The Cleaner (Born Bratva Book 4) Read online

  I keep my mouth shut, not letting on that I’m well acquainted with the man who runs the establishment. If she’s in his stable of call girls, I’ll be talking to the woman before the day is out. She may not talk to the cops but she’ll damn sure talk to me.

  We direct our attention to Natasha and Herb as they discuss the wounds and cause of death.

  “These wounds, at first glance it appears that the killer stabbed him, but these cut marks are irregular and not consistent with a typical stab wound,” Natasha notes with a scowl.

  “Correct, the wounds have been gouged, as if someone was digging something out,” Herb interjects in a grim voice.

  “Like bullets?” Natasha asks expectantly. Herb nods as he sticks his finger into one of the wounds, pulling the skin apart to reveal the gouge marks and shredded flesh underneath.

  “That’s my guess,” he concurs. “I think he dug the bullets out and took them with him. If he was trying to throw us off, better luck next time, right?” he chuckles. “A lot of guns hold six or more shots and this victim has six wounds. I won’t know what kind of gun it is until I get him on my table.”

  “Damn, he really worked the degradation angle, didn’t he? You think we’re dealing with a kinkster?”

  “No, I think what Agent Turner said is true, that the killer wants to humiliate the victim, taint his legacy. This man had received commendations for valor in the line of duty, so that makes it all the more striking that the killer would pose him in such a way. Cops are notorious for ragging on each other and this guy will never live this down. No pun intended,” he smirked.

  “Well, his secret’s safe with me. I’m used to keeping confidences.”

  “I’m counting on that,” he says solemnly. I keep my features neutral and decide it’s a great time to change the subject.

  “I see we have our standard Cop Killer signature,” I say as I gesture to the bloody writing on the wall.

  “Yes, we do. And that’s about all we know about this killer, that it appears we are in the middle of a killing spree. We just don’t know who or why…yet. But we will.”

  “Yes, this third body officially makes him a serial killer,” Agent Turner interjects.

  This isn’t some gangbanger initiation. Our killer is organized and thorough. It would take some serious brain power to do what he’s doing and continue to get away with it. I can definitely relate to that.

  Chapter Thirty

  Natasha

  Kitty Kats is an escort service run by Diego. He’s Colombian cartel, works for the Ramirez brothers. The Ramirez brothers are hardcore. I don’t know the details, but after he had some problems with them in the past they convinced him it was safer to work with them, rather than against them.

  There are rumors that the Ramirez brothers are moving to the Louisville area with their eye on a few legit business ventures. Personally, I think these men are smart to focus their efforts on white collar crime rather than small time street crime. Going legit; it’s the latest trend in organized crime. Who knew?

  Glazov has always been ahead of his time. He believes that, with some finesse and behind-the-scenes diplomacy, mafia families can work together. Like the Russians and the Columbian cartels -- as long as boundaries and protocol are respected. The Glazovs and the Ramirez brothers have enough respect for each other to do that.

  Natasha interrupts my thoughts, abruptly bringing me back to the matter at hand.

  “I think it’s a good idea to have me be the one to call Diego, Nikita. He’s more likely to have loose lips that way -- but are you really okay with it?”

  “Yeah, just keep him on speaker and I’ll set his ass straight if he gets outta line.”

  Diego is a pimp so he’s always talking shit but I can roll with it. I dial the number for his private cell. He picks up and immediately starts in on me.

  “To what do I owe this pleasure, Beautiful?”

  “We need to talk.”

  “Really…I can only hope you’re ready to get rid of that crazy motherfucker you’re engaged to and come take a walk on the wild side with me.”

  “No such luck. Can I come see you?”

  “There’s nothing I’d like more. Come one, come all. It’s Kitty Kats, baby.”

  “I’ll be there in thirty.”

  “I’ll have a shot of chilled vodka ready for you. You are Russian through and through.”

  I hang up before Nikita can say anything. He’s already working that Glazov jaw tick that he gets when he’s pissed.

  “Why the fuck didn’t you tell him I was coming along?”

  “I’m sure he knows you’re coming; probably knew you were listening in. You know Diego, he loves stirring shit up.”

  “Well, just like the Colombians have a signature of neck ties, we Russians have a few things we enjoy doing, like cutting mother fuckers open, removing intestines and wrapping them around people’s necks. Don’t tempt me with Diego.”

  “Yes, the infamous neck tie, slitting a throat and pulling the tongue muscle down thorough the cut—looks like a neck tie. They usually do it to send a message about someone running their mouth.”

  “I’ve gotta say, I think the Colombians are as ruthless as we Russians are.”

  “You know when your father wants to keep the peace, they’re a force to be reckoned with.”

  “Yes, but there’s a lot of money to be made when we play nice.”

  “Then play nice with Diego, I need answers.”

  He cuts those ice cold blue eyes at me.

  “You look just like your father,” I marvel as I shake my head.

  “I inherited his mean streak too.”

  “I have never deliberately made you jealous—unlike you with Sofia.”

  “Hey, I just needed to make you see that we belong together.”

  “Almost got a bitch killed doing it, too.”

  We’re silent on the drive over to Kitty Kats. At a stoplight, he glances over at me and smirks.

  “You’re sexy when you’re mad,” he purrs. I roll my eyes.

  “Speaking of mad, don’t even think about checking out Diego’s half-dressed whores when we get there.”

  “I only have eyes for you, you know that.”

  “You’re a good man, Nikita.”

  “More like obsessed.”

  “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I reply and I mean it.

  We pull into the parking lot and start to head inside. Before we get far, I stop Nikita and ask, “Do you want to leave your gun out here?”

  His only answer is to place his weapon next to mine in the glove compartment. I know he still has a knife strapped on his inner arm. Every Glazov is trained in the art of fighting hand to hand as well as with a gun. They won’t hesitate to defend what’s theirs.

  I’ll have to watch how I talk to Diego in here. As bold as I am, even I have sense enough to know not to push my man. Though he’s the most reserved of the Glazov offspring, he also holds the title for being most like his father. In other words, he was dead serious about the intestines comment and he would have the balls to do it.

  “Alright, let’s get this party started,” I quip.

  “Hold on a minute, little girl. You’ll be following me in.”

  I step aside and let him go in first. The muscle at the door immediately stops us.

  “Mr. Glazov, always a pleasure to have you grace our establishment. But first, I do need to inquire if you have any firearms in your possession?”

  “We left them in the car.”

  “Very good. Mr. Diego is in the lounge area. Adriana will escort you.”

  Chapter Thirty One

  Nikita

  I straighten the cuffs on my shirt, getting into the clear mindset I’ll need when dealing with this guy. He’s a pimp in every sense of the word. The man draws women like a magnet and not the ugly ones either. Women want to work for him because of what he offers. They’re dressed in designer labels, have their own drivers and bodyguards, he doesn’t take all their
money, and he only fucks them if they’re willing. Most of them have boyfriends and some even have husbands, but most of them like to hop aboard the Diego train every chance they get.

  His manwhore ways kicked into overdrive after a break up when his main woman left. He was known for sleeping with two or three at a time, and from what I understand he’s returned to his old ways where pussy is concerned. But he’s all business otherwise and anyone who deals with him knows not to fuck him over. That includes the husbands or boyfriends of his bed partners, unless they want their mother’s home blown up. He has a penchant for blowing up cars, houses, and people.

  Anyone with any sense is scared of him. Now, my family isn’t scared of the cartel but we do respect it, especially now that we’ve entered into a peace treaty of sorts with them.

  Like any pimp, Diego enjoys the finer things in life. As we approach, he’s draped across an antique chair that might as well be a throne. It probably cost more than the average Joe makes in a year. A cream-colored suit paired with a flashy tie has him looking every inch the pimp, right down to his red designer shoes. He still manages to exude an air of class, even elegance. Like my father and me, he wears his long hair in a ponytail. His hair is as pitch black as his devious eyes, which he has trained on Natasha as he gives her a heated once over. He knows it’s a sure way to piss me off, but I refuse to be this afternoon’s entertainment so I keep my cool.

  “Mr. Glazov, I’m honored. And Natasha…”

  He stands, studying Natasha’s face as she meets his gaze. “Oh, how I need a woman like you around here. Smart. Deadly. A challenge. All this Barbie doll frilly shit doesn’t do it for me anymore.”

  “They say the most beautiful women in the world come from Colombia, it shouldn’t be hard to find one with the skill set you require in your business.” Natasha continues to meet his unwavering gaze. It’s probably why he likes her, she doesn’t back down.

  “Yes, maybe you’re right. Perhaps I haven’t been looking in the right places.”

  Though he’s smiling benignly, the smoldering look in his eyes could melt ice. He’s taunting her but covering it very well. Diego is the kind of man that can lull you into thinking everything is fine -- and then slice your throat as you sip your Perrier. He knows how to keep a person on edge, in a constant state of fear. However, Natasha and I have one important thing going for us: he’s as leery of us as we are of him.

  “Please, sit down. Adriana, move your ass, chilled vodka. Now.” Once again he lets his wicked eyes linger on Natasha, practically purring as he studies her curves. “Back to the two of you. As far as beauty goes, a Colombian woman will do, of course -- but I have always had a thing for blondes, myself.”

  “She’s taken,” I say curtly. It’s time to let this fucker know I’m not playing today.

  “No offense, Nikita. Natasha,” he laughs, “Dios mio, you are every inch a woman, but no woman is worth breaking the peace treaty we have.”

  This guy’s smooth, weaving his way in and out of the conversation, all the while studying us. I have no doubt he’s better at profiling than even the most experienced detective. Add to that the fact that he’s a pimp, and the man’s practically a mind reader.

  His answer satisfies me and we take a round of shots from the tray Adriana is holding. “Can I get a Perrier, sweetheart? I’m driving.”

  I toast with Diego and Natasha and then hand her my shot. She can drink most men under the table. I decide to see where this guy’s head is at before I get down to business.

  “So what’s up since Selena left? Are you just playing the field?”

  “I did for a while, slept with a different woman or two or three every night,” he gloats, “but, you see, I’m in a different place now.” He shocks me with his next statement. “I want what you two have. I want a woman who can work with me, stand by me, and have my babies someday. It’s one thing when you’re young, you know how it is, to sow your oats but that shit gets old. Hell, my bosses, Antonio Wayne and Ricardo, have even settled down. I have decided it’s inevitable.”

  “But you’re a pimp, man.”

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” he grins mischievously. “Seriously, though, I’m not pimping anymore. The women who work here have their own men, they give me a cut and I give them business and a place to stay. Antonio runs a club and he’s faithful to his wife.”

  “Sounds like you’ve already made up your mind.”

  “Enough about me, my friend. My curiosity is piqued, what’s up with the two of you, eh? Why have you stopped by to see your old friend, Diego?”

  “This is all confidential, in fact no one but my family knows. Have you seen the news about the cop killer?”

  “Shit, who hasn’t?”

  “Well, the governor came to my father and asked for a favor. He thinks an insider is offing these cops. He wants an objective perspective so he called in Natasha to help with the forensic piece of the investigation.”

  “I figure, the motherfuckers are already dead, damn sure can’t do anything for them now,” Natasha says with a chuckle. Diego laughs out loud and is wiping tears from his eyes as I glare at her.

  “I’m sorry. Hey, it’s funny,” she murmurs as Diego starts laughing all over again.

  “Oh, Nik, your woman…your woman is one hell of a woman. But you know this,” he says smoothly while keeping his seductive gaze locked on Natasha. I know she’s just trying to build bridges here, but I don’t want her connecting with Diego on any level.

  “Anyway…Last night a third cop was killed and the cops tell us that one of your girls was there.”

  That gets a reaction. His posture straightens and his expression shifts from laid back to pissed off. The cold, penetrating stare he’s giving me is revealing his crazy-ass Colombian temperament. This guy is no one to be fucking with any day of the week, but now he’s seething, the malevolence rolling off him in waves. As I suspected, this guy’s a hothead when it comes to his stable of women.

  “A Kathy Jameson was there,” Natasha says, skillfully pulling his attention back to her. “Whoever killed that cop let her go and saved her life. We want to talk to her. If that’s okay with you, of course,” she adds with a small smile.

  His demeanor softens in response to her charm, as I knew it would. But he’s still pissed. He turns his head toward the door but keeps his eyes trained on Natasha.

  “Adriana!” he bellows. “Get Kat in here, now!”

  Natasha immediately tries to appeal to his benevolent side, which seems to have already left the building.

  “I’m going to be the devil’s advocate here, Diego. Whoever killed that cop probably threatened her. She was probably scared shitless and was just working up the nerve to discuss it with you.”

  “Point taken, cara. But my women know they’re protected—they also know not to lie to me. Omitting, avoiding? All that shit’s the same to me. When they don’t keep me informed they put all of us in danger. The same way Bratva deals with its women, I have my way of dealing with mine.”

  At the phrase ‘deals with’, Natasha’s brow arches and her jaw clenches, but she remains silent and watches the scene play out.

  The girl is clearly shaken as she enters the room. She approaches Diego hesitantly, her steps faltering as she crosses the room. Kat is a voluptuous Latina beauty and, at her best, would be a sultry knockout. However, today dark circles under her eyes make her appear older than she probably is, adding to her fragile appearance. Heavy makeup nearly hides the bruise on her cheek, but does nothing to conceal the slight swelling. From the way Diego’s jaw clenches as she walks toward him, he notices the wound as well.

  “Yes, papi?” she says in a barely audible whisper.

  “What did you do last night, florecita?” She blanches and gulps at his deceptively benign demeanor. She’s smart enough to know he’s testing her.

  “I…I was out and…I don’t even remember driving home, papi, I was so scared. I didn’t want to say anything...”

 
“That’s not what I asked you. Wrong answer. Try again.”

  Another gulp. “I went to that guy’s house, the cop who likes it real rough. I haven’t been making a lot lately and I thought I could deal with him for one night for the extra cash. But he came at me as soon as I walked in. He hit me,” she sobs as she raises a quivering hand to her bruised cheek, “and next thing I know, somebody comes out of nowhere with a gun and tells me to get the hell out. He was as surprised as I was. She said she’d kill me if I told anybody, the crazy bitch probably knows where I work and --”

  “She?” I cut her off. Bingo. This changes everything.

  “Yeah. I could tell she was trying to lower her voice and make it deeper, but I know it was a woman under that hood. I change my voice all the time, depending on what the client wants. But her size and her voice gave her away.”

  “Can you describe her? Anything would help,” I ask, trying to get any evidence I can.

  “She was maybe her size.” She nods in Natasha’s direction. “Maybe 5’7. And she was wearing one of those ski mask things and dressed in black so I have no idea what she looks like.”

  Diego looks from me to Natasha and back again, and I nod to indicate that we’re done, for now. He turns those cold, black eyes on Kat and slowly crooks his finger. When she leans in, he grabs the collar of her shirt and twists the fabric, yanking her toward him until they’re nose to nose.

  “Never fucking lie to me again. I’ve got too much at stake in this business for there not to be trust between us. Do not make me repeat myself and do not make me sorry I’m giving you a second chance. You feelin’ me?” he hisses through gritted teeth.

  She nods tremulously while tears stream down her face. After a long, awkward silence, his posture abruptly softens and he releases his hold on her blouse to pull her onto his lap. He strokes her hair, planting a kiss on her temple and her bruised cheek, murmuring to her softly in Spanish. He tilts her chin and looks into her eyes. I glance over at Natasha and know that I don’t need to say a word for her to know what I’m thinking. Jesus, this guy puts Jekyll and Hyde to shame…