Page 13 of Pregnant Bratva Virgin

“Hey, what’s up, you two?” Milton asks, joining the fray. “I feel like I’m missing something.”

I wave at my colleagues, my boss, gesturing me to his office. Shit. I can’t even wallow.

“Something is. Don’t worry about it. I’m going to work something out. Duty calls. Have a good day. Chat later,” I tell them both with a wink. No point dwelling. I’ve got the citizens of Chicago to protect. It’s a good thing I like the hell out of my job.

“Okay. You too,” Milton adds as Jeff, a street cop passes by with a wave. I wave back, and if I was in a better mood, I would see that he’s really kinda cute.

Compartmentalizing my problems is a specialty of mine, and part of the reason I’m a great detective. Not that it bodes well for my personal life. And why is that guy from the one-night stand leaking into my brain? I want him out. Quick smart.

“Hey, Boss, you wanted to see me, yeah?”

“Yes. Close the door and take a seat,” he says quietly. “This situation has come to a head, and I’m going to need your needlepoint precision to cut through the bs on this one. It’s a concluded case at best.”

“Okay. I’m ready.” Closing the door, I feel my palms heating up like they do any day I get a new case.

Jackson hands over a manila folder, his face tight. “I’m throwing you in the deep end, but I know you’ve got what it takes, and I believe in your skills. It’s one of the reasons I’ve switched you into homicide.”

Taking the folder, I feel the weight of it. Whatever the case is, it’s got history. “Alright. Hit me with it.”

“William Frances Dee,” Jackson states.

A smile lights up my face. William was one of the most decorated detectives in the Chicago bureau, and given the past of the Chicago Police Department, it feels important. He’s known as a legend due to his bust in the early 2000s single-handedly taking down a Mafia outfit. It marked one of the most historical busts ever, especially since other officers were involved in taking contraband and reselling it.

William worked with the FBI to bring those men to justice and won a Valor award for his efforts. Not to mention he had to go into hiding for several years thereafter. He was known for being able to go so deep undercover and come out unscathed, dancing on the line of good vs. evil and remaining on the good side.

“Wow. William Frances Dee. Legend,” I gush, gripping on to the manila folder and feeling my body swell with pride. “Am I going to be working with him?” I ask excitedly.

Jackson’s face drops as he looks at the door and out into the sea of law enforcement in the team. “No,” he says gravely. “You’re going to be working on his case. William was murdered, and he was working on a case to bring Ryurik to justice.”

Lead weight drops in the cavern of my stomach. “Fuck. I think I’m going to throw up. Willy was murdered?” I reply, my voice cracking under pressure. Willy is the affectionate name he was known by in the department.

“You and me both. He was on the edge of a breakthrough. I know it. Willy was.” Jackson pauses, the light dimming in his eyes. “He was special. He revived this department and saved it. He offered the bureau redemption.”

“Yeah, I know. Some of it I wasn’t even alive for,” I utter, stunned by the news, adding to my stage fright.

Jackson stills, looking me in the eye. “Don’t let the case intimidate you. Focus on the facts like you always do. You’ve got what it takes, Wilson.”

“F-fuck. This is…” I pause, the thumping beats in my chest jamming up my words. “Nuts.”

“Right. This is why I hired you. Comb over it. Find everything you can. Dig deep, because we’re going to need everything, we’ve got to clean these Russian mobsters out of the city. They’re taking over, and they’ve got money and power. Shit on dirty cops that are screwing up the department.” Jackson shakes his head. “But Willy, he had them by the balls and he didn’t get to finish. Bring it home for me, Wilson.”

“Okay. I’ll do my best.”

“Good. I want you to find out all you can on this Ryurik character. How he shits. What’s his hobbies. His weaknesses. His mother, his father. You catch my drift?” Jackson’s command is laced with high emotion, and the possible outcome from the case if I nail it would put me in another category altogether.

“Got it. Report back?”

“It’s a hot case. Every day until we gather enough ammunition. Even if you think it’s insignificant, I want his head on a platter while we can still string him up. He’s in our custody currently, but if we drop the ball, Ryurik could get away with murder, and yes, I meant the pun,” Jackson declares, spit flying from between his lips, the desk shaking from his fist slamming on it. It’s clear this guy is important to take down.

Pressure much?

“Done.” My legs feel like Jell-O as I rise from my seat and head out, but my determination is one of my strong suits. I makemyself coffee, knuckling down at my desk and reviewing the case notes. The first things I notice are the dates of the convictions and how far they span back.

Assault with a deadly weapon. Case dismissed. Attempted robbery. Lack of evidence. Burglary. Arson. Attempted murder. Arson. Case dismissed. Case dismissed.Fuck.This Ryurik guy is getting away with… murder.

“Who the hell are you?” I ask out loud, grossly fascinated by the lack of due diligence in the cases and the lack of follow-up by forensics. It almost looks like evidence has been tampered with or left out in almost every case. My gut fires off.

There’s something off about every one of these cases at first glance and you don’t have to be a rocket scientist to figure it out, as cliché as that sounds. There are no visible photos of the guy at first glance, but as I shift through the files, burying my head in the information, I flick through the photos of ransacked homes, associates, and other pertinent details.

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