Her heart in her throat, Ada watched the seconds tick by on the oversized chrome clock hanging up on the wall outside her office. The last hour of the work day was slowly creeping by, and as it did, she started to realize Belladonna had been wrong.

Of course she had, Ada thought with a shake of her head.

She wasn’t psychic. She couldn’t predict the future.

No one was coming for her, and her theft was still unknown. She was sure of it.

The first two weeks after Belladonna’s visit, Ada hadn’t been able to even think about looking into any of the accounts she’d taken money from, afraid that at any moment, the Kingmaker, or her boss, or someone, would raid her office with accusations and death threats.

She had even tried to think of an explanation she could give should someone confront her, but there was no explanation that would be good enough. A couple hundred, or maybe even a few thousand dollars could be written off as a clerical error. More than a hundred times that amount? There was no way that amount could be explained away.

Yet, despite the fear she lived with daily since that meeting and her desire to run as far away as she possibly could, it was important she go about her everyday routine. To act as if everything was normal.

If she didn’t, someone would notice her absence eventually and it wouldn’t be long before her secret was out and she’d be tracked by far more than just one man.

So despite the voice in her head initially telling her to run and not look back, she hadn’t wavered over the last three months. She woke up every morning, showered, ate breakfast, dressed and did her makeup, then went to work as if everything in her life was exactly the way she wanted it to be. She smiled when she needed to, laughed when it was appropriate, but today wasn’t like those other days and it was hard trying to fake it.

Today, everything was supposed to change and there was nothing she could do about it but wait, and even as she told herself to stick to the plan Belladonna had lain out for her, she hadn’t been able to bring herself to do it. Today, she didn’t do what she had done yesterday and all the days before it. She’d changed her routine.

After her shower this morning, she’d double checked the bags she packed the night before, ensuring everything she needed was tucked away before rolling the two lone suitcases down to the garage and packing them away in the backseat of her BMW.

She took the garbage out and made sure even the smallest scrap of paper with any writing whatsoever was shredded and burned. She ensured, as much as she possibly could, that there was no trace of her left that someone could use to track her.

Last, before she’d left, she’d paused long enough to say goodbye to the home she’d built for herself, knowing it would be the last time she ever stepped foot inside it.

But now, it felt as if all of that preparation and all the worrying had been for nothing.

No one was coming to kidnap her.

No one, especially a man like the Kingmaker, had any interest in her at all.

Her secret was still safe.

Feeling foolish, Ada stood and walked out of her office toward the employees’ private restroom at the end of the hall. Inside, she stood in front of the sink, her fingers curled around the marble counter, and stared at her reflection in the mirror, trying to pull herself together—trying to recognize the woman looking back at her.

How could no one else see the panic and fear written all over her face? How could they not see something was wrong?

Dragging in a calming breath, she relaxed her hold on the sink and glanced down at her watch.

Less than thirty minutes until it was all over and once it was, she would be gone for good, no matter what happened.

Soon, this nightmare would be all over.

The thought should have calmed her a little, but it still brought new questions of just how she was going to explain this to her family. She might have stolen enough money to float them for years to come, but they didn’t know where the money had come from or that it was stolen.

Even if she explained that it would be better for Charles if they moved him to a different facility, her mum and sister would still have questions. The former might blindly go along with it because she trusted Ada, Marie might not.

She wouldn’t understand why they would need to move without an explanation. There was her own life to consider.

Marie could, if Ada explained it all to her, but she was terrified of the response she might receive if she told her just how she’d gotten her hands on that much money.

Disappointment.

She didn’t want Marie getting any ideas from her, either. It was enough that Ada was getting her hands dirty—she didn’t want that for her sister.

Her mind set, Ada tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, making sure her appearance was as composed as she could possibly make it before heading back to her office.

Almost over, she reminded herself. The day is almost over.

She’d only cleared the doorway when a voice called out, “Is everything alright, Ada?”

Frankie, one of the other accountants here, was walking out of her office, holding a mug of black coffee in her hand as she regarded her with a furrowed brow. They were the only two women working for the firm, and unlike the others that worked here, Frankie wasn’t in her twenties. She was closing in on her sixties, having worked for the firm for nearly ten years now.

It was easy to trust a woman that looked like your grandmother.

She’d come into the firm with the intent to leave after six months once she had twenty thousand dollars saved to offer for her grandchildren’s education, but when the money was good, it was hard to walk away from it all.

“Fine,” Ada answered. “Just a bit tired.”

And relieved that she was still alive to be tired. That wasn’t something she bothered to mention.

“Are you sure?” Frankie asked in that maternal way all mothers managed. “You’re looking a bit pale … even for you.”

Ada’s smile was a little more genuine now as her tension eased. “English genes.”

Frankie didn’t look like she believed her, but she didn’t question it further. “Any big weekend plans?”

An eleven hour flight to London, another three hour drive back down to the small little town where her family was living … “Probably Netflix and takeout,” she answered instead with a casual wave of her hand.

That, at least, wouldn’t sound too farfetched.

Her image at the office had always been of someone that lived a rather boring life. Home. Work. A combination of both if she was feeling adventurous. She stuck to herself and liked it that way.

And shopping.

If nothing else, that was one thing she didn’t mind sharing about herself with others.

A closet full of designer dresses and expensive shoes she’d collected over the last five years would all be left behind.

But better that than her life or the lives of her family.

“I was thinking—”

Frankie was still speaking, her lips moving as she spoke with a wide smile, completely forgetting her earlier worry, but Ada didn’t hear a word of it.

Something flickered at the corner of her eye, forcing her gaze from her computer, to Frankie, then to the bank of elevators where Richard Bailey was standing, waiting to leave.

But his ease disappeared as the bell pinged and the doors slowly slid open.

Ada froze, not sure why unease swept through her, but the feeling only intensified as the barrel of a gun appeared.

Belladonna hadn’t lied.

She hadn’t been wrong.

They were here.

The sound of a gun cocking was impossibly loud a second before a gunshot rang out, plaster raining down from the ceiling where the bullet struck.

It was enough to unfreeze her as she jolted, ducking beneath her desk as four men moved forward and out of the elevator in uniform precision.

One of them—the one wearing a black mask—tossed a tiny device onto the floor. She waited, expecting the floor to explode, but instead of a bomb, a voice spoke.

“Get on the floor and put your hands out in front of you. Do as you’re told and you will not be harmed.”

It was odd, the combination of the voice that spoke with such calm clarity compared to the fear coursing in her veins, but everyone in the room did as instructed.

“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” Frankie chanted over and over, her blue eyes wide and filled with tears. “This isn’t happening.”

She fumbled at the collar of her shirt a moment, reaching for the cross that hung there, whispering a quick prayer beneath her breath.

A necklace, Ada remembered, as a gift from her daughter for Mother’s Day.

“They’re going to kill us all,” Frankie whispered frantically, tears already brimming.

“They’re not.”

The words were meant as an assurance, but even as Ada knew they were here for her and her alone, there was no guarantee they wouldn’t harm anyone else trying to get to her.

“We don’t keep any money here!” Richard shouted, his words slightly muffled from the floor.

Ada peeked out from beneath the small sliver of space at the bottom of her desk, just able to see the men in masks walking the length of the room, searching the sea of faces for hers, but one of them remained in the center of the room, turning his head slowly, his body poised and ready. The leader, if she had to guess, from the way he held himself and the way each of the masked men looked in his direction for a nod or a quick shake of his head.

It was startling, the eerie silence they worked in, how words didn’t have to be spoken between them to know what to do next. It was as if they were extensions of each other rather than four individuals.

Even if she had thought she could find a way out of this, these weren’t thugs looking for a quick payday—they had training. Skill. There was no escaping them.

Richard was still talking, pleading, trying to convince the leader that he, and the other mercenaries he’d come with, were wasting their time, but the man in the mask just cocked his head to one side as if he were studying him, then sent the butt of his rifle into the man’s face, blood spraying out of his nose.

Screams erupted, even Frankie whimpered though she couldn’t possibly have seen it with her eyes covered, but it was enough to draw the leader’s attention to Ada’s office, and when he stepped forward, Ada knew. She couldn’t hide anymore. For fear of what he might do to Frankie, she couldn’t just lie there. Instead, she scrambled to her feet.

“Please,” she said quickly, fighting to keep her voice calm even as she held up her shaking hands. “You don’t have to do this. There isn’t any money on this f-floor, but I-I can take you to the vault.”

Only a select few knew where the vault was located—two floors down in one of the vacant offices. No money changed hands on this floor and if a client brought in a temporary deposit—until the money could be moved off-site—it was kept there.

He gestured for her to come out of the office, his gun still pointed at the floor. She was careful not to make it look like she was in the room with someone else.

This was about her—no one else deserved to get hurt because of her.

Her life wasn’t worth theirs, no matter how desperately she wanted to live.

Her legs shook with every step she took, fear clogging her throat as she crossed the floor until she was standing directly in front of him, her gaze lifting to his mask.

Dark mesh covered the holes of the mask where his eyes were meant to be, adding a keen edge to the fear she already felt.

Despite her standing in front of him, he still didn’t speak as he gestured for her hands, waiting until she extended them to pull out a pair of thick cuffs made of hard plastic, looping them around her wrists and tightening them until she winced.

But despite her assumption that no one else would be harmed, she wasn’t the only one grabbed and restrained. Three more were forced to stand, bound in the same plastic and all led back to the elevators.

Even with the gun he held, and the fact that he hadn’t hesitated in sending it flying into Richard’s face for merely speaking, the one in the black mask didn’t manhandle her as she anticipated.

As if he knew she had every intention of cooperating.

Inside the elevator, sniffles turned to sobs as bags were draped over their heads, but as Ada waited for her own vision to go dark, a black bag never came.

They wanted her to see, to know.

She bit her lip, swallowing down her own tears, as that thought played on a loop in her mind. It wasn’t over yet. They hadn’t hurt her much, and it could only get worse from here. There was only one man she was truly meant to fear, and that man wasn’t in this room.

Ada didn’t speak, not as they descended floor by floor, even as the others pleaded for their lives, nor when the elevator stopped on a random floor and the mercenaries shoved the three others out, untouched.

A sickening feeling twisted in her stomach, fear and pride warring with each other. It was easy, imagining what she might have done before, how calm she thought she would be knowing this was coming.

But fear didn’t work that way.

It struck when least expected.

A sharp pinch in the side of her neck made her wince, and as she felt the cooling sensation of whatever they’d injected her with sweeping through her, her world quickly faded to black.

* * *

Any call made after midnight was never one worth answering.

Knowing that, Keanu Hamari shouldn’t have answered the phone.

He knew better, and after years working for the man that thought it was completely acceptable to ring someone’s phone at three in the morning, he should have known whatever Uilleam had to say wouldn’t be worth the loss of sleep.

Technically, he was retired, had been for years now, and there was no reason for Uilleam to be calling. When his contract had expired he hadn’t signed another one unlike the others.

Not because the things he’d done for money hadn’t sat well with him—he’d made his peace with that a long time ago—but because the result of his last job under Uilleam had resulted in the one thing he’d never anticipated.

“But Daddy! You promised we’d go snorkeling.”

That very thing sat on the edge of his bed with the most adorable look of frustration and her mother’s eyes. Soleil, the only person in the world who could make him smile without effort.

Every year since the day he’d brought her home from France, they spent three weeks back at his other home in Hawaii, soaking in the sun and spending days in the water, but the problem with working with Uilleam—whether under contract or not—his favors never expired and he never forgot.

It didn’t matter if that contract had gone untouched for years and you’d moved onto something else—he could still find you.

Which was why, when his phone rang and he’d been passed out after a long day of packing things away and getting ice cream with his daughter, the last thing he’d wanted to do was answer the call.

A part of him hadn’t been surprised at the blank caller ID—a perk provided for him by his resident hacker, Winter. Six months had passed since anyone, currently and outside of the Den, had heard from the man.

He’d gone completely underground, and if his brother hadn’t been married to Calavera—arguably the person Keanu was closest to in the Den—Keanu would’ve thought someone had finally taken the man out. He was exceptionally good at erasing every trace of a person from the world—it wasn’t so surprising that he could do it to himself.

By the time he’d connected the call and put the phone to his ear, he hadn’t even been able to get out a proper greeting before Uilleam was giving him instructions.

“There’s a parking garage near the accounting firm of Smith and 15th. Be there at one pm.”

Keanu had dragged a hand down his face before looking at his bedside clock. “Looks like you’re out of favors, Kingmaker. You used your last one dragging me to that meeting.”

Uilleam had called on him once before nearly seven months ago. Luckily for him, he’d caught him after a day spent catching waves. He hadn’t thought much of it then—standing at the man’s back and making sure no one killed him—it was done and over within an hour and hadn’t been hard work.

At the end of it, Uilleam was supposed to supply him everything he needed to ensure revenge for the death of Soleil’s mother, yet his vengeance was stolen when the man responsible was murdered. It was the only thing Uilleam could have offered for Keanu to entertain what he wanted.

“Not a request,” Uilleam had responded with an edge to his voice. “Consider this my last if you must, but don’t forget who aided you in getting that precious daughter of yours out of France after that horrific accident.”

Uilleam never let you forget a favor. It wasn’t in his nature.

Knowing he ultimately didn’t have a choice in the matter, Keanu asked, “What do you need done?”

“There will be a white BMW at that address, search it and bring me anything you find, then come to the compound.” After rattling off a license plate number, he disconnected the call.

It didn’t matter that he had plans for the next day, or that he even had his own life with his own set of fucking problems—in Uilleam’s mind, he came first. Always.

“We will,” he said now, focusing on his daughter who hadn’t lost her pout in the seconds he’d been zoned out. “Daddy just has to work first.”

She understood, even if she didn’t know the specifics of what that meant. He could see the disappointment in her eyes. She knew this would mean long hours away from home and the possibility of their plans being cancelled entirely.

“But you’ll come back, won’t you?”

Those words broke his heart.

No seven year old should have to fear whether their parent was coming back home or not.

She was too young to remember the specifics about that fateful day, only the terror had lingered and with it came her fear of Keanu leaving her alone whenever he left for any extended period of time where she wasn’t with him.

“Come here, little monster,” he said, reaching for her and pulling her up the bed until she was seated beside him. “It’s just for a week, and then I’ll come down and we’ll do all the things we usually do, I promise.”

She stared up at him for a long moment before lifting her hand, her little finger extended. “Promise?”

He hooked his own around hers. “Promise.”

Now, he just needed to take her to the airport, finish up the job, and get back to his life.

The last thing he needed was the Kingmaker upending his new normal.

* * *

Keanu checked the address he’d been given one last time, making sure he was in the right place before slamming the car door shut and taking a look around.

Despite the hour, the boardwalk was busy, tourists and locals alike venturing down to the beach, even more walking around the shops, making it nearly impossible to walk without bumping into someone.

Except, most gave him a wide berth as he moved down the block, gaze scanning for the parking structure he’d been told to check.

He hadn’t been given much information besides the make of the car and its license plate. BMWs were a dime a dozen in Los Angeles, so he hadn’t thought much of the order, until now.

He knew his cars, and the metallic white BMW parked a ways down on the first level of the parking deck started at over one hundred and twenty-thousand dollars.

Whoever it belonged to obviously had money to blow, which meant this was probably the car he was looking for.

Removing the key fob from his pocket—one that had been waiting for him in his mailbox when he woke back up—he turned the tiny thing over in his hand to hit the button that unlocked the driver’s door before sliding behind the wheel.

It was definitely a female’s car from the delicate, floral scent that clung to the white leather seats—plus the luggage in the backseat that was distinctly feminine.

But even if it did belong to a woman whose name he didn’t know, this wasn’t his first job by any means, and it wouldn’t deter him from doing it.

He checked the glove compartment first, beneath both seats next, then climbed back out and did the same in the back before checking the trunk. Everything was spotless, like the car had only recently been bought, but there was something a little too clean that poked at the part of his brain that told him something was off.

There was no registration that he could find—not even the clutter his own car had—but in the front pocket of the suitcase, he did find a stamped envelope, addressed to someone in the UK.

On the top left corner of the envelope was a local address belonging to a woman by the name of Ada Edgar.

Which meant this was probably her car, but the name didn’t ring any bells for him and he couldn’t for the life of him understand what was so interesting about her that made the Kingmaker break his silence.

He’d find out soon enough though.

Putting it to the back of his mind for the moment, he dropped back into the driver’s seat and started the car, easing out of the parking spot, then the garage entirely, heading for the one place he hadn’t stepped foot inside in months.

Before Calavera had needed help on a job, he hadn’t gone in more than a year. Once he’d unofficially retired from the Den, he kept away from the compound.

Too much temptation.

The place had a revolving door for him—he only needed to walk through it—but if he let himself indulge in it, the line that clearly divided his life at home with Soleil and the life he’d led before blurred.

You were either in or out—never both ways.

Of course, the Kingmaker would love to have him back in the Den along with a contract with his signature scrawled on the bottom of it, but despite the money he’d made—it had always paid well being a mercenary—there was a reason he’d left it all behind.

Like how he’d needed to break a promise to his daughter because of a debt owed. If he was contracted, there would be far too many days like this one.

He just needed to remind himself of that occasionally when the urge to get back in settled over him.

Waiting for the gate to roll open, Keanu tapped his fingers against the steering wheel before driving forward and around the main building toward the detention center specifically built for the people unfortunate enough to get interrogated by the Kingmaker.

It was a nondescript building of gray concrete and looked every bit as intimidating as what went on inside its walls.

‘Training’ as they called it, though Keanu had never thought the word fit.

Conditioning was more accurate. Five grueling days of torture meant to first break the mind, then the body until there was nothing left standing but a pliable thing rather than a person.

Most were willing to become anything if it meant the torture ended.

Training didn’t always break a person—he’d finished without any lasting damage—but there were others that couldn’t quite handle its effects.

Like Syn—the one mercenary in the Den that still suffered.

That was the theory anyway—that the man had lost his mind somewhere in the midst of the pain and misery he found in the training room, but Keanu had never been so sure of that.

There had always been something a little … off about him.

Of all the mercenaries, Syn had been the only one who hadn’t responded well to it. Some say it had even broken him.

Keanu didn’t—you couldn’t break what was already broken.

As he headed for the Kingmaker’s office, nearly passing one of the open doors, he thought he caught sight of a flash of silver hair before he stopped in his tracks and turned back.

Sure enough, Winter stood in the room, surrounded by the four Romanians whose presence had become more pronounced as the months went on.

Very rarely did the Kingmaker call on his brother for any assistance, but six months ago, when Carmen Rivera became a bigger problem, they came together—two teams working as one.

It hadn’t been a problem for Keanu—he knew the Romanians long before now—but things had become a bit more complicated recently. And that complication began and ended with Winter Banes.

“I hear you’ve been getting into trouble,” he said as he greeted her before pulling her into a quick hug.

“Me?” She frowned playfully with a quick smile. “Not any more than you guys, except my brand of trouble comes in a pretty awesome Romanian package.”

“I’m not even going to entertain that with an answer. He in his office?” Keanu asked, not needing to mention who he meant.

“Should be. He’s a little … intense right now.”

He didn’t suspect otherwise. “Good seeing you.”

He nodded toward the Wild Bunch, not bothering to try and hold a conversation with them. They were religious in not speaking when they had their masks on.

Uilleam wasn’t in his office, however, rather standing in the hallway talking to a man Keanu didn’t know and didn’t care to know.

Mercenaries were a dime a dozen around here and there were very few that he actually bothered to keep up with, most of which were in New York at the moment.

Uilleam barely spared him a glance before dismissing the other man with a flippant wave of his hand. “Useless, all of them. Glad you’ve deigned to join me.”

“You asked.” Or demanded.

“I need your opinion.”

“Really? You trust one other than your own?”

He leveled a flat look on him. “Unfortunately, my brother is off doing God knows what, and you’re the only other person I trust to sound moderately intelligent.”

He had a way of both complimenting and insulting someone with ridiculous ease. “On what, exactly?”

“A woman. Her name is Ada Edgar, currently in debt to a number of men who would pay a pretty penny to see her begging for her life.”

Keanu frowned, though he didn’t respond. It wasn’t often Uilleam made a request like this, but considering the last six months, he’d come in doubting the man would be making rational decisions.

But if it meant he could get out of here quicker, he would entertain it.

“Are you interrogating her?”

“Nothing too bloody,” he said. “Just a few minor questions before I determine what I want to do to her.”

Sounded easy enough. “Where is she?”

“She’s being brought to that room,” he said, gesturing to the door behind him. “But first I need to make a call.”

Uilleam turned rather abruptly and disappeared down the hall, hardly looking up from his phone, even when a scream rang out from one of the training rooms.

If there was one thing he’d never be able to understand was how casual the man could be despite being surrounded by pain and death constantly.

But there was a great many things he didn’t understand about the man and today wasn’t the day to figure him out.

The room was empty when he walked inside save for two chairs facing each other. He only had a moment to look around before the door was opening again and one of the Wild Bunch—Tăcut, judging from the size of him—carried a woman over his shoulder before dropping her in one of the chairs.

She wasn’t unconscious, judging from the way her hands were trembling so badly. He could see it from where he stood.

Every manner of person had made all sorts of deals with the Kingmaker over the years—politicians trying to up their campaigns, desperate parents wanting to adopt a baby without any paperwork, and even families fighting an internal war that they hoped he could mitigate—but as Tăcut dragged the bag off the woman’s head, he didn’t think he’d ever seen a woman like her inside these four walls.

Two thoughts ran through his mind the second he got his first look at her.

She was unlike any other female he’d ever seen the Kingmaker bring in.

Sure, she was beautiful, as they usually were, with a button nose, plumps lips, and eyes a rich shade of toffee, but her eyes didn’t shine with feigned innocence. Despite her trembling hands that she now had curled into fists, she didn’t look like she was afraid at all.

Which brought him to his second thought—she was in way over her head and obviously didn’t know it, but that was nothing new.

Most people never fully realized what it meant when they fell into Uilleam’s sight. Even Keanu hadn’t understood what it would ultimately mean to work for a man like him.

This girl—woman, rather, from the shapely curves accentuated in the tight dress she wore—didn’t realize she wasn’t just knee deep in whatever this was, she was fucking drowning in it.