Chapter One
Katarina “Nickel” Dupree was a stone cold killer—a viper among wolves.
She moved through the crowd of people easily at the party at Ten Trinity Square. The crème de la crème of the affluent were on site to celebrate the restoration of the building and its new life as Four Seasons Residences. Her little black dress and her Louboutin heels were the perfect costume because she fit right in with the crowd, but was sexy enough to attract the attention of one Edward Stanhope who’d just changed his address—the very English barrister who represented various interests of the Yukodvich Brotherhood.
They were moving into banking, the lines between legit and criminal blurring as their empire grew ever bigger. Rutlin Bank Corp had made serious contributions to various political campaign funds and if the world wasn’t careful, the Ukrainian mob was going to have a foothold in world government.
But this was personal too.
Edward Stanhope’s protégé was one Wellington Ashley III. The man her parents had chosen for her to marry back before the Marines, before Elite Metal. Back when she was a silly little debutante with silly little girl dreams.
It would’ve been an alliance of some of the most powerful banking families in Atlanta.
Until he raped her.
Joining up with the Marines had been her way to fight back, to be strong, and to never be powerless again. Until Red Wolf.
These fuckers. She was going to find a way to kill them all. The time for justice was over. Now, it was only about revenge.
Ashley wouldn’t walk away from this.
She hoped he enjoyed the caviar he was spreading on his slug tongue, the taste of the champagne, even the girls he’d bought and paid for. Because they’d all be his fucking last.
Katarina pushed those thoughts down, locked them away. She wasn’t Katarina anymore. She was a highly trained professional fucking operative. She had a target and a mission. She breathed deeply and when she opened her eyes, she put a smile on her face.
It even reached her eyes.
Because she was about to kill a motherfucker.
She managed to catch Edward’s eye with a timed sway of her hips and a practiced glance. She met his eyes, looked away, but then looked back again, holding his gaze for the fifteen seconds that would convey she either wanted to murder him or fuck him.
Lucky for her, it would never occur to him she wanted him dead.
Stanhope wasn’t an unattractive man. Women in the group he spoke with vied for his attention. Although, given his net worth, he could be a one-eyed, limp-dicked troll and he’d still have had his fair share.
He wasn’t tall, just average, but he wore his hair like David Gandy and with his sharp jaw line, it definitely gave him an edge.
“Darling!” A woman’s voice cooed next to her. “I haven’t seen you in ages.”
Ruelle DeVargio. Her mother’s best friend. What was she doing here? She hoped to hell that her mother wasn’t here, too.
“Vanka said you were studying art in Italy. Are you headed stateside from here?”
Katarina smiled. Her parents had been so ashamed of their daughter, they’d not told anyone she’d joined the Marines. Or when Operation Phoenix went to shit that she’d been presumed killed in action.
She looked goddamn good for a ghost.
“I am, but let’s keep it our secret. I want to surprise them.” Yeah, they’d get the shock of their lives.
“Of course. Vanka will be thrilled. So, I see you eyeing Edward Stanhope. I always told Vanka you could do much better than Ashley. I don’t know what your parents were thinking.”
Neither did she. When she’d come sobbing to her mother about what had happened, her mother had demanded to know why she hadn’t let him do whatever he wanted with her. He was going to be her husband. Powerful men had powerful needs.
Even her father… she’d been Daddy’s Princess until she’d screwed up whatever deal he had going with the Ashleys by breaking their son’s nose. He didn’t care that Wellington had brutalized her. She was just another fucking commodity to him.
“Stanhope does make my heart beat a bit faster.” Not a lie. The idea of getting him alone did all kinds of things to her biology. She’d bet he had a lot of useful extractable information.
“Come, I’ll introduce you.” Ruelle took her by the hand and in a cloud of Chanel, with pain shooting up her arm, they joined Stanhope’s group.
Ruelle was an expert at social manipulation, a shark, and thought nothing of pushing her way through the women. To the men, she said, “Excuse me, gentlemen. I know you’re talking business, but all work and no play will make you all very dull boys.” Ruelle smiled, edging one of the younger women out of the way. “And my sweet Katarina is in need of entertainment. If I could impose on you, Eddie Darling?” She called him “Eddie Darling” as if that were his whole name.
“Of course, Ruelle. I’d be delighted.” Edward behaved proper as proper could be, but simply being close to him made her very aware of the knife in her garter and how many times she’d like to plunge it in his face. Even if he was kind to her, even if he was polite, he still did business for the Yukodvich Brotherhood. They trafficked in human flesh and didn’t hesitate to throw out the bad stock. They raped, tortured, and killed. So no matter how pretty he was, he was shit underneath. But when he offered her his arm, she took it.
When they’d escaped the crowd out into the darkness of the giant stone veranda, guards immediately moved in front of the glass doors, guaranteeing their privacy. She could feel the jealous glares burning into her back.
“So you’re the infamous Katarina Dupree.”
“You’ve heard of me?” She flashed him a coquettish look.
“Everyone knows who you are. You said no to Wellington Ashley and ran off to study art.”
She tried not to grit her teeth. “What can I say? I want more from a man than his bank account.”
“What was our Mister Ashley lacking? You do know he works for me now?”
“I do know that.” She nodded.
“Are you going to tell me what you found lacking?” He arched a brow. “By all accounts, he has it all.”
She rolled her eyes. “Where should I begin? His personality? His intelligence? He’s a bit of a savant with money. A man like that isn’t going to hang onto success for very long. He’s not adaptable.”
“It sounds like I should hire you. But what does a woman with a doctorate in fine art know or care about banking?”
“I have a masters in finance, actually. I think you’ll find money is its own art form.”
“Creativity and money can sometimes be a bad combination.” He winked at her.
“That’s only if offshore accounts and other people’s investments are involved.”
“I’d like to offer you a drink, but somehow I think you’re after something else.”
Her stomach churned. “Just what is it you think I’m after?”
“You know Ashley is here. You want to make him jealous.”
“I really, really don’t.” She kept reminding herself that Tin was in her ear. He could hear everything. Tin was there. If something happened and this went south, he had her back.
Fuck that, she reminded herself. She had her own back. The day that she couldn’t handle some weasel barrister, even Edward Stanhope, was the day she should just hang up her dog tags and be done.
“So you’re telling me it’s a coincidence that your ex-fiancé works for me?”
“He was never my fiancé. My parents and his parents, even Ashley got set on the idea without consulting me first.” She had to change the tone of this conversation. She was on the defensive, being maneuvered.
“So you’re forward thinking?” He studied her.
“Forward thinking enough to believe that I should choose who I spend the rest of my life with, instead of allowing my parents to choose for me?” She met his gaze straight on. It was completely unladylike of her, or so she’d been taught. But it was Alpha Bitch of her.
“When the players are debutantes and old bloods, fighting over corporate alliances and resources, yes.” He nodded.
“I suppose that matters to some people. I have the luxury of saying it doesn’t matter to me because I’ve made plenty of my own money and my own way in the world.”
“You’re an interesting woman, Katarina.” He added a Russian emphasis when he said her name. “I’d like to know more about you.”
“What did you have in mind?”
“I don’t quite know what you mean.”
“Don’t you? You can learn a lot about a person playing chess. Or there are games and venues that might provide a more intimate examination.” She turned to look out at the city lights of London.
He slid his arm around her waist. “You mean like playing chess in my penthouse?”
“Yes, exactly that.” She smiled even as her gut clenched, even though his touch caused pain to shoot through her spine. Katarina hated this part of the game.
She hated acting like she liked them.
She hated them getting to put their hands on her.
She hated the sound of their breathing in her ear.
She especially hated it if she had to let them kiss her.
It all took her back to that December night in Atlanta. To her debutante ball when Ashley had torn her dress, broken her wrist, and ripped her innocence from her.
When Red Wolf operatives had held her down, she’d been able to shut it off. To disappear inside herself. But it had killed something in her, murdered it the same way she was going to murder them. Although, Tin had gotten a good start. He killed two of them, saved her, and protected her until she was strong again.
That was what comforted her. Her hatred really did keep her warm. That was what fueled a heat inside of her when Stanhope kissed her. She imagined chewing his face off, so her mouth opened under his and she forced herself to respond to him.
Katarina reminded herself that she wasn’t brittle, she wasn’t breakable. She was a goddamn Marine.
She was an Elite Ghost who’d risen from the ashes of her own death and she didn’t need saving.
It was her targets who needed saving.
And no one would come. No one would help them.
Just like no one helped her after Wellington Ashley.
“Shall we go up, then, Miss Dupree?”
“Yes.”
He led her from the veranda down to a secret entrance. Of course, he wouldn’t want to lead her back through the party where they’d be waylaid or worse, people would know they were going up to his penthouse.
But that was fine with her.
She didn’t need anyone asking why a dead woman was attending the gala.
Titanium was going to be pissed she’d gone in as herself, but whatever. He’d get over it. After everything she’d given the team, he could give her this. It’s not like her parents had a funeral for her, or anyone but the U.S. government thought she was dead.
“Would you care for a drink?” he asked when they entered his lush penthouse.
“No, thank you.” She smiled, and this time, if wasn’t forced. “We’ve both had enough to drink tonight.”
She watched him carefully, seeing the signs of the drug as it took hold.
“It just hit me.” He smiled. “I don’t usually over-indulge, but I suddenly feel like I had more than one glass of champagne.”
He blinked and staggered over to the couch. “Did you drug me, pretty bird?”
She grinned wider. “I did. It’s called Burundanga. It’s a date rape drug, in case you were interested.”
“Can’t rape the willing.” His head started loll back.
She pounced on him and grabbed his face in her hands. “No, but you can rape the thousands of women you help traffic every day for those shithead Yukodvichs.”
“Not telling you a bloody thing.”
“Yes,” she nodded, “you will. You’ll tell me everything because Burundanga acts like sodium amytal. But like GHB and Rohypnol, it has a retroactive amnesia effect. Handy, yes?”
“I’m going to kill you.”
“No, you’re not. You won’t even remember meeting me. Now, let’s get down to business. Who do you work for?”
“Who do you work for?” He slurred his words.
She sighed. “Look, this can happen the easy way or the hard way. The hard way you don’t wake up from. Your choice.”
“I’m not telling you I work for Fedir Yukodvich.” His eyes widened. “Fuck, yes, I am.”
“That’s right, you are. I already know who you work for. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here. Just wanted to make sure it’s working.”
His head lolled back again and she pulled him forward. “Sit up. Pay attention.”
“Wanna sleep. But I can’t. I have to transfer the money.”
“What money?” His eyelids fluttered closed. His tolerance was for shit. Goddamn it. She slapped his cheek. “What fucking money?”
“Fedir’s new clubhouse on Key Biscayne.”
“Clubhouse? Tell me more about that.”
“Where his new friends will come to play. And to bid. It’s neutral ground. All business may be conducted, except murder.”
“So, it’s a horror house for the women you kidnap and force into slavery.”
“They want to come. They sign up from their poor villages for the American Dream.” He waved his hands in the air awkwardly.
“Who is going to be there?”
He’d nodded off. She slapped him hard.
“Christ, woman. Don’t be so rough,” he mumbled.
“Who!”
“Renegade Knights, Castano Cartel, Red Wolf…”
Red Wolf. The name of the dead on her lips. “When?”
“Next month.”
Fuck.
“Next month, when, asshole?” she demanded.
But he was out.
Sonofabitch.
“Did you get that?” she whispered.
Tin was in her ear. “Yeah, I’m on it. A cool 18 million for that Biscayne property. Came up in a net search. They’re not hiding anymore. Miami is almost as bad as Brighton. Fedir Yukodvich buys Key Biscayne Property. It’s in the Herald.”
“I’m going to make a quick check of his desk and his bedroom while I copy the files from his laptop then we can blow this joint.”
“Move fast. It looks like Ashley is on his way up.”
“Fuck. I’ll take care of it.”
“No, you can’t. In and out. No evidence anything out of the ordinary happened here.”
“I’m going to kill him.”
“Not today,” Tin cautioned. “You know I’m all for killing that fuck. I’d love to break his bones one at a time until I was tired of hearing him scream, but the mission. You’re a goddamn professional. Get in. Get out. He’ll get his, I swear to you.”
She inhaled deep and exhaled slowly. “I know. You’re right. I got this.”
“I know you do, baby. Let’s rock this shit.”
Katarina found his laptop, and snatched his phone for good measure and scanned them both. They’d be able to remote access both devices. “You getting this?”
“Yeah. Now get out of there.”
Part of her wanted to stay. Wanted Wellington Ashley to catch her. She already had a plan for how it would go down.
She’d kill him and Stanhope and make it look like a set up gone horribly wrong. Like Wellington had tried to…
But that would send the Yukodvich Brotherhood after Wellington’s sister, Averly. None of this was her fault.
Katarina didn’t mind collateral damage, but she tried to keep it at a minimum when innocents were involved.
She had a choice here. It wasn’t like this was her only chance to end Ashley. Maybe it was better this way. Next time, she’d be prepared. Next time, she’d be able to enjoy herself.
Katarina slipped out the door, but found two guards waiting for her.
Her breath caught in her throat and she forced it out in a breathy giggle. “Excuse me, gentlemen. My entertainment for the evening bailed.”
“We have to search you. I’m sure you understand.”
She stood, raising her arms. “I’m all yours.” They’d never find the scanner. It was in her bra and they were more interested in feeling her tits than anything else. Luckily, with large breasts, she could conceal the small space age strip of a scanner underneath them.
“It’s good to be the boss,” one said.
“It sure is.” She smiled.
The big one paused and pressed his finger to his headset. “Yes, Mister Ashley. Yes, we have her right here.”
She froze.
“Honey, Katarina. Honey. If that doesn’t work, then sting the fuck out of them.” Tin’s voice in her ear soothed her.
“Mister Ashley would like a word.”
“Mister Ashley isn’t the boss of me.” She grinned. “Or you. Mr. Stanhope is. I don’t think he’d want his protégé to see him drunk off his arse—” she managed a giggle “—without closing the deal, if you know what I mean.”
The big guy grinned at her. “If you’ve got a hundred pound note?”
“I don’t. You would’ve found it if I did.” She frowned over-dramatically. “But really, who does Ashley think he is? Who’s the boss here? Stanhope or Ashley?”
“We have to wonder why you’d try to get out of meeting with him.”
“I’m pretty sure Mr. Stanhope doesn’t pay you to wonder about his personal affairs and wouldn’t appreciate them being broadcasted to a blabbermouth like Ashley.”
When he didn’t let go of her arm, she said, “Fedir Yukodvich once told me slovo-serebro, molchsniye-zoloto.” The word is silver, silence is gold.
The name drop and the Russian proverb caused him to release her arm instantly.
“Thank you ever so much, gentlemen.”
She snuck around to the hidden stairs Stanhope had used to bring her up to his penthouse and the elevator dinged behind her with Ashley’s arrival just as the secret door closed.
Katarina fled into the darkness to freedom, to escape, and to Tin.