Chapter : Mikhail

The body behind his brother slumped to the floor, Mikhail's aim having proved true. What he didn't appreciate was the gratitude.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me," Mikhail snapped. "It wasn't anything special."

"Is someone feeling testy because he did something noble?

"I am not noble."

"I wouldn't say that." Rafe arched a brow as he held a hand over his wound. "You did save my life. Hero." Snicker.

Being called a hero stuck in Mikhail's craw. Yes, he'd shot the assassin who held a knife poised behind Rafe. However, when he'd first raised that gun, the killer hadn't been his first target. Had Rafe noticed how steadily Mikhail had held the gun on him? At the last moment, Mikhail angled his weapon and shot the attacker who thought to attack from behind, the blast searing his brother in passing.

Oops.

Not oops. Bad aim. The voice in his head grumbled about him not taking the chance offered him. It wanted him to shoot Rafe. Which was dumb.