Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 92549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92549 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
The energy in the precinct shifted.
The bored, bureaucratic laziness evaporated, replaced with a crackling, nervous charge. The officer at the desk couldn't stop stealing glances my way, each look more terrified than the last. Others openly gawked, some whispering amongst themselves, hands instinctively moving closer to their weapons. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but the message was clear.
They knew they had fucked up.
An officer came to unlock my cage, his gaze glued to the floor, his confidence shattered. The fresh bandage over his nose, stained with spots of blood, told me all I needed to know. He said nothing as he led me to an office, his steps quick, eager to be rid of me.
A man I assumed was the captain sat behind a large wooden desk, sweat darkening the collar of his shirt. The second we entered, he shot to his feet, chair screeching against the floor.
"Get those cuffs off him immediately," he barked, panic making his voice crack.
It took the officer a minute to fumble with the keys. His hands trembled so badly he could barely manage the lock, metal scraping against metal.
Yeah. They figured out who I was.
The moment my hands were free, wrists red and chafed, I threw a punch straight into the bastard's already broken nose. The impact jarred my knuckles, still bruised from earlier, but the pain was worth it.
"What is it you Americans say?" I mused as he stumbled back, clutching his face, fresh blood streaming between his fingers. "Play stupid games, win stupid prizes."
The officer whimpered, clutching his bloodied nose as he turned and all but ran from the room. Pathetic. The door slammed behind him, the glass rattling in its frame.
"Mr. Ivanov, please accept my humblest apologies," the captain said, his voice frantic with the need to smooth this over. Sweat beaded on his upper lip. "Normally, my officers are more…informed. We were unaware that you—"
I lifted a hand, cutting off his useless groveling.
"I want my belongings. Then I'm leaving."
"So soon?" another voice drawled from the doorway, familiar as my own reflection and twice as irritating.
I closed my eyes and ground my teeth, the muscle in my jaw jumping.
Of course, it couldn't be that easy.
"Var," I greeted without turning.
"Kostya."
Var stepped into the room, immaculate as always in his bespoke suit, not a hair out of place. Looking amused, like he had walked in on a joke he wasn't going to let me in on. His presence filled the space, commanding attention without effort. The scent of his expensive cologne mingled with the stale coffee and fear that permeated the office.
He turned to the captain. "Thank you for your cooperation. It has been noted. An envelope to show our appreciation will be delivered to your home."
As we walked down the hall, shoes clicking against the linoleum, Var grabbed my arm, fingers digging into the muscle.
I didn't shake him off. I knew what was coming.
He had warned me to make my presence in Chicago known to my cousin.
"Curious as to why I'm here?" he started, voice deceptively light.
"No." It was obvious. He may have been a friend, and one of the few people we did business with in Chicago, but that didn't mean I wanted him seeing me in police custody. The humiliation burned deep, a stain that wouldn't wash away easily.
"I'm here because you, dear friend, forgot who you are and what we do, but even worse, you failed to take my warning seriously." Each word was a bullet, precisely aimed.
He handed me my phone and wallet, their weight familiar in my palm. Before tucking them away, I checked my phone.
A dozen missed calls from Gregor.
So much for flying under the radar.
We walked through the precinct, officers scrambling out of our way like cockroaches when the light turned on.
"I told you. This isn't business. It's personal," I muttered, the throbbing in my head intensifying with each step.
"I don't think Gregor cares why you're here. It's the disrespect. You didn't inform him." Var's voice was tight, controlled, but I could hear the underlying warning.
"It's not important." I rubbed my wrist where the cuffs had been too tight. My fingers still tingled, circulation slowly returning.
"Then there was no reason not to call him. Gregor is many things, but unreasonable isn't one of them." Var gave me a knowing look, his eyes sharp as glass. "It doesn't mean he won't rip your head off for causing this avoidable and very public mess with the police."
I scoffed. "I think his wife has calmed most of his temper."
"Please let me be in the room when you tell him that."
I said nothing.
There had been whispers after Gregor's marriage, and then after Damian's, and after they let their sister marry below her rank. Some questioned the strength of the American side of the family.
Meanwhile, the Russian government and international sanctions had tightened their grip, making business harder. Less profitable. In short, it was a bad time for me to be bringing unwanted attention to our family operations.