Deadly (Born Bratva Book 5) Read online

  “Impressive,” I say over my shoulder as I enter her room.

  The befuddled look on Anastasia’s face is almost comical. I can’t help but fan the flame. “I see you met the infamous Dmitriy.”

  She rolls her eyes and shakes her head then continues. “That arrogant son of a bitch said I don’t have manners.”

  “Well, to be honest with you, trying to hit him in the head with a horse probably didn’t help.”

  “The son of a bitch had the nerve to catch it.”

  “That’s his training in martial arts—quick reflexes. Don’t let those good looks and easy charm fool you. He’s deadly. I’ve never seen anybody defeat him in the ring or in a cage.”

  “So he’s going to train me to fight?”

  “Maybe if you bat your eyelashes and ask real nice.”

  “That…is never going to happen.”

  We both bust out laughing and fall on the bed side-by-side, looking up at the ceiling.

  “On a serious note, don’t buck him too much because I’m sure my father gave the order for him to work with you. If you give him too much shit my father will take it personally.”

  “Then I’ll give him just enough to make him miserable but not enough to cross the Pakhan.”

  “You’re learning.”

  “Yes, I am, thanks to you.”

  “Your training is just starting. By the time we get through with you, you’ll be invincible. On another note, you should probably know that Dmitriy is intrigued with the study of serial killers. It’s why none of the women want to get too close to him. They’re scared of him. He’s going to love your serial killing ass.”

  “Charmed—I’m sure.”

  We both bust out laughing again and move on to less stressful conversation, bordering on ‘girl talk’. I’m glad I have a friend to get into trouble with. It’s just too fucking intense around here to not let off steam occasionally.

  Roksana is quickly becoming my best friend – my only friend. No matter how much the powers-that-be try to keep us from getting in trouble together, I get the distinct feeling that trouble is going to follow us wherever we go.

  Chapter Twenty One

  Oleg

  I lean against the wall to watch Dmitriy fight in the ring—he’s only sparring but I still feel sorry for the guy who’s in there with him. Dmitriy is the only bodyguard Glazov employs who’s a black belt in various branches of martial arts. He found Dmitriy when he and Novak attended an MMA fight years ago. The Pakhan must have made him one of those offers he couldn’t refuse because the guy’s been on staff ever since and is considered one of Glazov’s inner circle.

  There are a couple of things about him that set him apart from the other Bratva men. Although he’s Russian, his dark coloring and olive complexion would suggest an Italian heritage. Also, rumor has it the guy is fascinated by serial killers. That’s probably why Glazov is putting him in charge of Anastasia’s combat training. That’s fine with me because when she and my woman are together they get into too much trouble.

  Dmitriy bends down to shake hands with his sparring partner, who is laid out on the floor after receiving a crushing uppercut from a huge right hand. He gives the guy an assist, pulling him to his feet before striding over to me.

  “Good to see you, man.”

  We give each other that handshake-one-armed-hug-shoulder-bump greeting that only men understand.

  “You, too. I’m sure your sparring partner is glad that training session is over,” I say with a nod to the guy in the middle of the ring who’s still shaking his head and unsteady as he gets to his feet. “Speaking of training, I understand Glazov has put you in charge of Anastasia’s. Have you met her yet?”

  “Oh, yeah. She’s quite the fireball. She tried to clock me with a cast iron horse. Small, but could have done some serious damage.”

  I can’t help but laugh, “Her? Or the horse?”

  “Both.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I caught it, of course. She’ll never admit it but I could tell she was impressed.”

  “You like her,” I say in amazement. Dmitriy tends to stay to himself, so seeing the predatory gleam in his eyes at the mention of Anastasia is unexpected.

  “I find her interesting. There’s a big difference.”

  “Interesting is one word for it… In addition to her combat training, Glazov wants you two working with Roksana and me. We are to start taking out the enemy before they have a chance to go on the offensive. I guess they aren’t destroying each other fast enough on their own.”

  Dmitriy’s slow smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “And we all know the Pakhan is not a patient man.”

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Roksana

  There was no way I wasn’t going to talk the boys into doing some reconnaissance. Once an adversary piques my curiosity, there’s no stopping me.

  I turn my head toward Anastasia and place my finger over my lips. From where we’re hiding in this downtown alley, we can hear two men talking. This is where the Venezuelans hang out to sling dope, so where better to pick up some Intel?

  Their major source of income is transporting cocaine from remote airstrips located deep in the jungles of Venezuela. I’m not concerned about pissing them off, but the tricky part about all of this is their close alliance with the Colombians. Even though my father has a peace treaty with the Ramirez brothers, we’re probably going to piss off the branch of Guerrillas who deal in the drug trade. The Ramirez brothers don’t deal in illegal drugs; they deal in women and it has proven to be a lucrative business.

  I’m certain that, before it is all said and done, Antonio Wayne and his brother Ricardo will be contacting my father to discuss the moves he’s making as he secures the infrastructure for his newest business venture. It isn’t my father’s style to clear his business dealings with anyone so I can only imagine how tense that conversation will be.

  My ears perk up when I hear my father’s name. The man talking doesn’t look to be any older than twenty but they start young in the drug trade and it doesn’t make him any less deadly. His long, scraggly hair and skinny frame suggest that he samples the illegal goodies more than he should. He wouldn’t be the first dope dealer to break the cardinal rule: never use what you sell. He turns his head and spits contemptuously at the mention of Glazov’s name.

  This bastard just got on my bad side; not a smart move on his part. As he continues talking, he just keeps digging a deeper hole for himself.

  “I can’t believe the nerve of those fucks, coming onto our turf and stealing those diamonds.”

  “What gave them away?”

  “All that fat fuck said he could remember was making out with some chick who had car trouble. Like that would ever happen on its own. Boss thinks she had to have had a little help, and the Russians are the logical choice.”

  “Cara dura, the audacity of those old-ass gangsters. You’d think that Glazov and Novak would have retired by now, but no, they have to be greedy. I mean, those diamonds were supposed to inject some serious cash flow into this operation. Fuckers.”

  It isn’t like these two need a boost financially, I’m sure they’re doing quite well with their illegal drug racket. They may know the dope trade but they know nothing about the diamond business, didn’t even realize they had their hands on the world-renowned Tereschenko diamond. The way my family sees things, they stepped on our toes when they got involved in the diamond trade. The fact that they were Russian gems makes what these guys did downright disrespectful.

  My father is big on sending messages to not only our enemies but any gangsters in the game. The message is always the same—fuck with Alexander Glazov and you die. The man who looks more like a boy continues talking, although he’s already stuck his foot so far down his throat that there’s no retrieving it. This guy doesn’t deserve to utter my father’s name.

  “Now those old fuckers have got a shitload of diamonds and the legal documents that go with them.”

  �
��I thought those documents were forged.” The other young man speaks for the first time, sounding confused. Scraggly answers with a laugh.

  “No, no, the signatures on those documents are quite real. But, then again, if you consider it forgery to put a gun to a motherfucker’s head to force him to sign, then I guess you have a point.”

  “Damn,” the other guy snarls. “They’ve got those diamonds free and clear and there’s not a damn thing anyone can do about it.”

  “Thanks for pointing that out, vato.”

  Yes, thanks for pointing that out.

  I’ve heard enough. Finding out those gems are legal just made my job a lot easier. I nod my head in the direction of the SUV where Oleg and Dmitriy are keeping watch, and Anastasia falls into step with me as we return to the SUV. We turn the corner and jog up the street, hopping into the SUV.

  “You’re not going to believe this shit, Oleg.”

  “What did you find out?”

  “That shipment of diamonds is legal; free and clear.”

  “But those documents are bound to be forged,” he says as he puts the car in gear and pulls away from the curb.

  “No, they aren’t. The signatures may have been acquired at gunpoint, but they are absolutely authentic.”

  “And they probably killed him before he had a chance to put the pen down, poor fucker. It looks like this business venture of your father’s is unstoppable.”

  “Yeah, maybe the blue diamond is bringing him luck after all.”

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Anastasia

  My confidence is improving day by day, as I recognize that I do have some expertise to bring to the table after all. When I launched the killing spree that ultimately led to the demise of all that was Emily Finley, I learned fast that the prep work you do ahead of time gives you a much more efficient and thorough outcome. Along those lines, surveillance is a big part of taking an enemy out. Whether they intend to or not, people form habits. They become predictable, and that’s what makes them easy prey.

  The only people who make a point of varying their routines are criminals, simply because they know better. Glazov and Novak are always changing up where they eat, their routes when travelling, and even the days they make appearances at the gambling house. The only people privy to what they’re doing and when they’re doing it are the people working the job with them. It can’t be easy having to distrust everyone but it doesn’t seem to bother Glazov or Novak. It’s probably all either of them has ever known.

  Dmitriy’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “So…how hard was the transition from suburban wife to serial killer?”

  “I haven’t really thought of it in those terms. I mean, it is what it is, I guess. It was gradual so I never really noticed how much my life had changed until I woke up with a brand new face and Roksana leaning over me.”

  “So it’s kind of like the frog in the water.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” I ask.

  “You know, the fable about the frog sitting in a pot of water. The water gets hot so gradually that he doesn’t notice until it’s too late.”

  “Yeah, exactly like that. Except I have no intention of being boiled alive.” I lower my binoculars and smirk at Dmitriy. “But that’s a great idea for us to give Oleg for his next victim.”

  “Us? What, are we bonding now?”

  “A necessary evil. I have to trust you if I’m going to be working with you.”

  We’ve changed our position to an alley a little farther up the street where Oleg and Roksana dropped us off. We’re watching the same two guys Roksana and I were spying on earlier. Roksana and Oleg have them in their sights at one end of the street and we have them covered at the other.

  These guys appear to be low-level dealers. They work the corner to drum up business, then head into the alley to do the deal. That would be the perfect place for us to ambush the two men but that isn’t my call. I’m not going to take it upon myself to kill without direct orders again. I have no intention of being on Glazov’s radar; I’ll save that for his enemies.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  Oleg

  This is the part of the job that I have the least patience for—surveillance. I like hearing the screams of someone begging to die, not standing around listening to them talking shit about my soon-to-be father-in-law.

  When I go too long between torture sessions, I get antsy and usually end up releasing all that pent up energy inside my woman. If Roksana cuts this son of a bitch’s throat tonight, I’ll rip her blood-soaked clothes from her body and fuck her like I hate her, and I won’t care who’s watching. Hell, a little exhibitionism always takes the edge off – or, it did before I met Roksana. There’s no way I’ll ever let anyone else see her bare curves or hear the sounds she makes when she takes her pleasure. Fuuuuck, I need to torture somebody…

  “Look, I don’t want to do this quick,” I tell Roksana, which earns me a searching and somewhat heated look. “You want to teach him a lesson about disrespecting your father, right? I mean, come on, calling Glazov old?” I shouldn’t be provoking her by stirring her quick temper when it pertains to her family but it’s a means to an end. I’m a junkie to my drug of choice -- violence -- and I need my fix.

  “Does someone need to get bloody?” she asks coyly her eyes twinkling with amusement. “Baby, I’m convinced you’re addicted to inflicting pain.”

  “It’s you or him. Choose.”

  “Hey, it isn’t going to be me. You know I get off on your special brand of pain, but when you’re like this, you’re too much even for me. How about I use my bowie knife to take him down and we take him back to the warehouse to get better acquainted?”

  My cock twitches at the thought of what we’re about to do, but I pop a full-on erection as I imagine what I’m going to do to my woman when it’s all over.

  Anastasia

  I’m not surprised when I see Roksana and Oleg going in for the kill, but I don’t like it when they enter the alley and I can’t see them. All I can see through my binoculars is the junkie who just copped his dope slinking down the street. He’s clueless about what’s going on in that alley and, at this point, I am too.

  After what seems like forever, the SUV pulls away from the curb and heads in our direction. As Dmitriy and I get in, my jaw drops in surprise.

  “What the hell is he doing in here?” I ask when I spot the mouthy guy in the back of the SUV. He’s bound and gagged, and, judging by the expression in his eyes, completely pissed. “And where’s the other guy?”

  “That son of a bitch is dead. This guy here is going to answer to me for running his mouth about my father.”

  Oleg cuts his eyes at me in the rearview mirror and a chill runs up my spine. This guy is in for a long night and, like it or not, it looks like Dmitriy and I are invited to the party. The man’s muffled cursing is getting on my nerves. Any fleeting compassion I may have felt for this guy’s plight disappears as I smack him in the side of the head with the butt of my gun.

  “Shut the fuck up. I can’t hear myself think with all that noise.”

  He didn’t hear a word I said, but at least the rest of the ride will be peaceful. There’s that smirk on Dmitriy’s face again; at least someone is entertained. He and Oleg seem to know each other, but I wonder if he’s seen Oleg’s dark side in action before. I’m not in the mood to ask so I just look out the window and prepare myself for the inevitable. I’m going to watch a man die tonight.

  Oleg

  I pull into the woods that serve as a camouflage for our warehouse. I love this place; it’s where I do my best work. No prying eyes, no one to hear the screams of the man I’m assaulting, and all my tools of torture are here. It would only take thin wire and a blowtorch to get the job done, but here I can let my creativity have free rein.

  My mind is spinning with ideas, new ways to hurt, to incapacitate, to snuff out a life in the smallest possible increments. Prolonging death is the most satisfying part of my work. I was born wi
th a beast inside me; I’ve always known it. My soul’s need for evil will never be satisfied but at times like this, I can appease it for a little while.

  I can’t recall a specific moment when the beast and I became one, but over the years his voice became mine and my soul became his. I am a fortunate man in that my woman understands my darkness and doesn’t try to change it or ‘fix’ me. She understands the most basic truth of my dual nature: one cannot exist without the other.

  I’ve known Dmitriy for years, but this will be his first time to see Roksana and I at work. Guess we’ll see just how tough he is. I hope he doesn’t have a weak stomach because things are getting ready to get real fucking ugly, real fucking fast. If Dmitriy can beat the shit out of someone in a boxing ring without mercy, surely he can handle my brand of insanity.

  It didn’t take long to see that Anastasia had the stomach for my brand of crazy. She never even flinched when she saw me pull a man’s teeth out one by one when she was still living life as Emily Finley. I guess her experience as a murderer didn’t just serve to kill off her enemies; it killed a part of her too. That’s okay; in this business we’re all dead anyway.

  When I’m certain we haven’t been followed, I exit the SUV and walk to the rear of the vehicle. I jerk the guy from the cargo area and drag his ass through the dirt to the warehouse where Roksana already has the door unlocked. Judging by her shallow breathing and the crazy light in her eyes, she’s getting as worked up as I am about killing our newfound enemy.

  As soon as I’m in the door I begin barking out orders. “String his ass up!” Dmitriy and Anastasia work together to lift him to his feet after they unbind his hands. He’s still knocked out from the little love tap from the butt of her gun. They move in synch, almost as if their moves have been choreographed. Interesting. Maybe these two will end up working well together. How sweet…a happily ever after in Born Bratva land.

  I take a water bottle from Roksana and unscrew the lid, dousing the guy with the life-giving fluid. “Wake up motherfucker, I want this to hurt.” The cold water sends him into a coughing fit.