Back at her apartment, Winter dropped her keys in the bowl, pulling out the laptop from her bag before dropping down onto her bed with a sigh.

Tonight had proven far more interesting than she’d thought it would be.

She hadn’t made any promises to Ollie after they’d left the meeting because she didn’t want to break it if things didn’t go the way she hoped.

And unlike the others who were jumping at the chance to find the money and become rich, she needed to do her research first.

She was nothing if not careful. Life with the Den had taught her that.

The mercenaries never did a job without having as many of the facts as possible—something she could attest to, considering she did most of it for them.

Some targets were easier to find than others, especially those that were careless on the web. They didn’t double-check to make sure they were using a private browser or picking a password that wasn’t easily guessed—those were the ones that took her minutes to find.

Sylvain Richards was practically a ghost.

He had a profile on his company’s website—a profile she’d had to hunt for —but beyond that, he had no social media presence whatsoever.

Smart, because it made it harder to find anything on him, but annoying because it made her job harder.

But no matter how careful he was on his end, articles written on him provided far more than she could have hoped for.

Piston hadn’t lied when he’d said the man worked for the underbelly of society. The majority of his clients were suspected cartel leaders, drug dealers, and even a few arms traffickers—she wouldn’t have been surprised if half the men who frequented The Hall were clients of his.

They had all managed to get off on some technicality.

But she guessed that wouldn’t matter if he was stealing money from them.

Funny, just reading up on him, he sounded like the sort of man The Kingmaker would have had one of the mercenaries go after.

Twenty minutes later, she still wasn’t sure whether the job was worth it, but she couldn’t shake her interest in it now.

There was nothing more fun that uncovering the untraceable.

Plus, a part of her was excited at the idea of leading her own mission—to be the one calling the shots for a change instead of sitting in the background.

And the money would be a bonus.

But that didn’t change the fact that they couldn’t do it by themselves. They might have been some of the best hackers in the world, but actually breaking into a place was not part of her repertoire.

She knew plenty of great thieves, particularly an Irish one who would love to give her tips on the trade if she asked, but there was no guarantee he wouldn’t wonder why she was asking, and the last thing she needed was Syn catching wind of what she was doing.

But she was now considering another set of thieves.

Or one, in particular.

For the first time since she’d found it weeks ago, she pulled up a file from the archives of her hard drive she was never supposed to know about.

Sure, she was The Kingmaker’s gatekeeper, of sorts, and he was a master at keeping secrets. And even if he wasn’t the most technically savvy—that was why he had her, after all—he’d had someone hide this one among the other files of his. ‘Persons of Interest,’ he liked to call them.

Then again, he might not have been trying to hide them from her, but rather from his brother, Nix, who undoubtedly had a hacker of his own and wouldn’t be too pleased that his brother had a dossier on the four men who worked for him.

The existence of the file hadn’t surprised her as much as the fact she hadn’t found it until recently.

All the mercenaries had a file The Kingmaker kept on hand, but that was expected. What they and many others didn’t know was that he kept a file on everyone.

Politicians.

Grocery clerks.

Consultants.

Even some men and women who liked to dress up as Furries didn’t escape his notice.

If they could potentially offer him something he needed, he gathered all the intel he could until he had a digital rendering of their lives.

There was even one on Nix, though even with all her curiosity, Winter hadn’t touched that one.

Calavera was one of her closest friends, and it felt like a breach of trust just knowing it existed and not telling her about it.

The only one she cared about was the one on The Wild Bunch.

Theirs wasn’t nearly as extensive as the files her employer kept on the mercenaries, but it was a treasure trove of information she was sure she would have never known without reading it.

There was Fang—the unofficial leader of this little band of thieves. Classic middle child complex. Răzvan was the oldest, Thanatos the youngest, and Invictus somewhere in the middle of them.

Fang had seemed rather playful the few times she’d crossed paths with him back in California, but she hadn’t been around him enough to get a good read on him. But after Aidra, that had all changed.

Invictus and Thanatos only had one page between the pair of them for reasons she didn’t know, but from what she read, one didn’t seem to act without the other.

Each of the photographs in their file always showed the pair together and never separate.

Thanatos was the blond, if she remembered correctly, and Invictus had dark hair tapered on the sides.

The former always seemed to be smiling—the latter, on the other hand, never seemed to.

There wasn’t much in their file beyond their fighting styles, confirmed kills, and the name of the orphanage where they had grown up.

Where all of them had grown up, she’d learned.

An orphanage that, no matter where she looked, was hard to find any information on.

But it was Răzvan’s file that made her pause and actually read it through rather than skim as she had the others.

She’d never mentioned it to him, and not just because The Kingmaker would be pissed, but because she knew how the lack of privacy made people feel.

If she was going to do this job with Ollie and the others, though, her best bet would be the one member of The Wild Bunch she could hopefully talk into it.

Before she did that, though, there was one person she needed to talk to first.

Reaching for her phone, she typed in her password with lightning speed before dialing the number of the one person she was closest to in the Den outside Syn.

She hadn’t heard from her since California. Not for lack of trying on her part, but Calavera was on her second honeymoon, and Winter understood that.

When the call actually connected, she laughed in surprise. “Is he finally letting you up for air long enough to answer the phone?” she asked, cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder as she finished typing out a message. “I was sure it would go straight to voicemail again.”

Calavera’s laughter echoed over the line, the soft cry of a seagull following. “You’ve got about five minutes before he comes back and ends the conversation himself.”

She might not have known Nix very well—not nearly as well as she knew his far more attractive younger brother—but one thing she did know was how much he loved Calavera.

She had become something of a big sister and a best friend to Winter after they’d met years ago when Calavera had needed help finding someone. Before then, Winter hadn’t even known female mercenaries existed.

“Tăcut. Tell me about him.”

“I’m almost afraid to ask …”

“What’s he like? Tăcut, I mean.”

“Serious. A little rude, though he can be nice when he wants to be. Maybe a bit surly. One of the best guys I know. Why?”

“We’re getting to know each other,” she replied, which was technically not a lie.

“I say this with love, so keep that in mind, but I’d rather Syn not try to break his legs. I like Tăcut the way he is.”

Winter rubbed her forehead. “That’s why I’m not telling him about it.”

Syn had a tendency to overreact.

He didn’t believe in asking questions first.

Calavera’s tone grew more pointed. “Is there something to tell?”

Winter glanced at her phone for the time. If she was going to make it to The Hall on time, she needed to get dressed because what she was wearing now wasn’t going to work for what she intended. “Not yet.”

A muffled but distinctly masculine voice sounded in the background before Calavera came back over the line. “Looks like my time is up. Be careful, and don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. Trust me—I wouldn’t want to be the one to tell Syn you’re interested in someone other than him.”

As she ended the call, Winter was sure she’d made the right decision, but as she got dressed, she wasn’t thinking about a job.

She was dressing to get a reaction out of Răzan.

* * *

He’d stumbled across The Hall by accident, or more aptly, Nix had suggested it to him after a job had gone bad long before California.

It was a good place to get lost in the bottom of a bottle, and though the others didn’t venture there often, he still went.

Regular bars didn’t appeal to him. It always felt like he was under a microscope when he was inside one, and people had a tendency to get squirrely when they realized he didn’t speak, but at Dismas’ place, he was practically invisible.

There were whispers, though—the curiosity about just who he was and why he never attempted to engage with anyone—but no one had been bold enough to address him yet.

But a tiny hacker half their size hadn’t given a shit how big he was.

His bike’s headlight cut through the swarth of darkness night brought as he rode toward the building then parked a little way down and removed his helmet.

Once it was secured and he was heading down the nearly vacant street, he dug out a pack of Romanian-brand cigarettes from his pocket and tucked one between his lips.

He knew the rules about smoking inside, but so long as he didn’t step foot in with it, Dismas didn’t give a shit.

Not even five minutes had passed before soft laughter drew his attention away from the cigarette he held and to the group of three walking in his direction.

His gaze swept over them quickly, assessing their threat level, but it only took a glance at the silver-haired girl walking just in front to lower his guard.

It was the hair, he thought, that seemed to glow in the night that made him notice her almost immediately, and not because something about her made him sit up and take notice.

For a moment, he could study her in a way he hadn’t been able to the night before, or even the first time they’d met.

He’d been too preoccupied the first time with getting shit done for his handler to truly take stock of her, and then after Aidra, he’d been busy keeping Fang from falling down the rabbit hole.

But now, like it was the first time all over again, he was really seeing her.

Long legs encased in skintight black denim with slashes at the knees and up her thighs—a stark difference from the short skirt she’d worn the day before and the black garter.

Distracted or not, he hadn’t missed that little detail.

And when she was only a couple of feet away, he could see the crisscross pattern of whatever she wore beneath them, the thin material stretching a few inches above the waistband of her jeans. Fishnet? Then there was the top that showed far more than it covered, including the tiny jewel in her navel as well as the choker that encircled her throat.

Two words were inscribed in silver right in the very center.

Bad Kitty.

There was an air of innocence about her with those big gray eyes that made her look perpetually surprised, but one look at the rest of her made him think there wasn’t anything innocent about her at all.

A rueful smile spread across her face as she caught sight of him, breaking away from her group without a word to come over to him. “You know,” she said, gesturing to his cigarette, silently asking for permission. “Once is a coincidence—twice is fate.”

He looked from her to the two she’d walked up with, siblings if he had to guess—the boy he recognized from the night before as the one who’d been walking with Winter when she was leaving.

They were both blatantly staring, but the boy broke his gaze first and muttered something to the girl that sent them both into The Hall without looking back.

—Is that what this is? Fate?—

Her smile grew a fraction of an inch before she wrapped those plump lips around the filter of the cigarette that was nearly half gone. “Isn’t it? I wasn’t expecting to see you last night, but there you were, and now you’re just the guy I need to see.”

—For what exactly?— She’d never gotten around to telling him that.

Her gaze dropped to her feet a moment before returning to his face. “Let’s make a deal.”

—I’m listening.—

“If I beat you in a game of pool, you have to do something for me.”

He arched a brow, waiting for her to elaborate further.

“But you can’t tell Calavera about it,” she added quickly. “Or that handler of yours.”

If he wasn’t suspicious before, he definitely was now. —What are you up to?—

“Nothing good, I promise you that, but that’s for me to know,” she said with a smile, tossing the spent cigarette to the ground and grinding it out with the toe of her boot.

Trouble.

She was definitely fucking trouble.

—Tell me again what I get when I win?—

“Dealer’s choice.”

Unbidden, his gaze dropped to her chest where the structured cups of her top emphasized her breasts. At that moment, he would have happily said her.

But he knew better than to say that just yet. —A boon.—

“A boon?”

—Something I can call in later.—

“Sounds ambiguous. I like it.” She gestured to the front door of The Hall where Jack, the doorman, was watching them with a frown on his face. “Lead the way, big guy.”

For two years, he’d been trained to spot minute differences in people—the slight tics and tells that told him what a person was thinking.

And for whatever reason, Jack looked annoyed with him.

But he wasn’t the only one. Răzvan had picked up on the same vibe from Dismas the night before when he’d been sitting at the bar with Winter.

In the time he’d been coming here, neither man had blinked twice at him, but he couldn’t help but notice the scrutiny now.

But whatever his opinion, Jack didn’t say a word as Răzvan paid for the pair of them and slipped by the man.

Even Dismas, who sat behind the bar on an old whiskey barrel, didn’t look pleased as they walked in.

He knew the mercenaries were protective of her, but he hadn’t expected so many others to be.

The Hall wasn’t overly crowded for a Tuesday night, but the tables were almost completely full. He only needed to make eye contact with Ronnie, a bookie with a gambling problem, and a nod of his head for him to get a pool table for himself.

—Drink?—

She made a face. “I’m sure Dismas will send back my usual.”

He hadn’t the slightest idea what she meant, but he figured he’d find out once he got to the bar.

A few of the table girls lingered as he neared, painted lips smiling and expectant—the girl standing in the very middle smiled the brightest.

Tillie was a pretty thief who liked to live on the wild side, and more nights than he could count, he happily indulged her.

They had an understanding.

So long as she was available, he’d take her to bed.

If she wasn’t, he wouldn’t.

Fewer complications that way.

She’d watched him from the moment he’d left Winter’s side until he was standing beside her at the bar, her expression unreadable.

Tillie wasn’t the jealous sort—she didn’t blink an eye if he was with someone other than her—but things were definitely different tonight.

“Are you entertaining the hacker?” she asked, not a trace of malice in her tone. If anything, she sounded genuinely curious.

He didn’t have to look back at Winter before nodding, but he wouldn’t explain himself any more than that.

“Careful there, Tăcut. Even a good time isn’t worth the shit you’re courting if you hurt her in any way. Call me when you’re free again.”

She touched his shoulder affectionately before strolling off in the opposite direction, her parting words lingering between them.

“Your usual?” Dismas asked as he appeared, his tone flat.

Not a-fucking-nother one.

Răzvan nodded.

Dismas grabbed a bottle from the mini fridge below the bar, removing the cap with deliberate slowness—making sure to show it hadn’t been tampered with—then reached back under and grabbed another frosted green bottle, but this one wasn’t alcohol.

“You tell Winter when she shows me an ID that one of her people hasn’t made—I know the difference—I’ll send her a real drink.”

Jesus, she wasn’t even twenty-one?

He’d already assumed she was younger than he was, she looked it, but he hadn’t expected she was that young.

Just how old was she?

Răzvan accepted the drinks with a nod of his head before heading back to the table.

As she reached out to take her drink from him, he held the bottle a moment longer than necessary, conveying what he didn’t want to ask.

“Don’t worry,” she said with a sarcastic smile. “I’m legal.”

—How old are you?— At this point, he felt he had to ask.

For someone who happily talked and told him anything he wanted to know, she seemed reluctant to answer. “I’ll be nineteen this year.”

So eighteen.

She was eighteen.

Thirteen years younger than he was.

Răzvan took a drink of his beer.

That should have bothered him that she was so much younger, but while his brain was a little put off by the number, the rest of him wasn’t.

Fuck, he needed to get laid.

“Are we playing?” Winter asked with a nod of her head at the table. “Or are you going to stand there trying to figure out if you still want to have sex with me now that you know how old I am?”

In the split second it took for her to finish her question, he choked on his beer.

“Where are your brothers?” she asked, changing the subject without a blink. “They weren’t here last night, and they’re not here now. I thought you guys traveled in a pack?”

—Only when we’re working.—

She nodded like the answer satisfied her enough as she began racking the balls, easily maneuvering around the table with a confidence one couldn’t fake.

He’d expected her to pretend as if she was bad at the game, to try to lull him into a false sense of security in his own skills, but instead, she showed him exactly what he was up against.

—This favor you’re asking for,—he signed once he had her attention again,—does it have anything to do with wherever the hell you were tonight?—

She paused, seeming surprised he’d guessed as much, but it was obvious something had changed since last night because she would have told him about it when he was at her place.

“I hope you’re not following me around, Răz. I don’t think we were there yet in our relationship.”

—Educated guess.—

She eased around the table, lining up her next shot, and maybe he was a bit of a bastard, but he couldn’t help but notice the way her jeans hugged her ass as she bent over—or the fact she was at the perfect height for what he wanted to do to her.

“Are you going to stare at my ass all night, Răz? Because if you want, I can stay like this.”

Fucking Christ.

She stepped around him, allowing him his chance at the table, but he wasn’t focusing on his shot.

Winter was just there, leaning one hip against the table, the edge of her top riding up and revealing the pale flesh of her abdomen and waspish waist.

A tempting distraction.

With a quick jerk of his arm, he sent the cue ball flying, purposely missing the striped ball across the table.

He needed her to think this would be an easy win for her. That way, she’d lower her guard, and he could get some answers out of her. —Why’d you pick me for whatever it is you’re planning?—

“Why not you? You’re … you.”

—Enlighten me.—

“Fishing for compliments? Because you can just look in a mirror, you know. Pretty sure you know you’re nice to look at.” She glanced back at him, her head tilting to the side as she regarded him. “Seriously?”

She waited until he’d taken his shot before she came to him, so close he could smell the floral scent of her perfume.

“You have great cheekbones,” she whispered, the brush of her fingers against his face making him stand a little straighter. “And your eyes are blue. Then there’s the little fact you’re all brawny.” Her smile grew a little. “But that’s just why I want you—has nothing to do with what I need from you.”

He could get lost in her, he realized—lost in the fantasy she presented.

—So which one are you after? Me, or what I can do for you?—

“Both. I’m multitasking.”

She turned then, lining up her next shot.

Five balls later, she was up by two and completely oblivious to him letting her win. For now.

—Where’d your friends disappear to?—

“Probably in the back,” she said with an absent wave of her hand.

While she was busy looking back at the door he’d seen her come out of the night before, he sunk a ball then scratched.

—Are they part of whatever this is you’re doing?—

“You’re getting a bit ahead of yourself there, big guy. You haven’t even won the game yet.”

Ten minutes later, her bravado turned to confusion as he easily overtook her lead and sank every ball he had left.

With all the finesse in the world, he’d managed to distract her, and she watched in surprise as he lined up his last shot and sank the eight ball into the corner pocket with ridiculous ease.

But on the heels of her amazement was disappointment.

“You’re way better than I thought.”

He shrugged, looking from the table to her. —I always win.—

“Is that a fact?”

He gestured to the table with a tilt of his head, letting that be his answer.

She placed her pool stick back on the rack against the wall. “Looks like our fun is over.”

He caught her hand before she could walk away, and if he were being honest with himself, he didn’t give a shit about whatever secret they’d been playing for. He didn’t want her to walk away.

There was a shroud of mystery surrounding Winter, and he wanted to figure her out.

—Drop by the loft tomorrow. Let’s talk.—

When she smiled, he felt on top of the world.