by Sadie Jacks
“Guys,” I said, trying to cut through the noise. We literally didn’t have time for them to lose their shit. It was my and Arkady’s asses that were on the line. They were all dicking around, trying to be the loudest and best.
I felt the beginnings of a headache spring up behind my eyeball.
A sharp piercing whistle cut through the bullshit. “SHUT THE FUCK UP! THIS ISN’T ABOUT YOU!” Nik screamed over the line when everyone was still bitching and moaning.
The line went dead quiet.
“Thank you,” Arkady said.
“I cannot have it appear that I am helping Talia. If I did, her punishment would be even more severe.”
Male snarls of rage filtered over the line.
“I’m going to mute the next person who makes noise,” Nik challenged. “Keep it up, and I’ll give you all a report after the fact.”
The line went silent again.
“Go on, Arkady,” Nik said.
“I believe my handler has been bought or compromised. He’s not been checking in the way he should. He’s also very interested in what is happening with Talia, although he does not call her by name. I’ve never mentioned her, so he’s getting the information from somewhere else.”
“So whatever action you take needs to go around him,” Nik said.
Arkady nodded. “Yes. Which is why I gave you the number and access code that I did. That will have started extraction, but I cannot guarantee that it will be in time.”
“And probably only covers your ass,” Foster said. His tone was at least cordial this time around.
“Exactly. I need you guys to coordinate with the exfil team. I will do my best to keep Talia safe during what is to come. But our survival—your sister’s survival—depends largely on you.”
Damn. No pressure or anything.
“We’ll be there by si—”
The line went dead.
Arkady cursed. He took the phone, cracked open the back, removed the battery. With a quick motion, the phone was in pieces. He ran to the bathroom. I heard the toilet flush moments later as the door behind me smacked me in the ass.
Tripping and falling to my knees, I barely caught myself from becoming roadkill as four men rushed in behind her.
“Arkady,” Svetlana said. “Why are you calling an American number?” She held up a phone, wiggled it at him as he came back out of the bathroom. “And what happened to keeping the bitch in her cell until dinner?”
Chapter 30 – Foster
“Talia,” Nik said. “Can you hear me?”
“TALIA!” Willow screamed.
“She’s gone. The line is dark. And we can’t risk calling them. That could give away their position.”
“That’s assuming they cut the call themselves,” Striker said. “If they’ve been found out…” he let his voice trail off.
I wanted to punch him in the face. But I knew he was right. “Nik, get us hooked up with Arkady’s handler’s supervisor. Now.” Anger, fear, and horror dug into my guts. Wrenched and whipped them around. And, as if that weren’t enough, it felt like urgency was an acid that drenched everything.
“Dialing him in,” she said quickly. “Who’s taking lead?”
“I am,” I said immediately.
“This is Amber Hershel. How can I help you?”
I stayed silent. Obviously, this wasn’t the person we were hoping to talk to.
“Hey Amber. I need to speak to Raymond again, please,” Nik said.
“Of course, Ms. Pelaez. Could you verify your access code, please?”
Nik rattled off the string of letters and numbers so quickly I could barely discern separations in her words.
“I’ll get him now. Have a great day.”
“You, too.”
The line went quiet. Which was good. The Barbie doll quality of Amber’s voice, especially right now, had me gritting my teeth.
“This is Bankstead.”
I cleared my throat. “Agent Bankstead, this is Foster Ambright. We’re leading a strike team into the Kuznetsov fortress in ninety minutes. Your man on the inside was mid-phone call when the line went black. You’re more than welcome to join us, or you can sit back. But we will be entering the premises at 1900 hours.”
“Who are you again?”
“Foster Ambright. Former intelligence operator for the US. You don’t have time to check my credentials, sir. Nor do we have time to vet yours. Send us men, don’t send us men. We will be entering.”
“I’ve got a small strike team getting ready to infiltrate.”
“Location?” I demanded.
“Not without clearance, Mr. Ambright.”
I nodded. Known it was going to be a bureaucratic nightmare. “Then please tell them not to shoot the other guys in tac-gear. We’ll try to stay out of your way, Agent Bankstead. End the call, Grasshopper.”
“Line’s cut,” Nik said. “Give me a minute. I might be able to hook you up with the strike team.”
I shook my head. “They’ll have to run it up their line. It will be just as bad, if not worse. No, we’ll go in alone.” I looked at my team.
They all nodded back.
“We’re heading out, Nik. Radio silence until breach.”
“Got it. Be careful, guys. We can’t afford to lose anyone else.” She signed off.
“Let’s go save our girl, kick some Russian ass, and find something on Amara,” I said.
Smoke chuckled. “My favorite kind of pep talk. Short, to the point, no bullshit.” We jumped from the van near the forward staging area we’d picked. In a single file line, we made our way to the nearest Metro-2 access point that was linked to the section of the tunnels Nik had been able to see on the blueprints.
How that woman managed to wind her way through the internet and the world baffled me as usual. Today, though…today I was thankful. More than thankful.
Pushing all thoughts from my mind but the next objective, I settled into the old Foster Ambright I had left behind. I just prayed I came back out of this as whole as possible.
To save Talia, I would become the man I’d sworn off two years ago.
To save Talia, I would submerge myself in the soul-draining muck of clandestine operations.
To save Talia…
I would do anything.
Chapter 31 – Talia
The stupid dress was caught around my legs as Svetlana came in, her goon squad behind her. I couldn’t push the skirt of the dress out of the way far enough to get to my feet.
Something landed on my back. Brilliant, arcing pain danced through my body.
“AHH!” I bit off the scream as my body jittered and quivered under the onslaught. Rolling my lips in, I mashed the already abused flesh between my teeth.
“Arkady, you know better than to get involved. Don’t you remember what happened last time you couldn’t keep your nose out of matters that didn’t concern you?” Svetlana hissed as she walked up next to me.
She grabbed a handful of my hair, yanked my head back at a sharp angle. “You’re not so special, you know.”
I spat in her face. Smiled fiercely when the bloody saliva hit her cheek. “Special enough to get VIP treatment, I think.”
She glared at me, her green eyes bright. With her free hand, she wiped her cheek. Smeared it down my face. “You looked better in blood, little dove.” She grabbed my lips, pinched them until they split, and I felt the warm, thick crimson liquid ooze. She scooped it up on her fingers.
Keeping back the moans and groans of pain, I watched her. She looked like she was debating on tasting my blood or rubbing it in my hair. In the end, she flicked her tongue out. Ran it over the length of her digits. As she shuddered in delight, she smeared the remaining mess over my face.
Eww.
The men behind her cackled and hooted their delight. Morons. Unless they were vampires, why was tasting blood a hootable action? Weirdos.
With her hand still in my hair, she pulled me to my feet. “You’ve been summoned, little dove.” She pushed me forward.
The clutch of men caught me before I could stumble back to the floor. Their grips hard and bruising on my arms. They lifted me up just enough that the tips of my toes dragged on the floor as they hauled me from the room.
“Not that I don’t enjoy the royal treatment, fellas, but where are we going?” I asked.
One of the guys behind me reached down. Slid his hand between my legs.
I kicked out at him. “Don’t touch me, asshole.” I smiled when his grunt of pain echoed through the halls. I knew these heels would be good for something.
A hard conversation in Russian passed between them. Then a low, masculine chuckle followed from all of them. It made my stomach turn.
All too soon, we’re in a new room. This one was big enough to hold a professional American football field. It’s also elegant and beautiful. I had a feeling the crude and vile things that were about to happen were going to create an awful juxtaposition.
You’ve got this, T. You’ve got this. Foster is on his way. Just hold out. Hold out long enough for them to get here. They can do anything they want, it doesn’t mean they’ve broken you. No one can break you unless you let them. Like a ramped-up therapist lived in my brain, I listened to the advice. Tried to store it away in my heart and mind.
Arkady had told me what was coming. I survived it once. I could—scratch that—would survive it again. Amatuccis were made of sterner stuff. And I knew it was coming. That had to count for something.
The gang that was carrying me came to a jerking halt before they dropped me to the hard marble floor. I landed in a lump of bruised flesh and angry joints. I couldn’t wait until Foster got here. These fuckers would get a taste of their own medicine. Even if I had to use a fireplace poker to shove up their asses, everything they did to me would be visited back on them.
I pushed back the heavy curtain of my hair. Looked up at the gigantic table that seated at least twenty people. All men.
I hope they at least brought lube, my inner bitch chuckled. I laughed along with her.
The five men who’d raped me the first time glowered at me.
What? Like I was supposed to still treat them with the respect they hadn’t earned? Not fucking likely.
I flipped them off.
The low bantering that had filled the room cut off like it had never existed.
Pushing to my knees, I kicked off my shoes. Clutched them in my fists, heels pointing outwards like knives. I wasn’t above fighting dirty. They certainly didn’t care about a clean fight.
“I hear a good gang rape is happening,” I said, my voice loud. The words were a little slurred over the mangled flesh of my lips. “Am I too late?”
A couple manly chuckles floated through the air.
The five men in the middle of the group were not impressed with my bravado.
I stood there in silence. A silence that grated at my nerves. Ripped at my confidence. Scored and tore at my calm exterior.
The distinctive clip, clip, clip of stilettos on hard floors sounded behind me. “Poor little dove,” Svetlana crooned as she came up beside me. “Where are the men in your family? No one to protect you now. Just like the men your uncles murdered, you are all alone.”
Kuznetsov brothers slammed fists down on the table as one thunderous clap of sound. The glassware, flatware, and dinnerware jumped under the onslaught. “Smert'.”
I had no idea what they yelled, but I didn’t think it was an invitation to join their country club.
Svetlana nodded. She leaned down, got in my face. “Da. You will die, little bitch.” She lowered her voice, put her mouth right by my ear. “You should have kept your filthy hands to yourself. He’s mine. He will always be mine.”
Wait. What?
I looked up at her. “Who?”
She backed up, smiled. “You’ll find out soon enough.” With that, she slapped me across the face.
Chapter 32 – Foster
I double clicked the mic on my rifle. The pre-arranged signal for all clear. We’d taken down at least three perimeter guards. Someone was expecting something. I would be willing to bet it was Karine. She was brilliant and making sure every contingency was covered.
I waited at the head of my tunnel. Mas and his team had split up to cover our backtrail. Make sure there weren’t any surprises for us on the way back out. That was even assuming we’d get to come out the back way.
I felt a hand on my shoulder. It squeezed twice before I rammed the knife into his belly. “All clear,” Mas said. In this type of situation, it was probably good that he had a damaged voice that rarely went above a whisper. “On your go.”
Nodding, I moved forward. We were two tunnels away from breaching the Kuznetsov property if the blueprints Nik had given us were correct. Please, deities, let them be correct. I would rain hell down on the Kuznetsov family if they thought to broadcast the gang rape and murder of my woman.
A noise up ahead had me lifting a clenched fist into the air.
All movement behind me stopped.
Out of the stygian darkness of the last cross tunnel, I heard, “This is an official Interpol operation. You do not have authority to be here. Leave now.”
I felt my upper lip curl, exposing my teeth. “We talked to Agent Bankshead. We’re a private company on a rescue mission for one of the captives. We won’t get in your way, but we won’t be leaving either. We know you’re here for Arkady.”
Someone flicked on a light from their side. The bright spot blinded me, but I didn’t turn my face away.
“Ambright?”
I blinked, shook my head slightly. “Who’s asking?”
The light shifted to show a familiar face. “Washburn, you asshole. What the hell are you doing here?”
He chuckled. “You literally just told us what we’re doing here. I don’t think we need the repeat.” He motioned his team forward. “They’re good,” he said over his shoulder.
My team tensed at my back. It felt like someone had shoved an electrode up my ass—and unfortunately, I knew exactly what that felt like from experience.
“What’s your breach mechanism?” Washburn asked.
I waved Striker forward. “We brought a lockpicker.”
Washburn nodded. “We’re under strict orders here, Ambright. We get our man and get out. Whatever is left is fair game.”
I smiled. “Then be glad you haven’t just made yourselves our enemy. They have my woman and this guy’s,” I jerked a thumb at Mas, “sister. We’ll be retrieving her. With extreme prejudice.”
Washburn snorted. “Good. If the intel we’ve gotten from Arkady is good, this group needs to be taken down as quickly as possible.”
I nodded. “We’re on channel three. Join us if you want. But I’m point for this side.”
Washburn nodded. “Istanbul?”
My eyes widened slightly.
I nodded. “Works for me.”
Chapter 33 – Talia
My head jerked to the side as fire lit up my cheek. I raised my hand to my face. It came away bloody. I looked at the woman.
She gave me a finger wave. “I hope you’re ready for the long haul, hellcat.” She sneered the last word. She had rings on each finger. Each ring held a single colorless stone in the middle of a prong setting.
I blinked. There was only one person who ever called me hellcat. Foster. This bitch thought Foster was hers? Cunt, please. Just on principle’s sake, I wasn’t going to let her have him. Had she asked nicely, I might have been willing to share.
Maybe.
Kinda.
Okay, fine. I probably would have killed her for asking. But still. All this over a man? It wasn’t like his penis was imbued with magical…wait…it kinda was. Dang it.
Another slap, more fire arced across my cheekbone. Only on the other side this time.
“Stop ignoring me, suka!” she screamed in my face.
“Damn, girl. Chill out. It’s just dick.” I tipped my head towards the huge table. “Go ride one of them if you’re feeling a
ll slutty.”
She hissed—like a freaking cat—as she punched me in the throat.
I fell back, gasping. My brain was sending out red alert messages as if I didn’t know oxygen was running low. Coughing, choking, and struggling to breathe, I held my throat. Forcing myself to push what little air I had out of my lungs, I strained to pull in a single steady breath.
You can do this. You’ve trained for this. Krav Maga isn’t for pussies, T. Now ovary up and get to breathing, my inner bitch said calmly.
I pulled a thin stream of air in through my nose.
A shadow moved over my face.
I hadn’t realized I’d closed my eyes. Bad move, T. I opened my eyes. Just in time to see Svetlana raise her foot high above me.
As she dropped it, I rolled to the side. Smiled as her scream of rage shot through the room when her heel broke off the bottom of her shoe.
I scrambled to my feet. No longer willing to let this go on with me on my knees.
The skirt tripped me again, but I managed to take a couple of tumbling steps before crashing down. Straightening, I turned.
Got pounded in the face with a ringed hand.
Blood spurted and poured from my nose. It had gotten a lot of attention these past few days. How it hadn’t broken, I still wasn’t sure.
Ducking out from under her next punch, I crouched and slammed my heel into her side. Felt the material of the dress give under the force. A soft riiiip sounded. As I spun through the movement, I tightened my grip on the stiletto heel. At the end of the curve, the heel caught Svetlana in the face.
I almost gagged as I saw the heel of the shoe pierce right through her cheek. Shit. That was bad. Right? That was very bad.
Her green eyes—wait.
I leaned in. Her eyes were blue now. Bright, shocking blue. Tears filled her eyes as shock registered on her features. Had the blow to her face changed her eye color? Or was she wearing colored contacts for some reason?
Oh, well. My death was written in her eyes, no matter their color. I danced back out of her strike zone. Down to one shoe, I watched for my best opening.
