Mafia's Savage Obsession (PAPERBACK)

Jane stared intently through the one-way mirror at the man sitting behind a metal table in the windowless room beyond. Despite waiting for nearly an hour, he looked completely unfazed. He was sitting back in the cheap plastic chair, his legs spread at the knees beneath the table, arms crossed over his chest. His head was tilted back, eyes closed. She would have thought he was asleep except for the tension that tightened his muscles almost imperceptibly.
She looked down at the file she had compiled of her suspect. His passport picture did not do the man justice. It couldn’t even begin to capture the power that emanated from the man’s very pores. Even in repose, he looked as though he could control everything and everyone around him.
Not me, Jane thought defiantly.
His license stated his height as 6’2”, almost a foot taller than her. This didn’t bother Jane though, she was used to interrogating criminals and had a power all her own that made up for her lack of height. His rich dark brown hair, interspersed with gray, was cut close against his head, displaying a jagged scar that ran across the left side of his scalp. Another scar bit deep into the side of his jaw and thinned out as it ran down his neck, marring an otherwise good-looking face. His slightly crooked nose and thin, cruel lips dominated a terrifyingly beautiful face. He could have been a handsome man if it weren’t for the leashed violence that seemed to exude from his very being.
He wore a suit that fit him to perfection. Very expensive. Probably worth more than six month’s salary to her. He was muscular, but lean too. She could see the muscles straining against his expensive shirt where he had rolled the sleeves up his arms and flexed them in front of him. Tattoos banded those arms, covering his wrists and fingers as well. From her vantage point she could see the tattoos that crawled up his neck. One of them was sliced in half by his scar. He had been badly cut after getting inked.
A shiver raced down Jane’s spine before she could call it back. Vladimir Sitnikov was every nightmarish fantasy she might have had of what a mob boss looked like.
She was pulling herself together and mentally preparing for what could only become a grueling interview, when his eyes snapped up and bored through the glass right into her. Thick eyebrows slashed over dark, emotionless eyes. The soulless black orbs pierced her and she feared, in that moment, that he knew his accuser stood on the other side of the glass. He nailed her to the spot, like a butterfly being inspected right before a pin was shoved through her vulnerable body. Her heart slammed against her ribcage and she stumbled back a step, clutching the file tightly in her hands. She could feel the heat of his gaze searing her.
Gruber came up behind her. “Ready for your funeral?” he asked.
Jane snorted in annoyance, shrugging off a sudden chill, and tossed him a glare. “Let’s go talk to our suspect.” She stressed the word and, tightening her knuckles on the file, reached for the door to the interrogation room.