Page 106 of Dark Truths

It’s a bullet wound with an exit wound, which means the bullet went right through. Unless it hit a bone, he probably won’t need surgery, which is good news for him.

“So,” I start when he hangs up with emergency services. I’m hoping by the time they make it here, we’ll be long gone, otherwise we’re going to need a hell of a story. “Who shot you?”

“My fucking boss,” he answers through clenched teeth when I press bandages against his wound.

“Not Dimitri?”

I feel his calculating dark eyes on me, but I stay focused on my task. “How do you know Dimitri? Who are you?”

“Gabriella DiAngelo.”

“You’re with the Italian family.”

“And you’re Dimitri’s handler.”

“How much do you know exactly?”

I finish wrapping his leg and sit back. Snapping my gloves off, I concentrate on what to say next that will get my point across without saying it. “Enough to know his cover was blown, and that he came here for safety.”

“I didn’t know his cover was blown,” Jacob admits, catching my drift.

“Then who—”

Jacob’s eyes go wide at the space behind me. “Watch out!”But his warning comes too late.

Suddenly, a hand seizes my hair and pulls firmly, forcing me to stand to ease the throbbing ache. The grip remains tight,keeping my head straight back so all I can see is the dark sky through the tree canopy above.

“Well, well, well,” a voice drawls in my ear and I recognize it immediately. “If it isn’t the youngest DiAngelo bitch.”

“Sergei.”

“What are you doing here?” he asks with a deep groan, like he’s in pain. Good.

“Could ask you the same thing.” My sass earns me a hard yank. Tears spring to my eyes at the sharp sensation, but I refuse to cry out. I won’t give the bastard the satisfaction.

“Let her go!” The sound of my brother’s voice fills the air and envelops me in a protective wave.

Sergei eases up on my hair, only to wrap one meaty hand around my chest and bring a knife to my throat with the other. The cool steel bites into my flesh. But all the pain and anxiety and fear disappear when I see Dimitri standing next to Michael. Well, he's more like leaning against Michael for support. My brother has his hand wrapped around Dimitri’s side, helping keep him vertical. It’s as much of a comical sight as much as it is heartwarming to see them together.

“Gab–ri–,” Dimitri struggles to say my name between coughing fits, unable to lift his head very much. He needs medical attention right away. He needs oxygen.

Michael has a gun pointed at Sergei with his free hand. His face is hard and his eyes burn with the promise of death. This man may resemble my brother, but it's one of Miami’s Grim Reapers standing before me. And the sight is as scary in person as the stories I've heard.

“Ah, Michael.” Sergei grunts and pulls me tighter into him. “I see you found Dimitri. Did you hear? He's an FBI agent. He's been undercover for years.”

“I know,” Michael says.

“You know?” I feel Sergei start to shake. “You know?” he shouts. “Then fucking kill him!”

“No.”

“So you’re working with him then. Is that it? Huh?” Sergei’s hand slips, causing the knife against my throat to bite even more into my skin, and I hiss at the sharp pain. “Kill him, DiAngelo, or I will kill your sister. You know I will. Choose!”

“Last chance, Sergei,” Michael warns in a steady and deadly tone. “Let her go.”

“Wrong choice.”

I feel his arm tense and his hand shifts as if preparing to slice my throat.Dimitri is fighting to get to me, but Michael holds steady. What I wouldn’t give for one more kiss, one more touch, one more moment with him. To watch him hold our children, love them, and teach them. To walk his daughter down the aisle and stand beside his son at the altar. I meet his eyes and mouth,I love you,and need to look away before the pain in his gaze kills me. Michael catches my eyes and then nods.

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