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“Let him in.”
An older man, probably in his early sixties, enters the club. He has a head full of gray hair and sunspots covering his face and hands. Someone should really be using sunscreen.
“Grigor,” I greet. “Welcome. Do you have the money you owe me?” Grigor is one of my employees. He’s worked for the Russian mafia since my father was in charge. But Grigor fell onto hard times after my father died, and I recently caught him trying to steal from me. I told him that all debts would be forgiven if he just paid me back.
Grigor approaches me, wringing his hands. “Uh, is there somewhere private we could go?”
“No. Do you have my money or not, Grigor?” I won’t let this little weasel beat around the bush.
Grigor hangs his head. “No.”
I grimace. I could shake the man. No, I’m going to kill him. There’s no other way. No one gets to steal from me and live with it.
I turn to the women still at the bar. “You should all leave now.Now.”
They scramble up and quickly leave the club. Anya gives me a lingering look, but I ignore her.
I look back at Grigor. “You don’t have my money?”
“I just didn’t have time to get more of it. But if you give me more time, I swear, I’ll pay every penny back.”
When I grab the back of Grigor’s neck, he yelps. “You see, Grigor, I know you have a gambling problem. My father looked the other way, but I won’t. You don’t get to steal from me and then gamble all my money away and expect me to be ok with that. If you can’t produce the money now, I’ll have no choice but to kill you.” I push him away so hard that he falls to his knees.
“Please, please. I don’t want to die.”
“Then you should have thought about that before you decided to gamble all my money away.” I pull my gun out of my back pocket. I like to have it close to me, always. It’s almost like a security blanket. I aim it at Grigor’s head. “Unless you can give me the money now, I’m going to shoot you.”
“Wait. Wait! What if I can promise you something else instead?”
I pause. “Like what? Unless it’s money, I doubt I’ll be interested. You better make this worth my while, Grigor. I haven’t eaten dinner yet. I’m getting hungry, and you’re wasting my time.”
Grigor hesitates.
“What are you offering me?”
Grigor hangs his head.
I sigh and roll my neck. “Too late, Grigor. You’re fucking dead.”
“My daughter!”
I go still. “What?”
Grigor lifts his head back up. “I can offer you my daughter in exchange for my debts. You do that here. You let women work for you to pay off debts.”
“That’s true. I do. But never daughters of mafia men. Usually, the women who work here are in debt themselves, or they’re the daughters of drug addicts and gamblers. Never mafia girls.” In my culture, I was taught to respect mafia women. My mother was one before her death. My grandmother was one as well. When you’re head of the mafia, mafia women are prized, not glorified.
But … I guess I could make an exception this once. Grigor, in the past, has been handy when it comes to negotiations. It would be a shame to lose him.
“My daughter is a good girl, sir,” Grigor says. “She’s submissive. She’ll work for you. She would help me pay off my debts. I know she would.”
“Does she know you’re selling her into servitude?”
Grigor looks away.
“I’ll take that as a no. Poor girl.” I chuckle and lower my gun. “Let me see a photo of her. I need to know what I’m working with.”
Grigor fumbles for his phone and pulls up a picture of her. “This is Katia.”
