Page 23 of Throttle All the Way

“You’ve got ties the Russians you don’t want us to know about, Tommy?”

“Fuck, no,” his voice cracked in a high pitch and I stopped pacing and leaned over the table, getting in his face. "Listen to me, you privileged piece of shit. Yulian Volkov doesn’t leave loose ends, and neither do I. You want your daddy to keep writing those fat checks to get you out of trouble? Then you better start talking, or I’ll make sure you regret every breath you take."

Tommy squirmed in his chair, his bravado crumbling. A dark stain spread across the front of his expensive slacks, and the sharp tang of urine hit the air.

The door burst open, and in stormed Councilman Lingdale, his face a mask of fury, with a lawyer hot on his heels. "What the hell is going on here, Detective Garcia?!"

I turned to face him, my expression cold and unyielding. "Councilman Lingdale, your son is a person of interest in an ongoing murder investigation and you do not belong in here."

"This is outrageous!" Lingdale barked, pointing a finger at me. "You have no right to interrogate him like this. I’ll have your badge for this!"

"Go ahead," I said, stepping closer. "Your son is over the age of eighteen and his Miranda rights have been read. He’s not walking out of here until I’m satisfied with his answers."

The lawyer, a slick, snake-like man in a tailored suit, stepped forward. "Detective, I advise you to release my client immediately, or we’ll have grounds for a lawsuit."

I shot him a glare that would’ve made lesser men piss themselves. "He’s not going anywhere until I’ve got what I need."

Lingdale’s face reddened, his composure slipping. "You’re out of your league, Garcia. I’ll make sure you regret this."

"Funny," I said, my voice dripping with venom. "Your son said the same thing. Look how that turned out."

Lingdale’s nostrils flared, but he knew better than to escalate further. The lawyer whispered something in his ear, and the councilman nodded reluctantly.

"This isn’t over," Lingdale said, his voice low and threatening.

Aiyana approached the doorway, nodding at me silently. “He’s free to go gentlemen,” she uttered and I clenched down on my jaw, keeping myself from saying another word.

I watched as they ushered Tommy out of the room, the kid looking like a whipped dog. My blood boiled as the door closed behind them. Lingdale could pull strings all he wanted, but I wasn’t backing down.

Ray entered the room, his expression grim. "You okay, Detective?"

I let out a sharp exhale, running a hand through my hair. "No. But I will be once we nail that kid’s ass to the wall."

Ray handed me a folder. "We’ve got the street cam footage. Black sedan was spotted heading toward a warehouse near the port. Matches Yulian’s MO."

"Good," I said, my mind already racing. "Let’s gear up. We’re going to pay it a visit."

But as I left the precinct, my thoughts drifted back to Mila. Yulian was closing in, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that she was the ultimate prize in his sick game.

And I’d burn the whole damn city to the ground before I let him take her.

CIPHER

The warehouse sat like a forgotten husk on the edge of the bay, its rusted walls groaning against the chill of the evening wind. The stench of burned rubber and gasoline filled the air, sharp and acrid. Smoke curled lazily from the charred skeleton of the black sedan that had once been a lead—any glimmer of hope fucking dissipating in the black smoke.

It had been just another dead end.

I stood there, fists clenched at my sides, staring at the ashes as if I could will them to give me answers. The faint orange glow of fire still licked at the wreckage, the flicker felt like a joke, a cruel reminder that we were always one step behind.

Ray walked up beside me, shaking his head. "They knew we were coming, Cipher. This was a setup from the start."

"No shit," I growled, my voice tight with frustration. "Yulian’s a goddamn ghost. He’s always a step ahead because someone’s feeding him our every move."

Ray didn’t respond, which was probably for the best. I wasn’t in the mood for pointless theories. I turned on my heel, kicking a loose piece of debris across the warehouse floor. The clatter echoed through the emptiness, bouncing back at me like my own failure laughing in my face.

We’d combed the place, every inch of it. No bodies. No girls. No drugs. No sign of Yulian. Just another lead burned to the ground, literally.

Back to square fucking one.

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