Love and Devotion (Born Bratva Book 10)

by Suzanne Steele

  Charles studied his wife’s face. He was proud of her for coming up with the idea. He hadn’t been sure she’d be able to convince the women. It appeared Melanie had pulled off an impossible situation.

  Melanie thought about his question for a second. “I was kind of surprised. They looked like businesswomen. I was expecting overdone loudmouth married to the mob women. They certainly aren’t caricatures of trashy gangster wives. They looked just like they do in the paper—all business. The women agreed to my idea, but the men could be a different story. Let’s just hope their wives are as involved in their business as I am in yours. If they are their husbands, respect their opinion, and they’ll be more open to our idea. Our enemy is Hex Slivers. If we can not only stop him from buying off properties but make him sign over what he has, we’ll own the downtown Louisville area.”

  “Making a man sign over his business isn’t an easy feat.”

  “I’m certain Alexander Glazov will make an offer Hex can’t refuse. He doesn’t strike me as the type to take no for an answer.”

  “Hmm, the godfather of Louisville. I hope Hex won’t end up with a horse’s head in his bed.”

  “I wouldn’t put it past him. People fear Glazov for a reason. He also has the backing of the Colombian cartel. I’m certain Hex has heard the rumors. Real estate is a great way for the cartel to launder money. Buying property for the purpose of gentrification is also a way for the cartel to clean up their reputation. They can do the strong-arming we can’t do because we’re in the shadows as far as our illegal activities. I think this will work for everyone concerned.”

  Charles chuckled, “Everyone but Hex Slivers and his imaginary horse.”

  Melanie watched her husband as he stalked in her direction. She could feel her heart speed up as he approached. The touch of his finger rubbing over her bottom lip gave her a sense of peace. She tilted her head, leaning into his touch. They’d never had to work with gangsters, and neither knew what to expect.

  “I know this hasn’t been the conventional marriage. I never intended to pull you into my life of crime. Being married to a vigilante hasn’t been easy for you. There’s a darkness in my soul that needs to shed blood. My conscience is clear because I avenge those who can’t avenge themselves. This last kill troubled me. I don’t understand how anyone could kill a whole family.” His eyes searched hers, “Do you ever have nightmares, my love?”

  “More like night terrors, but not what you’d think. The violence doesn’t bother me; the thought of getting caught does. We have got to be careful, Charles. We have so much to lose.” Charles had explained the aftereffects of killing. Even the most calculated killers were known to have nightmares. Erasing the images that felt like they were scorched in your brain was no easy task for any killer, no matter how vicious they were. Charles had been right about one thing: it got easier with each kill. She’d done what every other killer did: convinced herself the people she killed deserved to die. If you told yourself something long enough, you’d begin to believe it. Self-preservation was a powerful force, and the mind would do anything to preserve one’s sanity.

  “I would do anything to protect my family. We’re careful about not leaving evidence. We stalk our prey before making our move. The people we kill are the people authorities are glad to see meet their maker—the scumbags of the earth. You can’t rehabilitate the type of people we go after. We’re only doing what the authorities wish they could do, Melanie.”

  “I’ve wondered about that.”

  “About what?”

  “If the authorities don’t investigate crimes committed towards criminals. They probably have a non-verbal agreement to just not waste time on it. Maybe they think they’re killing each other off.”

  “I’m sure they don’t consider them to be high-priority cases. They’ve hinted in the newspaper that the cops believe Louisville has a vigilante cleaning up the streets.”

  She nodded her head, agreeing with her husband. “The truth is stranger than fiction.” They were a couple who knew you couldn’t make this stuff up. “The public hails us as heroes. I’m sure only the staunch law officials feel like they need to catch us—make an example out of us. They have no idea it’s us killing off criminals.” She wasn’t just trying to convince him; she needed to be convinced, too. Who would ever believe a family was the one doing the cleaning up? That was something in books and movies. Monsters killed people, and the Wentworth family didn’t fit the image.

  “So, you believe they see me as a businessman.”

  “Absolutely. Getting these properties will solidify you as a businessman and not the vigilante cleaning up the streets of Louisville. I’m certain no one suspects you’re the infamous Black Rose. The people who read your blog probably suspect Freddy Krueger.”

  “Thanks, Melanie. Nice to know people see me as an ugly villain.”

  “Don’t worry. It doesn’t matter what you look like. Women are drawn to bad boys, even when they look like monsters. If they think you look like an ugly monster, they’ll never catch you. No one suspects a man who looks like he walked off the cover of GQ. Your secret is safe with me.” She smiled coyly.

  “Nice to know I can count on you to keep my murderous ways a secret. Although, being that you’ve killed with me, I’m certain your lips are sealed.”

  “My lips would be sealed even if you didn’t know my sordid past.”

  The bantering would go on all day if their son didn’t interrupt. Humor was a way to deal with the pressure of being killers. Technically they were serial killers because they’d passed three killings long ago.

  “You two still act like newlyweds.” Thomas smiled at his parents.

  “A family that slays together stays together,” Melanie smiled back at her son.

  Thomas was standing quietly in the doorway as if he didn’t want to interrupt them. If he hadn’t spoken to his mother, they wouldn’t have noticed him there. Thomas had the ability to sneak up on people, and it served him well in his line of work. He often pondered the things his parents were discussing. Thomas had the ability to compartmentalize, and he would store information much like a human encyclopedia. Sometimes he would be up burning the midnight oil as he worked out new ways to take an enemy down. It was a game to him. Once you hunted humans, there was no better thrill. Humans were worthy advisories, and criminals were even better because they were harder to hunt. Thomas loved a challenge because it made victory sweeter. His parents had never intended to drag him into their life of crime. He’d stumbled into it. He was shocked he enjoyed killing as much as his father did. He enjoyed the hunt and takedown of an enemy. Though Charles had adopted Thomas, they were more alike than if he’d been spawned of his own seed. Charles never looked at his son as adopted. He was his real son, and that was that.

  Like his father, Thomas was guilt-free about taking out the trash—the dregs of society who wreaked havoc on the unsuspecting people of the city. He knew a life could change in a matter of minutes. Dreams were shattered, and nothing would ever be the same for those who suffered at the hands of criminals. The nightmares the survivors lived lasted a lifetime. They were a family born of blood and solidified in their united goal of avenging the weak. If they could give one victim closure, it was worth the danger they went through. As crazy as it was, Thomas couldn’t imagine living a life different than his. He was where he was supposed to be, doing exactly what he needed to be doing.

  Thomas addressed his parents, who were both eyeing him now.

  “The gentleman you met with about property is at the door.” Thomas resisted reacting to the irritated expression his father had.

  “What the hell is Hex Sliver doing here?”

  “I should have clarified it isn’t him; it’s his bodyguard.”

  “I certainly hope he isn’t here to start trouble on Hex’s behalf.”

  Thomas shrugged, “He seemed pleasant enough.” Thomas wasn’t intimidated by Hugh’s size. He could read people, and nothing about Hugh said he was there to sta
rt trouble.

  “Show him in. I have no idea why he’s here, but there’s only one way to find out.”

  A moment later, Charles was looking at a man who looked bigger, standing in his office doorway. Hugh swallowed up the entrance. No wonder Hex had hired him. Though Hugh’s size could be intimidating, it was clear by his direct gaze he was here for business. Charles could see the honesty in the man’s eyes. He was here because he needed something. The business side of Charles’ brain kicked in. If he met Hugh’s need, the giant would owe him. This was a good thing.

  Charles outstretched a hand and offered Hugh a seat on the opposite side of his desk. Though his office furniture was plush, Charles wondered if the man would fit in the seat. He did. Barely.

  “What can I do for you?”

  “Mr. Wentworth”—

  “Charles, please.”

  “—yes, sir. I’d like to apologize for the rudeness of my boss earlier.”

  “It was expected. Mr. Slivers strikes me as the kind of man who doesn’t do well when he doesn’t get his way. Perhaps a tad bit spoiled.”

  A grin spread across Hugh’s face that reached his eyes. The man had pegged his boss perfectly. “I see years of doing business have enabled you to read people.” Hugh took a breath as if preparing himself to dive into a difficult conversation. “Speaking of years, I’ve watched my boss abuse tenants for years. It’s always bothered me, but there is a situation now I feel I might need help with.” Hugh stopped a moment to see how Charles was receiving what he was saying.

  “Go on.” Charles nodded.

  “There’s an elderly tenant in one of his buildings. The woman’s granddaughter is living with her, and Hex is threatening to evict them. The woman has been under a grandfather clause, and her rent is less. By law, Hex can’t raise her rent, so he goes out of his way to make the poor woman miserable. There’s a clause in Mrs. Narvaez’s contract that stipulates she can’t move anyone in. The woman is a widow, and I’m sure her granddaughter is only there to help her. Hex has been looking for a way to kick them out, and this might be it. I’d like to put the two of them up in one of your buildings. It would take a tremendous amount of stress off a woman who lives on a fixed income. I would be willing to pay the difference in her rent. I just wouldn’t want you to tell her that. She might see my trying to help her as charity.”

  “I’m curious. Why work for Hex when you could have your own agency?”

  “It’s funny; you should say that. It’s exactly what I have been saving up to do. It seems as if every year gets harder. I’m not sure how much longer I can continue working for a man who goes against everything I believe. I’ve never seen a greedier person. He’s a multi-millionaire, and he still wants to gouge that poor woman. If I don’t get them housed somewhere, they’ll both be homeless, and I’ll be tempted to kill him.”

  Charles studied the man for a moment. He seemed to be what Melanie would refer to as ‘a gentle giant’…until he voiced that whole thing about killing. This guy could come in handy. Funny how someone that big could be as kind as he was deadly. “I have a proposition for you. I’m certain you’re aware Hex has been stepping on some powerful people’s toes. The Colombian cartel wants a meeting with your boss. This could get messy. Help us set up your boss, and we’ll move the ladies into my renovated building downtown. You can oversee the apartment building and work on setting up your own place of business. If you have a problem getting your hands dirty, I understand. Time isn’t on our side. We need to move quickly to acquire the properties we want to refurbish.”

  Hugh nodded as if pondering what Charles was offering. It had been a dream of his to have his own business. He could only go by Charles Wentworth’s reputation because he didn’t know the man. The guy had to be better than the dirtbag he was working for now. He needed a change in his life, and this could very well be it.

  “Getting my hands dirty to set Hex straight would be a pleasure. You let me know what you need me to do, Charles, and I’m in. It won’t be the first time I’ve dabbled in committing a crime for the greater good. I can’t think of any better reason than helping Mrs. Narvaez.”

  Though he wanted help, the older woman, it was Luna he couldn’t stop thinking about. The petite blonde had made an impact on him. He hoped he’d made one on her too.

  Chapter Twelve

  Novak had his wife Katrina pinned down as he fucked her.

  “Appointment my ass,” he growled. “Your appointment is with me. I’ve been thinking about fucking your brains out all day. I’ve got you right where I want you.”

  He loved the way she tossed her head back and gave into his obsession with her. He’d waited years to get a woman like her, and he had no intention of ever letting her go.

  “You little thief. You’ll be paying for stealing from me for years to come.”

  If this kind of pleasure was payment for her sin of plagiarism, she was all in. The man had swept off her feet the day she met him. Like a rug being pulled out beneath her, he had turned her life upside down.

  “I wish you could see the look on your face. You’re beautiful when you cum.”

  Her mouth was open as she gave in to the orgasm raging through her. Her husband had introduced her to kinky sex, and he knew her body like he knew his own.

  “You turn me on more every day. You’re my drug, Katrina—the one thing I can’t live without.” His body shook as he released his seed into her. He gently laid down on her and stroked her hair. She was the only woman he’d ever loved. Before he met her, he’d wondered if he was capable, or if a life of crime had made him so hard, he couldn’t feel anymore. She was his lifeline to remaining human.

  “Trouble in paradise?” Katrina turned her head and looked at her husband. His cold blue eyes looked-into her as if deciding that having her on his side was always a good thing.

  “There could be. I’m going to kidnap a man and convince him Glazov wants his property. It’s ironic, isn’t it?”

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “That we have to use violence to go legit.”

  She smiled, “Like you always tell me”—

  They both said it together—

  “we are born Bratva. We die Bratva.”

  “Are you taking back-up?” now his wife’s face was etched with concern.

  Novak’s phone rang before he could answer.

  “What’s up, cuz?”

  “You’re aren’t going to like what I’m getting ready to say. Before you argue with me, it’s non-negotiable. I’m sending you and Antonio Wayne to kidnap Hex Slivers. You’re both the best men for the job, and maybe it will help the two of you get over your issues.”

  “You sound like a fuckin’ therapist. How ‘bout I tell where you buried the dead bodies in the backyard? What’s this supposed to do, make Antonio Wayne and I kiss and make up?”

  “No bodies in the backyard. I don’t have a crematory for no reason—ashes to ashes and all that shit. I don’t care what the two of you working together does, just get it out of your system and honor the peace treaty we have. You’re both crazy—unify for the cause.”

  “I’m sure you and Ricardo came up with this brilliant idea. I’m rethinking this whole ‘big brothers in charge thing.’”

  “Of course, we did. Somebody has to be the big brother in charge.” Glazov wasn’t about to tell Novak the idea had been Kathleen’s. He laughed when Novak hung-up without saying goodbye. He knew Novak was pissed, but just like every other time Glazov had pissed-off his cousin, Novak would get over it.

  “Sonofabitch!” Novak growled. “Glazov’s making me work with Antonio.” He looked at his wife, “So in answer to your question, Yes, I’ll have back up, just not the back-up I want. Antonio’s brother Ricardo is as bad as Glazov.”

  Katrina brushed her fingers over his arm, an effort to soften the effect of having to work with Antonio. She was aware of men’s differences. She knew Glazov was attempting to avoid the men’s tempers resulting in a war. The Pakhan was sm
art, but she wasn’t about to tell Novak it was a genius way to force them to come to grips with their hatred of each other—probably one Kathleen came up with.

  “I know you don’t want to work with Antonio. I also know this will accomplish keeping Glazov out of the forefront of an abduction and or kidnapping.”

  Her comment did exactly what it was meant to do: de-escalate the situation.

  “You’re right. I can get through this. The most important thing is the Pakhan isn’t connected to crime, even though he’s the boss. I’ll do whatever needs to be done to ensure Glazov never does time in the penitentiary.”

  Novak knew Glazov going to prison would risk his life, too many people behind bars with vendettas. Novak had been making sure nobody killed his cousin all his life, and he had no intention of quitting now. It was imperative Glazov be kept in the shadows. When hits were put on people, Glazov gave the order, and Novak relayed it. If there were ever indictments, there would be no proof Glazov had killed anyone—at least that’s what Novak was attempting to insure.

  Any gangster knew you couldn’t control everything, but that didn’t mean you didn’t control all you could. Novak was one-hundred percent gangster, and he was all about control. He would do anything to keep Glazov safe, even if it meant working with an egotistical ass like Antonio Wayne Ramirez.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Abuela, he won’t stop until he gets you out of here. You need me to help you. There’s no way I’m leaving.”

  Luna could feel the heaviness in her heart like a brick weighing her down. Her grandmother had been there for her growing up. Her mom worked two jobs until she worked herself right into her grave. Though Luna had promised herself she’d be different, her grandmother was more important than her career. Luna had been a brain in school, especially when it came to the English and Spanish languages. She’d been editing and translating books for authors, and she was surprised she was able to make a living at it—enough to support her and her abuela.