Chapter 4
CHAPTER 4
Nathan
Sitting in a police interrogation room was not how I envisioned my Saturday night. It wasn’t the first time I’d been in such a situation, and certainly wouldn’t be the last, but it still wasn’t part of my plan for this weekend.
Or ever, really. Being subjected to a police investigation was almost never a part of my plans.
I’d had a reservation at Toca Madera for dinner tonight, which I was going to miss. Having to cancel that reservation put me on edge, and being forced to wait in the small cold room didn’t help. When the police finally decided to show themselves and start their interrogation, they had better have a good reason for detaining me, or I’d be soothing my irritation in blood.
My night had been going so well, too. The fashion show had ended up being much more entertaining than I thought, and then I’d met Deacon, the designer with an interesting creative spark, and adorable dimples. His unique combination of cute with a rugged edge—hands calloused from working at a drawing table, but skin sun-kissed from spending time outside—was hard to ignore.
At first, I hadn’t thought I’d find anyone who matched my taste. The fashion industry, while lucrative, was like a foreign world to me. So many people seemed determined to wear their uniqueness on their sleeve, everyone trying to outdo each other for who could stand out the most. I’d always preferred understated to overstated, and the clash of so many garish personalities was off-putting. I’d also never liked particularly effeminate men. Nothing wrong with them, but they did nothing for me.
I’d resigned myself to a night of business only, until I’d seen Deacon step onto the stage, taking a bow as he showed off his work. His light brown hair, artfully tousled, had gleamed with blond and copper highlights under the stage lights. The double-breasted vest he wore had shown off his narrow waist and lean muscular shoulders. His overall look, soft but with a masculine edge, had made me immediately want to get my hands on him.
Then, I’d spoken to him and found him actually interesting. He was a bit nervous when it came to polite conversation, but once I got him talking about something he cared about, his confidence and creativity shone in bright colors.
And he’d responded to me so beautifully, reacting with such sensitivity to the barest attention from me. I could have so much fun with him, both for business and pleasure, but instead of planning how to properly reel the man in, I was sitting in a police interrogation room.
If someone didn’t come to speak with me in the next two minutes, I would walk out of the building. I was trying to be accommodating, but they couldn’t keep me there without arresting me, and I hadn’t done anything for them to arrest me.
Well, nothing that the police would know about.
Finally, the door opened, but instead of the local police, I was greeted by a face I unfortunately recognized.
“Agent Belden,” I said, not bothering to pretend I didn’t recognize the woman. “A pleasant surprise. I wasn’t expecting to see you on this side of the Atlantic.”
The woman just glared at me and took a seat at the table across from me. “Sterling. I wouldn’t be in this country if not for you, so cut the crap and tell me what you’re up to so I can go home.”
Agent Lisa Belden was a member of Interpol. I’d run into her in England once when she was working on a case that ended up interfering with my business. Of course, nothing could be connected to me, but she’d been determined to catch me on something ever since.
“Eloquent as always, Agent. What exactly am I doing here?”
She started tapping a file against the desk without opening it, probably just to annoy me. “A woman was murdered at an event you attended.”
I nodded and tried to ignore the tapping of the file. “Yes, and I’ve given my statement to the local police. I never even saw the poor girl until her body turned up, so I don’t know what any of this has to do with me.” The tapping of the file finally stopped, allowing silence to descend over the room once again. “For that matter, I don’t know what this has to do with you. The murder of a fashion model isn’t the jurisdiction of Interpol.”
Agent Belden stood so she was looking down at me. It was probably an attempt to intimidate me, but I’d faced down much greater threats without flinching. Her act of aggression had the same threat level of a villain in a children’s play.
“Anything involving you, Sterling, is the jurisdiction of Interpol. You caught our suspicion when you suddenly bought a fashion brand like Fantaisiste, and the first fashion event you attend, someone ends up dead. That isn’t a coincidence.”
Adjusting the cuffs of my suit, I stared up at her with a calm gaze that I knew must infuriate her. “You think I bought an entire high end fashion brand just to kill a model?”
I was definitely getting under her skin. An angry flush turned her cheeks patchy red and white, but to her credit she didn’t lash out as much as she clearly wanted to. A single slam of her hand against the table was the only aggressive act she allowed herself before regaining her composure. “I don’t know what your goal is yet, but whatever your organization has planned, I won’t let you get away with it.”
Just to infuriate her a wee bit more, I let myself smile a little wider, so my teeth flashed for a moment. To an outsider, it would look like a pleasant expression, but we both knew it was a threat. “Organization? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just a businessman trying to get my foot into a new industry.”
Realizing that her attempts at intimidation weren’t working, Agent Belden stepped around the table to try and loom over my chair. Unfortunately, my height meant that even with her standing and me sitting, she wasn’t that much taller than me.
One of her hands drifted toward the gun at her hip, though she didn’t actually touch the weapon.
“Tell Zaur Dalkhan that he’s made a mistake. That model you killed is the niece of the new FBI director. They aren’t going to let this go so easily.”
The FBI director?
Is that what this was about?
I’d heard recently that the director of the FBI had been killed in the line of duty—something about a pedophile ring, if I recalled correctly—and a new director had been instated.
For once, I could honestly say it had nothing to do with me. I didn’t even need to lie as I stared Agent Belden directly in the eye. “I didn’t kill anyone, and I don’t know who you’re talking about.”
Well, the first part wasn’t a lie, anyway. The second part of my statement was a lie, but even the cruelest torture wouldn’t get me to admit that truth.
Zaur Dalkhan was, according to most international law enforcement, the leader of the Chechen Mafia. What they didn’t know was that he was merely a figurehead leader. A red herring for them to chase blindly after.
He was also my half-brother. While he sat publicly on the throne as the head of the organization, I stood just behind him in the shadows, truly calling the shots. I’d changed my name, and westernized myself as much as possible so I could travel around without notice. Most people didn’t even know I was originally from Chechnya. The few people who did know the truth about me, knew me only as The Wolf.
In this way, I could move freely, and lead our organization from the safety of the shadows.
Sitting in the harsh spotlights of the interrogation room, I stared up at Agent Belden without fear. She had nothing on me, and we both knew it. Based on our previous run-ins, she suspected that I had some tie to the Chechen Mafia. I’d kept an eye on her case against me when I realized she wouldn’t give up her investigation. So far, she only suspected that I was an informant for the Chechen Mafia, or maybe an enforcer of some kind, and even that theory was based mostly off of guesswork. She had no proof I had any ties to the Chechen Mafia whatsoever, let alone my true place within the organization.
And she would never know. Even now, I could already see the look of defeat creeping into her eyes. She had nothing. There was nothing she could do to keep me from walking out the door.
Standing from my chair to stare down at her in turn, my smile grew a little wider. “I think we’re done here. Thank you for a... pleasant evening, Agent Belden.”