Fighting Conviction by Greer Rivers
Meanwhile
He turned the flat screen TV off and slammed his fist down on his home desk, glad he’d decided to take a sick day. It surely would’ve left a dent at his work desk. He wiped his face with his hand before looking at the pathetic man he’d mistakenly depended on.
“You fucked up. Again, Dmitri. I told you we needed to be discreet this time. Fewer women, not the party. But you went and fucked it up with that stupid little group of yours insisting on fucking tradition.”
“I’m sorry, sir.”
Is he crying? Pathetic.
“The BlackStone group… have you given me the dossier on them?”
“Uh… yes sir. We worked on compiling it. They and a deceased teammate were part of a paramilitary team that operated under a clandestine branch of the military—”
“Yes, I fucking know about MF7. Do we know anything about them since they were kicked out of MF7?”
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry, sir. They’ve entered private security and since we uh, accidentally kidnapped one of the team’s sister, they’ve had it out for us.”
“You know…” He massaged his eyes, sore from having to look at the sniveling incompetence in front of him. “Just a thought, Dmitri. But, it would be in your best interest not to remind me of more of your fuck-ups when I’m already reaming your ass for this one.”
“Yes, sir. I’m—”
He slammed his hands down again. “Are you a fucking broken record, Rusnak? I don’t need sorrys. I need answers. I don’t need mistakes. I need results. I have buyers wrapping a noose around my neck and sellers looking to bury us. We don’t have the luxury we did years ago of eliminating competition. And product is harder and harder to come by these days even on the drug side since you’ve gone and shit all over that too. That fucking imbecile cop blew your whole fucking cover.”
There was silence and he sighed. He turned to look at the man and saw he was white as a corpse.
Good.
“What would you have me do if you were in my position? Hm? You fucked up yet another auction. You revealed both of our operations in Ashland County, which was one of our most prolific counties thanks to your stupid little club. And now your cover has been blown.” He templed his hands and leaned on his thumbs, before softening his voice and using the same soothing tone he did on his wife when she tried to leave him. “What should I do?”
“I’m sorry, sir. It won’t happen again.”
He nodded and laid his hands flat on the desk. “You’re right, Dmitri. It won’t.” He nodded at the Russian behemoth who was somehow still hidden in the room. The man was the perfect employee.
Dmitri followed his gaze and turned to see his maker, the weasel turned back to him and got on his knees and fucking begged.
Disgusting.
“Please, sir. Please. It won’t happen again. I swear! I-I can get new buyers and we’ll get new product. Please sir, I beg you, I have a son—”
“And I have a brother. But you won’t see me giving him any more chances either.” The Russian held up his gun and Dmitri looked back and forth at the Russian and him before he screamed.
“Please, sir, no! I have a family!”
“What is it your people say? You’ve ‘passed the point of no return?’ I’m sorry, Dmitri, but my hands are tied.”
He nodded and the gunshot deafened him as it went out. Small splatters of blood coated his desk and he took out a handkerchief to wipe his face of the failure on the floor.
“Thank you, Vlad.” He stood up. “Please see that this gets cleaned up.”
“Da, ser.”
“Oh, and Vlad? I think you know what to do with the rest. We can’t have any loose ends.”
The Russian holstered his gun under his coat. “Da, ser. No more problems.”
* * *
Keep reading for a sneak peek of Breaking Conviction!
