world who felt like home.
Last night was the first time I had heard from him in months, and wild horses couldn’t have kept me away. Like every other night with Andrusha, we drank a lot of vodka, played a lot of cards, laughed and reminisced.
The crowd erupted in applause, pulling me back to the gala. Mark Ashford turned to look at me, a smile on his face. I dutifully stepped forward while someone walked across the stage with an award. Together, Mark and I stood, jointly holding the award, while cameras snapped.
Movement caught my eye. Between the tables walked three men who looked completely out of place.
Oh fuck.
I recognized one detective from this afternoon. Detective Wallace. The crowd gasped as he got on the stage and walked towards us.
“What the hell?” Mark Ashford asked under his breath.
The master of ceremonies rushed forward to intervene, but paused mid-step when the detective flashed his badge at him.
The detective stepped up to Mark and myself, a self-satisfied smile on his face.
“Mica Petrov?”
“Yes.”
“What the hell is going on?” Mark Ashford interrupted.
I knew exactly what was going on. Early this morning, I had been sleeping off our late night in Andrusha’s office. That was when the police had raided his dock warehouse. Which brings me to the real reason I was late to the hotel. I was handcuffed in the back of a police car for most of the day while they searched the warehouse. When they had found nothing, they had reluctantly let me go.
The detective ignored him and stared up at me. “We’d like to take you back to the station for questioning.”
“What is this about?” Mark sputtered. “We’re in the middle of an awards ceremony.”
“Am I under arrest?” I asked, my voice dead calm.
The detective held my gaze. “Not yet. But if you’d like us to haul you down to the station in handcuffs, I’d be obliged.”
“Go,” gritted out Ashford. “Don’t make more of a scene.”
I handed the award to Ashford, and the crowd gasped as I followed the detectives through the crowd. Behind me, Ashford was doing damage control into the mic.
“No reason to be alarmed. One of our players, Mica Petrov, witnessed something, and they require his help. Have a good night, Mica. Thanks for helping our city’s finest.”
Krista was standing, her phone glued to her ear, as she watched me walk by.
They put me in a holding cell and left me for the entire night. Not ideal, but I sat on the cement bench, crossed my arms and slept. I frequently traveled as a player and had gotten good at falling asleep no matter the circumstances.
A buzzer sounded, waking me up. I watched through slitted eyes as the metal cage door slid open with a clank.
“Wake up, sunshine,” a uniformed officer said from the doorway.
I stood up. “Where are you taking me?”
He ignored me as he led me down two long cement hallways before ushering me into a windowless room that sported a table and four metal chairs.
“Have a seat.”
“What, no breakfast service?”
He glowered at me. “Smart-ass.”
It didn’t take long before Detective Wallace walked in with a thick file. He slapped it down on the table and sat down across from me.
“How are you doing?”
I answered him with a dark look.
“Do you know why you’re here, Mica?”
I played dumb. “You’re the fashion police, and you don’t like my tux.”
“What is your association with Andrusha Sokolov?”
“He’s a friend.”
“What kind of friend?”
I studied the man before me. I understood he was just doing his job, but if he thought I would flip on my friend, he was delusional. “We grew up together.”
He made a note in his file. “Where did you grow up?”
“Russia.”
He made a noise. “And what was the nature of your business with him last night?”
I shrugged. “He invited me to his warehouse to play some cards and drink some real Russian vodka.”
“Are you aware that Mr. Sokolov is the leader of one of Vancouver’s more notorious gangs?”
I feigned shock. “No way. Not Andrusha. He runs an import business.”
“Do you know what he imports?”
“He ships mineral fuels to China.” I knew this as fact. Andrusha fronted his gang business with a legitimate shipping business.
“Your friend runs with a group of unsavory characters responsible for trafficking a large amount of illegal substances through the ports. He only uses his mineral oil shipping business as a front.”
“I know nothing about that.”
The detective frowned. “You’re telling me you had no idea about his criminal activity?”
I shrugged again. “I don’t see Andrusha that