Page 17 of Used By the Merciless Bratva
Of course.
I looked up at him, and his awkward throat-clearing told me he knew what he was doing wrong.
“It was the third onshore delivery. En route to Mr. Hans’s warehouse. The police wouldn’t cooperate at one of the checkpoints, so…um…a few shots were fired, and it called some attention. The shipment is intact, but we had to reroute. It will be delivered tomorrow morning.”
That particular delivery wasn’t even on the higher-risk list. While delivery hitches were not uncommon in my line of work, this type was something that my men were more than adequately equipped to deal with.
“What you’re telling me is that an old-time customer is currently dissatisfied because thepolicedisrupted a delivery?”
If there was anything the Mafia avoided, it was the police. We always walked away from anything that might involve them due to the negative publicity it would bring. That was why we always settled whoever needed to be settled in the force. Publicly going against one of them, no matter how inferior, could give them an edge because they would make ridiculous demands to cover it up.
“We’re sorry, Boss.”
“Who handled the delivery?”
“It was Kirill, Boss.”
“Get him here this minute.”
“Yes, Boss,” he rushed to say before disappearing.
I stood as the door opened, and Maximilian came in after Kirill.
“Sorry, Boss. I’m sorry, Boss. I had to slow down at the checkpoint because one of the policemen stood in front of the truck, and you taught us not to attack them unless we were on the defensive,” Kirill explained, his eyes darting around as if searching for the weapon that would decide his fate.
“Nice,” I commented, sitting at the edge of my chair as I pulled one of my desk drawers open. “But it didn’t cross your mind that the policeman who obstructed your way was already on the offensive, did it?”
His eyes widened a fraction as I continued, standing with the heavy hammer in my hand.
“You didn’t think your failure to run the policeman over would be a stain on my arm of the Yezhov Bratva, did you? You were too unstable to think the police would try it again next time, weren’t you? But, you were quick to send your bullets flying, hm?”
He answered with a vehement, side-to-side shake of his head before speaking.
“The superior officer kept insisting on a thorough check, and when he pointed his gun at me, I had to shoot. I’m sorry, Boss.”
Looking past him, I gestured toward Maximilian.
“Hold his right hand down,” I instructed.
“Boss, please. I’m sorry. Please, I….” Kirill’s rushed pleas broke into a pained shout at the first smash of the hammer against his fingers.
He was crouching down with his left hand gripping the edge of the table by the time I was sure his five fingers would need surgery to look normal again.
“You had to make a rushed decision because you judged poorly at the beginning,” I told him before asking, “Do you know why I only crushed five of your fingers and not ten?”
“No,” he replied, his voice coming out in a hushed whine.
“Two reasons. It’s your first strike, and you took responsibility,” I divulged. Turning to Maximilian, I said, “Get him treated. Call someone to come clear the mess.”
“Yes, Boss.”
They were both out of the door before I got back to my chair.
I got busy with calls to repair the damage caused, and it was during my last call that I thought of Katria again.
I considered that one of her friends or relatives might report her unexplained absence to the police. Then my mind shifted to a more urgent and far more dangerous scenario—that our competitors or enemies could trace her location through the burner phone still on my estate.
I checked the time.
