasn’t much else that he could find on the shipment, but there was plenty of other information on what, exactly they were doing to make money in Hell’s Kitchen.

In a corner of the room was a safe, one that was relatively easy to crack into, and when he did, Niklaus found the McCarthy’s ledger, along with numerous bundles of cash. Even if the names were written in code, it was pretty easy to see that the McCarthys were demanding money from the local businesses.

Was that how Reagan knew them?

Taking pictures of the entries, Niklaus replaced that as well and left back out the office, then out of the warehouse entirely.





Chapter Twenty-One





Two days had passed since Reagan had seen Niklaus last, but while she had been disappointed by this fact—for reasons she wasn’t ready to consider—she was more worried that Jimmy had yet to return her call, lending credence to Liam’s thinly veiled threat. They usually talked at least once a day if she didn’t see him, if only for a few minutes, but because he had gone more than twenty-four hours without contacting her, she was getting worried.

Climbing out of the shower, she wrapped herself in a towel, holding it in place with one hand as she left the bathroom, her phone in the other as she sent another text to her brother, hoping this one might prompt him to respond.

When she still didn’t receive a response, she tossed the device on her bed and got dressed. Grabbing her mailbox key, she walked barefoot out of her apartment, heading downstairs to the row of mailboxes along the wall. She had it opened in a matter of seconds, pulling out the newspaper and the assortment of bills inside. It was only when she was closing it back that someone cleared their throat behind her.

Thinking that she might have been in the way of someone trying to get by, an apology was on the tip of her tongue at least until she saw who stood at her back.

“Are you kidding? You’re stalking me now?”

Niklaus, who didn’t look perturbed at the slightest to at her words, smiled. “Is that how you want to look at it?”

Was he serious? And did he really need to look so damned amused? “How do you even know where I live?”

He didn’t bother answering her question, instead asking one of his own. “That guy you were talking to yesterday, who is he?”

Reagan didn’t pretend to misunderstand who he was referring to—there had only been one male she had talked to with Niklaus around. “Why do you want to know?”

“Is that what we’re going to do here—answer questions with questions?”

“Are we?” When his smirk only grew—and she realized she had done exactly what he had said—she finally said, “His name is Liam.”

He shook his head, waving those words away. “I know that—you said it. I’m asking who he is to you.”

The bane of her f*cking existence?

Loan shark?

There were so many different ways she could answer that question, and yet she still didn’t know what to say. “Nothing,” she settled on saying. “He’s nothing to me.”

“But you’re something to him…” He guessed, reading between the lines. “Is he a problem?”

Reagan didn’t like the way he asked that, like he was considering doing something about it if Liam was, in fact, a problem for her. “It’s nothing you should worry about.”