It was rare that she used her nickname for Skorpion—a play on the first half his moniker—but she was terrified, more so than she had ever been in her life, and she desperately needed him to tell her that Uilleam would be all right.
That he would walk away from this as he had so many other run-ins with his enemies.
The Kingmaker was infallible—he was without equal.
But as she stared down at terrified eyes, she couldn’t help but think even gods bled.
Two hours earlier …
Sacramento, California
All good things came to an end …
It had taken Kit until now to realize how true those words were, but with Uilleam calling Luna in for a job, he finally decided to stop ignoring the work he needed to get done.
That didn't mean he was pleased.
He was a bit annoyed with his brother for calling her in, but he knew better than to complain. Uilleam would then make it his personal mission to ensure she was always on an assignment if only to annoy him.
Annoyed though he was, he couldn’t complain too much. It had been because of Uilleam that he had found a wife. Despite the time it consumed, it was this job that had ultimately brought her to him.
“I’ve always wanted to go to Bora Bora,” Aidra said with a sigh, looking through pictures of the tropical island on her tablet as they rode through the hills of Santa Monica, on their way to a private lounge that was nestled away from the city. “I hear the water is lovely there.”
“I’m sure Fang would gladly take you, should you ask.”
She glared at him, though her twitching told him it wasn’t serious. “If he ever got any off time. Amazing that you can just take off in the middle of the night, but we have to be available at a moment’s notice.”
Now, he smiled. “It pays to be the boss. But should you have a date in mind, let me know and I’ll make sure you’re free.”
Aidra laughed softly. “Married life is agreeing with you. I should have made you do this sooner.”
Driving up the twisting road toward the Spanish villa, Kit’s thoughts turned to Luna, as they often did.
Remembering the smile on her face, the way her eyes lit up when he’d shown her the ring, he didn’t think anything else had ever made him as happy.
Signaling before turning into the parking lot, Kit found a spot right in the thick of the other cars, ensuring that his wouldn’t stand out too much amongst the others.
“Caesar Rivera,” Aidra reminded him as they exited the and started across the lot, her demeanor shifting from playful to serious. “He wants your assistance with moving cargo—and by cargo, I mean girls.”
This she said hesitantly, peeking up at him from the corner of her eye.
Kit’s steps didn’t falter. “You should have told me this sooner.”
Had she, it would have saved them a trip.
From the moment Luna walked into his life, he had slowly—though at the time he hadn’t immediately recognized what he was doing—distanced himself from particular clients that were once on retainer, and potential clients that sought his aid when it came to trafficking women across borders.
He hadn’t cared before, who those women were or where they came from, but once she was there with him, he could only imagine that one or any of those girls was someone’s Luna.
He made not have been able to shut them all down, but he could avoid aligning himself with them.
“Some of his background has only just gotten to me—sorry.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Kit said.
She wasn’t to blame for this, but he would make sure that after this meeting, people of similar ilk wouldn’t come to him for aid in this matter.
A man with a bald head and a tattoo on his neck glanced at them as they passed, a single nod telling Kit they were permitted to enter.
Inside the smokey interior of the lounge, bottle girls in leotards and high heels served drinks with a smile and wink. It was a gentleman’s establishment, that was complete with a rich wooden interior, a wall full of aged wine, and a sitting area that allowed an unobstructed view of the girls that were slightly bent over at the bar, waiting for orders to be filled.
Close to his side, he felt Aidra brush his arm, a silent cue for him to look where her gaze directed, but he had looked up Caesar Rivera before they arrived—though only enough to find a picture.
He was seated closer to the rear of the room, his table on a raised platform that reminded Kit of a dais. He had a thick mustache, the hair nearly covering his entire upper lip, then extending down along the sides of his mouth.
Even when he smiled, the man still looked displeased.
Upon first glance, Kit could tell this was not an establishment that Caesar frequented, not when the lot of the room was clad in suits while he wore clothes that were clearly expensive, but not note worthy.
Wiping his hands, then his mouth, with a linen napkin that he plucked from his lap, Caesar tossed it on the table as he stood, his gaze landing on Kit almost immediately.