Page 13 of Forced By the Bratva Beast

“You’re under arrest,” Officer Williams commands, his stupid moustache reminding me of a strip of fake fur. It’s hard not to laugh about it, but I tuck away my amusement for the sake of not being shot at. I can’t handle such things this early in the morning.

“What for?” I counter, playing dumb.

Officer Williams steps forward, his face grim. “You know what for, but let me humor you. The death of Ryan Caleb.”

“Who the fuck is that?” I reply, throwing my hands up in angst, buying as much time as I can. If I’m honest with myself, I probably could have let Ryan hang out a little longer. I shouldn’t have killed him so quickly. I didn’t even get the information I wanted in the first place, like Makar pointed out.

“Cut the crap, Andrei. I don’t know how you keep getting away with this shit every month.”

Shrugging, I stare at a very disgruntled Officer Williams. “Probably because I’m innocent, and wasn’t it the FBI the last time? Where are your friends?” I taunt, Officer Williams’s eyelid flickering.

“Shut up. You’re under arrest for the murder of Ryan Caleb.”

“Last time I checked, you can’t arrest me without evidence. How can I be under arrest for the murder when you haven’t even called me in for questioning?”

Officer Williams and his crew step further into my office, taking up unnecessary space, but I know how efficient and cunning our lawyer team is, so I’m not worried.

“I would say it’s clear you had something to do with the guy’s murder when we found his phone in an abandoned building on the Southside. That’s the last place Ryan was seen before he disappeared. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, now, would you?”

“No. I wouldn’t. What does that have to do with me or my associate?” I ask, watching Officer Williams’s face turn red. I suspect we’re going to have a long list of run-ins over the years, but personally, I look forward to the tussle. It will give mesomebody to play with until I order a hit on him, or better yet, target his family.

The other officers are shifting their weight from one foot to the other, saying nothing, but Officer Williams receives an iPad from one of them, which he passes to me. “Take a look at this. The footage might help jog your memory.” He looks mighty pleased with himself as I calmly review the footage of me and my men entering the building.

Fuck. I searched for the cameras and didn’t see any. I asked my team to case the joint before we kept him in there, but obviously someone dropped the ball. I hold in my frustration at the oversight, angrier with my team than this pea brain of an officer standing in front of me.

“YA voz'mu na sebya padeniye,” Makar murmurs, indicating he’s more than willing to take the fall, but there’s no need for him to.

“No,” I reply firmly, my jaw setting as Officer Williams watches us both in bewilderment.

“Talking in Russian isn’t going to help you. I’m taking you the fuck in. You asked for evidence, and here it is,” Officer Williams taunts, a wide grin inching his filthy moustache up. I want to rip it off his face, but all I do is stand up, smoothing down my slacks.

A slight frown blankets Makar’s face, but I know what I’m doing. If this is the only evidence they have, it’s not going to work for them at all.

“The handcuffs won’t be needed. I’ll come with you. Nice and easy, Officer Williams,” I reply, looking him dead center in the eye. I can tell he thinks he has me by the balls, but he’s clutching at thin air in this case.

“Are you sure, Boss?”

“Yes, Makar, I’m sure.” I bury my eyes into Officer Williams as he smirks at me. “I’ll be out in a week. It gives me a holiday. Come on, Officer Williams let me help you with the paperwork.”

He starts mirandizing me, shoving me in the direction of the door as I wink at Makar. His face eases of strain. It’s not new for us to receive warrants for our arrests and warnings about our dealings on a regular basis. We’ve got too much ammunition against the Chicago Police Department and our tentacles as a Bratva operation run way deeper than Officer Williams knows.

“You’re going down, and you’re not getting out in a week if I have anything to do with it,” he trash talks as we descend in the elevator.

Oh, yes I am. “Are you sure, Officer Williams?” I reply cockily, knowing it’s only going to take a call to my lawyer and his team for us to shore up my walk out of the cop station.

“You and your little Russian mobster friends are done taking over our city. I’m here to clean up shit, and I’m going to see about making an example out of you, my friend,” he growls.

And I’m going to see about getting rid of you, just like I did Ryan, my friend. You’re next….

Chapter Seven – Sophia

His bulk takes up the entire table and his smushed up face is hard to look at. One of his eyes is sleepy, but strangely all his teeth are intact despite all the scarring on his arms and his face. Maybe he was the one pulverizing others and not the other way around.

Today, I sit very uncomfortably in a black fold out chair staring across at an inmate at Forston Yard. One of the most notorious high-risk jails in Chicago. If my heart were beating any faster, it would probably be on the floor of the sterile interview room with all the secrets the place holds. I realize I’m gripping on to my pen tighter than I should, and it’s a good thing I’m not the one asking the questions. I’m only watching from afar.

Internally, I’m in awe of Dr. Perri’s composure and how she’s so easily able to connect with Pavo. She pours a glass of water from the jug in front of her, sipping it with graceful ease. There’s a tape recorder next to her, and a dark mirror to the left of us.

I wonder if they’re watching us from inside the station. I stare at the mirror for a moment, but it gives me the creeps to think officers are on the other side of it, looking in.

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