Red. (Den of Mercenaries #1)(62)

He didn’t even get the chance to say her name before she was pulling away, now staring up at him with hungry eyes.

Niklaus didn’t hesitate in hauling her up, pressing her hard against the wall of the shower. The minute he had a hand around his cock, and she was pressing back against him, he shoved in, drawing her up onto her toes as a cry spilled from her lips.

With each thrust, he tried to remember his own name, even slowing as he tried to hold off his release, at least until he had made her come.

One hand at her throat, the other slipping between her legs to rub at her clit, her response was immediate and absolute, robbing him of breath as he * clamped so tight around him he nearly saw stars, and by the time he was seconds later, dropping his forehead to her shoulder, he thought he had.

Rinsing them both off, Niklaus let Reagan go ahead of him as he lingered a bit longer beneath the hot water. Once he was out, he dressed rather quickly, though he did leave his gear packed inside his duffel bag at the door. Even if he wasn’t ready for Reagan to see that side of him yet, he still couldn’t go out on the street dressed that way without drawing attention.

Dropping down on the couch, as he shoved his feet in his boots, lacing up the strings, Niklaus said, “I need you to stay out of trouble.”

Reagan folded her arms across her chest, frowning. “It’s not like I’m seeking it out, Liam always comes to me not the other way around.”

“But you came to me, remember?” It was almost impossible not to smile at the look of indignation that crossed her face.

“I can’t just stay in here all day. I have the pub, and my parents worry when I don’t visit for a while. And even if Liam is busy with everything that happened yesterday, there’s no guarantee that he won’t send someone to check on me.”

And he could tell, though she had yet to say anything, that she was still worried about her brother.

“I’ll have someone come round and look after you while I get to the bottom of all this shit with McCarthy.”

While she had slept on beside him the night before, he had still been awake, going back and forth with Celt as to what, exactly, happened at the McCarthy warehouse.

Motive was easy, practically everyone hated the McCarthys, yet finding the who had been rather difficult. And had taken far longer than he would have liked, but he had a name and a place now, and that was all he needed before he went to make his point.

“Then what will you be doing?” Reagan asked, dropping down on the couch beside him. “If you’re not there with me…”

“Couple stops to make before I go in search of your brother. If McCarthy is worth half his f*cking balls, he won’t wait long before going after whoever blew up his and his brother’s trucks.”

She worried her lips between her teeth, her fear for him prominent. “Be careful, Niklaus.”

He pulled her closer with a hand curved around her neck, first kissing her forehead, then pressing another lingering one to her lips.

“Always.”



* * *



It hadn’t been hard to find the Irishmen, not when he had Celt around for help. Running a fight club in a secret level of an abandoned warehouse, Celt heard things about any and every one. And that knowledge came in handy, especially when Niklaus needed to find Declan Flanagan, a man that was practically a ghost.

After yesterday’s episode, Niklaus knew he had to have a conversation with the man, whether he wanted to or not. That was also the reason why he’d had to come clean with Reagan about exactly who and what he was. She could have been killed if he hadn’t stepped in. And now that she’d told him exactly what her relationship was like with Liam, he was ready to put an end to it.

Now he was glad that his assignment directly involved the McCarthys, he could both end them and solve Reagan’s problem with one stone.

But first he had to make sure there wouldn’t be anymore incidents like the one that had happened yesterday.

And for once, Niklaus left his mask behind though he was on assignment, heading towards the barbershop at the end of the block where he knew the Irishmen did business in a back room. No one would have expected it, not when the place was owned by an older man with silver hair who looked rather harmless.

But it made for a great hideout.

Though he had left his mask behind, Niklaus hadn’t come fully unprepared. Heading into a dangerous situation like this, especially with men that had nothing to lose, he knew the risks.

And worse was the fact that he was showing his face—his face would be enough to warrant a bullet to the face without a word being spoken.

His vest was strapped on, hidden beneath the shirt and jacket he wore—and it wasn’t like he was unarmed, but there was no guarantee of who all was inside. And while Niklaus would always put the odds on himself, there was no guarantee he would get away unscathed.

Getting shot hurt.

Reaching Rory’s Barbershop, Niklaus put a hand to the door and pulled it open, the small bell above it ringing at his entrance. Music played from an old radio resting by a sink, something that reminded him of a song Celt might play.

Two men were seated by the door, one on his phone, the other with his eyes in a magazine, but if from the way they tensed when Niklaus entered, he doubted they were fully invested in what they were doing.

An older guy with a beer gut and meaty jowls was sitting in a chair getting his hair cut, eyes on the television mounted to the wall, and out of the eleven people inside the shop, Niklaus could see that he was the only one not there with Declan.