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“Fucking bitch. Trying to bite.”
“Get your hands off. You’ll get your turn when I’m done.”
I felt nauseous at the memory, the words that brought me back to that dark night back home.
Instead, I forced a smile, tucking away my loathing. I could easily break this guard’s nose just like that guy back home who filed charges against me.
“I can teach you better than any instructor,” the Ukrainian guard said with a seductive smile, the accent sharp like a round of AK-47.
Eastern European men, for the most part, have the faces of serial killers from deep-country mugshots, but man, do they know how to project that alpha energy.
“Deal,” I blurted, keeping my fake grin so hard my mouth hurt.
So today, after Mr. Chancellor summons me to his house—time not specified, so I don’t care, should’ve been more specific, so he can wait—I head to the Diggs, the security personnel living quarters out in the jungle by the Northern entrance to Ayana.
Nothing reckless.
I’ll just play around, get to know people, and hopefully, get deeper into their circle to find out if these guys have any ties to Mother Russia. I’ll throw some Russian words around, too. Granted, I can do that without an accent.
Their reaction is what I look for.
14
ARCHER
I checkmyself in the mirror, read the latestChemicals Reviewson my phone for some time. Only when an hour goes by and there is no sign of Kat do I start suspecting that she ditched me.
She is playing games, and I don’t like it.
I open the tracking app. Zion map appears on the screen, and a green dot—Kat’s phone—is in the Diggs.
What the hell is she doing in the security employees’ quarters?
Several girls had flings with the security guards—that was the only reason any girls ever went to the Diggs. Whatever Kat’s reason is, she should’ve cleared with me first.
In a minute, I fly through Ayana on my Superbike at full speed toward the Center, irritation simmering inside me.
I get one of the surveillance guys in the Center to pull up the cameras in the Diggs. The one at the entrance—the wide-angle view of the several buildings—is enough to let me spot a group of guys at one of the condo buildings.
“Zoom in on them,” I order, burning holes in the screen as I watch guys drinking beer and smoking in a wide circle. In the center—Kat and another guy engaged in a fight.
There’s no sound. For a second, my heartbeat spikes as I think she is being attacked until I realize they are… practicing?
Anger simmers in me. My eyes are glued to the screen.
The guy steps into Kat, and she pushes him in the chest with her palm. He takes her wrist—every move as if in slow motion—but she grabs his, then twists in her spot, and throws him over her shoulder. The guy is splayed on the ground as she sets her foot on his chest, arms up in the air as if in victory.
Fucking Kat.
The fact that she is hanging out with the guys who came from war zones and have done things that would make her throw up in shock is not to my liking. Especially since by now, she was supposed to be at my villa.
I dial her number. On the screen, she looks down at her pants but doesn’t pull her phone out of her pocket.
“Thanks,” I throw to the surveillance guy, storm out of the building, and jump on my bike.
I try to hold back anger, then realize that I’m driving too recklessly and slow down, reaching the turn toward the Diggs and in a minute pull onto the road that splits the Diggs in the center.
I spot the group where they were ten minutes ago and drive right up to their feet.
