This is what I knew about Mikhail Annikov the day I interviewed him at a secure facility in Virginia. The FBI thought he was an enforcer with the Russian mafia in Brooklyn. Rumor had it that he was personally responsible for the deaths of three rival mafia members. Talk from the other thugs in...
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This is what I knew about Mikhail Annikov the day I interviewed him at a secure facility in Virginia.
The FBI thought he was an enforcer with the Russian mafia in Brooklyn. Rumor had it that he was personally responsible for the deaths of three rival mafia members. Talk from the other thugs in custody was that he had military training, either from his time in Iraq or Afghanistan, and that he was ruthless, cold and uncompromising.
He was also the most beautiful man I ever laid eyes on.
Even with his black eye and prison orange, he was handsome. Six two, a nice bulk to his very buff body, clear fair skin on account of his Russian heritage. He had slightly longish fair hair, grey-blue eyes, and a jaw that screamed Alpha with enough scruff on his chin and jaw to remind you he was all man when he kissed you.
I knew it was crazy of me, but for a few brief moments, I imagined kissing him and more. Much more.
Little could I know that in a few weeks time, I’d be kissing him for real.
By choice.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. When I first laid eyes on him, I thought he was just another psychopath. A research subject I wanted to interview so I could study the Warrior Gene.
I’ll get to the kiss—and much much more—later.
He wore the guise of a monster. It protected him, kept his real identity and his true mission secret. At times, he did monstrous things, but he was so much more than what he seemed.
When I first met Mikhail Annikov, I truly believed he was a monster. He tried to convince me that he was. For a while, we were all convinced of it.
But we were wrong.
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