Hostile Ground

by Cara Carnes

  Addy noted the hidden subtext. Not everyone within Lavrov’s organization was trustworthy. Or maybe she was reading too much into the statement because she wanted answers Kristof couldn’t provide right now. At least she recognized the name Dima. He was the driver.

  “Okay, Addy. I’ve set up an account with what you’ll need for payment. They prefer cash but will also accept wire transfers and bitcoins. You have access to both of those,” Zoey said. “Someone is heading your direction. I suspect she’ll be the collector.”

  Right. Addy cleared her throat and faced the door before it opened.

  “Interesting. You either have the hearing of a bat or I have missed something.” Gavriil crossed his arms and quirked his eyebrows. “Perhaps we should have a conversation.”

  Addy glared at him and focused on paying the bill. She welcomed the numbness addling her mind. She didn’t want to think about why she was so worried about Kristof and what that meant. All that mattered was getting through the latest clusterfuck.

  The Arsenal would handle everything else until he was stabilized.

  Pain. Kristof welcomed the sensation as he roused and looked around. The large bed was beside a nightstand in the center of an otherwise empty room. Pale, cream walls.

  What the hell had happened?

  The last thing he remembered was being taken into Gavriil’s office. No. They’d taken him to a hospital. Which one? He closed his eyes and stifled the groan rising in his throat as movement from the corner drew his attention. Addy appeared beside him.

  Blood no longer coated her ivory skin. The tight corset and leather shorts had been exchanged for a loose T-shirt and snug jeans. The vile blonde hair atop her head was wet and her feet were bare. He noted everything as he always did where she was concerned.

  Then reality snapped into place and a list of things he must do formed. His head throbbed and his entire body ached.

  “Where’s my phone?” Kristof asked. How long had he been in and out of consciousness? “Where am I?”

  “A safe house,” Addy said.

  An Arsenal one no doubt. A surveillance camera pointed his direction in the corner. Information was power and he desperately needed to figure out what had happened after he’d been shot. “My men. Are they okay?”

  “Ivan was killed. A couple others had minor injuries, but they’ll be okay.” Her soft voice, the words she spoke, detonated within him.

  Ivan. Killed.

  He and Maksim had discussed killing Ivan, but he’d surrendered to his friend’s plea to not take the risk. Who had done this?

  Coincidence? Only idiots believed in them and Kristof hadn’t ever been an idiot. The only person who’d known he was there other than those with him were Maksim and Father.

  Father wouldn’t kill Ivan, though. The bastard had been the pin squishing Kristof into place for four years.

  Who the hell was behind this? Who else had known about the meeting?

  Gavriil knew.

  No. The man wouldn’t ever betray him.

  “A man showed up with some of your men half an hour ago,” she said as she approached. “I’m working on getting some pain medication here.”

  “Where’s Gavriil?”

  “He left.” Addy looked down at him. Suspicion crawled across her gaze, followed by a fiery glint he recognized. Anger. “No arteries or bones were hit. The protective lining of the jacket you always wear slowed the bullet down and limited the damage done when it struck. You were lucky.”

  “This wasn’t luck.” It was skill. Or a freak accident. Kristof bit off the retort in his throat. “Did they find who shot me?”

  “No. They got away.” Addy crossed her arms. “Zoey and Jesse are going to have questions.”

  Kristof nodded. He expected as much. “Thank you.”

  He sat up in the bed, then swung his legs until he faced Addy. Dizziness assailed him.

  “Don’t thank me.” She grasped his hair and yanked until their gazed locked. “What aren’t you telling us? Who hit you?”

  “I don’t know. Rumors will circulate soon enough. Multiple people will take credit.” He sighed. “This wasn’t the first attempt and won’t be the last.”

  “Ivan’s dead.” Addy maintained her grip on his hair. “He was struck first. Then you. Zoey thinks it’s because he was in the shooter’s way, but Jesse doesn’t agree.”

  “Does it matter? Ivan’s dead. We can’t bring him back.” Kristof looked about the room but didn’t see his blazer. “Where’s my phone?”

  “Zoey has it.”

  “Why?” He shook off her contact and stood. Dizziness once again assailed him, but he remained standing.

  “It was with everything else we gathered from the scene. Lay your ass back down or I’ll knock you out.”

  That was a problem. Kristof glanced down at the bandages on the bedside table. He needed to find Maksim. His men would want direction and assurance.

  Kristof also needed to contact his Father. Would he admit it was him if he was behind it? If he wasn’t, he’d likely find out who was faster than anyone.

  “Sit before your stupid ass falls down.” Addy repeated her previous order and shoved downward on his good shoulder as she reached for the supplies. “I was about to change your dressing. The facility wasn’t happy when we insisted you leave.”

  “Which one?”

  “I don’t know. It was near Gavriil’s club. He arranged it.”

  Good. If it was near the club, it was likely one he used often and trusted—which meant Kristof’s father wouldn’t have access to it or the treatment that’d been done.

  His pulse quickened. The swipes along his skin were slow, methodical, and feathery as she removed the bandage. “You always had gentle hands.”

  “Don’t.” Her gaze narrowed.

  Right. They weren’t alone. They were never alone thanks to the damn com she always wore. She’d turned it off once during the last mission, but she wouldn’t ever again. Not after the epically shitty way he’d reacted.

  Memories of the ride to the hospital flickered within his brain. Her melodic, throaty hum as she’d tended him. He swallowed as the song looped in his mind. “You remembered. The song.”

  She froze a second. Her sexy green gaze flared wide, then narrowed. “It was nothing. It just came to me.”

  “My mother used to sing it to me whenever I was scared.” Why had he shared that? Because she’d remembered and comforted him. She’d cared. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me. You’re taking this better than we expected,” she said. “You either suspected an attempt or had already had one before we arrived. You should’ve told us.”

  Yet another reminder of why he couldn’t ever lose control around the woman. She never missed a detail. He couldn’t afford for her to see the truth shrouded within the intricate lies he’d woven for years.

  “This wasn’t the first time.” The half-truth slid out easily enough. He’d had more than a few attempts made on him over the past couple of decades, but none had been recent.

  “How many?”

  “I lost count.”

  “Yet you continue selling and buying anything and anyone of value. Is the money really worth the risks?” Sadness and disappointment echoed within her words and in her green eyes.

  “It’s never been about the money.” The argument escaped him without hesitation. He hated the disappointment in her gaze, her sexy voice.

  “Then what is it about?”

  Vengeance. Justice. She wouldn’t get the answer to that question—not the real one. Rather than continue down an impossible path, he shifted direction. “Why do you do what you do? Surely you could’ve escaped at some point. Why didn’t you run and chase the dreams you had?”

  “Those dreams died long ago.”

  “Mine did, too.” They were too alike, two fractured souls who’d adhered to one another in their darkest hours. Personal demons had divided them long ago, fractured them into smaller shards. Yet they were together once ag
ain, bonded by pasts neither would share.

  “You never talked about your dreams back then,” she said. “What were they?”

  “I barely remember.” He swallowed and looked away. Remembering what had once been and what should have been was too painful, a diversion from the road he had to take. This attempt was a problem. A huge one he had to deal with, which meant forgetting the beautiful woman tending his injuries like it was her right. Distance from Addy was the last thing he wanted, but he had no choice. Not right now. “I can do this.”

  “We aren’t done talking.” She picked up the bandaging materials. “I’m going back to your home with you. Iriana wouldn’t leave your side after an attack like this.”

  “That’s not a good idea.”

  “No, it isn’t. But it’s the only solution to this clusterfuck.” She cut strips of tape off and pressed the edges to his forehead, like she used to do in the camp whenever she’d mended his wounds. She smirked down at him when he chuckled. “We need a list of who could’ve done this. The missions are our only priority, so we won’t act on anything you provide. We can’t keep you safe if we don’t know who we’re up against.”

  The lie hung between them a moment. The Arsenal could defend anyone without knowing the enemy. She pressed the bandage in place and adhered the tape. Though pain consumed him, there was too much to be done to accept whatever medication she’d get her hands on.

  The door opened. Addy whirled and pulled a gun from the waistband of her jeans. Maksim halted at the entry, arms up.

  “Maksim.” Kristof tapped Addy’s hip. “He’s my attendant.”

  His true second-in-command had taken many identities through the years. Each one gave him ample cause for always being nearby without alerting Ivan or Father to his true value.

  “I have pain medication for you,” the man said as he entered.

  Kristof watched Addy as she took a few steps back, her gaze locked on Maksim. “Could you give us a moment?”

  “No.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall. “I’ll stay.”

  Right. “I’ll need another phone, Maksim. Mine was left back at the club.”

  “Zoey has it,” Addy said from the corner. “I mentioned that before.”

  The man’s lips thinned as he nodded. He reached into his pocket. “You may use mine. I’ll get another.”

  Kristof took the cell and pressed the home button. A replica of his own screen appeared. As always, Maksim was several steps ahead and had provided a clone of Kristof’s. He’d likely tracked it and figured out it wasn’t with him.

  He went into the wire transfer app and discovered monies had already been disbursed to his father’s account for the women Gavriil had “purchased.” Yet another step Maksim had taken to keep him safe. He fired off a text to his father’s burner phone.

  Transaction complete. We’ll speak later.

  The response was immediate, as Kristof had expected.

  Yes. We will.

  “I’ll be right back,” Addy said.

  Kristof nodded. Her departure helped but wasn’t enough. He glanced into the corner where the surveillance camera was. “This is not our place.”

  “No. Dima had enough brains and forethought to call me once you were brought here.” Concern filled the man’s voice and his gaze as he studied Kristof, but he made no further comment.

  “Who brought me here?”

  “Dima, along with Iriana and some of Gavriil’s men.” Which meant Gavriil had overseen Kristof’s men and remained on guard. He’d proven an invaluable ally, albeit a silent one.

  “And the facility?”

  “From what little I learned, one of Gavriil’s. His men and The Arsenal teams made my entering to discover more impossible.”

  “The Arsenal teams were compromised?” He kept his voice low but suspected the camera would pick it up anyway.

  “No. I spotted them because I knew they’d be there.”

  Tension corded Kristof’s spine. If the surveillance cameras had good audio, then The Arsenal would now know that he’d trusted Maksim with who Addy really was. The Arsenal wouldn’t believe the man standing before him was a mere attendant, which meant spinning yet another half-truth he didn’t want to place between himself and Addy.

  But The Arsenal had remained out of sight. Good. Concern reflected on his friend’s face when he looked down at Kristof. He pulled out a shot. “You will not want this, but you must rest.”

  “I will rest when we figure out what happened.”

  Maksim’s eyebrows rose, but he continued preparing the shot. Stubborn bastard. “Iriana wants a list of those who may be responsible for tonight. Prepare it. I will review.” The unspoken order to leave his father off of the list loomed within their locked gazes. Kristof used Addy’s cover name even though Maksim knew who she truly was. He alone knew everything.

  “Thank you,” Kristof added.

  “Don’t thank me.” Anger deepened Maksim’s voice. “This shouldn’t have happened. We both know it.”

  “We’ll find whoever did this and handle them like we always do.”

  “Dima said Iriana covered you. She could’ve been killed.” Censure reflected on Maksim’s face. He’d been against Addy on his team without backup. Even though the man hadn’t known her, he knew how important she was to Kristof.

  Kristof tensed. “I was apparently very lucky. The shooter missed major arteries and bones. The recovery will be easier. That lining you insisted for all my suits worked.”

  “Clearly whoever is responsible was either an amateur or very skilled. The latter narrows the list considerably. Many of your enemies could not afford a professional sniper.”

  “Make a list assuming both.”

  “If he’s smart, he’s long gone.” Maksim administered the shot and clasped his good shoulder. “Rest. We will speak later. I have everything handled.”

  “I don’t know who Maksim is, but he is definitely not an attendant,” Zoey said in the com.

  No shit. Not only was he not a mere servant, Kristof trusted the man, who’d dispensed Kristof’s pain medication despite his initial refusal. Relief filled her. At least he’d rest and be in less pain now.

  “The phone?” Addy asked.

  “A burner of some sort. I’m hacking into it now, but HERA’s having the same problem with it that we did with Kristof’s.”

  “Nothing new from it,” Jesse said.

  “Not yet. Mary said she was going to try once baby Jessie is in bed,” Zoey said. “Maybe she can work her mojo and get some answers. Something about tonight’s shooting stinks.”

  Her stomach vaulted into her throat. Kristof had almost been killed. If he hadn’t been wearing the protective layer… A shiver rippled through her. She shouldn’t give a damn. He was an asset, a necessary presence to achieve the mission.

  Denial swarmed within her. Kristof was more than that. She couldn’t deny that fact even if she wanted to.

  “I agree, but we need a direction before we chase our tails,” Addy said. “Maybe we’re reading too much into it. He has a lot of enemies.”

  “True,” Zoey said. “I hate the fact we’re protecting him now.”

  “We need him alive to get us into the auction,” Addy said. The mission-oriented argument slid from her easily, but a slew of more personal ones echoed within her mind. They’d once vowed to always have one another’s backs.

  “Is that the only reason we’re doing this?” Beast asked in the com.

  Addy couldn’t ignore the relief she’d felt when she realized he was okay. She owed Kristof nothing, but protectiveness filled her. No.

  Anger.

  Someone had gone after him while he was under her protection. They’d pay.

  Assuming she could figure out who she was after.

  “Get some rest while you can, Red,” Beast said. “Shep has surveillance up in a one-mile radius and we’ve got a perimeter established. Hopefully HERA has some intel for us by the time you wake up.”

  Rig
ht. Rest.

  “I’m going to take a shower then hit the rack.”

  “Another shower?” Zoey asked. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. I just want to scrub down again. The first was quick and only got the blood off.”

  “I’m here if you want to talk. You aren’t alone. You know that, right?”

  “I know. Thanks.” She pulled out the com and set it on the bedside table.

  The shower heated quickly—unlike the wreck of an apartment they’d been in. For a few brief minutes she was alone. No voices in her ear. No cameras. No one but her.

  Heated water struck her achy body when she stepped into the shower moments later. Though she typically washed quickly, she propped her hands against the wall and leaned forward. Water sluiced down her hair and upper back.

  Blood.

  It’d coated her hands and body. A tremble settled there as her mind reconciled what’d happened outside the club. She’d facilitated hundreds of protective details. Some hadn’t ended well, but she’d never been struck with such…

  Worry. Fear.

  Somewhere buried beneath the operative she’d become, the young girl she’d once been remained. Until a couple hours ago, Addy hadn’t been sure she’d survived. She’d awoken. Somewhere between the blood pooling beneath her palm and getting him to the safe house, that girl Peter worked hard to destroy returned.

  For Kristof.

  No.

  She’d stirred for the boy he’d once been. The one who’d freed Bunny and taken the punishment when Misha returned to the punishment cabin. He’d relocated her shoulder twice and set her broken arm and tended the cuts and bloodied lips. He’d always been there, ready to stitch her up no matter how badly she’d been torn apart.

  Then he’d left without a word.

  Addy’s eyes burned as she blinked back the pain. No good came from dredging the past, but she wasn’t sure she could walk away. She’d managed last time—back when she’d turned off the coms to have a moment alone with Kristof. She hadn’t handled the situation right back then. It’d been simpler for her to treat him like a mark rather than someone who mattered.