I recognize the cop at the front. It’s Adam.
I go up to him and cross my arms. “What you are doing here, officer?”
Adam grins widely and holds up a paper. “I have a warrant. I’m going to search the premises for evidence.”
I take the paper from him. The warrant specifies the restaurant’s address. The text is small and hard to read, especially in the low lighting of the restaurant.
Whatever. I look over my shoulder at Micah.
His eyes are glued to Adam, his eyes wide, and he looks every bit as frightened as the waiters nearby.
Maybe even more so, and I want to rush over to him to comfort him.
Or punch Adam in his smug face.
“There is nothing to find,” I tell him. “But go, search. I’ll show you to office.”
“It’s fine. We got it.” Adam circles around the dining room, like he expects to find drugs or guns stashed under the tables or in the wall sconces.
The pigs are anything but delicate. Several people get up to try to leave, but are stopped by the police.
I go over to Micah. “Mishka, it’s all right.”
Micah gives a quick shake of his head, finally looking away from Adam so he can look at me instead. “It’s not,” he says. “This… This is my fault.”
“Your fault?” I repeat. “How is it your fault? He is an asshole.”
He looks away from me, and I think about Boris’s words about Micah talking to Adam.
I put a hand on Micah’s shoulder. He recoils so violently that my stomach sinks.
Adam stalks over to us. “Hands off him, you pervert. The kid’s half your age.”
My hands clench, and if I had my gloves on, nothing could have prevented me from punching Adam.
Micah whimpers.
I force myself to calm down. “Micah is my employee here. Do not talk to him,officer. He is not part of your warrant.” I look at Micah. “If he tries to question you, say nothing. I will call my lawyer.”
Micah still won’t look at me, instead focusing his gaze on the floor. “Okay,” he says softly.
“He’s none of your business,” Adam says. “In fact, you’re the one who needs to worry about the lawyers, asshole. Micah here’s been telling usaaaallabout your business.”
The disappointment crashes into me.
“Is that true?” I ask, my voice unnecessarily choked. “You’ve been telling this mudak about me?”
Micah finally does lift his gaze, and I see tears rolling down his cheeks. “I… I told him I wasn’t doing it anymore,” he says unsteadily. “And I didn’t…” His shoulders slumps, and he whispers, “I’m so sorry, Ilya.”
I wish I could trust him. But right now, all I can think about is Artyom, and how he’d sold me out, and how I’d thought I could trusthimtoo.
“You don’t have to pretend anymore, Micah,” Adam says. “We’re pulling you out.”
Pulling him out, like Micah was deep undercover.
But not like Micah is his lover. Adam doesn’t touch Micah at all, in fact. I glance around, and I see Adam’s attention splitting between the other officers.
So he isn’t out at work.
