Page 22 of Hunt Me (Dmitriyev Bratva #1)

M ikhail

Why the fuck hadn’t the required guards been at this position in front of the gated community? I planned on making a call. The men would be fired by in the morning.

If they weren’t dead by my hands.

Police had blocked off the street, yet neighbors were out gawking like vultures. A forensics van remained parked in the driveway, other unmarked vehicles taking up the entire cul-de-sac.

Reporters had already taken a stance, three different news trucks waiting for their shining moment and fifteen minutes of fame. Whoever had called in the report had likely tipped off the press.

Rumors had been a part of my family’s life since I could remember.

Even when I was a boy, parents of children whispered in the hallways, instructing their kids to stay away from the son of a horrible criminal.

Our legitimacy and success hadn’t dampened the fervor around our notoriety.

I’d learned to shove the dirty looks and disparaging comments aside, not bothering with the annoyance.

But tonight, the heavy presence of those hungry to witness a tragedy enraged me even more than it should.

One reporter had the audacity to rush toward me with a microphone outstretched, her cameraman following closely behind. The anger continued to rise, but it was possible to use the interview to my benefit.

“Mr. Dmitriyev. I understand the victim worked for you. Is that correct?”

There were two ways of handling a situation when confronted. One was to shove the person aside and the second was to play into the moment. I would do myself no favors by acting annoyed. What I would do was to send out a warning to all those involved that they’d fucked with the wrong man.

“Yes, he did and it’s a tragedy,” I answered.

“Yes, of course. Do the police have any idea who’s responsible?”

The press already knew Sergio had been murdered. I’d find out how. If Jack had anything to do with the leaked information, the man would soon understand the effects of crossing a carefully planned alliance that had been in place since he made detective years before.

“I’m uncertain at this point, but I will say,” I turned directly into the cameras, “that I will work tirelessly with the police and their upstanding officers to hunt the person or persons responsible. And they will pay a penance for what they’ve done.

One way or another.” I remained unblinking as I stared into the camera.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me. I need to talk with the detective in charge. ”

After allowing a long menacing glare into the cameras, I walked away, doing what I could to bottle my fury. Who other than the Irish would dare cross the Dmitriyev regime?

I took a deep breath as I surveyed the scene outside.

There was no obvious indication Sergio’s home had been broken into.

In this day and age, that didn’t mean much.

Thieves were highly skilled, although I doubted that was why Sergio had been murdered.

And I doubted Sergio would open his door to just anyone.

As soon as I walked to the door, I was stopped by two uniformed officers, neither one recognizing me immediately.

“Who are you?” one of the officers asked. “This is a closed crime scene.”

“You are correct, Officers. It’s supposed to be. But I’m not just anyone.”

Crouching down, I surveyed the sidewalk. It appeared as if someone had walked through the crime scene. When I rose to my feet, I crowded the man’s space without saying a word. His eyes immediately widened, the smell of fear lingering on his breath.

“Oh, Mr. Dmitriyev. I’m sorry I didn’t recognize you. You’re allowed inside.” With a sheepish look on his face, the officer stepped away and as soon as I walked inside, my rage breached the surface. At some point, I’d need to release some pressure.

I glanced from side to side, surveying the scene. There were several people in Sergio’s living room, all picking through his personal items. An angry tic appeared in the corner of my mouth. When I looked at the floor, every muscle tensed.

Sergio was still on the foyer floor, his body outlined with fluorescent tape. A knife protruded from his chest. I walked closer, avoiding the blood coagulating on the floor.

“Who called this in?” I asked no one in particular. Sergio had no family, no girlfriend, which meant someone had found him this way.

“I have no clue, sir.”

The young officer was telling the truth. It was possible a neighbor had noticed the killer fleeing the scene, but if Sergio’s murder was handled by professionals, no one would have seen the person coming or going.

I studied the brightly lit foyer, searching for any clues to identify the killer.

Sergio was dressed in casual clothes given it was his night off.

He was also in bare feet, which meant he hadn’t just arrived home.

From the position he was slumped, it appeared he’d tried to drag his body to the door to escape. Why not use the phone?

What caught my eye was a surprise. There were pieces of pepperoni and mushrooms on the floor, and sauce dripped down one wall. I also noticed footsteps in my lieutenant’s blood. They were smaller than I would expect. Whoever had stepped in his blood had left a trail to the door.

I bent down near Sergio, taking several deep breaths. “ YA otomshchu za tvoyu smert’, moy drug .” My whispered words were full of anguish. Yes, I would avenge my friend’s death if it was the last thing I did.

He’d obviously put up a struggle. For someone to use a knife instead of a gun meant the kill had been personal. His eyes were still open, the look of shock as well as horror indicating he knew his killer.

What the fuck was going on? I touched his face, using my fingers to close his eyes. No one should die this way.

“Mikhail.” Jack’s deep voice sounded from beside me.

“What the hell are the reporters already doing outside?” My question was a demand.

He chuckled. “I don’t know. They arrived at the same time we did.”

“You have a fucking leak.”

“We don’t know that. This is high profile.”

I lifted my head, studying his face. He’d aged since the last time we’d chatted. “I do know, and you need to plug it or I will. How were you told about the murder?”

“Okay, I get it. You’re angry. Just try and calm down. An anonymous tip called in.”

After a few seconds of quiet reverence, I rose to my full height. “Anonymous?”

He scratched his head, his expression one of exhaustion. “Yes. From a woman. I listened to the tape. She was terrified but refused to provide her name. Smart too, ending the call before we could locate where she was calling from. Was he dating anyone?”

A woman. Sergio didn’t have a girlfriend that I knew about. Narrowing my eyes, I glanced down at Sergio’s body for a few seconds. “No, but a woman didn’t do this.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“Don’t pull that shit, Jack. Just look at the angle of the knife. Unless she’s a goddamn Amazon, a man made the killing blow.”

He shrugged. “Funny how you know a lot about the weapons and angle. Forensics will tell us. They’ve yet to finish their investigation.”

“I want to know the second they do and their findings. No one else will know. Did you find a goddamn pizza somewhere in the house?” My words dripped of sarcasm.

“Just the sauce and toppings.” He grinned as if any of this was remotely funny.

“What about the murder weapon? Any prints?”

Jack eyed me for a few seconds as if unwilling to tell me.

“Need I remind you who augments your salary?” I threw out.

“Jesus Christ, Mikhail. We’re talking about a murder here.” He glanced from side to side. Obviously, he didn’t want anyone to know I’d put his daughter through college.

“You’re exactly right. We are. Now, talk. Did you find any goddamn fingerprints?”

He ran his finger under the collar of his cheap white shirt and inched closer. “Like I said, forensics are still working on the house. But the murder weapon is mostly clean.”

“What do you mean mostly?”

“We have a partial, but forensics is doubtful the print will be useful.”

I sucked in my breath. “Then the murderer could be an amateur.”

“Maybe. There are some definite oddities about the case already.”

“I need to look through the house myself.” Sergio held master files of every person involved in both our legal and illegal betting opportunities under my direction.

The list detailed who owed us money, who’d dared to try to steal from the house, as well as dark proclivities.

It was important to keep track of anyone who could provide us with…

favors. Almost no one knew he kept what he’d called a little black book.

While blackmail was rarely used, I’d learned from the man himself that assurances that people would stay in line were required in our business.

Both legal and illegal.

Proclivities never lied. Neither did art.

And debt was required to be paid. If I knew Sergio, he not only kept electronic files, he also kept a printed one in case we were hacked.

I’d tasked him myself with keeping the information off our properties.

If the motherfucking Irish discovered the information, they would use it to their benefit and against us. Fuck. This was a shit storm.

With my head cocked, I narrowed my eyes. “What in the fucking hell is going on?”

He laughed. “You’ll get a better idea when you see the video.”

“Does anyone else know about this?”

“Not so far.”

“Then keep it that way until I tell you otherwise. I’m not fucking around about this, Jack. I will find the person responsible myself.”

“Just hold on, Mikhail. You can’t be a vigilante. This is a case for the Las Vegas police.”

When I crowded his space, he threw up his hands.

“Okay. Okay. Come with me.” He kept his voice low and guided me toward Sergio’s office, closing the door behind us. “Keep in mind I shouldn’t be showing you this. I could get fired.”

The man could have a bullet in his brain if he fucked with me. “Get on with it.”