Red. (Den of Mercenaries #1)(76)

The moment his Kevlar was strapped into place, he turned to Reagan, gauging her response. This wouldn’t be the only time she saw him like this, and he wouldn’t make promises as to otherwise.

“You’ll be careful?” she asked, sliding off the bed to cross the floor to get to him.

He pressed a kiss to her forehead, letting the warm scent of her skin calm him. “Always. By the time I get back, all of this shit will be over.”

She nodded, but still looked unsure.

“Trust me. I can handle this.”

“And you’ll come back to me?”

He smiled, tilting her face up so he could kiss her lips, conveying his answer that way, but in case she still didn’t get it, he said, “As long as you’ll have me.”



* * *



Niklaus lay on his stomach, reminding him of another time when he had done the very same thing as he completed his first job not associated with the Den. Except then, there was a sort of nausea that churned through him at the idea of killing a man, even if it was someone he hated. He had still been new back then, still affected by the blood that spilled. Now, even though he did not intend to kill anyone, he didn’t feel that same nausea.

He was calm. Collected. Just another day on the job.

Now, there was just anticipation that swam through him as he stared through the scope of his rifle as two cars rolled to a stop a short distance away.

Celt was around on another rooftop doing the same. The day before, he had come in, set up specialized, wireless cameras that could still pick up everything despite how dark it was out along a few of the trees that lined the sidewalk of the park. Even better, he had called in a favor from a friend and got a couple of mics that would also pick up the sound.

Now, whatever information he might miss, he could replay—or at the very least, hand them over to the Kingmaker.

Donovan McCarthy was the first out of the car, his guards just behind him as he stopped next to a bench. There was a second, then two, before the other car’s rear door opened.

Niklaus shifted his rifle just an inch to the right, trying to make sure he would be able to see the man this meeting had been centered around.

The man got out slowly, methodically, as though he knew his every move was under surveillance, careful to keep his face shielded, the hat he wore doing the rest.

“Mr. Harrington, pleasure to see you again,” Donovan said with a casual air, but Niklaus could hear beyond the false cheer—the man was afraid.

“McCarthy,” Harrington answered, and just as Luka’s victim had said, the thick overlay of an English accent colored his words. He wasn’t from just any part of England. His accent spoke of a lineage, one prone to those in manors and estates. “I trust you have everything I asked for.”

“Of course.” Donovan snapped his fingers, his men dragging forth six aluminum briefcases.

“Excellent.”

Once the briefcases switched hands, Donovan looked on expectantly.

“So you have what I need, Elias?” Donovan asked, seeming to feel a little more confident in their transaction. Perhaps he didn’t notice his slip, but he had now called the man by his first name, and judging from the coolness in the man’s next words, he didn’t appreciate it.

“Actually, McCarthy, I’ve heard quite a few troubling things about you in this last week. Understand, when I make a transaction, one such as this, I expect there to be a certain level of professionalism that I now see you lack.”

Donovan cleared his throat, his easiness disappearing as he straightened, never taking his eyes off Elias.

“It’s been handled.”

“There should never have been anything to handle, McCarthy, that’s my problem. The terms of our contract were simple. Do not, under any circumstances, draw attention to yourself until our business was complete. And you were doing so well. A shame, really.”

“Whatever you might have heard—”

“I don’t believe it matters now. You violated my contract, and for that, it’s been voided.”

The last words were barely out of his mouth before the men at his sides had their guns pulled with silencers attached at the ends, and in the next breath, had a bullet in each of them, their bodies slumping to the ground.

“Holy shite,” Celt said through the earpiece, probably witnessing the same thing he had.

Niklaus had his finger wrapped around the trigger, readying just in case. There was only a moment, a heartbeat even, where Donovan began to plead, offering anything if the man would spare his life.

A second later, he was on the ground bleeding out as well.

The transaction, as it were, couldn’t have lasted more than a few minutes, but in the span of seconds, three men were dead.

Technically, Niklaus’ job was done.

As he watched them, one already going about cleaning up the bodies, the other helping move the cases into the trunk of their waiting car, Elias paused then looked up, directly towards Niklaus, as if he had known he had been there the entire time.

“Red, I believe your name is, please send the Kingmaker my regards. Do let him know that the next time he meddles in my affairs, neither you nor he will be as lucky as you are today. Consider this your warning.”

With that parting remark, Elias slipped into the back of the Jaguar and was driven away, leaving the last man there to attend to the bodies, but it wasn’t long after that another truck pulled up, and within minutes, the scene was cleaned.