Page 16 of Pregnant Bratva Virgin

“It’s on the surveillance footage. You were seen leaving the dance floor at 9:35 p.m. and returning later.”

Fuck. What did I pay Sergei for? He’s supposed to make sure that all traces of any crimes, including tapes, are erased. Sloppy work and costly. She’s good.

“Well, like I said, I went to the toilet and was probably doing the rounds of the floors. My club has three levels. I’m pretty sure I was standing near the railing near the stairs on my RnB level. The DJ playing was excellent.” I wink again, but this time the fresh crimson bloom on her cheeks gives her away.

Oh yes. Get angry. I love it.“Okay. So, at the time of the murder, you were on the dance floor. Apparently, but we have William’s death listed between the hours of 9:30 p.m. and 12:00 p.m. You had enough time to kill him. If you confess, and give up your network sources, I’m sure a deal can be struck.”

I laugh loudly in her face, throwing her off as she blinks rapidly. “It’s lucky I’m here without my lawyer. That’s not a deal I’m taking, Ms. Wilson. I’m an innocent hardworking nightclub owner who has the misfortune of being accused of murder.”

“Bullshit!You killed William. Where’s the fucking body?” she attacks like a pit bull, her eyes alight with spicy anger.I fucking like it. Where did this come from?

Shrugging, I head her off. “I’ve got no idea what you’re referring to, and you might want to take a deeper look into the man you’re defending,” I reply sarcastically.

Willy was a two-faced liar.

“Funny you mentioned you left the club. What time again,” she spits, trying to bamboozle me. She wants me to make up another time, but I don’t fall for her trap.

“After midnight, give or take a few minutes. And guess what?” I lean in, forcing Detective Wilson to lean back to expand the distance.

“What?” she jabs, her eyes narrowing contemptuously.

“I left with a beautiful woman for the night. Made her moan all night long,” I drone out with a chuckle.

Her left eyebrow shoots up. “Ah, so you took her to a hotel? Which one?”

“Hampton Inn Suites. Only the best.”You know the one. The one where I made you moan and come all over the sheets.

“Right. And what time did you leave, Mr. Utkin?” There’s a cool snap to her tone as her caramel eyes hold court.Oh. You’re mad about me leaving. I get it now.

“Hmm about 3:00 a.m. maybe. I wanted to stay.”

“But you didn’t. Keep in contact with the woman, Mr. Utkin?” The pitch of her voice changes as I study the red flashing light. She looks at it, and I look at her, my cock tightening in my pants.

“No. I didn’t. But maybe I should have,” I say slowly, fucking her with my eyes. She’s far from innocent.

“Oh, why’s that? Did you leave anything behind, Mr. Utkin? Anything tangible to prove you were there?” My jaw flickers as I read what she’s getting at. The money. I left the money.

“Nope, but if I did, I’m sure it would be found. I checked in under my own name. I’m fucking sure you can verify that, Ms. Wilson,” I sneer, cracking my neck, wanting to jump over the table and lay her on her back, just like in the Hampton Suites.

“Detective Wilson,” she corrects. “That window of time you left the dance floor, I noticed one of your other security officers left the floor too. Did you both need to hold hands going to the men’s room?” she fires with loaded sarcasm, a glint of steel in her irises.

Fuck. She’s going to have to be dealt with it in the worst fucking way. “I want my fucking lawyer. I’m not saying another word to you.”

Should have known not to trust her. After all, I use women as bait.

A victorious smile guides it way over her wholesome, but cunning face.

“You can bring your lawyer in. That’s what they’re for. We can probably look at a plea deal for you. Because,you, Mr. Ryurik Utkin, are going down,” she advises in a long whisper, my blood boiling. “Can’t pay your way out of this one.”

Game on, Detective.Game on.

Chapter Nine - Emily

He’s going to get away with Willy Dee’s murder. I can feel it in the deep marrow of every bone in my body. Goddamn the Utkin’s, and their insidious tentacles into every dark crevice of the city. I thought I might have what it takes to unfurl their tentacles, but it looks like I don’t. I hate how smug and irritating Ryurik’s smirk was in the interrogation room. I hated his casual leaning against the chair, his hard-muscled body taking up space in the chair making him look like he owned the room.

And I especially hated the way the fragmented memories of his body pressed against my electrified flesh reminded me of the otherworldly pleasure he supplied to my body. Why did he have to be so smoldering hot? Especially in khaki prison garb. And what’s worse is I might have been done with the questioning a few days ago, but today is Ryurik’s hearing date, and I can’t deal with finding out if he got off with no sentence.

Nobody’s above the law, but the Utkin’s are floating above it, handing out bribes, power-playing, playing dirty and winning, and us do-gooders are losing the war. I stare at my screen, hoping if I stare at it long enough, I’m going to find out a special verdict for Ryurik.

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