The atmosphere on the plane was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Gina kept her people separate from HOT. They were up front while HOT sat toward the back. There was a private conference room on the plane, and several of the guys had gathered in there. Kid had his computer set up and was communicating with Hacker. They were trying to find Delta Squad somewhere in Moscow. It was like trying to find the proverbial needle in a haystack.

Moscow was a big city, and Sergei Turov owned quite a few warehouses. Alex tapped his fingers on the table. He hated waiting. Hated feeling helpless. They’d been delayed by an entire day. It was starting to set in just how far they’d dove off the deep end. They were AWOL. Hell, they’d deserted.

Like Viper, they were fugitives if any of this came to light before they were through. He looked at the determined faces around him and knew these men wouldn’t have it any other way. It was do or die now.

“What the fuck?” Kid said, his fingers tapping the keys faster now. “Yeah, I see it. You?”

He wore a microphone so he could talk to Hacker. Apparently they’d found something. Everyone in the room jerked their attention to Kid. He stared hard at the screen, his eyes darting back and forth, fingers flying.

And then he hit a key and threw his hands up. “Boom! We’re in.” He turned a shit-eating grin on them. “We’ll have the IP address of the person who loaded the fake data to HOT’s servers in about five minutes, give or take.”

“Delta’s location?” Alex asked, heart thumping.

Kid hesitated for a second. The grin returned. “Hacker’s got it. Transmitting the coordinates now.”

“Hallelujah,” Viking said as several of the guys punched the air and high-fived each other.

But they still had a bit of reality to deal with.

“Now we just have to hope Gina Domenico gets us through customs,” Alex said.

The mood shifted down a couple of notches. Because they all knew this wasn’t a typical op. They weren’t arriving on a CIA transport or HALOing in from a military jet high above the target zone. They were walking into this country as tourists, and they were dependent on the fame of their hostess to get them through the entry process. Once in, nothing would stop them.

But first they had to get there—and that was not a guarantee.

* * *

If this were a regular op with a team, they’d have infiltrated Sergei’s house at multiple points. The power would have been shut down and whole wings of the house would have been cut off. But they were two operators in a ten-thousand-square-foot space, and they could only do so much.

According to the map, the main living areas were concentrated in the center of the house. Sergei’s bedroom, the room that Kat had identified, was on the second floor. He would still be in it at this hour, and he would be asleep. They just had to get there.

There were workmen in the house, but they were confined to a section that would not disturb Sergei. As for staff, they nearly ran smack into a maid in the guest quarters, but they waited in the shadows until she’d gone inside a room, humming as she carried a stack of sheets. Then they hurried toward Sergei’s room.

Kat took the lead. They’d both studied the map, both memorized every detail on it, but she was the one with actual knowledge of Sergei’s life and routines. She knew there would be no staff in that section of the house yet, because Sergei didn’t like people infringing on his space. Other than the person who brought him his morning coffee and then served him breakfast, everyone else had to wait until he was gone—or until they were summoned—before they could enter his rooms to do anything.

Johnny stayed on her six, covering them as they swept through rooms and halls. They came to a set of back stairs and ghosted up them, emerging into a hallway with tall ceilings and gilded plaster carvings that segmented the walls at regular intervals. The panels between the carvings featured frescoes from Peter the Great’s era.

It was the hallway from the camera room. Kat stopped near the door to the room she’d identified as Sergei’s and made eye contact with Johnny. He had his back to the wall, like she did. They stared at each other for a long moment. There was no sound from inside the room, but there wouldn’t be. Her heart kicked up. It had been so painless to this point. Surprisingly. She just hoped it didn’t go wrong the instant they busted into the room.

But what if she’d made a mistake? What if this wasn’t Sergei’s room at all?

Johnny nodded at her and then kicked the door open, pistol in front of him as he swept the room. Kat came in behind him.

The room was huge and furnished with gilded furniture. Two doors faced each other on opposite walls. One was presumably the bathroom. The other might be a closet or a sitting room.

There were oil paintings on the walls and a large television screen that slid down from the ceiling and hovered over the bed. She could tell from the blue light flickering that it was on, but there was no sound. On the king-sized bed, Sergei lay on top of the covers, fully dressed, arms behind his head, a smile on his face.

“Ah, Sasha, my love—we meet again.”

“Don’t fucking move, asshole,” Johnny said, pistol aimed at Sergei’s heart.

A bad feeling set up shop in Kat’s brain. It oozed into her chest, tapped a sick beat in her belly.

“And this must be the famous Colonel John Mendez,” Sergei said, his eyes hardening. “I have much to thank you for, Colonel.”

“Where are my men?” Johnny demanded, weapon never wavering. “I’ll fucking splatter your brains across those pillows if you don’t tell me what I want to know.”

Sergei tsked. “Do that and you’ll never find them, will you?”

He swung his legs from the bed and reached for his cane. Johnny stiffened as Sergei levered himself up.

“Where are my men?” Johnny repeated.

“They are safe. For now.” He pointed at the television screen overhead. “See for yourself.”

Johnny moved where he could keep an eye on Sergei and also glance at the screen. She looked up as well. The screen was a camera feed. There was a cage, like a monkey cage in a zoo, with bars high overhead and down all sides. Inside the cage were nine men. They did not appear to be harmed.

“See? Safe,” Sergei said. “But if you wish to save their lives, you will need to put down your weapons.”

“It’s a lie,” Kat said. “If we put these down, he’ll kill us.”

Johnny hadn’t relaxed his stance, but she knew he was thinking about it. Thinking how he could turn the situation to his advantage. It was an impossible choice, and they both knew it.

“After all I’ve done for you, Sasha,” Sergei chided her. “I told Dmitri not to kill you in New Orleans. And you don’t even have the grace to be thankful.”

“If you spared me, it was so you could do something even worse.”

“Worse than taking your life?” His eyes gleamed. “What could be worse than that?”

He was baiting her. She would not fall for it. He wanted her to get emotional, to make bad judgments. Instead, she kept her weapon trained on him and refused to let her emotions—disgust, anger, horror, the need for retribution—take charge.

“I can think of a few things,” she snapped. Losing Johnny. Losing Roman. Losing everything that had made her happy in life. And then working for this man, being forced to endure him as he stripped her naked and took her to his bed.

“And to think you were my favorite,” Sergei said. “So pretty, so lethal. So passionate.”

Bile rose in her throat. Johnny didn’t blink, but she knew he hadn’t missed the nuances of what Sergei was saying.

“Why should we put our weapons down?” Johnny demanded, skipping to the meat of the situation. “So far as I can tell, you’re the one at a disadvantage here.”

“Then I should tell you that Dmitri has a detonator in his shirt pocket,” Sergei said with an evil smile. The door on the left wall opened up and Dmitri walked in, looking smug.

Kat swung her pistol toward Dmitri while Johnny kept his trained on Sergei.

“The sensors are wired to his pulse,” Sergei said. “If his pulse stops, the warehouse blows. Shoot him if you like, but your men will die. Shoot me, and Dmitri will press the button to blow the warehouse.”

“You’re lying,” Kat said.

He arched an eyebrow. “Dmitri, show them.”

“Slowly,” Johnny replied. “One hand.”

Dmitri slid a hand down to his shirt and pulled it open. Sensors studded his chest. He then fished a remote from his pocket and held it up. “Boom,” he said, grinning.

“And now, if you would care to put down the weapons, we can move on to the next part,” Sergei said.

“Not putting the guns down,” Johnny said.

“Then I will have to press this button,” Dmitri said. “Boom.”

“Go ahead.” Anger vibrated off Johnny, palpable even though they weren’t touching. He was utterly focused and totally pissed. “You press the button and blow them up—and Sasha will blow your fucking head off while I take care of Sergei.”

She appreciated that he didn’t call her Kat in front of these men, but she didn’t think it mattered much. They’d clearly found her in New Orleans. They already knew her current identity.

Sergei sighed heavily. “We are at an impasse, it seems.”

“Looks like.”

Dmitri snarled. “You’ve always been difficult, Viper. Couldn’t be like other men, could you? Thought you were so superior when you came to Moscow two decades ago. Typical American.”

Sergei held out a hand to silence Dmitri. It would have been amusing to see Dmitri behave like a lapdog if not for the seriousness of the situation.

“As fun as this is, I think we have to change the dynamic,” Sergei said. “I’d like you to meet the boys.”

The door on the left wall opened up again, and a group of commandos rolled through. Kat instinctively whirled until she was back to back with Johnny just as another group came through the door behind them.

Clad in dark clothing, dark goggles hiding their eyes, they surrounded her and Johnny with an arsenal of weaponry.

“Game over,” Sergei said.