Gavriil (Stepanov Mafia)

I already felt some judgment for adding a personal touch after I claimed the office from my father. Of course, I didn’t care what any of them thought, but I did care about their respect. And their fear.

“I’ll pay you back,” he said, voice high-pitched and whining. It was a grating noise, and I was half-tempted to pull the trigger just to make it stop.

“How much did he take?” I asked, waiting for anyone in the room to respond.

“In cash and merchandise, $25,000.”

I inhaled deeply, swallowing down the rage, and then reared back and kicked the man. My boot connected with the center of his chest, knocking him backward. When he hit the ground, a puff of air burst through his lips. A few seconds later, he finally managed a gasping inhale.

“What’s your name?” I asked. When he didn’t answer, I nudged his foot with my own. “Name, now.”

“Devin,” he said as he hauled himself into a seated position, one hand pressed to his heart. “Conway.”

“Do you know who I am?” I asked.

He nodded.

“I’d like to hear you say it, if you don’t mind.”

“Gavril Stepanov,” he said, the words garbled from his swollen lips and the blood pooling in his mouth.

“Correct. So, if my reputation precedes me, then you are already aware that you really fucked up, Devin Conway.”

“Please, please don’t kill me,” he said, a mixture of tears and blood flowing down his cheeks. “I’ll pay you back. Every penny.”

I turned around and faced Yuri and Ivan. They straightened their backs, standing to attention.

“When someone is robbed, what do they want to see happen?”

The two men looked at each other, foreheads wrinkled, and then back to me.

I sighed and opened it up to the rest of the room, looking each man in the face. “It’s an easy question. What do victims of robbery want?”

“Their stuff back,” one man said quietly.

I nodded. “Yes, but is that all?”

“Justice,” Ivan suggested, his voice rising up in a question.

“Precisely, Ivan.” I clapped my hands a few times, congratulating him for not being the world’s biggest idiot. “Justice. I do not simply want my money back. I want to see Devin here pay for what he has done to me.”

“Your men beat me,” Devin said. “I’ve been punished.”

I clicked my tongue. “No, you’ve been saved. They could have killed you. You should thank them for sparing your life for as long as they have.”

Devin let his head hang forward, and more bloody drool fell out of his mouth. “It was for my mother.”

“What did you say? Speak up, please. You’re mumbling.”

The man lifted his face, and I could already see that the swelling around his eye was beginning to change colors from when he’d first collapsed through the door.

“I stole the money for my mother. She’s sick. Really sick, and we can’t afford to take care of her.”

“We?”

“Me. My sister.” His chest heaved with the effort of talking, still winded from the blow to the chest. “It’s just the two of us, and Mom needs one of us to be with her all the time. She’s really sick.”

It was hard to believe the sad sack of a human currently staining my office rug could ever be of any use to anyone, least of all his sick mother, but it was the perfect excuse to give me pause. My own mother had been ill for the last few years of her life. It was an inoperable brain tumor. In the last months of her life, she couldn’t do anything other than lie in bed and moan. But we could afford a live-in nurse and house calls. I didn’t need to take care of her full time.

“I’m sorry,” Devin continued, dissolving into a puddle of tears. “I’m so sorry.”

“Shut up,” I snapped, beginning to grow bored of this, too. I should have shot him the moment he got his blood on my rug.

“Please don’t kill me. Please don’t hurt me.”

“I’ll shoot you for the peace and quiet if you don’t shut up.”

Devin closed his mouth, but quiet sobs still shook him, rattling in his chest like rocks in a metal barrel.

“I’ll allow you to pay me back,” I said, placing the gun behind me on the desk and leaning against the wooden edge, arms crossed over my chest.

Devin’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. “Thank you, Gavril. Mr. Stepanov. Thank you so much.”

I held up a hand to silence him and raised an eyebrow, reminding him that my previous threat remained. I was tired of hearing his voice.

“You’ll have ten days to return to me what is mine.”

I could see him thinking it over, trying to decide if he could get the money together in ten days. After a few seconds, he smiled a little – as much as he could smile with both of his lips split open – and nodded. “I’ll do it. Yes. I’ll be back here in ten days. Sooner, if I can.”