by Mary Stone
I couldn’t say I blamed them. I’d been a detective in the narcotics department of the Baltimore city police for sixteen years. After all that time, I knew damn good and well how many other detectives moonlighted by making nice with the gangs and syndicates that called this city home.
But I couldn’t say I blamed them, either. Cops in this city were overworked, underpaid, and underappreciated. Living in this city on a beat cop’s salary was barely one step above the poverty line.
Alek wasn’t happy that I’d been cut out of the investigation, and he hadn’t heard from Sergei in close to a day. Though my first thought was to take a grim sense of satisfaction in the fact that Alek was anxious, I shoved that sentiment as far away as I could manage. If Alek was nervous, then the whole fucking city should be quaking in their shoes.
The man was chomping at the bit to get to Eric Dalton’s son, the federal agent. And to be honest, I didn’t want Alek anywhere near Noah Dalton. Alek had a tendency to use violence without bothering to consider a diplomatic solution first.
The RICO case against Alek’s people was bad enough, but the death or grave injury of another federal agent would be just the excuse the Feds needed to knock down the door of every Russian in Baltimore.
In most cases, the credible threat of violence to a friend or loved one was enough to scare people into submission. The last thing I needed right now was for Alek or Sergei to kidnap one of Noah Dalton’s friends or family members.
But if Eric didn’t persuade Noah to give up the location of the RICO witness, then that was exactly what would happen. Alek had been in this business a long time—even longer than me.
He knew how to hit people where it hurt. And he enjoyed inflicting the pain.
The flash of light in the corner of my eye jerked me from the contemplation and back to the shadowy living room. Though the brightness from the screen of my smartphone brought tears to my sensitive eyes, I welcomed the moment of discomfort when I spotted the name of the caller.
Swiping the answer key, I raised the device to my ear. “Agent Gibbs,” I greeted. “How are you?”
Gibbs chuckled quietly. “I’m all right, Tony. Thanks for asking. Sorry it took me so long to get back to you, it’s been a long day. How are you?”
I’m seriously fucked. “I’m doing all right too.”
“Good to hear. I got your email from earlier. You said you’ve got something you think might help us with the Drew Hansford case?”
“Well, I don’t know how much help it’ll be, but I heard about it and figured I’d reach out to see if I could help. I’ve dealt with the Russians before. Mostly from a narcotics perspective, but maybe I can fill in some of the gaps in what you guys know. I know I’d seen Agent Hansford before, I just didn’t know he was part of the bureau at the time.”
“Really?” Gibbs paused for so long that my nut sac drew up in my body. This had to work. It had to. “That might be helpful, actually. Yeah, you know, it’d be pretty useful to get an idea what his routine was like when he was undercover.”
I was almost giddy with relief and had to force my voice to stay neutral. “I thought it might. Are you free tomorrow morning?”
“I can make some time, yeah. I’ll swing by the precinct around nine.”
“Perfect. I’ll see you then.”
Disconnecting the call, I dropped my face in my hands and let out the breath that had been growing stale in my lungs.
Agent Tim Gibbs was a good man. He’d been in the bureau for longer than I’d been a detective, and he was always willing to go the extra mile to be helpful.
And that was the thing about good men.
They were predictable.
25
After two hours of poring through federal and state records, Winter found no new information to use as leverage in an interview with Sergei Kolesov. The search was tedious, and more than once, her mind had wandered.
Though she’d been content to read Aiden’s update about the progress—or lack thereof—on his search for Justin’s whereabouts, seeing the head of the BAU in Baltimore soon brought on a pang of impatience. If Aiden was in Baltimore, it meant he wasn’t looking for a lead in Justin’s case.
When the frustration first crept into her thoughts, she’d cringed at herself.
Of all those involved in the Falkner kidnappings, she knew best the type of fear Natalie had experienced. She knew because she had experienced that same fear when she and Bree looked through Natalie and Jon’s house.
A woman and her husband had been forcibly taken by the damn mafia, and she was pissed because her friend and mentor had taken time away from a decades-old cold case to help them.
But even as she’d refocused herself on sifting through Sergei’s background to uncover a potential lead they could use as leverage, her thoughts kept circling back to her brother. Aiden hadn’t been in Harrisonburg, in that house, but she had.
After an internal debate, she’d finally sought out Aiden. Though she’d approached him under the guise of requesting an update about Justin’s case, she wondered if he understood her motives better than she did. His tone had been pointed but understanding when he advised that there was no new information for him to research. The forensics team was still working on a couple active homicide cases, and they hadn’t yet gotten a chance to review the evidence collected from Winter’s childhood home.
When she left their short discussion, she’d felt like a temperamental child.
Aiden had a knack for making people feel like that.
Despite the mild embarrassment, the answer to her query had been enough to give her the focus she needed to dig back into Sergei Kolesov’s history. The man had lived in the United States for the past fifteen years, and despite his reputation among the Baltimore PD, his record was surprisingly clean. He was a naturalized American citizen, and all the petty crimes on his rap sheet had occurred after he gained citizenship.
So, first and foremost, they couldn’t use the threat of deportation. All Sergei’s arrests were misdemeanors, so they couldn’t use the Three Strikes laws. Not that they needed to. Like Bobby had said earlier, they had him dead to rights on a murder charge.
But if a life sentence with no chance for parole wasn’t enough to sway Sergei to give them an accurate account of Drew’s murder and Natalie Falkner’s kidnapping, Winter didn’t know what would be enough. Sure, Sergei had a wife and two children, but they were the FBI, not the damn knee-cracking mafia.
As Marie Judd strode through the door, Winter returned her attention to the room.
On the other side of the one-way glass, Sergei had hardly moved.
“Ladies, gentlemen.” The Baltimore SAC swept her gaze over the room’s occupants—Winter, Bobby, and Aiden. “I take it we didn’t have any sort of breakthrough with Mr. Kolesov?”
Winter shook her head. “I looked, and there wasn’t anything new that came up. He’s married, two kids, and he’s a naturalized citizen. All that he’s been arrested for so far are petty theft and drug charges.”
Marie nodded. “Well, I just talked to Agent Gibbs, and he’s got a connection in the Baltimore PD he thinks can help give us some insight.”
Aiden lifted an eyebrow. “I thought this was being handled exclusively by the bureau?”
“It was.” Marie sighed. “But if we can’t get anywhere with it, then we don’t have much choice. We’ll share what we’ve got with the Baltimore police, and hopefully, they’ll be able to tell us something new.”
Though Aiden pursed his lips, he didn’t respond.
Crossing her arms over her chest, Marie glanced to the glass and then back to the little gathering. “He hasn’t asked for a lawyer yet?”
Bobby Weyrick shook his head. “He hasn’t said anything yet. I think he’s asleep right now.”
Winter scoffed. “How in the hell do you just fall asleep in an FBI interrogation room?”
With a shrug, Bobby leaned back in his chair. “In the military, they teach you techniques to fall asleep
in inhospitable terrain. Maybe they do the same thing in the mob.”
Marie’s dark eyes shifted from Bobby to Winter before landing on Aiden, who was leaning against the wall at the other end of the room. “SSA Parrish, any insights?”
Brushing off the front of his suit jacket, Aiden straightened. “He hasn’t asked for a lawyer because he’s sure he won’t need one. He seems to be under the impression that there’s nothing that will get him to talk, and that he’s displaying his loyalty by sitting in there like a stone.”
Marie held out her hands. “So, what, then? No one found anything new about the guy, so we’re right back to where we started.”
Before she’d finished, Aiden was already shaking his head. “No, not necessarily.”
Winter recognized the glint in Aiden’s pale eyes. He had a plan.
“What are you thinking?” Winter asked.
Though his expression didn’t change, the glint was more noticeable as he looked over to her. “Let me talk to him.”
SAC Judd waved a hand at the glass. “Knock yourself out. Not like the rest of us will get anywhere with him any time soon.”
With a nod, Aiden made his way to the open doorway.
Glancing back to Sergei, Winter almost felt bad for the Russian.
She’d been on the receiving end of Aiden’s hostility. Even though she’d known the SSA for almost fourteen years, he was still downright intimidating when he wanted to be.
Sergei had no idea what he’d gotten himself into.
He should have asked for a lawyer.
26
Sergei’s eyes snapped over to Aiden as he pushed open the windowless door. The space was plain—beige, beige, and more beige. The wooden table was just as beige as the walls, and the tiled floor was a slightly darker shade.
Blinking repeatedly, Sergei watched Aiden approach to set a paper cup of coffee within reach of his cuffed hands. Apparently, Bobby was right—Sergei had been asleep.
Aiden didn’t bother to offer the man a handshake. Not only was he sure the Russian would rebuff the gesture, Sergei’s handcuffs had been threaded through a ring bolted to the table.
Rather than take a seat across from him, Aiden rested his back against the painted concrete beside the one-way glass. Without turning his attention away from Sergei, he sipped at his own drink. As the man’s gray eyes flicked around the room, Aiden knew the unnerving silence was doing its job. Sergei didn’t want to say anything, but the awkward presence of a silent visitor raised more than a few questions.
The seconds ticked away. Aiden’s stance was as relaxed as if he were merely in line at the grocery store, but his gaze remained fixed on the man.
This wasn’t the first time Aiden had done this. He could stand here and stare the Russian foot soldier down all damn night. Though he was in a different field office, Aiden was still on his home turf. Sergei, on the other hand, didn’t know what to expect.
After a few nervous sips of his own coffee, Sergei finally laid both palms flat atop the table. “Okay. What the hell do you want?”
Aiden offered him a noncommittal shrug in response. “I’ve come for the first round of suicide watch.”
Narrowing his eyes, Sergei shifted in his seat. “What do you mean?”
“The signs are all here, Mr. Kolesov, which is certainly understandable under the circumstances.”
Sergei bristled. “I am no coward to do suicide as you say.” He was losing his grip on English, his accent becoming thicker.
Aiden lifted a shoulder and took a sip of his coffee…and waited.
A minute passed. Then five. Then ten.
By the time Aiden had waited eleven, the Russian was sweating profusely.
Sergei was off-kilter. Good.
Twelve.
Fifteen.
Twenty-two.
“I’ve got nothing to say to you, Fed,” Sergei barked, mopping his dripping forehead on the shoulder of his shirt. “Just save yourself the time and throw me in a holding cell.”
Aiden barely reacted besides to murmur, “Interesting.”
Like a fish to a hooked worm, Sergei bit. “Interesting how, Fed?”
As he tapped an index finger against the paper cup, Aiden made a show of appearing thoughtful. “I may have it wrong. Your mother’s religion prohibits suicide, yes?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “So you prefer to be suicided instead.”
Sergei blustered. “I do not know this suicided.”
Aiden laughed, authentically amused. “I’m sure you’ve never dirtied your hands in such a way, but to be suicided means to be killed in a way that looks like you committed suicide. For example, we do as you ask and throw you in a holding cell. I’m sure your compatriots will find a way to relieve you of your life so that you’ll be unable to talk, and they’ll be creative in all the ways in which they can make it appear as if you’d killed yourself willingly. Hanging. Pencil through the eye. Overdose. A gun that was missed during the search.” Aiden shrugged and took another sip of his cold coffee.
Sergei’s lips moved, like the words were in his mouth, but his jaw wouldn’t allow them out.
“But don’t worry, Sergei. If you’re in a holding cell, then I’ll personally sit with you for as long as it takes to keep you safe. You see, I am very invested in keeping you safe.”
Sergei furrowed his brows and sweat dripped into his eyes. He blinked and rubbed his face on his shoulder again. “What do you mean?”
Aiden let the first trace of a smirk work its way to his lips. “Good things come to those who wait.”
“You talk in riddles.”
Aiden forced his eyes to go dead. “But this isn’t a fairy tale. Is it, Sergei?”
Sergei’s eyes were slits. “What kind of Fed are you?”
“What kind of gangster are you?” He followed the query with a quick sip of coffee.
Lips pursed, Sergei merely shook his head.
As Aiden took a step away from the wall, he gestured to Sergei with his free hand. “You smashed the back of a federal agent’s head into a rock and killed him. A federal agent. We know you weren’t the only one there, so why are you the only one here?”
Though Sergei scoffed at the observation, Aiden didn’t miss the nervous glint behind his eyes.
“You’re here all by yourself, not even a lawyer to keep you company.”
Spreading his hands, Sergei leaned back in his chair. “I have nothing to tell you. Do not need a lawyer to tell me that.”
Aiden feigned a look of disbelief. “Really? Your boss is willing to risk you being in here without someone to babysit you? You know, if you can’t afford an attorney, one will be provided for you, right? You’re an American citizen, Sergei. In here, you’re protected by the Constitution. Out there.” He waved a hand at the door. “Well, there’s no one to protect you out there, is there?”
Shadows moved along Sergei’s unshaven cheeks as he clenched and unclenched his jaw. Aiden was close to a nerve.
“Fifteen years you’ve been in the States, isn’t that right?” Aiden paused like he expected a response. “Fifteen years, all of it in this beautiful city. No wonder all the cops around here know who you are. You’re on their shit list. And that’s an official term, straight from one of them. But what about your people? Fifteen years, Sergei, and you’re still at the bottom of the totem pole.”
The petulance in the man’s gray eyes deepened.
With a cluck of his tongue, Aiden shook his head. “Fifteen years of loyalty, and where’s it gotten you? It’s gotten you here. In an interrogation room with me, all alone, about to take the fall for a murder when we both know good and well there were two other people present. But you’re willing to throw away your family.”
Sergei’s eyes flickered again.
“Your wife, your kids. They’re both young, aren’t they? Grade school? You’ll never be there to watch them graduate, to teach them to drive, to walk your daughter down the aisle when she gets married. They’ll either visit you in prison or at
your grave. There are no other choices.”
Sergei swallowed, his jaw still clenched. If he wasn’t bound, Aiden would have fully expected him to leap across the table in a half-cocked effort to get him to shut up.
And the only reason he’d greet Aiden’s observations with such hostility was if the remarks were accurate.
Aiden held out his arms and offered the man a mirthless chuckle. “All for what, anyway? All to cover for someone who would never stoop low enough to cover for someone like you. You think they would? If it was them in here instead of you, do you think they’d stay quiet? Or do you think they’d leap at the opportunity to take some of the heat off themselves by throwing you to the wolves? Shit rolls downhill, Sergei. Which you should know since we’ve already determined that you’re at the bottom of this shit pile”
The man shook his head. “No, they would not. Loyalty is everything. It is the reason we breathe, the reason we bleed. We bleed for our brothers. They would never give me up.”
“Are you willing to bet your life on it? Because that’s what’s at stake right now. It’s not just blood you’ll shed. You’ll have to give your life to these people. You’ll never see your children again unless it’s from the other side of a wall of bulletproof glass. The only way you’ll be able to talk to your wife is through a phone wired through that wall. Do you think they’d give all that up for you? And if you think your friends will take care of your wife and children, do you really believe that?” Aiden snorted. “They’ll take care of them alright. Which of your buddies will force your wife to sleep with him in exchange for a hot meal for your son and daughter? Which of your buddies likes little girls? Little boys?”
Sergei grew pale, and Aiden took another careful sip of his coffee, allowing the man to envision the atrocities his family faced without his protection.
“They’ll hurt them, won’t they, Sergei? Use them. If you think they won’t, then you’re naïve. And if you think they’ll stand up and take note of your brave sacrifice here tonight, then you’re in denial. You can try to rationalize it to yourself all you want, but I’ll tell you what’s going to happen. You want to hear it?”