Hostile Ground (The Arsenal #7) - Cara Carnes Page 0,14
far worse to maintain their trek to the end.
Soon.
He pulled the bookend on the third shelf and waited as the hidden entry appeared. Water dripped from his hair and slid down his bare torso. He’d spent less and less time within the hidden sanctuary the past few months.
He sat on the mat facing the water rippling down the wall and inhaled the scents assailing his nostrils. Meditation had cleansed the worst of what he’d done when everything began years ago, but the simple act couldn’t scrape the surface of what he’d done since.
How many lives had he destroyed?
Mama wouldn’t have ever approved, but this wasn’t only for her. It was for Olaf. For Addy. For Stacia and everyone else ruined by Father’s twisted power mongering.
A soft click of the entryway lock sounded. Kristof took a deep breath and rose as Maksim approached. He remained more of a mystery than when they’d first met.
“The women are at a safe house with extra security,” Maksim said. “Your new friends have a perimeter established. It won’t take long for them to figure out who it belongs to, if they haven’t already.”
The underlying censure filled the room. “They backed off and trusted me to handle the situation.”
“Have you?”
“Gavriil will purchase them at twice their value for three times their value compensated by me.”
“And the women? Are we entering the flesh trade now?” Maksim’s eyebrows rose. Arms crossed, he studied Kristof.
“The Arsenal’s Hummingbird will help them.” She’d helped many of the women and children Kristof had come across the past several years. Zoey had become an instrumental asset within his arsenal—one he used often to salvage what he could of his honor. His humanity.
“And your father?”
“Appeased for now.” Kristof sighed heavily. “Ivan is a problem.”
“He has been one for many years.”
“He’s a threat we must deal with. He undermines my standing with Father at every turn.”
“He always has.”
He gritted his teeth and glared at Maksim. The man was one of the few who could stare him down and win. “He threatens Addy.”
Kristof had trusted no one with Iriana’s true identity. Only Maksim knew the truth because they kept nothing from one another. Their true objective wouldn’t succeed without absolute trust.
“They will only be here a few more days. Once they have what they came for, she’s not an issue.”
“He should’ve died the day he beat her. You shouldn’t have stopped me.” No one beat a woman and survived. Kristof fisted his hands and waited through the silence.
“She’s not yours to protect. She’s also not your fault.”
“I should have saved her back then.”
“You almost died trying.”
Tightness filled his chest. He rubbed the area and studied Maksim. Nineteen years and he still remembered the events from those few days as though they’d just happened. “Why didn’t you kill me that day? It would’ve been easier for us both.”
“We all have our line, the wall we can’t ever pass. Until I met you, I didn’t think I had one.”
Did Kristof have one? “I’m not the man I was back then.”
“You were a child.”
“I wasn’t. She was a child.”
He’d been seventeen to her thirteen the day he’d left the training camp intent on telling someone of her existence so she could be free from the camp. But he’d fallen into a trap—one that would’ve killed him if Maksim had done as ordered.
“You were both children.” Maksim approached and touched Kristof’s shoulder. “You were in an impossible situation. One day she’ll realize that.”
“She won’t ever find out. She can’t.” The truth of who he was, his connection to Father. The bastard who’d broken her down and helped her brother create the perfectly trained operative he’d sought… “It’d destroy what little of me remains if she ever found out. She’s lost enough.”
“You have both lost too much.”
“Too many things are in the air right now. We’re juggling flaming swords with one hand.” Kristof ran his hands through his hair. “We’re close, yet I fear we’ll never be near enough to strike.”
“She could help.”
“No.” Kristof shook his head and stepped away from Maksim. He wandered to the shelf and picked up one of the glass figurines. He traced the turtle’s shell and smiled as he set it back down. “Promise me you’ll get her and her teams out of Russia if things fall apart.”
“You are my priority.”
“No.” He shook his head. “Promise me. She walks away from this untouched. One of us must get the fresh start we both dreamt of.”
“She already has it.”
Maybe. The Arsenal was a good group—one of honorable