Hostile Ground Read online

  “Addy can handle this,” Jesse Mason said in the com. “Fan out within the crowd. Cracker, be ready to disperse drones if necessary. Shep, position yourself near the chained cage entry in case she needs backup.”

  Her team clicked off their agreement in the otherwise silent com. Jesse Mason was one of the best operatives she’d ever worked with and had recently taken a position within The Arsenal’s Operations in order to have more time with his new family. Addy was thankful he’d taken the lead for tonight because he was one of the best strategists she’d ever worked with and kept his shit together when things went sideways.

  A brute over six foot tall by a solid five or so inches stepped into the cage. Yellow teeth flashed with a sneer as he raked his gaze over her and stomped forward. The makeshift flooring jumped with each hard clomp of his booted feet.

  “He’s got to be three-fifty, maybe more,” Beast said. “Solid muscle and twice her size. Call this shit off now, Jesse.”

  “Stand down,” Addy growled in the com as she bounced from foot to foot and eyed her competition as he halted a few feet from her in the center of the cage. His meaty fists clenched into cannonball-sized weapons she had no intention of enduring for long.

  Knock his ass out. Move on.

  The referee glared at her in a not-so-subtle warning he’d issued the past three fights—make it good for the crowd. Translation—don’t knock their asses out in the first few minutes. Drag it out. Make it a close fight.

  Easy for his scrawny ass to say.

  Movement within the cleared area separating the cage from the crowd drew her attention. Awareness beaded along her skin as her gaze locked with Kristof Lavrov. He smirked as he unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat alongside Ivan, his second-in-command.

  Addy glared at Ivan. She wouldn’t mind dragging his ass into this ring. Maybe when the mission was over and The Arsenal had found the missing missiles, she could reward herself by knocking his ass out.

  “Thunder, get the drones in the air,” Jesse said. “Everyone else be on the lookout for the facial tat that marks any of Yesim’s crew. I want anyone in the crowd with that tat in our custody before Addy ends this fight.”

  Pride filled her. There was no doubt in Jesse’s mind she’d win. Adrenaline surged when the referee shouted the one word that’d begin the battle.

  “Go!”

  Addy shuffled backward when the brute powered forward and punched a meaty fist her direction. He stumbled from the lack of contact but recovered quickly and moved toward her.

  The crowd shouted their anger when she continued the avoidance dance back and forth. The fight promoters didn’t appreciate her knocking the competition out the first couple of minutes and she wasn’t about to take a beating.

  Her opponent’s heavy breathing and angered shouts filled her ears a couple minutes later. Game on. She vaulted forward and kicked upward. Pain jolted up her legs as her feet impacted with the man’s face. She tumbled onto the floor and rolled away quickly. Jumping up, she grinned when he spat blood from his mouth. Blood oozed from his nose and a split lip.

  “Northeast side of the arena, toward the back,” Shep said. “Two confirmed targets.”

  “On my way to intercept,” Cracker said.

  The brute pounded a fist into her stomach. Addy wheezed and ignored the pain slamming through her as she responded with an uppercut to his chin and a roundhouse kick. Rage bellowed from him as he grabbed her and hoisted her up above his head.

  She’d watched his two fights earlier in the night and realized he had two go-to moves: cannonball punches to the face and stomach, and hoisting his opponents above his head so he could slam them down onto the ground or across his knee.

  Addy cursed and shifted her weight until she rolled her legs above her head and fell. She grabbed his head with both hands and coiled her legs around his waist from her new position on his back. A snap of the neck would end the fight easily enough, but her team needed time to secure the two targets they’d spotted. She was the diversion.

  She squeezed his neck until he fell to his knees. Pushing off his back, she moved backward and then around in the cage until they faced one another again. Outrage reddened his face as he rose and charged forward.

  Idiot. She didn’t give opponents many chances to catch their breath. He should’ve taken it while he could. Holding her position, she waited until she was within his reach to dart sideways and kick his shins just below the knee at the back.

  The cage rattled with the impact of his heavy body when he stumbled forward into it. She grabbed his sweaty blond hair and dragged his face across the metal cage a few inches as she hauled his arm backward with her other hand.

  She fell onto her back when he slammed against her, but she rolled to her feet and attacked with a strike to his groin followed with another kick to his face. The crowd deafened her with their roars when he collapsed to the ground again.

  Ragged breaths escaped when she leaned forward and rested her hands on her knees. “Tell me you’ve got them.”

  “Exfilling from the northeastern exit,” Shep said.

  “Van in position,” Thunder commented.

  “Take him out and get out of there, Red,” Beast ordered.

  Red. Only her team got by with the nickname that didn’t even suit her right now since she’d dyed her hair blonde for the mission. She stood fully and took a couple deep breaths as the man rose yet again. He was a big brute with more determination than common sense.

  “You should’ve stayed down,” she growled angrily in Russian.

  “You die tonight!”

  Okay then. So much for being nice. Then again, Iriana wasn’t ever nice. She was lethal attitude all the way. Addy’s gaze cut to where Kristof sat. His eyebrows rose when their gazes locked.

  Damned bastard was a serious pain in her ass. He was everything she despised—a cutthroat mercenary turned underground smuggler and procurer of anything and everyone with value. He killed and bought and sold without hesitation if the price was right.

  Yet he was also everything she’d once…

  Don’t go there. Focus.

  Kristof upended her life every time he appeared. One day she’d excise him once and for all. Somehow.

  Addy fed the anger rolling through her and returned her attention to the brute blinking rapidly and lumbering toward her. Blood ran from his nose and along his cut lip. The idiot was going to land out with a permanently scrambled brain if he didn’t give up already.

  Then again, one solid punch from his huge fists and she’d be the one with a scrambled brain. Rather than move backward like she’d always done, she surged forward and dodged his fist by lowering her center of gravity. Two well aimed strikes to his solar plexus began what she hoped to be the final confrontation for the night. Hands behind his neck, she dragged his face downward and slammed it against her raised knee. Blood sprayed across her T-shirt. She released her grip and glared down as he fell to the ground.

  Leaning forward, she forced a couple deep breaths as the referee finally exited the safety of the cage’s corner and ran forward. He grabbed her arm and raised it up. The crowd cheered.

  The bloodier the end, the higher the revelry. Disgusted by the entire underground fight scene, Addy stalked toward the locked exit and waited as someone opened it. Three rickety steps down and she was out. Each breath she drew was tainted with sweat, body odor, cigar smoke, and liquor as she made her way down the narrow strip of space cordoned off for the fighters to enter the back section of the warehouse.

  Footsteps echoed behind her.

  “Lavrov’s behind you,” Beast said in the com.

  Addy sighed her exhaustion and clung to what patience she had left. Kristof’s presence at the fights and his constant shadowing of her after the night ended strengthened her cover as Iriana. But the man had no self-preservation and never gave her a moment to compose herself before he forced an interaction.

  “Iriana.” His deep, velvety voice rolled through her the moment they e
ntered the quiet backroom.

  Addy ignored the greeting and continued scanning her surroundings. Ivan did the same, displeasure on his face whenever their gazes met. When she was confident they were alone, she turned and scowled at Kristof.

  Awareness beaded along her skin as he scanned her body. Fists clenched, she looked away and took a deep breath. “Now’s not the time.”

  “It’s never the time.” He took another step forward until he was in her personal space. “Is any of that yours?”

  Any of that. The blood. She shook her head, unsure why she always offered him the reassurance even though she owed him nothing.

  “No more fights. You’ve made enough of a reputation, Iriana.”

  “I decide when I’m done, not you.”

  Kristof grabbed her hair and pulled backward until their gazes locked. Breath swooshed from her lungs as her pulse quickened. Hot breath fanned across her face. “Don’t test my patience tonight.”

  The whispered warning in her ear quickened her pulse. “Step back. I wouldn’t want to get that expensive suit bloodied up.”

  “I can live with that as long as it isn’t your blood.” He released his grip on her hair. “You took too long to take him out. Don’t play with your food.”

  Addy chuckled and turned away. She dragged on a loose pair of sweatpants over the top of her shorts and grabbed an oversized T-shirt. Ivan glowered as he crossed his arms.

  “What’s wrong with Ivan? Did he bet against me again?” Addy asked.

  “Probably.” Kristof crossed his arms. “The promoter wants you gone. You’re bad for business.”

  Addy picked up her bag and regarded Kristof. “You pay him to say that?”

  “No. I’d pay him to turn you away if I chose to go against your wishes.”

  “Like I said, I decide when this is done.” Her presence in the fighting rings garnered attention within the seedy underworld. They’d already found some of Yesim’s crew because of the fights.

  Every person they captured was a step forward. She’d continue doing whatever was necessary to secure the biochemical weapons.

  For Rhea.

  Her friend had finally agreed to take some much-needed time off. She and Fallon had taken vacation time to visit his recently found childhood friends. Addy intended for this entire mess to be finished before they returned.

  “Team has the two targets secured,” Beast said in the com. “Get out of there, Red.”

  “You taking me home tonight?” Addy took a step into Kristof’s personal space. His eyes flashed wide a moment before he settled a hand at her hip. “My home, not yours.”

  “I figured as much. You wouldn’t ever make it that simple.”

  She had. Once. Bitterness coated her tongue as she shoved away from his touch. “Let’s go.”

  “Iriana. Wait.” He grabbed her arm.

  She shoved away from him. “I warned you once. Don’t ever bring that shit up. It’s dead, just like you’ll be if you cross that line.”

  In a moment of weakness months ago, she’d given Kristof an opening—one she’d expected him to take. Sating lust was a necessity she rarely concerned herself with. She’d been foolishly reckless. But what did it say about her that a man with no moral scruples turned her away?

  “Let’s go,” Addy repeated.

  The sooner this damned mission was over, the better. She’d been the best option to entrench The Arsenal within Kristof’s network because she already had an established identity as Iriana. Kristof was their “in” to the auction where the missiles would be a sold.

  Addy had hoped they’d find the weapons long before the auction took place, but so far they’d had no success. Yesim and his crew might be a relatively new splinter cell, but the bastard was either brilliant or lucky.

  Or he had help.

  Ivan pulled the vehicle to the rear exit a few minutes later. She got in after Kristof and focused on the chatter in her com as her team rendezvoused with the other Arsenal teams in Moscow. Although she wanted to be with her fellow operatives, maintaining her Iriana cover was her primary objective—which meant she’d waste a solid forty-five minutes being driven to their apartment in the Maryino District, where they’d taken up residence across the street from the one known location for some of Yesim’s crew.

  “I have several meetings I must take this week,” Kristof said. “It’s best if you aren’t present.”

  “That’s not an option. I go where you go.” Addy cut her gaze to the man beside her.

  Intensity resonated within his gray eyes. Once blond hair was now a brown so dark it glimmered black with the pale moonlight and streetlights. Unlike most of his vehicles, the BMW he’d chosen tonight didn’t have dark tinted windows. Was it armored? Probably.

  Kristof cut no corners—a fact Addy admired even though she hated why it was necessary. He thrived within an unsavory, illegal, and treacherous world where he was the king, the one everyone sought to do business with.

  “There are facets of my business you shouldn’t see.”

  Addy’s gaze cut to the closed partition separating them from Ivan. “We were clear on this from the beginning. I go where you go. No exceptions. No judgments. We don’t give a damn what you’re involved with, not right now. There’s only one thing we care about.” The missiles.

  Kristof unbuttoned his suit jacket. She allowed herself a few seconds to admire the snug crawl of fabric across his broad chest. It was one of the tells she’d noted last week. Anytime he was uncomfortable, he buttoned or unbuttoned the Kevlar-lined blazer and redirected his gaze.

  “That was before the auction got pressed back, not once but twice. This objective wasn’t supposed to take this long.”

  “We aren’t going anywhere until we’ve found what we’re looking for. Trust me, this is the very last place I want to be,” Addy said. Her stomach somersaulted as his gaze returned to her. His lips thinned as he thumped a fist against the window.

  “You’re finally ready to address what happened last time?”

  “No. That’s never a discussion topic.”

  “The Addy I knew wouldn’t shy away from an uncomfortable conversation. She’d want to clear the air.”

  “That Addy died a long time ago. You never knew her.”

  “You’re wrong.” His voice lowered. “We will discuss what happened that night before you leave Moscow.”

  Like hell they would. She’d buried everything that went down the last time he’d helped The Arsenal recover Zoey’s friend from an illegal auction. It’d never see the light of day. No good came from discussing the past, especially the parts where her life had briefly intersected with Kristof through the years.

  Once this mission was over, she’d never see him again.

  The vehicle pulled to a stop outside the tenement-style apartment building she’d taken up residence in. She opened the door and stepped out. Cool air rushed across her skin and whipped her hair in her face.

  “We will discuss this later,” Kristof said.

  “No. We won’t.” Addy glared down at the man. “Call me when you’re going to your meetings. I go where you go. Don’t cross me. You won’t like the consequences.”

  Kristof smirked. “I’d almost welcome them for a chance to clear the air between us.”

  They’d never clear the air. Too much violence and death lurked within the chasm their chaotic lives created. Addy slammed the door and headed toward the apartment entrance. She paused at the door as Ivan pulled away.

  Beast exited the building and drew her into a forced hug. “Fuck, Red. Not sure how many more of those bouts we can handle.”

  Her second-in-command never treaded lightly into a conversation. She pulled away and took a moment to study his face. The streetlamp nearby cast his short, blond hair with pale light that accentuated the jagged scar running from his right eye across his cheek, where it ended near the cleft in his chin. A day’s growth peppered his jawline and spotlighted his thinned lips.

  Anger and determination
resonated within his turbulent brown gaze. He glanced at the parking lot and cracked his knuckles. Yep, he wasn’t happy. Knuckle cracking was one of the only tells the man exhibited when stressed.

  “This shit can’t continue, Red.” He charged head-first into the fray and stood his ground.

  “The fights are ending.” Addy headed down the cracked sidewalk. His long stride caught up with her quickly as they entered the building and made their way up the stairs.

  Even though the Maryino District was heavily populated, most residents were day laborers or other people who kept their heads down and their mouths shut. No one caused problems if they were left alone.

  Beast grasped her arm and drew them to a halt. “Everyone’s worried.”

  “The fights are worth it if we can find some of Yesim’s crew. The sooner we get those missiles, the better.” Addy hurried her pace.

  “Kristof isn’t a fan either. If the promoter is getting pissed, that’ll cause more trouble than it’s worth,” Beast said. “One more week, then you’re done with that shit. The auction is in a couple weeks. We’ll either find another way before then, or we’ll take them down at the auction.”

  Addy swallowed the argument poised on her tongue. Although she was the team leader, she recognized Beast’s determined voice. He’d likely gotten the entire team’s thoughts on the matter before addressing her. Hell, he’d likely gotten the rest of The Arsenal’s teams input as well. He was stubbornly thorough man who held his ground.

  Truth told, she was tired of the fights. Breaking bones and drawing blood made her feel as though she bathed in carnage she’d never scrape off. “Lavrov’s got meetings set this week. He didn’t want me there, but I reminded him of our arrangement.”

  “You’d probably be better off not witnessing that shit.”

  “Until this is over, I’m Iriana. She remains at his side and does everything necessary.”

  Beast’s wide, muscular body tensed as he cracked his knuckles once more. “I hate that you’re doing this. We could’ve found another way without using this identity.”