Nix. (Den of Mercenaries Book 3) (15 page)

Luna sat up further, stretching her arms above her head before reaching for the cup in his hand. He was glad for the difference time could make.

“I’ll be ready shortly,” she said with a sly smile and a glance over her shoulder as she crossed for his bathroom.

Naked.

They were going to be late.

* * *

K
it made her feel alive
.

It took effort keeping the smile off her face now, and that was mild compared to how she felt when he was with her. His moves were always deliberate. It took weeks of careful studying to notice that he didn’t fidget.

At all.

Fang had a habit of drumming his fingers on any nearby surface, Aidra tapped the back of her tablet, and Invictus had a habit of turning a silver coin over between his fingers.

But Kit … he was always so still, so when he did move, she noticed.

It felt intoxicating being in his presence, as though he had found a way to infect her thoughts and feelings and her very being. He was a comfort without even trying.

Despite his warning about being late—though he hadn’t cared about that considering he had taken his sweet time—they made it to the private airfield before takeoff—the same field she was sure she had landed in when Uilleam had brought her to him.

This time, once she was in the air and the seatbelt light flicked off, she didn’t remain in her seat, but rather went to have a proper look around.

This was her first time, voluntarily, on a plane—especially one that looked like this. Like Uilleam’s, there was a private bedroom, and this one felt far more intimate with dim lights lit up beneath the frame of the bed.

Luna could almost imagine Kit inviting her back here with that smile of his, tempting her with promises she knew he could keep.

Deciding it was best to close the door back and head to the front before her thoughts could take her away, she found Kit as he were, studying the file on his iPad. With his gaze firmly fixed on the screen, she hadn’t thought he noticed her until she was about to walk back to her seat before he spoke.

“Please. Sit with me.”

Taking the one next to him, she peeked over at his screen to see what he was reading. “Is that the file?”

Once she was officially a part of the Den and given an assignment, Kit had explained, a file would be sent along—one that was complete with everything she could have possibly needed to know about the person she was sent after. Names of close contacts, dates, travel itineraries, and information on any properties they may have owned—not to mention everything that was public, and private, about their business.

“Always find your own information,” Kit had told her during one of their earlier training sessions, “clients often hide vital details that could mean the difference between completing a mission and fucking it up.”

She had often wondered what
his
file would look like should he ever become a job of someone’s. Sometimes, the information could span back decades. The thought of that reminded her that despite them being intimate, she actually knew very little about him.

“How long have you done this?”

Kit’s gaze flickered from the screen to her. “What, exactly?”

She thought of saying
kill people
, but that felt too elementary compared to who he seemed to be. Sure, that was the extent of what she had seen him do, but she could tell there was far more to him than that.

“You said you were an assassin, right?”

“Former. And if you’re asking how long I did that, it was for little more than a decade.”

Even as that wowed her, she wasn’t very surprised. He had a skill with weapons that was still baffling to behold.

After she had gotten the hang of knives with Tăcut, she had thought to show him how much she had improved—at the time, she hadn’t wanted to think that she was trying to impress him.

But what she had done was nothing compared to what he could do. He’d asked if she trusted him—she said yes—then asked her to stand against the wall where the target was.

It didn’t take her long to realize what he wanted, not when he picked up one of the blades, her gasp making him smile as he touched the sharpened metal to his forehead, an indicator for where she was meant to look.

In rapid succession, he launched three of them across the room, and she was too frozen in fear to move even a millimeter as they sunk into the paper around her—
very
close, but not a single one hitting her.

Yeah, Kit was very good.

“Since you were a teenager?” Luna asked.

His frown, that turned down the corners of his lips and drew his brows together, made an appearance as he regarded her. “Yes. A bit younger than you in fact.”

She tried to do some quick math in her head. “So that would make you twenty-seven?”

He nodded. “A year older in April.”

So he had just celebrated a birthday, though he hadn’t mentioned a word about it. Come to think of it, he had been gone most of that month—was it because he didn’t want to celebrate?

“You’re younger than I thought,” Luna muttered, realizing belatedly that she had voiced that thought aloud.

His deep chuckle made her blush. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It was meant as one,” she whispered with a slight shake of her head.

“When is yours?”

It only dawned on her then just how close her birthday was.

June 1
^st
.

Tomorrow.

There hadn’t been many reasons to celebrate her life over the last three years, but now … now she was looking forward to it a little. It wouldn’t be a full year since she was free of Lawrence, but it was close enough.

And that was reason enough to celebrate.

“How close is it?”

“Well … tomorrow, actually.”

One dark brow shot up. “Were you going to tell me? Birthdays are important.”

“Not really—it’s just another day. Besides, there’s nothing I want more than what you’ve already given me.”

She didn’t have to explain what she meant—he knew.

Seeming at a loss for words, Kit cleared his throat. “You said you thought I was younger than I am? What else have you thought of me?”

His head was canted to the side, as though whatever answer she gave him would be fascinating—she was glad for the distraction. “I’d only be assuming …”

“Then tell me of your assumptions.”

Shifting in her seat, crossing one leg beneath her, she said, “Well you’re smart, obviously.”

“Not an assumption—I’ve told you of my schooling.”

That was true enough. “You speak at least five languages.”

“Why five?”

“Well …” Luna thought on how best to answer that. “English, for one.”

“Does that really count?”

“It should,” Luna said with a laugh, remembering how hard she had found it to learn the language. “Welsh, obviously. There was that man that came to see you a couple of weeks ago—I think he was Italian? Spanish, for another, and French.”

His smile said he was impressed. “Your observation skills are serving you well. All true, but I also speak Swedish, Russian, and Gaelic, though only when I’m in the mood.”

“How did you learn all of them?” she asked.

He regaled her with stories, one where he spent weeks in a Mexican jungle, hunting down an arms dealer that had thought to escape into the forest—it hadn’t ended well for the dealer. Another where he was in Spain setting up contracts with people known only as The Family.

She didn’t think she could ever get tired of hearing him speak, the smooth, lulling cadence, or the way the tales were embellished with details that she hadn’t asked for, but liked to hear all the same.

She liked
him
.

“Pyotr was one of my first assignments in the Lotus Society, and despite finishing the job mostly unscathed, I still had to remain in the country for another two months before I could be extracted. A local man had been all too willing to teach me the language should I pay him to keep his mouth shut.”

“How many did you do before you retired? Assignments, I mean.”

“One-hundred and thirty-six.”

Luna blinked. “That’s … wow.”

He shrugged. “It’s merely a number. Others have done far more.”

“Was it hard in the beginning?”

“No,” he said without hesitation. “Does that surprise you?”

“A little.”

Kit seemed genuinely curious now. “Why?”

“You’re taking someone’s life. I can’t imagine that was easy for someone as young as you were.”

“When you’ve already experienced trauma, it no longer matters. Many often find freedom in vindication. This is not me saying that it’s
easy
, or that everything will be the same once you take a life, but the payoff was worth it—at least to me. It was like being reborn.”

She thought of the wings on his back. “Did you choose your name, or was it given to you?”

“It was given.”

“Fang and the Wild Bunch too?”

“Yes.”

“And the Kingmaker?”

Kit lost his smile. “Believe me, no one would call him that if they had a choice—his was self-appointed.”

“Will I get a name?”

“In due time.”

“How does that work exactly?”

“That’s a question you’ll need to ask one of the Den, I’m afraid. I don’t know how their process works.”

Luna kind of hoped it would be something memorable—something that stuck out amongst the sea of others there were.

“But enough of that,” Kit said as he passed her the iPad. “You have work to do.”

Accepting it from him, she settled in to read all about Kit’s target for the night.

* * *

B
y the time
they were landing, Luna was sure that she could recite back every detail of that file if Kit were to ask.

She had grown rather used to the black SUVs that were always parked near the château, but as she stepped off the plane, shielding her eyes with her hand, there was another car just off in the distance—one that had her staring in open admiration.

It sat close to the ground, and looked as if it were better suited for a race track than at a hangar. Painted a light shade of cream, the car was pristine, with darkened windows that prevented anyone from seeing inside.

Luna might not have known what kind of car it was exactly, but she could guess it was very expensive—but seeing Kit’s château, she wasn’t surprised.

Kit handled their bags before walking her over to the car and opened the passenger door for her.

The leather was the same shade of cream as the exterior, and Luna was almost afraid to touch anything with how pristine everything looked—as though the car had been made and delivered minutes before they landed.

Glancing over at the steering wheel, she tried to make sense of the logo—what looked like a backward E and a B—but it was unfamiliar.

Once Kit was next to her, dawning a pair of opaque sunglasses, she asked, “What kind of car is this?”

He smiled at her as he started the car up, the low purr of the engine sounding. “Bugatti Veyron. Do you like it?”

Like was a bit of an understatement. “It’s a surprise, I guess.”

“Oh?”

“I thought you would drive something more … I don’t know, classic?”

“And what does classic mean to you, Luna?” There was a slight smile on his lips as he looked back to the road, his hand wrapping around the gear shift.

“Something a bit less …” she grappled for the right word. “Ostentatious.”

He shrugged. “But most don’t go from zero to sixty in two-point-four seconds.”

“Wow. Does it really?”

He didn’t answer her question, merely showed her. One minute they were shifting lanes, the next she was jolted back against her seat as his foot pressed harder against the gas.

With the windows down, her hair whipped around her face, making her laugh as she shoved the strands out of her eyes, wanting to make sure she saw everything.

Like with most things, Kit seemed to handle the car like he was born to do it, expertly navigating them through traffic at a ridiculous speed.

Her heart in her throat, Luna had never felt more alive.

Though he had been able to gun it through the streets of whatever barren place they had flown into, he eventually slowed when they got to the city proper.