“I’m with the FBI,” Aaron pleads. “There’s been a mistake. Barrett!” He locks eyes on my supervisor. My ex wreaks of desperation.
SWAT and several FBI agents continue to trail out of the basement with men in handcuffs. I’ve yet to see Mikhail.
There are a number of the cartel’s men, including Felix, but there is no sign of Carlos.
Did he get out before the Feds began to raid the place? He could be hiding anywhere inside the compound. There were several tunnels and rooms in the basement, not including the main floor of the compound and the upstairs.
What about Mikhail and Luka?
More men, several unfamiliar faces, are brought out in handcuffs. They were spectators who gathered to watch the fight.
I shiver. The air is frosty when I recognize Mikhail being escorted out by one of the SWAT leaders. Luka is right behind him in handcuffs.
Mikhail is wearing nothing more than his underwear. His chest is red and will probably be bruised tomorrow. His cheek has a nice mark, and there’s a visible cut, dripping with blood from the knife wound on his chest.
Unlike the others being led to the back of a squad car, he’s being escorted to an ambulance.
I climb out of the vehicle and slide my arms into the FBI jacket as I hurry barefoot through the parking lot toward the commotion.
“Agent Carter.” Barrett’s tone is warning me to get back into the vehicle.
Well, I can’t do that. My feet burn from the cold asphalt, but I hurry to the back of the ambulance, where they’re putting Mikhail onto a stretcher.
“You made it out alive,” I say.
“So did you,” he whispers.
The EMTs lift him into the ambulance. Mikhail is in handcuffs, restrained. His gaze meets mine. He’s holding back any hint of pain, but blood drips from the wound on his chest. The earlier one was superficial, but the second wound was worse.
His skin is glistening and pale. The EMT hooks up an I.V. to him and applies pressure to the wound, bandaging it up.
The anger that I expect isn’t there. It’s more like relief that floods through me.
“This isn’t over, Kisa.”
“I suppose it’s not, but you’re going to prison.” I smile and take a step back, letting the EMTs deal with Mikhail while I head back to the vehicle. There isn’t more for me to say. He was only supposed to be an assignment.
I wasn’t supposed to sleep with Mikhail, the head of the bratva. And falling in love with him is out of the question.
But as I walk farther from the ambulance, I glance over my shoulder.
He quirks a grin because somehow he knows that he’s gotten under my skin, and I won’t be able to forget about him. Ever.