Ryder
Two years earlier
I wasn’t ready to die.
I paused at the street corner, my breaths coming quickly, the fear of discovery pumping wildly through my veins. A shiver passed over me as the picture of Nina Dmitriev’s lifeless eyes shot through my mind like an errant arrow. Her pristine white sheets covered in the shocking red of her blood that flowed freely from the slit in her throat.
He knew. And he was coming for me.
I glanced behind me, grateful that the coast was clear, and peered around the corner of the dingy Moscow street. Not a single soul was out and about at this time of the morning. Snow fell quietly, its beauty a stark contrast to the danger that was chasing me.
Poor Nina. I choked back the tears that threatened, the ones I’d been shoving down since I discovered her a few hours ago. I thought back to her frantic call.
“Sasha? He knows. You must leave. Now!” Her heavily accented English hadn’t disguised the terror in her voice.
“Where are you? I’m on my way.” Immediately, I’d grabbed my go-bag and tucked my Glock in my waistband. I was out the door and heading to her apartment before she answered my question.
“It’s too late, Sasha. They’re coming for me.”
Her sobs nearly broke me.
“How do you know? What happened?”
“Nikolai called. He said I was a traitor and that I’d pay a traitor’s price. I’m so sorry, Sasha.”
“I’m on my way. Just stay there.”
“It’s too late. Go! Save yourself! I love you, Sasha.”
The last thing I heard was her scream, then the phone went silent.
I was at her apartment in less than five minutes, but I’d been too late. The door had stood wide open, and the coppery smell of her blood filled the room. Her skin was still warm when I’d reached out to touch her neck, check for a pulse, but she was no longer with the living.
I heard the distinct sound of a bullet shooting through a silencer and ducked, just as it whirled past my head and embedded itself in the wall. Jumping out the window and down the fire escape, I’d run for my life with bullets pinging around me.
That had been a few hours ago, and I was still unsure if the assassin was following or if I’d lost him. Four years I’d been in this godforsaken country. Four years of living a lie. Infiltrating Nikolai Dmitriev, an up-and-coming Russian Mafia boss, had been easier than I’d anticipated. He’d trusted me, Sasha Petrov, a master hacker with no family or friends. I was the perfect pickup for his organization, and the intel the CIA fed me was exactly the lure Nikolai had needed. He had no way of knowing it was all a setup. And my relationship with his hostile niece had helped seal the deal.
Nina hated Nikolai and had been unresponsive to his attempts to get her to join the family since her mother’s death. He’d killed his sister-in-law, Nina’s mother, when Nina was just a teenager, after catching her in bed with his enemy, quite literally. Nina had never forgiven him, so she’d been the perfect mole into the organization and had been a willing participant in the United States’ game of espionage. Revenge was a powerful motivator, but now she’d paid the ultimate price.
Our romantic relationship had been a façade at first, but over the last four years we’d grown to love each other deeply. Only, our love was that of a brother and sister and not lovers. Still, our genuine affection for the other had made it easy to play the part. Long hours lying awake dreaming of a time when the game would be up, and we could live the lives we envisioned.
It was all supposed to be over. Tonight had been the last mission, and we’d had a flight out of this hellhole tomorrow morning.
Only, Nina would never make that flight.
I pulled out my encrypted phone and dialed a number I’d only used a couple of times in the four years I’d been in Moscow. He answered on the first ring.
“Johnson.”
“I’ve been made.”
“Where are you?”
I rattled off the street corner where I stood.
“Are you being followed?”
“I was, but I’m not sure now. Coast seems to be clear. I’m on my way to the embassy.”
“Okay. I’ll have a helo there in half an hour. Until then, be safe, Blake.”
“Roger that.”
I clicked off the call and put the phone back in my inside jacket pocket. It was well below freezing, and the cold seeped through the boots on my feet, numbing my toes. I blew on my fingers and pulled out the leather gloves I had tucked in my pocket. I slipped them on and palmed my Glock.
Inhaling deeply, I stuck my head out around the corner and decided it was now or never. I had half an hour to make it to my rendezvous point. Half an hour until I was safely ensconced in a helo that would take me to the airstrip, where I’d take a plane to Germany. From there, I hoped I’d be going home. For good.
I missed Atlanta—the sun, the warmth, the miserable humidity! I missed not having to look over my shoulder constantly, wondering if my cover had been blown or if the guy following me down the street was out to kill me. Atlanta was still another year away, but D.C. would be better than this godforsaken tundra.
I had no intentions of working for Big Brother for the rest of my life. In one year’s time, I’d be finished with the agreement I made seven years ago with the CIA in order to keep myself out of prison. Two years on The Farm and five years of service to Uncle Sam, and I was a free man.
Tonight Nina and I had completed the mission; the database had been infiltrated, and the contents copied and sent securely to the CIA. We’d attended a fundraiser, both decked out in our finest. She’d been beautiful in the long, red, backless dress, her black hair skimming her shoulders, her crystal-blue eyes almost unworldly in their color.
We’d greeted Nikolai Dmitriev warmly, made our rounds, danced and eaten and laughed. And then she’d feigned sickness, and Nikolai had shown us into his private quarters. It had been easy to find our way to his office and copy the database that contained the list of his underground Mafia spies stationed in the United States.
Only something must have gone wrong.
Our intel must have been incorrect. A camera we weren’t aware of? Did someone see us sneaking through the corridors of his giant mansion? I couldn’t fathom how we’d been made.
I hurried across the street, my breathing loud in the silence of the night. The snowflakes had an iciness to them this evening, mirroring the ice in my veins.
Nina.
Just the thought of her name made me sick. I wanted to stop moving, to grieve the loss of my friend, but there was no time.
A sound, like a foot skidding on concrete, had me turning and looking over my shoulder. There, a shadow moved just twenty yards away.
I could keep running, hoping he wouldn’t catch me, hoping I’d make it to the rendezvous site in time. Or I could take out the threat now.
I’d never killed a man. I’d learned how—The Farm had put me through rigorous training before sending me undercover. Tactical training, weapons training, linguistics training. I was fluent in Russian and competent in a few others. Two and a half years of the most intense instruction known to man in order to make sure I could live among the worst of the worst and not be discovered. What had gone wrong?
I ducked behind a statue that stood guard in the middle of the square, and waited. I could hear the light footfalls as he ran quietly towards me. He’d figure out soon enough that I’d stopped, the snow on the ground unforgiving in covering my tracks. I waited with bated breath, one second, two, three…
Whirling around the statue, I took aim at my pursuer and stopped cold. Blue eyes, the same color as Nina’s, stared back at me, causing me to hesitate.
“Ivan?”
Ivan Dmitriev sneered, revealing yellowed teeth.
“You killed my sister.” He spoke the words in Russian, giving me hope that maybe my cover hadn’t been blown after all. Perhaps someone had killed Nina right before I’d arrived, and Ivan had thought it was me.
I shook my head, not dropping the gun. “I didn’t. She was dead when I got there. She called me. Said she was in trouble. I got there as soon as I could, but I was too late.”
“You were too late because I’d already killed her.”
“You?”
Ivan laughed, continuing in Russian. “Of course it was me. We take care of our problems. She was a traitor, just like her whore of a mother.”
It was then that I remembered that Ivan and his brother had a different mother from Nina. Same father, Nikolai’s brother Oleg, who’d died when they were young. I’d never met Ivan’s brother, a soldier in the Russian Army.
“How could you kill your own sister?”
“Half-sister. And easily. Now, I’ll kill you. After you tell me what you did tonight on Nikolai’s computer.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You do, you stupid American spy.” These words he said in English so heavily accented it took a moment for them to register in my brain.
“What are you talking about? I’m not American.” I asked in Russian, not ready to concede that I was who he said I was.
“You will pay for your deception and for my sister’s murder.”
Ivan shot off a round just as I spun back towards the shelter of the statue. Circling back the other direction, I fired two shots and took cover again. Bullets pinged against the statue, and I knew I had to take a stand or make a run for it. I blew out a serrated breath, then dropped to the ground, rolling past the statue and aiming high.
Two rounds left my gun, one landing between Ivan’s eyes and the other in his chest. His face registered shock as his legs buckled, and he fell face-first on the ground, his blood a scarlet river against the untarnished white snow.
I didn’t wait around to find out if Nikolai had sent others after me. At a sprint, I took off, keeping to the shadows as much as possible. Twenty-three minutes passed before I stood in front of the gates of the US Embassy. And just as I knew it would, a helo arrived at the half-hour mark exactly.
When I was safely buckled into the bird, I looked out across the snow-laden city. My thoughts drifted back to Nina, and I allowed myself, while hidden by the noise of the helo’s blades, to mourn the loss of my only friend for the last four years.
“Rest in peace, Nina. I’ll never forget you.”
***
Six months later
Washington, D.C.
I sat quietly at my desk in the CIA office, clicking on the keys of the government-issued computer. The last six months had been pure hell… boredom. I was sure it was a new form of torture that maybe the CIA could employ to get information out of unrelenting prisoners.
Just bore them to death. That should do the trick.
I sighed, catching my reflection in the computer. It still startled me when I saw my blond hair and blue eyes staring back at me. While undercover, I’d had gray eyes and brown hair. I pushed my hand through my now longish locks. I hadn’t cut it after Moscow. The CIA hadn’t said a word about my unruly appearance. They knew I was biding my time.
Six months. Six months and I was out of here and back to Atlanta.
What I would do once I got there was anyone’s guess. But I knew it wouldn’t be working for the government. I’d paid that debt and spent the better part of my twenties being more grown-up than anyone should have to be at that age.
Not that twenty-seven was a ripe old age, but I thought I deserved a little time to be young and free.
It was almost noon, and I’d been sitting at my desk watching for any mention of Nikolai Dmitriev’s name in the scroll of messages I’d intercepted. Nothing. No hints as to whether or not Nikolai had known of my deception or whether that information had died with Ivan. We still had no idea how they’d discovered us. And I didn’t like that one bit. So, until we knew more, I was on desk duty and ready to go insane.
“Blake!” Stan Johnson, my superior, shouted my name from his office. When I looked up, he waved me over. I moved from my cubicle and started in his direction. That’s when I noticed two men sitting in the chairs across from his desk.
One of them was tall, brown hair and light-colored eyes; the other could pass for my older brother. Both guys looked like they spent a lot of time in the gym and had a no-nonsense look about them.
“Yes, sir.” I crossed my arms over my chest as I stood just inside the office. My Spidey sense was on red alert. Change was in the air—I could feel it. And it was a heady thing, for sure.
“This is Levi Slater and Cade Montgomery. They’ve come to talk to you.” Johnson brushed past me and shut the office door.
Levi spoke first. “Have a seat.”
He motioned to Johnson’s desk chair, and I took it, suddenly feeling as if I had the upper hand. Was that the intent? That I was the one calling the shots? I took in their severe faces and almost laughed. These men weren’t much for giving up any kind of control.
“What can I do for you?” I crossed my ankle over my knee, hoping I looked casual and unaffected. If only I felt those things.
“We’re here to offer you a job.” This time it was Cade who spoke.
“A job?”
“Yes, that thing you do from nine to five every day?” Levi raised one brow as his face lit with sarcasm.
“I know what a job is.” I wanted to roll my eyes at my lame response. “What I mean is, I’ve got a contract with the CIA for six more months.”
“We know about that. We also know about your past and how you ended up here.”
I shrugged. “I was young and stupid.”
“And incredibly smart. We need someone like that on our team.”
“What team is that?”
“Your clearance is high enough that I can tell you this, but only the basics. Cade and I lead a security team that reports directly to the president. We’re taking on assignments that no one else will. Everything is off the record.”
“Okay. Where do I fit in?”
“We need someone with your skill set. Computer skills of course—but also someone who knows how to blend into an environment.”
“So, basically it’s like working for the CIA all over again. Yeah, I don’t think so.”
“I wondered if you’d say that. We’ve heard about your fights in Russia.”
Well, that piqued my interest. I didn’t think anyone knew about the underground fighting I did in Moscow. Dirty, rough, no-holds-barred kind of fighting. No rules or regulations. It had been exhilarating, the only thing that had kept me sane. A decision that was all my own.
“Yeah. So?”
“What I failed to mention is that our cover is an MMA gym. We’ll teach you to fight fair, and you can earn extra cash with amateur matches.”
The offer was appealing. Fighting was something I’d wanted to do, but the CIA didn’t allow the extracurricular activity.
“We’re still not sure my cover wasn’t blown in Moscow. How can I be sure I’m not bringing trouble to your doorstep?”
“We’re well equipped to handle it. And even better, it’s all off the books.”
No red tape.
Levi leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Listen, Blake. We work for the boss, for sure. But there’s a lot of freedom in the work we do. We’re not forced to take any assignments we don’t feel comfortable with. We call the shots, for the most part. And we have the power of the most powerful man in the U.S. behind us. What else are you going to do when you get out of here?”
Cade lifted a brow. “You want to spend the next six months twiddling your thumbs only to get out—and do what? We’re offering you a chance here to do something meaningful working with a team that will band together like brothers. Plus, an opportunity to learn several martial arts forms of fighting and make some extra cash in the ring.”
“Can I think about it?”
The two men stood and shook my hand. “You’ve got twenty-four hours.”
“Did we mention we’re based in Atlanta?” Cade smiled, knowing he’d dangled the tastiest carrot. The one that I’d be hard-pressed to ignore.
Home.
I wouldn’t need the twenty-four hours. My mind was made up. They had me at fighting, but Atlanta sealed the deal.