“Just… be careful.”
I let out a cynical laugh. As attracted as I was to Derek, I couldn’t deny the pricks of agitation nipping up the back of my neck because I knew the reason behind his unwarranted concern when I mentioned Belov. I’d worked my ass off to make detective. I wasn’t a rookie or some weak chick who couldn’t hold her own. Having stared down the worst of society was what I did almost daily. It was my job. And I was damn good at it too.
“I’ll talk to you later, Derek.”
Before he could utter a response, I ended the call. Having met three weeks ago, I shouldn’t feel the heaviness settling in my heart, this dark cloud hanging thick over my head.
Sam’s brows knitted together when he studied my face more closely.
“Cruz, something wrong?”
“No, men are just stupid,” I said, swatting him with my file as I walked past him.
He put a hand over his heart in a show of theatrics and cried, “Ouch! And here I thought I was different.”
“Nope. You’re all the same.”
“Oh, come on, Eva!” he said and laughed with his hands on his hips.
I reached room 2B. Yuri was leaning back against his chair, looking like he didn’t have a single care in the world. The sight was infuriating, knowing he was probably just going to get off like he’d done every time. Power and money were enough to sway an often biased system, and the Belov family was in abundance of both.I wanted nothing more than to nail his ass to the wall. If he wasn’t going to go down for murdering James, then we had to get him on the Southside junkyard murders. We had his plates, an eyewitness, and a shitty video. He didn’t need to know the footage was crap. He just needed to think we had something concrete.
Derek and I had no idea he’d also been there.
Of course, I wouldn’t. I was too busy wrapped around his hard body to care.
I shook those thoughts from my mind and steadied myself, putting my game face on.
“Yuri Belov.” I locked eyes with him as I strolled into the small room.
“Nakonets-to poyavilos' chto-to krasivoye, krome etogo urodlivogo ublyudka,”he said, a lecherous grin on his face.(Finally, something pretty to look at other than this ugly bastard.)
Placing his file and both palms on the table, I challenged his leering gaze.
“Kak naschet togo, chtoby vy porezali der’mo i davayte pristupim k delu.”(How about you cut the shit and let's get down to business.)
I leaned forward a little more, my breasts pushing against the front seam of my blouse. While it contradicted everything I stood for, I wasn’t above using my God-given assets for a bit of sway if it meant he was put away for good.
Belov’s grin pulled wider as he straightened, interest piqued. “Ah, you know my language, do you?Krasivaya latinoamerikanka, umeyushchaya govorit’ po-russki? YA ochen’ vpechatlen.”(A beautiful Latina who speaks Russian. I'm impressed.)
His lawyer sat beside him and nudged his elbow. The prematurely balding attorney was sweating, looking just as spineless.
“As I said, let’s cut the bullshit. You know why you’re here.”
“Do I? Your men come into my business and say they want to talk to me. And I’m a good guy.” His accent was heavy. “So, here I am, Miss—”
“Detective. Detective Cruz.”
“Of course.Detective Cruz. And how can I help you?”
I pushed off the table and paced with calculated steps. The heat from his stare burned at my back. With the corner of my eye, I watched him widen his knees and adjust himself. Bile quickly rose up my throat, and I swallowed it down, trying to mask my disgust.
“What can you tell me about the murders at Cody’s Salvage Yard on the Southside?”
“Never heard of this Cody person,” he said, not even looking me in the face or trying to hide his ogling.
“That’s funny, CCTV says differently. Your face, your plates.” His slimeball lawyer opened his mouth to speak, but Belov put a hand up, shutting him down. “An eyewitness.”
“Fignya! Bullshit!”
