Nix. (Den of Mercenaries Book 3) (9 page)

She didn’t want to talk about, nor did she even want to
think
about him.

More than anything, she wanted to put it behind her and pretend as though it had never happened.

As though he could read her thoughts, he said, “Don’t let anyone have that kind of power over you. It doesn’t have to define you.”

“What do you want to know?” she asked reluctantly.

“Ask the question you want answered.”

“Sorry?”

Before he answered, Kit pulled the dome off her plate, revealing the food beneath—sausage, toast, eggs—a proper breakfast.

“This is fine,” she answered his unspoken question.

“In the future,” Kit went on as he uncovered his own food, “should you want to avoid telling information you don't want to share, you pose a question of your own that will prevent that from happening. This way, the question becomes specific to what you're willing to share.”

“I think I understand.”

“But there are also benefits to obscurity.”

She hadn’t the slightest idea what he meant. “Uh.”

“Let’s say you were to ask me who I am. I could tell you about my childhood in Wales, or vacations to Greece, or even the way my mother enjoyed watching my father beat me, but that’s not really what you want to know, is it? You would much rather know why Uilleam would bring you to me, isn’t that right?” A corner of his mouth kicked up at the look on her face. “All it takes is a bit of misdirection because now, you’re thinking about my childhood rather than why you’re here.”

Well shit.

She
was
thinking about what little he had just told her, and had he not made note of it, she would have asked him about that first before the reason why she was here with him.

“Devil is in the details, remember that,” Kit said cutting into his sausage.

“So why
did
he bring me to you?”

“Will you answer questions of mine?” he asked, and at her nod, he answered. “He wants me to train you.”

Eating a bite of eggs, Luna chewed a moment. “Train me for …”

“In the trade of dead men—or at least that’s what we like to call it. Most of the unfortunate souls that sign a contract with my brother are as good as dead anyway, so it makes sense. Even if they aren’t, by the time my brother finishes with them, there’s no trace of them left.”

There were so many questions she wanted to ask, but she hadn’t a clue where to start. “What’s the trade of dead men … exactly?”

“Mercenaries.”

Luna frowned. “Isn’t that like an assassin?”

Now, he looked amused. “They’re not mutually exclusive, no. Mercenaries are usually in it for the money, suspending their own moral code in exchange for ones and zeros. Assassins, on the other hand, are a bit more balanced.”

“Why do you say, ‘usually?’”

“My brother has brought together a team of mercenaries—he calls it the Den—to perform jobs for him. Essentially, he took the sophistication of an assassin and paired it with the ruthlessness of a mercenary.”

The idea of what he was saying fascinated her. While she didn’t know very much about mercenaries, she
had
read about assassins before, and had even seen a few movies—though she couldn’t say how accurate those were.

But it still wasn’t something she could fathom. “Are you one of them?”

“Am I in the trade? Not anymore. Now, I mostly facilitate.”

“Were you one of the mercenaries?”

“Assassin.”

Luna thought of his guards. “And is that what those guys are? The Wild Bunch, I mean They’re assassins.”

“They’re something in the middle.”

“And you said facilitate? What does that mean exactly?”

Sitting his knife and fork down, Kit wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin before resting his elbows on the table. “Let’s say you desire something you can’t get your hands on. Most cases, I can get you what you want, and if I can’t, I know someone that can. So tell me, Luna, what do you want more than anything in the world?”

Her life back.

There was nothing in the world she wanted more than that, but despite that being the answer her head was screaming, it wasn’t the answer she gave, because more than wanting her life back, she wanted to be the one to get it.

“I want him to pay,” she answered instead.

“Him?”

“Lawrence.”

“For what he did to you?”

Luna shook her head. “For what he did to all of us.”

“Then I’ll get you what you want,” he said in return—a promise.

She was lost in his eyes a moment, but she quickly blinked. “I probably couldn’t afford you.”

He drew away, making her realize just how close they were. “That too will change.”

“How do you mean?”

“When you work for the Den, you’re compensated—your pay depends on the job.”

Now, Luna was more confused than ever. “He
bought
me, only to give me a job?”

Kit laughed, the sound rich and warming. “Don’t question his madness, Luna. I don’t.”

“And you’re to train me?” Luna asked again. “You’re going to teach me how to shoot a gun?”

“And use a knife, among other assorted weaponry that you’ll learn to love.”

When she thought about it, Luna couldn’t even fight. She knew the basic idea of how to defend herself should there ever be a need, but she had never fought anyone, not really. She didn’t think trying to claw Lawrence’s eyes out that one time counted.

“Do you think you’re incapable?” he asked softly.

“I just don’t know if I’m going to be worth what he spent. I never got the chance to finish school—I don’t even know how to fight, or—”

“It should never be
why
you’re incapable of doing something, but rather understanding your limits and learning to surpass them.” He rubbed a hand over his jaw. “And I only attended school for the first eighteen years of my life. I learned more through experience.”

“That’s three years more than me.”

And at least he’d had a choice in the matter. She would have much rather had the opportunity to learn things that weren’t very important in the grand scheme of life, rather than knowing nothing at all.

But … she had to admit that the idea of learning how to be a mercenary and potentially getting revenge against Lawrence appealed to her.

Luna wasn’t thinking of it being a job, or the potential risks that came with it, she thought of the vengeance she could mete out, and if she were lucky, be able to get Cat out as well.

“So what do I need to do?” Luna asked with a nod to herself, making her decision.

His mouth curled just the slightest bit. “Eat, for now. Once we have your blood work back, training will begin.”

“Okay.”

“But I still need to know about your time with Lawrence,” Kit said. “It’s not just you that needs to know your limitations. Training that works for one may not work for another—so the more I know about you and what you’ve experienced, the better I can gauge what you need from me.” When she was reluctant to answer, he said, “There’s benefits to purging.”

Luna shook her head, sitting back. “Telling someone all the sordid details isn’t going to make me feel any better.”

Kit shook his head. “Butt keeping it bottled up will?”

“I wouldn’t even know where to start.”

“Start at the beginning.”

* * *

T
hree days
she had spent in that warehouse, in relative comfort. She didn’t doubt that it could have been far worse for her—that the men that walked in and out of the place could have beaten her, starved her, or done deplorable things that made her heart race in fear, but they didn’t. Instead, she was just stuck in a room with a makeshift bed.

There was no window in the room, nor was there any other way to leave it besides the door that was always kept closed and locked until someone brought her food. It was a heavy thing, one that she couldn’t open no matter how she threw her body against it and twisted the handle.

But even knowing that she attempted to escape every time someone came in, her captors were surprisingly
nice
, as though not truly trying to harm her despite keeping her here against her will.

Luna knew it was stupid, but she was thankful for their kindness all the same.

A ransom, she had finally worked out in her head.

That was the only thing that would explain their keeping her, though not harming her. Someone, whoever had orchestrated this, had probably contacted her parents, demanding money for her safe return. And now, it was just a waiting game until the currency switched hands so she could go back home.

Her father had told her stories about the Cartels in their town who would kidnap loved ones in an attempt to extort money from their families—though he had never made mention of Americans doing it as well.

She had to remember that it took time—that it wouldn’t be long before that door opened for good and she was allowed to leave.

She pictured the joy on their faces once she came home. Tears pricked her eyes at the thought of being
home
, at returning to a life she had taken for granted.

On the third day, it had been the smoke that woke her before the door came crashing open.

“Let’s go,” a man said with voice like thunder as he waved her forward.

“What’s happening?” she asked even as she got to her feet, trying to see past him.

Luna had always been a stubborn girl, even as she had been told to always respect her elders, and this man, who sounded like he was in his late thirties, was definitely her elder.

“Either you die in this fire, or I drag you from here. Your choice.”

Dark eyes without a shred of pity stared at her, and she didn’t doubt for a second that he would do just that—leave her to die. Swallowing nervously, she did as she was told, slowly closing the distance between them, flinching when she felt his hand close around her arm.

She didn’t fight him, allowing him to lead her where he wanted—at least until she saw where they were going.

Parked down below on the floor of the warehouse was a nondescript black van, one that would blend in and not draw attention.

The rest of the place was going up in flames.

She had been engulfed by the show of it to realize that the man that was taking her had pulled a syringe from his pocket, sticking her in the neck and plunging the drug inside into her body.

She was out before she realized it.

It was the gentle rock of the van that drew Luna awake many hours later. No longer did sunlight spill in through the windshield, but rather the waning glow of the moon. She could tell from the way the bag over her head looked especially dark now that she was back awake.

How far had they gone in her lost hours? Was she still in the same place—but even that question would be hard to answer since she didn’t exactly know where she had been taken.

They only drove for a short while longer, that little time spent trying to wiggle her arms free of their restraints, before they came to a grinding stop, the van jerking a bit as it was parked.

She could hear water running just outside the van, making her brows draw together as doors slid open and hands were on her once more to get her out.

The water was closer now, a fountain she thought, before she was swept away. Laughter carried from up ahead as well as the sniffles and soft crying of other women.

It seemed, she wasn’t the only captive here tonight.

More shuffling, stumbling steps, and harsh curses accompanied her until they finally came to a stop, the bag ripped from her head.

Her eyes stung as bright lights assaulted her, and blinked rapidly to try and see around her.

But the light soon dulled as a figure blurred at the edges of her vision before blocking the light out entirely.

“What’s this?” the man asked, though it was weird to think of him as that since he didn’t seem that much older than Luna.

The man from the warehouse stole her attention as he tsked, waving his hand as though the question annoyed him. “Do with them as you will.”

But this man with the blindingly white smile and blonde hair didn’t seem to care about anyone other than Luna. His gaze was fixed on her and her only.

Not lingering, he grabbed hold of her arm, pulling her out of the room, laughing any time she stumbled, desperately trying to keep up with his rapid pace.

He didn’t slow down, not until they reached a rather cavernous space that if she had to guess was his office. Twin bookcases with a painting of a royal figure hanging between them was the backdrop to a cherrywood desk, the items atop it neatly placed.

This time when she stumbled, he allowed her to fall, her knees burning as she slid across the floor. He slammed the door shut and locked it with a flick of his wrist, then looked to her on the floor as she staggered, trying to regain her footing, but that was hard to do with her hands bound.

He went over to his desk a moment and poured a drink, throwing it back with little grace. When he came back over, his eyes were slightly wilder, his smile a little more feral.

“Now where did my father find you?” he asked running a finger along the curve of her face, not deterred by the way she jerked away from him.