Gavriil (Stepanov Mafia) Read online Zoey Parker

Categories Genre: Crime, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 54706 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 274(@200wpm)___ 219(@250wpm)___ 182(@300wpm)
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“I like your excitement. It’s great to see a thief eager to reform,” I said. “But I should let you know there will be interest.”

His mangled smile faltered. “Interest?”

I moved my finger through the air as if I was doing a mental calculation. “Yes, I believe your new total comes out somewhere close to $50,000.”

His mouth fell open. “You can’t be serious.”

“Take a look in the mirror and let me know whether I’m serious about my business.”

“That’s double. How will I afford that? How will I—”

“I believe that is a problem for you to solve.”

Devin stammered. “But it isn’t fair.”

“You are right,” I said, nodding along with him. “It isn’t fair. Fair would be putting a bullet between your eyebrows and then burying you deep in the woods where the insects can feast on your body. As it is, the deal I’m offering you is remarkably generous.”

Devin blinked. He looked dazed.

“You should thank me for my kindness,” I suggested. When he remained quiet, I circled my finger in the air, gesturing for him to follow my command.

“Thank you,” he said quietly.

I smiled. “You are so welcome, Devin Conway. Bring me $50,000 in ten days, and we will be square.”

Slowly, he lifted up onto one knee and then pressed his palm flat into his thigh to heave himself into a standing position. He wavered back and forth a few times, and I thought he would pass out, but somehow, he managed to remain standing. When he turned to leave, I coughed, drawing his attention.

“A bonus tip would also be appreciated.”

I winked, and Devin stumbled from the room, dripping blood as he went.

“He can’t afford fifty grand,” Yuri said quietly. “If he could, he wouldn’t have stolen twenty-five.”

The gaze I leveled at him must have looked as deadly as it felt because Yuri closed his mouth in a hurry and shuffled his feet.

I nodded towards the three men who had hauled Devin into my office. “Keep a watch on him. I don’t care how you do it or who takes what shifts. I just want it done. He is going to try to skip town sometime in the next ten days, and I want to be there when he tries.”

They all nodded and then turned on their heels, filing out of the room like soldiers. Scared soldiers, but soldiers nonetheless.

I frowned at the bloodstain on the floor and then turned out the lights in my office. I’d have someone deal with it in the morning.

Chapter Two

Samantha

Mom had been sleeping all day, so I’d been finding creative ways to fill my time. I flipped through the ancient fashion magazines she kept in a stack next to her bed – one of them claimed nothing made a woman look younger than sparkly eyeshadow, preferably blue. I didn’t check the date, but it had to be from the late eighties, at least.

I also reread two of my favorite romance novels, cleaned the bathroom, and dusted every shelf in the house, except for Devin’s room. He hadn’t cleaned his room since Mom got sick, and it was probably growing things that would interest a lot of scientists by now.

Her tired days were less work, but it didn’t mean I could leave her alone. She needed help getting up to use the restroom, and there was no way she could get to the kitchen for water or a snack. If we had more money or any kind of insurance, I would have hired a full-time nurse for her months ago. But as it was, Mom had me so I couldn’t leave.

Devin and I were supposed to split shifts, but he had been staying away from the house for days at a time lately. Her illness hit him hard; I understood that. He and Mom had always been close. He was her first born, her special boy. But that didn’t mean he could leave me alone to deal with everything because he couldn’t handle it. Except he had, I guess. I hadn’t left the house in three days, and we were running low on everything from milk to bread. I’d eaten a bowl of stale cereal with water for breakfast.

Mom coughed in the other room, and I dropped the dusty rag and furniture polish on the couch and jogged down the hallway. The room was dark, but I could see her struggling to sit up. I moved to the edge of the bed and placed my hands behind her, helping her up.

“I can do it.” She sounded annoyed, but I could tell it was more at herself than at me. She’d always been very active – working multiple jobs, game nights with friends, evening walks around the neighborhood. It killed her to be so stationary.

“Do you need anything? Restroom? Drink? Snack?”

“No, Mom,” she said teasingly. She smiled, and it looked like it would tear her papery skin. “I just don’t want bedsores.”


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