Page 9 of Marked By the Devil

She was armed, a standard-issue firearm in a holster under the fabric of her jacket.

A cop?

I carried her, scowling down at her.

No.

She looked too formal for a cop or detective.

I had no proof yet, but as I carried her toward where a car could come to get me, I had a hunch my deductive reasoning was accurate.

A federal agent. An operative to kill Adrik.

That slowly simmering anger coiled inside me.

A fucking agent.

We knew that Gregori was expanding his angle of attack on us. Thanks to the documents and correspondence trails that Mila had grabbed when she and Lev were recently undercover, we knew that federal agents were being paid off to target us. Already, we were facing more heat in the form of legal issues and minor arrests of our drug dealers and prostitutes.

Trouble was brewing, all thanks to Gregori.

I had this redhead now, though, and I would get whatever I could out of her.

Shifting her to drape over my shoulder, I carried her fireman style to get my phone. A quick text clued in the closest Bratva soldier Maksim had sent to be ready to get me, and I headed in the direction of the car.

He was idling nearby. As soon as I approached, I lowered her into the backseat and got in after her.

“You got anything?” I asked him.

He nodded at the bag of supplies on the floor.

I didn’t wait to give her a syringe of a sedative. Tying her hands would be smart, too, but with how out of it she was, they weren’t necessary.

“Take her to my place.” I had a holding cell that would do. Lev’s property had the dungeons, but I wasn’t sure she needed to be questioned by my cousins. Lev and Alexei were enforcers for the family, but I could take on this redhead. Markus and Rueben, the dungeon wards, would probably be too rough to get anything from her.

I watched her sleep, already familiar with this annoying connection we’d forged.

As predator and prey.

As object and seeker.

“Is Adrik okay?” I asked, reaching for anything that might be in the woman’s pockets.

“He is,” the driver confirmed.

The soldier riding shotgun added, “A crew is searching the area for evidence the sniper might have left behind.”

I scoffed. “It wasn’t her.” I took her wallet out. “I saw her fleeing the scene where the meeting was supposed to have taken place.”

She was a person of interest, for sure.

I opened her wallet.

I knew it.

I narrowed my eyes at her official ID.

Agent Wren Green.