Hostile Ground (The Arsenal #7) - Cara Carnes Page 0,3

hunt for anyone in Yesim’s splinter cell.

Yesim and his small band of followers who’d broken off from their former syndicate had proven difficult to find, but thanks to the past week of fighting she’d done, The Arsenal had tracked them to a small apartment in the Maryino District. Because of Addy’s fights, they now had a target location to surveille.

With any luck, they’d be able to grab one of Yesim’s crew tonight and interrogate them because the final combatant in tonight’s battles—the victor she’d fight to a possible death—was a henchman in Yesim’s former syndicate. Someone within his crew would show to watch. Addy hoped Yesim himself would show his paranoid ass and they could finally find out where the hell he’d hidden the biochemical weapons The Arsenal was hunting down.

“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