Page 100 of Mercenary

“Initially, yes.”

I gasp as he leans forward and lightning fast closes the distance between us. “How deep were the cuts?” he harshly demands, completely surprising me. Not your cuts but the cuts. Luciana’s cuts.

“How deep? The two across her lower abdomen we treated with lanolin but both will likely scar. The others were deep enough to cut into her dermis but, judging by the way they bled and how her body immediately shifted into the healing process, I don’t believe they’ll leave permanent marks.” I frown. He didn’t ask me who was hurt instead of me. If Diego works for him . . . does Luciana?

Is Luciana the reason why he suddenly seems . . . furious?

I resist asking him, not wanting to drag her into this if she isn’t already involved. And he’s furious. Positively, one-hundred-percent livid. Like he cares.

“A person’s body has a miraculous way of recovering.”

Silence follows my explanation until I can’t take it any longer.

“It’s clear you’re a man who doesn’t like mistakes.”

“It’s not a matter of liking them. I don’t tolerate mistakes. Or lies.”

I stiffen at the chill in his tone. But I’m still at a loss over what this is really all about. “What exactly does your organization do?” Besides spying on people, like Kylie admitted to doing? Like killing people, like Declan has done?

“We deal with the nuisances of society.”

“Like rodents or pesky insects?” I murmur.

“Precisely. Threats to our sense of well-being.”

“Our?” I swallow hard. “Or your?”

“Both. One goes hand in hand with the other. I run a tight ship. There’s no room for mistakes. My organization’s existence demands our secrets be kept secure. It’s the nature of the beast I’ve built.”

He sighs, sits back in his seat, and studies me. Until once again, I find myself squirming in my seat.

“Your sister singlehandedly ruined a year’s worth of work. She exposed my organization. She acted as a double agent, spying for me while squealing on me. Everything I’ve done is at risk.”

I swallow hard. Kylie did say she’d been spying on DiCapitano. “Kylie is as loyal as they come,” I insist.

He straightens and leans back in toward me. When he speaks, it’s in such a low tone, I strain to hear him. “You’re intelligent yet naive. Far too loyal for your own good. You take everything at face value, black or white, don’t you? A shame our world operates within the in-between. No one knows we exist until it’s too late. Admirable qualities, loyalty, optimism, love. Be careful or they’ll ruin you.”

I flinch. He’s summed me up perfectly. “At least we agree on something. Love’s brought me heartache,” I say truthfully. “Even friendship has . . .”

“Friendship has gotten you somewhere. You just don’t know it yet.”

Before I can wonder about his comment, his manner abruptly changes. “What did Kylie say? All of it this time.”

Great. Here we go again. “She told me who killed our father. A Prick named Novák—her exact words, not mine. She kept saying how she meant to find him . . . before . . .” I close my eyes, remembering how DiCapitano’s men dragged her out of the hotel room.

“Go on.”

“She plans on tracking the man down and making him pay for what he did.”

“Did she say where she’d find him?”

“No.”

“Out of the country, perhaps?”

I shake my head. “She didn’t elaborate.”

“Damn it.”