Hostile Ground (The Arsenal #7) - Cara Carnes Page 0,12
wasn’t like she gave a damn about Kristof. Sure, he’d once been a friend. Maybe. But that was a lifetime ago, a short three years where she’d held on to foolish innocence. The child she’d once been died long ago.
The car slid to a halt outside the Maryino District apartment complex. She exited, but then turned and leaned in until their gazes locked. “We need to talk.”
“We will.”
4
“You shouldn’t have involved her in this,” Ivan said.
Kristof Lavrov expended a weary breath. He’d had the same conversation at least a hundred times since she’d entered his world yet again as Iriana. “She isn’t your concern. I assume Father knows what we learned.”
“He’s organizing. They’ll recover the men and send others to the Kozlovs. He’ll pay for stealing what isn’t his.”
“He had nothing to do with this foolishness. I will deal with him and retrieve the women,” Kristof said. “Father can’t handle a war right now. None of us can.”
“He decides what he can handle, not you.”
The situation was worse than Kristof expected. He hoped The Arsenal hadn’t acted on the intel they’d learned. If they did, it’d create problems he couldn’t resolve. Keeping Father from striking Gavriil’s syndicate would be hard enough.
Twenty-two years of conniving and sacrifice could be destroyed because of one foolish idiot. Damn it! Ivan was right, though. Involving Iriana had been a mistake—one he’d realized too late. Perhaps the exhaustion of the past few days’ work had dulled his mind.
No.
He was tired of the secrecy. The lies.
He’d bathed in carnage and depravity so long that he’d become the very monster he’d vowed to destroy. Had he gone too far? Probably.
But he’d do anything for Mama. Olaf. Stacia. The names of those harmed by the man who’d sired him was too long to recount. They’d have their vengeance soon—assuming he didn’t screw up resolving this issue.
He peered down at the text he’d sent to his true second-in-command moments ago. The situation would be volatile, but Maksim would handle it as he always did.
“You think that worthless bitch will protect you against your father,” Ivan said. “Against me.”
“Call her that again and I’ll handle you myself.”
“You wouldn’t dare.”
He would. There was very little he wouldn’t do for Addy. He’d failed to protect her twenty-two years earlier when their paths first crossed. Though they’d met several times since then, he’d remained at a distance. Watched as her brother stripped away her humanity and soul bit by bit after she’d left the training camp and started to work for Hive.
Yet he’d done nothing.
Again and again.
She was safe now, no thanks to him. The Arsenal was the best operation in existence—a formidable opponent Kristof intended to stay on the right side of despite what they thought of him. Maybe Maksim was right. He should read them in on the truth he hid from everyone.
No.
They were a risk he couldn’t chance. They kept Stacia safe.
They’d done their part, even if it had been unknowingly.
Kristof exited the vehicle when it stopped behind a nondescript, white cargo truck. The rear door was open. Blood coated the road in a river of death around two armed men. He recognized neither.
Had the women been hurt?
The rancid stench of feces and urine wafted in his nostrils. He cursed and kicked the dead idiots at his feet. Kristof’s gaze lit on the black BMW parked nearby.
A plan formed in his mind as he closed the distance. He paused a moment when he arrived, and then opened the rear door and got in.
“You reacted quickly and without mercy. Perhaps you are not as soft as I’d thought.” His father lifted his glass to his lips and took a sip. Gray eyes too like his own peered at him. “You were not needed here. I’ll handle the situation.”
“It’s already handled. Gavriil knew nothing of that idiot’s plan. He knows better than to piss us off,” Kristof said. “You have them back and Gavriil extends his profuse apologies with an offer to purchase them for twice their value. Recompense for your time.” The lie slid from Kristof. This was the only way to get his father to back down.
“Then perhaps he’s not the fool I thought him to be.” His father sighed heavily. “Very well. I’ll agree, for the sake of his father’s memory. Tell the twit to clean house. I will level him if this happens again.”
“Yes, Father.”
“What about you? Ivan is concerned about your latest conquest. What was her name? Iriana?”