“What the hell is going on?” I asked, my voice like gravel.
Eliza moved to the side so that I could square up with the two men. They weren’t familiar to me, not business associates or members of my crew. I didn’t think they were even Baldoni’s men, which made sense, because sending any of those Italian bastards into my place of work would guarantee a beating for them.
The men were both wearing suits, one brown and one charcoal gray, and they looked to be in their forties. The one with a mustache gave me a hard look before reaching into the inner pocket of his jacket. I tensed, and I saw Maxim move closer out of the corner of my eye.
I clocked the holster at the man’s side with a Glock inside, but it seemed unlikely that he was going for the weapon. That was probably the only thing that kept Maxim from pulling his own gun. My brother had always been trigger-happy, the type to shoot first and ask questions later, assuming anyone was left alive to ask.
Maxim’s restraint turned out to be a good thing because the stranger pulled a leather wallet and flipped it open, revealing a police badge.
“Detective Killian Jonhson,” he said, then he gestured to his partner at his side. “This is Detective Harold Rush.”
“What can I do for you?” I asked, my mind racing.
I was as careful as I could be while conducting my business, but there were always weak spots in any criminal organization. I was the leader, so I rarely got my hands dirty directly, but it was possible that I could be linked to various crimes if someone knew where to look.
So, why were these men here? Drugs? Gambling? Fraud?
“Are you Dmitri Gorsky?” Detective Rush asked.
“Yes.”
“We’re here to place you under arrest for murder.”
“Murder?” Maxim repeated as I was suddenly roughly spun around and cold handcuffs were clasped onto my wrists a little tighter than necessary.
I didn’t resist. Using all of my willpower, I tamped down the rage coursing through me and complied. Being accused of murder was bad enough; I didn’t want to add resisting arrest to my charges.
I was disarmed, Detective Johnson pulling the handgun from my shoulder holster after he pushed me against the wall.
“Take it easy,” Maxim snapped while Eliza gasped. I was sure this was shocking for her.No onetreated me this way. My position and authority demanded respect.
The cops didn’t give a damn about that, though.
“Who did I supposedly murder?” I asked as I was dragged toward the elevator with a grip tight enough to bruise.
I’d killed before, but it had been a long time since I’d needed to do that, and the bodies were well-disposed. None of them should have ever been found. This accusation couldn’t be true.
“We’ll talk about that at the police station,” Detective Johson snapped, looking at me like I was lower than dirt on the bottom of his shoe.
As we got into the elevator, I met Maxim’s eyes. He looked just as frustrated and confused as I felt. One thing I was sure about: I hadn’t killed whoever they thought I killed.
I had a bad feeling that the Italians were behind this.