Page 9 of The Bratva's Nanny

I could have laughed. But I found nothing amusing.

“Not that I owe you an explanation, but since you’ve asked nicely, the fucking idiot couldn’t keep his mouth shut. Itchy palms and a big mouth never fucking end well, Martin. You know the rules. I don’t tolerate loose mouths or idiots. What did you expect? That I was going to stand there and watch him jeopardize the operation? Fuck, no. So, his loss—that’s on you. His inadequacies have nothing to do with my money. Allow me to remind you: You have three fucking minutes left.”

“No!” He shook his head violently and began to spew lots of rubbish I didn’t have the time to entertain. “...no fucking way I’m giving you a dime. You didn’t do shit!” he now yelled. “You didn’t keep your side of the bargain. You fucking killed Eugene, fucking monster!”

Great.

I exhaled and kicked my chair back.

I was done with this shit.

That was the sign Lev needed, and he roared in Russian, “Aim!”

The rest of my men, a dozen of them, flooded in with their guns raised. The cocking of steel drew the attention of the guests from the other tables, and loud screams erupted. Chaos followed immediately after, the excitement of the moment forgotten as they scrambled for protection.

I sighed.

Things could have gone a whole lot easier if Martin had been willing to cooperate.

Lev barked, pointing his rifle aimlessly at every head in view. “Every one of you remain in your fucking seats and put your heads on the tables now!”

No witnesses.

That was the golden rule. It didn’t matter if they’d heard what was going on; seeing it was prohibited. The witnesses of the crime had to go down, too.

A sudden quiet settled on the top floor, and everyone scurried back reluctantly, seeking a chair. The ladies whimpered, some men cried, and I was even more irritated. The scene in front of me was an eyesore. I pulled out my gun from the spot between my belt, aimed, and fired.

The sniffles and whimpering stopped. The silent crack resonated through the air; the sound of the bullet whooshing through and connecting with flesh definitely left everyone in a daze.

“Goddammit!” Martin coughed, dropping to his knees.

No one had seen it coming, not even the fucker on the ground. A pool of red gathered on his green shirt. The bullet had traveled right through his abdomen and was quickly spreading.

“Please, don’t do this. I have a wife and a daughter.”

A wife and a daughter.

I cocked my gun and deliberately ignored the dull ache in my chest after I remembered why I only had one of those.

“I’ll admit, it’s funny that you actually think I might give a shit.”

Groaning, he clutched his side tightly, immense pain visibly printed on his face.

I walked up to him, waited until he’d tilted his head back and looked me in the eye. Then, I gave a hard kick to his jaw and watched him topple backward.

Before he could slither away like the fucking snake he was, I pressed my foot down on his fresh wound. “Where the fuck do you think you’re going, huh?”

“Nowhere, I swear…. Shit!” He coughed and sputtered more blood.

I moved forward, adding more weight to his side. His face turned a deeper shade of scarlet, and right before my eyes, he busted into tears, weeping like a newborn.

Lev and I shared a look.

Underneath my foot, Martin wriggled and tried to sit up. “Aargh—God! Please...” he cried harder. “Please, fuck! Don’t...don’t kill me. I’m going to give you...I’m going to give you your money, I swear it. Please...even double.”

My ears twitched as fast as he’d said it. “Well, what do you know? At the end of the day, you’d turn out to be a good fucking investment.” The corners of my lips pulled to the sides, and I repeated more slowly, “You said double?”

He nodded.

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