Master of Lust

Chapter - 245

The door burst open as emergency care workers rushed into the smoke-filled room. Rick, still tucked down behind the counter, stayed low as the professionals quickly assessed the scene. His body was shielded from the worst of the explosion, but he remained hidden, watching as they moved.

One by one, they loaded the stretchers. Nine in total—each henchman bruised, bloodied, and majorly injured from the fight and the explosion. Graves was among them, he was carried out, his injuries severe but not life-threatening. Zach, too, was brought out on a stretcher, though his injuries were less grave. His body showed moderate bruising apart from his previous injuries, and he was unconscious, likely knocked out from the force of the blast.

Rick watched quietly from his position; his breath steady as they wheeled the stretchers past him. The scene was almost surreal—the carnage left behind; the broken bodies of his enemies being carried away towards the harsh, blinking lights of the emergency vehicles outside.

One of the care workers spotted Rick, crouched behind the counter. They rushed over; concern etched across their face. "Are you alright?!" they asked, bending down to meet his eye level.

Rick slowly stood up, dusting off his clothes casually. "I'm fine," he said, his voice calm, almost detached.

The worker hesitated, looking back at the devastation. "What happened here?"

Rick shrugged, his gaze still lingering on the stretchers being loaded into the ambulances. "Accident," he said, his tone indifferent. The worker blinked, uncertain how to respond, but sensing no need to press further, they nodded and moved on.

Rick, now fully upright, watched the last of the stretchers disappear out the door, the sirens growing louder as the night air filled with the chaos of the aftermath.

The chaos had barely subsided when the sound of approaching sirens changed—police cars this time. The flashing red and blue lights bathed the already ravaged apartment in a harsh, flickering glow. Rick stood near the kitchen counter, watching as the police made their entrance, their faces showing a mix of curiosity and caution as they surveyed the wreckage.

Two officers, clearly familiar with the situation, stepped forward. One of them, locked eyes with Rick. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he approached. "Well, well, well! Look who it is. The bloody angel of death himself."

His partner, equally unimpressed, took a step closer, eyeing the group of stretchers being loaded outside. "How many did you kill this time, Rick? And what is it now? Let me guess—self-defences?"

Rick didn't flinch at the sarcastic tone. He'd heard it all before. Twice, to be exact. "It was an accident and nobody died," he replied calmly.

The officer sighed, clearly weary of the pattern. "Third time's a charm, eh? Can't help but notice this keeps happening around you."

The older officer, arms crossed, let out a dry chuckle. "An accident, huh? We'll see about that soon enough." He nodded toward the stretchers being loaded outside. "Still, hurting Warner's kid twice? You're in deep this time, Rick."

Rick remained stone-faced, barely reacting to the mention of Zach's powerful father.

The other officer, shaking his head, motioned to the scene around them. "You're coming in for questioning. Again. This whole thing smells off."

Rick gave a slight nod. He'd been through this before. There would be questions, suspicions, but in the end, he knew he'd walk free. He always did. And Marnus Warner, the tthreat loomed, but Rick was ready.

>>>

Rick sat in the cold, sterile interrogation room, a single light overhead casting long shadows on the plain walls. Across the table sat two detectives, their eyes scrutinizing Rick, trying to unravel the mystery.

Opening his notebook and clicking his pen, Detective Miller the older one began his interrogation.

"So, Mr. Rick! Can you elaborate what exactly happened in your apartment?"

"Like I said, it was just an accident!", Rick spoke without a care.

"But nine people! Nine of them severely injured are lying in hospitals. Are you saying that just an accident caused that?", the detectives voice grew sharp.

"It was a big explosion! The refrigerator malfunctioned or something. I am sure you got the report by now. It was just a big, stupid, accident!", Rick repeated calmly.

"And you? How are you completely unharmed?", the younger detective, Detective Jaccob sounded accusatory.

"I was lucky, I guess. I war near counter, so I ducked and hid behind it. I guess the emergency responders can confirm.", Rick replied without even a slight hint of tension.

The younger detective, clearly agitated, shot up from his chair, pacing the room. "Luck? What kind of luck makes you walk away while nine others are taken out on stretchers?"

Rick just stared at him and shrugged.

Detective Jacob, even more agitated, shouted. "That's it? 'Accident' and 'Luck'? Nine people don't end up half-dead from an accident, Rick! And what about their wounds? What about the knife marks, what about glass remained on their wounded head? Are you still going to say it was just an accident?"

"Huh! Maybe the knives and the glasses flew away and collided with them due to the explosion!", Rick acted as if he was clueless.

"The knives flew due to the explosion! Ha! Is that even possible?", Detective Jacob burst into anger, almost losing his mind.

"I don't know. I am no expert in explosion!", Rick smirked.

"No! No! You attacked them, you clearly caused them serious damage, then you tried to get rid of the evidences with the help of the explosion!", the detective shouted while clutching his hairs.

Rick's eyes remained steady; his tone cool. "I didn't attack anyone; I did not plan any explosion. Like I said—accident. That's all there is to it."

"Don't take us being naïve Mr. Rick. We know that you have history with Mr. Zach Warner. Now tell us what exactly happened? Why was he at your place? Why were all those men there? Was he threatening you? Tell us the truth Mr. Rick. If we think your actions are justified, we will help you.", Detective Miller sounded calm and composed, trying to coerce a confession out of Rick.

But Rick knew that even if he tells the truth, the police, who is in the pocket of Warner, won't help him.

Rick crossed his hands, took a deep breath and in a calm tone replied, "I have already told the truth! So, can I go now? Although it might not seem like it, I am pretty much devastated about what happened to those people and my apartment. So, if you please excuse me, I would like some time to collect my thoughts. Or am I under arrest?"

The detective sighed, clearly not satisfied. "We'll see about that, Rick. This isn't over."

Detectives Jacobs and Miller were visibly irritated. Their faces were flushed, their patience wearing thin as they questioned Rick. The room's s cold environment only heightened their frustration. The detectives exchanged exasperated looks, the tension in the room thickening as they struggled to make sense of Rick's uncooperative stance.

Jacobs slammed his hand down on the metal table, the sound echoing sharply. "This story of yours is unbelievable. You expect us to accept that this was all an accident?"

Then, the door to the interrogation room swung open abruptly. Sergeant Linda Swan entered with a commanding presence, her sharp gaze immediately cutting through the charged atmosphere. The detectives' irritation shifted to surprise. Linda's entrance was like a sudden gust of wind in a stifling room, altering the dynamic instantly.

Rick's eyes locked onto Linda's. His face let out a sly smile, a stark contrast to the seriousness of the situation. Linda's presence added tension, her demeanour suggesting she was there for more than just routine matters.

Linda's entrance was followed by a deadly silence as she fixed Rick with a gaze that could only be described as murderous. Her eyes, sharp, drilled into him with a menacing intensity that hinted at harsh consequences. It was the kind of stare that seemed to strip away any semblance of safety, suggesting she could end him without a second thought. The air around her crackled with unspoken threats, the weight of her displeasure was felt in the atmosphere.

Rick met Linda's stare with an unshakable calm, an excited glint in his eyes as if he revelled in the challenge her presence represented. His smirk remained, betraying none of the fear or concern that might have been expected. It was as if he thrived on the tension she exuded, his demeanour almost daring her to act on the silent menace she projected.

The two detectives, momentarily caught off guard by Linda, exchanged hushed whispers, their voices barely audible over the quiet hum of the fluorescent lights.

"Remember the last time?" Detective Jacobs asked in a low voice, glancing at Linda. "Two detectives were supposed to handle him, but she came in on the Commissioner's orders, right?"

Detective Miller nodded, her gaze flickering between Linda and Rick. "Yeah, and Rick somehow managed to get out of that without much trouble. But Linda—she was a mess for days afterward

Jacobs leaned in closer, his voice barely more than a whisper. "I heard she was confused, almost empty-headed for a while. On top the commissioner was heavily displeased and unsatisfied with her."

Miller's brow furrowed in thought. "Seems like she's still carrying some of that weight. Look at the way she's staring at Rick. There's more to this than just a simple interrogation."

"Silence!", Linda roared, "and you two, get out!"