Hostile Ground (The Arsenal #7) - Cara Carnes Page 0,22
sort. She moved to follow, but Gavriil clasped her arm again and shook his head. This time the firm grip had enough bite to force her attention to his face.
“Come,” he said. He pushed a door open and headed down a narrow hall a few feet, then opened a door on the right. An observation room. “We can watch from here.”
Okay. Good. She forced a deep breath. “Why are you helping him?”
“Because he’d help me.” The man shrugged, as if indifferent to what he’d done. But tension corded his powerful frame and a twitch had taken residence in his jawline. Anger glinted in his gaze when he looked at her. “Favors are currency in my world. A favor from Kristof can be quite valuable.”
“Do you know who did this?”
“I don’t, though I wouldn’t say if I did.” The man crossed his hands behind his back and kept his attention on the staff as they prepped Kristof. “If he wanted you to know, you wouldn’t need to ask that question.”
So, Kristof did know. The knowledge shouldn’t surprise her. They may have once been important to one another, but that was long, long ago.
“I can’t protect him if I don’t know.”
“From what I have seen, I doubt that’s true. Brilliance and skill wrapped within beauty that blinds everyone to its existence. I see now why he hired you.” Curiosity glinted within his gaze when he looked at her. “You are an intriguing creature, Iriana.”
“And you’re more than a client to him.”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not. Our world is twisted with many falsehoods and masked truths. Don’t trust anyone.”
“Funny coming from the same man who just told me to trust him that Kristof wouldn’t be harmed in this facility.”
“Touché.” He grinned. “I see you miss nothing.”
But she had. Someone had almost killed him. She fisted her hands and forced a calming breath.
Focus.
Iriana would contact Kristof’s men, apprise them of the situation. “Ivan was my primary contact aside from Kristof. Who should I call?”
“I’m sure Dima has already done so. He’s been with Kristof many years. He’ll know who can be trusted right now.”
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.