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He tried to kill Ronan, who was, unfortunately, another one of the thorns up our asses. Another mobster nuisance in our city. And from what we’d confirmed from our sources, he was the heir to the Irish mafia throne.
Both Russian and Irish families controlled more than ninety percent of the drug trade in the city. But if Egor was in trouble now, it would spell doom for the empire he ruled.
I kicked my chair back and rose to my feet.
John stopped talking and peered at me with suspicion. “Hey, where are you…where are you going?”
“I’ll be right back,” I called over my shoulder as I half-walked, half-marched through the chaos to the sergeant’s office.
When I got there, two men were rising from their chairs, shaking hands with grim looks. Both were tall, with broad shoulders clothed with the uniform, symbolizing allegiance of service to our great country.
The faint thumps of my heart against my chest reechoed in my head, but I swallowed down the intimidation and knocked.
I’m doing this.
Sergeant Keith was the first to spot me. A small professional smile appeared on his lips, and he motioned for me to step inside. “Detective Fox. Come on in.”
I stood beside a chair but didn’t bother to sit. My appearance in his office had “super urgent” attached to it.
With my hands clasped behind my back and my head held high, I cleared my throat.
Confidence, Freya.
“Good morning, sir. I sincerely apologize for the sudden interruption, but I respectfully request permission to conduct an interview with the man in custody, Mr. Egor Yezhov.”
The other man beside me, with brown hair and hard eyes, gave me a condescending glare and faced the sergeant. “Who hired the girl?”
Whoa! Asshole much?
It took every bit of discipline and self-control to not give him a side-eye and tell him he had a bit of spinach stuck between his teeth—even if that was not true.
I might not have been as sturdy as they were—being a solid five-four between their looming frames already makes that freaking obvious—but if given a chance, I could tackle his grown behind, respectfully, of course.
I clenched my jaw and restrained myself just as the sergeant intervened, sparing me from committing bloody murder.
His chuckle sounded like a grandfather’s amusement at his grandchild’s silliness. “The girl? Nonsense, Clark. Freya here is the youngest detective in our narcotics department but one of the best we’ve ever had. The most capable, in fact. Her skills and intellect are unmatched. She has solved all cases thrown at her.”
Officer Clark then decided to make me the object of his scrutiny. “Exercise your skills and intellect somewhere else, girl. We’ve got your supervisors, who are even bigger experts, already on the job.”
Just a chance, Sergeant Keith. Just a chance, and I’d wipe this grown man’s ass. Very respectfully, of course.
I held back my tongue from saying something that could cost me my job and instead focused on getting my point across.
“I know a weakness.”
He didn’t hide his surprise and doubt. The sergeant looked equally interested. “You do?”
“Yes, sir. I just need one chance”—to prove you wrong, douchebag—“to prove myself useful.”
After a moment of uncomfortable silence, the sergeant came to my rescue. “She has never disappointed in the past,” he said to Clark.
And Clark thought hard. The lines between his eyebrows burrowed deeper as he pondered. Then, they finally relaxed.
“Fine.” His brows dipped in a warning when he said, “Fifteen minutes, and no more.”
Yes!
I maintained my composure. “You will not be disappointed, sir.”
