Born and raised in Ireland—a fact most knew—Celt had been a mercenary for a little longer than Niklaus, at least two years since Celt had been one of the six that helped train him for this new life. Since then, they had been on a few missions together, and caught up whenever they could.
It seemed Celt had been invited to this little party as well, which made Niklaus wonder if he had already known this awaited him, and considering they had seen a lot of each other over the last couple of weeks, why hadn’t he bothered to mention it was beyond him.
With a stupid grin on his face, Celt held up a black hood, the cloth hanging from fingers, the thing all too familiar to Niklaus.
“Just like old times then?” Celt asked, knowing exactly why Niklaus glared at him.
Snatching it from him, Niklaus muttered a curse, forcing the thing over his head though he hated the memories it brought with it. Memories of a time when he was helpless and unsure…
A hand—Celt’s he assumed—wrapped around his bicep, guiding him the rest of the way to the Escalade. A door was opened and he was practically shoved inside before it was closed again, two sharp raps on the window sending them on their way.
Niklaus’ senses were on high alert as the truck pulled off, waiting for the other person—who was quite obviously seated across from him since he could smell the man—to speak. His breathing was careful, and there was just enough space between them that a person with adequate training could keep themselves relatively unharmed.
He ticked off the minutes they drove in his head, cataloguing each turn as well. By the time they stopped, gravel crunching beneath the tires, they had traveled for a little less than fifteen minutes, made three right turns, and four left.
Niklaus sighed heavily, his patience wearing thin as he waited. Instead—and much to his surprise—the person across from him still didn’t speak, but opened the door and climbed out, the truck shifting with his weight, and not even a moment later, someone new replaced them.
Niklaus still wasn’t sure who the hell he was supposed to be meeting with.
Unlike the previous occupant of the seat across from him, it was a bit clearer that this one was the one in charge. “There’s no need to keep that on.”
Niklaus snatched the hood off, immediately looking to the man that had thought it necessary to keep him blind and essentially kidnap him for the duration of the ride. More importantly, he needed to figure out who the hell this person was. Since his first contract, Niklaus had only ever worked with Z, and he wasn’t looking to change that.
If whoever this man was, was new to their trade—Celt seemed to know him if he’d gone along with this—it meant one of two things. Either Niklaus was getting bid off—his current contract was sold to whoever this guy was—or they were all under new management.
Neither idea particularly appealed to him.
They were parked beneath a bypass, the interior lights along with the headlights both turned off, but Niklaus could still make out other figures looming outside the vehicle, as well as other car parked a few feet away. He didn’t immediately recognize the area they were in, but he would be able to find his way should this go bad.
“Niklaus.”
Only his twin brother, called him by that name anymore. He hated the sound of it, and no matter who this guy thought he was, Niklaus refused to respond to it. “Klaus.”
The man across from him wore a blank expression, not even a little amusement, and even after Niklaus’ correction, it didn’t change. “I thought it was time we had a little chat.”
He had a marked accent, a combination of Irish and Welsh if Niklaus wasn’t mistaken. He’d spent time in both regions—and around Celt—to pick up on the various dialects.
“Who are you?”
“Your new handler,” he said evenly, his head canting to the side as though he were the one studying Niklaus instead of the other way around.
This guy, whoever he was, was fucking off, and if there was one thing that Niklaus didn’t need, it was someone he couldn’t read delving into his business.
Scratching his jaw, doing his best to hide his wariness, Niklaus asked, “And my last one?”
“Dead, but that isn’t of any importance. I need you for a job.”
What the actual fuck?
Z was dead?
How the hell hadn’t he heard considering word got around quick enough when someone bit the bullet. He was tempted to ask the man how it had all went down, but with one look at him, he thought better of it, figuring the man wouldn’t be revealing details.
“Listen. I don’t know where you’re from, but I just finished a contract and I have some down time before I need to report in. Catch me later.” By that time, Niklaus would be gone and almost impossible to track down. While he didn’t mind his job on the best of days, one meeting with this guy told him that they were not going to get along.
The man laughed, though it didn’t sound amused in the slightest. “I would have thought that after you killed Rayne, you might be a little more inclined to listen to reason.”