Page 10 of Takedown in Savannah
Luigi reached for his radio, calling for backup. “EC team. Need backup at 220 Mulberry Street.”
Emerging from the shadows, a group of hooded figures surrounded him.
“Drop the gun!”
Easily outnumbered, Luigi did as he was instructed. He dropped the gun and lifted both hands, waiting to be shot by what could easily be one of the most ruthless gangs he had ever encountered.
Chapter 5
“Stay on the ground!”
“I’m down. I’m down.” Luigi, lying face down on the sidewalk with his arms over his head, braced for a barrage of bullets.
Pushed and pummeled, he found his hands behind his back and being handcuffed. It took a second for him to register what was happening. He wasn’t being taken out by the ruthless San Maris Gang. It was cops—a whole swarm of them.
One grabbed his discarded gun while another began searching his pockets.
“You got the wrong guy.” Luigi struggled to be heard over the loud voices and chaotic scene. During the melee, he heard the gang’s name being thrown around.
Realizing it was futile, he gave up trying to explain he was working. Clearly, they could see his EC Security Services uniform and would eventually figure out they had the wrong guy. He didn’t struggle, letting them pull him to his feet and whisk him to a four-door SUV parked around the corner.
A cop, the one who had taken his gun, placed him inside the back of the vehicle.
“The rest of you hang out to see if anyone else shows up.” The officer in charge slid behind the wheel, and they took off. His partner seated next to him, glanced through the metal cage separating them. “You ready for me to read you your rights?”
“Sure, but you’re making a big mistake.”
The cop rattled off the Miranda warning…Luigi’s right to remain silent, his right to an attorney, anything he said could be used against him, blah, blah. “Do you understand what I said?”
“Clear as a bell, but I gotta tell you that you got the wrong guy. I work for EC Security Services.”
“And I’m Santa Claus,” the cop joked.
“Seriously. You took my license. My ID is in there.”
“We found it. Whether it’s you or not remains to be seen.”
Reaching the station, the SUV pulled around back. The cops promptly hopped out and hustled Luigi in through the back door.
The police department looked all too familiar. He’d been there before, several times over the years. It hadn’t changed and looked the same. Bright fluorescent lights. Drab gray walls. Concrete floors led down a long hall. Wood-paneled offices filled both sides.
Taking a sharp left, they entered a windowless room where Luigi was searched a second time. His watch was confiscated, along with his wallet, weapon, cell phone, radio, flashlight and a few other personal items.
After the second search, he’d had enough. “Are you guys finished patting me down?” he growled. “Unless you’re arresting me, this is harassment.”
“Pipe down, big guy,” the cop smirked. “We’re running a check. If it comes back clean, all you gotta do is answer a few questions and you’re outta here.”
“At the risk of sounding like a broken record, you have the wrong guy.”
The cop muttered something unintelligible under his breath, guiding him out of the room and back down the hall. They stopped in front of an open doorway, and the plainclothes cop motioned him inside. “Have a seat.”
“I would rather have a smoke.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” The cop left. Moments later a man whose name was on the tip of Luigi’s tongue appeared.
“Mr. Baruzzo.” He stepped inside. “I’m Detective Wilson.”
“Wilson. We’ve met before.” Luigi nodded toward the door. “Mr. Itchy Trigger Finger was bringing me a pack of smokes.”
