Midnight Oath (Tasarov Bratva 1)

I press the gun to the clerk's head once again. He mewls like an alley cat. Repulsive coward.

"I'll make a deal with you," I growl. "For every question you ask, I pull the trigger."

The clerk chokes back a sob. "Please. I'm sorry, Ms. Smith. I—Please, for the love of God, don't ask any questions."

I tap the muzzle against his temple. "That's Mrs. Tasarov to you."

Then I turn back to Emery and smile. "Well, what's it gonna be, darling? Do you have any more questions or are we ready to go?"

Emery whimpers and throws the door open. "Fine. Just—fuck, don’t shoot. We're coming."

I nod grimly. “Good girl.”