Crooks & Kings: A Wild Bunch Novel Read online

  Had it been grief that made him seek her out in the first place?

  Had he wanted his pain to stop?

  He had seemed so lost at first, so sad, and then he wasn’t. She had never questioned it—she was just glad to be with him, yet now, she wondered was all this, him being with her, just a means for him to work through his pain.

  Christophe seemed just as lost as she felt, his stance straightening, but he didn’t utter a word.

  The sudden need to get away hit her hard, and before anyone could stop her, she left the room.

  It all made so much sense now, especially Thanatos’ cryptic comments her first night at the loft.

  But who had he been trying to spare by not telling?

  Her feelings or his pain?

  “Mari, I can explain,” Christophe said as he caught up to her.

  He’d never used that name with her, and it seemed almost wrong that it was because of this that he was using it now. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I didn’t know how.”

  “You could have told me the night I told you about my mother.” The night that had changed everything.

  “It wasn’t the right time.”

  “When exactly is the right time, Fang?”

  It wasn’t as if they were still virtual strangers. He’d shared everything now, or at least she had thought. His job, his life, his family, yet not one word about her.

  Why?

  “What does that make me?” she asked, feeling no warmth at all standing in his presence.

  “It doesn’t change what we have,” he said, gaze on her, as if he knew where she was going with this and didn’t like her train of thought.

  “Doesn’t it?” she asked, her voice breaking slightly at the end.

  Truthfully, she didn’t know what they had.

  It wasn’t as though they had ever spoken of a relationship other than one of them climbing into bed with the other.

  She offered her hopes and dreams, truths, and carefully guarded secrets. Everything. She had offered him everything.

  And she’d believed he’d given everything in return until now.

  “No, it doesn’t.”

  But he was wrong.

  It changed everything.

  And she wished she could feel numb.

  Christophe slept like shit—if that was what one called staring up at a ceiling all night.

  No matter how he tried to turn his thoughts off, the only thing on his mind was Mariya and their cluster fuck of a conversation.

  His intention hadn’t always been to keep Aidra a secret, but he hadn’t known how to explain—still didn’t, obviously, considering the way things had gone the night before.

  Even now, though, he still didn’t know what to say, or the right way to explain everything. It had never been simple—not his relationship with Aidra, and the reason it ended.

  But what he had with Mariya wasn’t simple either.

  Shit had just become complicated, and he only had himself to blame.

  Scrubbing a hand down his face, Christophe forced himself to get up. Whether she was upset with him or not, he’d made her a promise, and he fully intended to keep it.

  To his surprise, Mariya was already awake, sitting in the living room with Thanatos, her laughter ringing in the room as he said something to make her laugh.

  The sight of them together shouldn’t have annoyed him. If anything, he should have been happy they were getting along, and there was no awkwardness between them, but the dark emotion still thrummed inside him as he stepped into the kitchen and grabbed a mug from the cabinet for coffee.

  Thanatos sometimes liked to push his buttons, just to get a rise out of him, but Christophe was usually better about falling for the bait. But as his gaze followed the way Thanatos touched Mariya’s shoulder, he contemplated violence.

  “I’m guessing she found out about Aidra,” Invictus said from his spot next to the refrigerator.

  Not taking his eyes from them, Christophe asked, “How do you figure that?”

  “Considering she came out here thirty minutes ago like her world ended and you look like shit, it’s a fair guess.”

  Yet now she looked perfectly content while he was wondering how she would react if he went over there and got her attention. “She doesn’t know everything,” he finally answered.

  Shit, she barely knew anything, and the longer he went without explaining, the more fucked up it would become.

  It wasn’t a conversation he’d wanted to have, though if he were honest, he knew it had always been inevitable.

  He hadn’t known what to say, or even how to say it.

  “What’s so hard? Your girlfriend died during a job that went bad. That doesn’t sound so complicated to me.”

  That’s because Invictus was honest to a fault and had a blunt way of saying things.

  “Right, because saying she died when I failed to protect her is what she needs right now.”

  “Do you honestly think she cares about the job? Shit, even I can see it’s not about the job, Christophe.”

  What he wouldn’t do now for a drink. “It’s always going to be about the job. That’s what we signed up for.”

  “Then finish the fucking job and fix it. Don’t let your pride ruin you.” Invictus finished his coffee. “You can stop glaring at him now, though. You know how Vali can be—he doesn’t like to see anyone hurting. He doesn’t actually want her.”

  He knew that.

  Thanatos was the most mellow among them. He didn’t take anything too seriously, and after their time at the orphanage, he went out of his way to cheer someone up when they were down. He knew what it felt like to be stuck in a black pit of despair.

  It was one of the reasons Christophe hadn’t wanted to stay home. He’d wanted to feel the pain and guilt of Aidra’s death without Thanatos trying to take it away.

  “I know he doesn’t,” Christophe said eventually, his annoyance slowly draining away.

  Invictus canted his head to the side as he regarded him. “Now you’re so sure?”

  “Of course.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you don’t want her.”

  To that, Invictus gave a slight shrug of his shoulder, confirming what they both already knew before he left the room.

  He could have stood there and watched them forever—watched her—but instead, he let Thanatos do what he did best and turned to walk away, going in search of Tăcut.

  For once, he welcomed the quiet.

  But Tăcut wasn’t alone when Christophe found him moments later. Winter at his side, one leg tucked beneath her as she leaned forward to watch him work.

  Small to his big, it still baffled him that Tăcut was engaging with the hacker at all. She was a tiny thing, less than half his size, and despite her affiliation with mercenaries, she didn’t look like she belonged in this life at all.

  Christophe didn’t mind her so much, or at least he hadn’t until she decided to stick her nose where it didn’t belong.

  Neither seemed aware of his presence so far, lost in a world of their own making, but Christophe didn’t have time to leave them in it.

  He cleared his throat, dragging their attention back to him. “Is now a good time for you?”

  Winter flushed guiltily as her gaze darted from him to the floor and back to Tăcut. “I’m going to go.”

  “Do me a favor when you go out there, yes?” Christophe called after her. “If you get that impulse to spill what isn’t yours to share, don’t.”

  Tăcut was nearly off his stool, the metal scraping across the floor before Winter grabbed his arm, stilling him in an instant.

  “I’m only sorry because she obviously cares for you—though I can’t see why—and it was probably not something she wanted sprung on her. But thanks for reminding me why I prefer the Den to you.”

  She whispered something to Tăcut before grabbing her laptop and leaving the room, careful not to let any part of her touch Christophe on her way out. />
  He’d only turned for a second, watching her disappear down the hall before he was looking back.

  In that second, Tăcut had crossed the floor, and before he even had a thought to defend himself, the man was launching his fist into Christophe’s face.

  “Jesus fuck.”

  Pain flared to life as Tăcut packed nearly everything he had behind the punch. He usually wasn’t one to pull his punches, so even when they sparred, Christophe was sore afterward, but that was nothing compared to what he was feeling now.

  It actually felt like he might have knocked a tooth loose.

  Tăcut didn’t throw another hit as Christophe straightened, and only once he straightened and glared at him did he sign, Talk to her like that again, and I’ll break your fucking jaw.

  “I said what I said. I’ve got enough shit to deal with without you lot getting in the middle of it—especially someone I don’t know or trust.”

  Tăcut, who was probably the most levelheaded of them all, frowned as his hands moved. Then stop acting like a fucking coward.

  “That’s bullshit,” he said. “Whether I told Mariya today or six months from now, it was still supposed to be me who told her, not your new pet.”

  Tăcut took another step toward him. Christophe would only allow the one before he fought back, but Tăcut didn’t hit him again.

  The way I see it, we’re knee-deep in the middle of your shit because you asked us to be, or are we not taking on the fucking Russian mafiya because you asked us here?

  “I don’t see what one has to do with the other.”

  Tăcut rolled his eyes and would have scoffed if he was capable of the sound. How the fuck was she, or any of us, supposed to know you hadn’t mentioned Aidra at all in the six months you’ve been gone? It was six fucking months, Fang. You do understand you brought her to our home?

  Christophe blew out a breath. Tăcut was right, even if he didn’t want to admit it. He was putting the blame where it didn’t belong.

  “Yeah, I got that.”

  What’s there to hide? Tell her the truth, purge it, and move on. It’s time.

  “Yeah,” Christophe said, wiping the blood away. “I know that too.”

  He just hadn’t found the words yet.

  There was far more to Thanatos than what she’d thought.

  After last night with Christophe, the last thing she had wanted to do was engage with any of his brothers, especially when she was no longer sure what to say, but Thanatos had made it easy on her when he’d walked into the kitchen a few minutes after her and asked if she was any good at Call of Duty.

  “Is this like practice for you?” she’d asked once the game started, and he began picking people off in the game.

  He offered her an amused smile. “Something like that.”

  It was easy to let him distract her and take her mind off what she now knew from Winter, but as she found her gaze straying down the hall where she knew Christophe was, she finally looked at Thanatos and asked, “What was she like?”

  He didn’t even look up, but the tightening of his mouth told her he knew exactly who she meant. “Who?”

  “Aidra.”

  He scratched his chin, his eyes dropping down to the controller in his other hand. “You should probably ask Fang that question.”

  “I don’t think he wants to talk about her.”

  It wasn’t really a thought—she knew he didn’t want to discuss her because if he had, he would have done so already. He’d gone to great lengths, in fact, so that he wouldn’t have to even think about her.

  She doubted, even after the time they spent together, he was ready to talk about it, especially after their conversation.

  She’d almost been afraid to broach the subject with him, seeing the fear and sadness that welled up in him at the mere mention of her name.

  “You don’t have to tell me about them together. Just,” she trailed off, trying to think of the right way to say it, “what was she like as a person?”

  “Headstrong,” Thanatos said a moment later, pausing his game. “Caring. Exasperating when she wanted to be. She was part of the family. She was the first girl Fang met after we left the orphanage.”

  “So she was his first love?” she asked quietly.

  Thanatos seemed to consider his words before saying, “She was the first person to look at him like he was something more than a potential recruit or a boy who needed to be saved. She loved him.”

  “How could she not?” Mariya asked, though it wasn’t a question she wanted him to answer.

  There was so much about Christophe to love—his humor, his protectiveness, the way he smiled at the most random of things. He was willing to risk it all for her, and they’d only known each other, officially, for a little more than a month.

  “But it wouldn’t have worked out,” Thanatos said, cutting into her thoughts.

  “You don’t have to say that.”

  “I don’t lie about anything. Ever. I’m not saying this for your benefit. I’m saying it because Fang’s gonna have to come to that realization at some point.”

  “Why do you think that?”

  “We were all victims in this life once, but even as low as we all were, he was willing to be brought lower if it meant sparing someone else. That instinct to save others doesn’t fade. This life of ours—it’s not an easy one. It’s for damn sure not a safe one. Aidra … she liked the danger and the daring. His desire to protect her from it, and her desire to court it—the two don’t mix.”

  Thanatos shook his head, his eyes falling on her. “But you, you’ve been trying to escape it, haven’t you? And you’d rather concede the battle until another day than risk it all. Balance,” he said. “It’s all about balance.”

  She wasn’t sure if his words made her feel better or worse.

  Better because he thought she would be good for Christophe, or worse because he thought she was meek.

  Before her mind could run with the possibilities, a knock sounded at the door, sharp and insistent.

  No one was supposed to know they were there, they’d said, but someone obviously did.

  Her heart skipped a beat as Thanatos got to his feet easily and walked over to open the door as if he had no fear of who might be on the other side.

  This was Chicago, after all, and despite their assurances, she didn’t think they fully understood the gravity of her family’s reach.

  Peering through the peephole, it only took him a few seconds before he was turning the deadbolts and opening the door.

  As he stepped to the side with a half-smile and a jerk of his head, her panic eased.

  The man who entered was definitely older than Christophe and his brothers—a decade at least—and instead of the jeans and T-shirts she’d grown used to seeing, this man wore a crisp navy suit with a maroon tie, all clean lines and sharp edges.

  There was a subtle sophistication about him, from the perfectly coiffed hair, impressive jawline, and the way his presence seemed to fill up the room though he hadn’t said a word.

  But something was off about that perfect exterior.

  His gaze shifted to her as he moved further into the room, though his expression never changed. The mild twitch of his lips was the only sign that he found her presence there curious.

  “Mariya, I presume,” he greeted her with a calming sort of smile as if he wanted to lower her guard. “I’m Nix. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  This was Christophe’s handler?

  This was the man who’d taken on an entire group of men to save Christophe and his brothers?

  She almost couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t be any older than thirty-five, and had Christophe not regaled her with tales of him, she would have never believed he was capable of anything of the sort.

  Then again, Christophe nor the rest of The Wild Bunch looked like they could break into high-security banks with ridiculous ease.

  Looks were deceiving.

  Mariya was lifting her hand before she even ha
d a thought to, still having yet to say a word.

  Nix had an accent, not Romanian like the others, but English, a cultured one with a refined quality about it that reminded her of an aristocrat.

  As he took her hand in his, she noticed the gleaming ring on his finger. “It’s nice to meet you. Christophe has told me a lot”—that was a bit of a stretch—“about you.”

  “Not too much, I trust.”

  “Enough,” she said.

  She might not have known very much about him, but what he did for Christophe was all that mattered to her.

  “Nix.”

  They both turned as Christophe came down the hallway, quickly followed by Tăcut and Invictus. As his gaze flickered down to where his handler was still holding her hand, he scowled. “Where’s your wife?”

  Mariya tried to pretend like she didn’t notice.

  “On an assignment, unfortunately. Otherwise, I’m sure she would have loved to be here for this.”

  Something was left unspoken between the men, and though she couldn’t be sure, she thought the this Nix was referring to was her.

  “What brings you to Chicago?” Thanatos cut in, collapsing back on the couch, resuming his earlier position.

  “Curiosity,” Nix responded, regarding each of them in turn. “If I recall, I gave you one simple assignment, and that was not to draw attention to yourselves. Yet there now seems to be a quarter-of-a-million-dollar price on your head, Fang. Care to explain that?”

  Mariya seemed to be the only one surprised by the number as she looked back in shock at him, but a sinking feeling in her stomach quickly replaced the surprise as she had an idea who’d placed it.

  Christophe, on the other hand, didn’t appear fazed by the number, or that there was a hit on him in the first place. “I was hoping for at least half a million.”

  Mariya couldn’t decide if he was crazy, or if he was that sure of himself that he wouldn’t get killed.

  Nix, on the other hand, didn’t look amused. “What did you do?”

  “What you trained me to do,” Christophe said.

  “I’m assuming you hit the Russians’ bank?” Nix asked, folding his hands in his lap.

  “We did.”

  “Was it unsuccessful?”