Love and Devotion (Born Bratva Book 10)

by Suzanne Steele

  Meredith was all for helping her bestie, but this neighborhood was scarier than she’d realized when Regina asked her to accompany her. She chewed on her bottom lip and thought about how to say something to that effect.

  “Um, is that blood on the wall?”

  “I have no idea,” Regina sniped rudely. “I do know we should have brought latex gloves. I could be putting my life in danger, touching this door.” Regina perked up, “Knock on the door. I’ll do the talking.” Better for Meredith to get hepatitis than her. Regina scrunched her nose at the pile of dirty needles and food wrappers in the corner of the hallway. “Daddy tried to better these people and look at what it got him. Now he’s missing and one of these dirty ungrateful people could be holding him hostage.”

  Meredith obediently rapped on the door. She jumped back behind Regina, who didn’t notice the poor girl was trying to use her as a shield. They were greeted by a man with a potbelly and a beer. The wife-beater he wore was stained with what looked like spaghetti sauce. The tin can the girl’s spotted with the lid lifted enough to get to the cold concoction had ragged edges that looked like it could be used as a weapon. Along with the cold can of spaghetti, the coffee table was strewn with envelopes that had been stamped ‘final notice.’ A longhaired matted orange cat was weaving in and out of the man’s legs purring, a clear form of communication he wanted to be petted.

  “My name’s Regina Slivers and—”

  “You any kin to that piece-of-shit-slumlord who runs this place?”

  “Excuse me?!”

  “You heard me, lady.”

  “I’m his daughter.”

  “Well, la-di-fucking-da lady.”

  If the man could have seen behind the gaudy sunglasses, he would know Regina’s eyes looked like they were bulging out of her head, and for the first time in her life, she was speechless. It was a relief when he slammed the door in her face. Regina turned and looked at Meredith. “Well, I’ll be. The gall of that man.”

  “Yeah, I got gall and balls, and you can suck ‘em both,” the man shouted through the thin panel door.

  The women could hear him laughing at his own joke.

  “Maybe we should go to a different floor.” Meredith offered in an attempt to quieten her rude friend—she was a peacemaker by nature, but Regina always had to push the envelope, and Meredith was beginning to question their so-called friendship—A friendship that always seemed to benefit Regina but never Meredith.

  “I’m not going up those stairs. It’ll be harder to run if we have to get away from one of these criminals.”

  “We’re not all criminals, lady.”

  Both women jerked their heads around to see an elderly African American woman. She was dressed in a comfortable housedress, and the sparkle in her eyes showed the wisdom of a woman who had seen a lot in her days.

  Meredith rushed over to her door, “I’m so sorry for my friend. Her father’s missing, and it’s stressing her out.” Just like Meredith to see the good in people. “She isn’t normally a rude person.”

  Regina’s lip was snarled, and she was looking at Meredith like she couldn’t believe she was siding with the senior citizen.

  The tenant looked Meredith up and down to get a ‘read’ on her. When she was convinced Meredith wasn’t as nasty as the other woman, she spoke.

  “I’ll talk to you, but I ain’t talking to her,” she jerked her head in Regina’s direction.

  “And why is that?” Regina asked haughtily.

  “Cause you’re rude—uppity too.” Lucinda wasn’t one to suffer fools, and she made no bones about it.

  Regina huffed and stepped away from Meredith and the woman she was talking to.

  Meredith looked at the woman with pleading eyes, “Mr. Slivers is missing, and we’re worried he could be hurt somewhere. He was supposed to be meeting his daughter in Indiana, and he never showed up.”

  “He was here the other day. Jumped all over my friend Isabella ‘cause her granddaughter was visiting. Don’t make no damn sense.” She took a second to give Regina a dirty look. “They say the apple don’t fall far and looks to me like she just like her no-account daddy.”

  Regina huffed and crossed her arms, “I’ll be in my car waiting. I refuse to be subjected to this.” She skittered away like the glossed-over vermin she was.

  “You go on and do that,” the woman sneered.

  “I’ll be there in a minute,” Meredith said with frustration in her voice for the first time. She was embarrassed Regina had been so rude.

  Neither woman’s eyes followed Regina because, at this point, they didn’t care where she went as long as it was away from them and the conversation they were having.

  Meredith touched the elderly woman’s forearm. “I am so sorry. She’s normally brusque but not flat out rude.”

  “Take an old woman’s advice and find a new friend, ‘cause that one ain’t good enough for a girl with a heart as pure as yours.”

  Meredith dug in her pocket and handed the woman a card. “Please call me if you see Mr. Slivers.”

  Now it was the tenant touching Meredith’s arm. “You come back and visit anytime you like.”

  “I may just do that.” The sincere smile on Meredith’s face showed she would be back, and this wasn’t just a one-time meeting.

  “Name’s Lucinda, and you are welcome here anytime. Please don’t bring that other woman with you, though. There’s a dark cloud that surrounds that one, and I want nothing to do with it. That one there,”—she nodded in the direction Regina had walked— “is evil. There’s a darkness in her you can’t see with the naked eye. You watch yourself, hear?”

  Meredith chuckled, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  Lucinda watched the sweet little white girl walk away as she wondered if someone had finally stood up to Hex Slivers, and he was indeed in trouble. It wouldn’t surprise her a bit if that were the case. She threw up a little prayer for the man she couldn’t stand because that’s just the kind of woman she was. She wouldn’t wish evil on her worst enemy, but she wouldn’t stand in its path, either. Lucinda shook her head and shuffled deeper into the bowels of her apartment.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  “I have to work, Regina. How else are you going to have the money to supply your shopping addiction?”

  “And just what is that supposed to mean?”

  Chad’s deadpan look gave away what he was thinking but damned if Regina would have enough insight to notice. If it wasn’t about her, she didn’t notice or much less care what her husband was feeling. Chad looked at the expensive pajama set she was wearing and wondered how she’d managed to spend a couple of hundred bucks to look like such a frigid bitch.

  “Take those pajamas you’re wearing, for instance. What did that cost me? Two-hundred dollars?”

  “They cost three-hundred if you must know. I work hard around here. I deserve to buy anything I want.” She pointed her finger at him, “Half of everything you have is mine, and don’t you ever forget it!”

  “How could I?! You remind me on a daily basis.”

  Regina purposely softened her expression and sat down on the edge of the bed. Being a bitch wasn’t getting her what she wanted, so she’d try being nicer. If that didn’t work, then there was always tears.

  “I just don’t understand why you have to sleep at your condo downtown.” Chad was smart enough to rent his own condo and never spend the night with Lada, but his condo was in the same building. He thought Lada didn’t know it, but Lada knew everything—she might need it for ammunition in the future.

  “It’s a business meeting, and we’re going to be drinking.”

  “You could take an Uber.”

  “As if.” He rolled his eyes. Chad had the same warped attitude his wife did: that he was above anyone who didn’t have an Ivey League education and make seven figures a year. It never crossed either’s mind the truth of the quote: “the higher you rise, the harder you fall.”

  “Well, I think it only fair that if yo
u can go party with your friends, I can spend as much money as I want.” Regina was going to get her way one way or another.

  “Whatever, Regina. It isn’t like you care about what I want anyway. I’ve got to go.” He grabbed his suit coat and headed for the door—an escape from the wife he hated and loved in his own weird way. He stopped in the foyer and yelled over his shoulder, “It’s called networking.” Yeah, right, if hooking up with his Mistress was considered networking. Chad had lived a double life for so long he’d begun to believe the lies. What he didn’t realize was Regina knew he had a kept woman. She just didn’t care. So long as she got whatever she wanted, it was fine. It was just more ammunition in her arsenal. Regina had grown up watching her mother walk the tightrope of high society. Regina had learned from the best. She wasn’t in it for love; she was in it for image and money. Let Chad go fuck his whore; it would keep her from being touched by him. She’d leave the touching to her trainer—the biggest man whore in the city. Maybe she’d just find a boy toy to pay. She was getting tired of that brawn with no brain trainer, anyway. Fuck Chad, fuck the trainer, fuck everybody—except her, of course.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  The Glazov women stopped in the hipster bar's doorway and let their eyes adjust to the spinning mirror balls and flashing lights. Dancers gyrated on platforms that appeared to be floating in mid-air high above the dance floor.

  Roksana watched Lada as she ran over, squealing in delight. “I so glad to see you. So good to be around like-minded women. I homesick for the Motherland. Sometimes make me cry.” Lada touched her heart for emphasis. She was the type who felt everything deeply, and it added to her sexiness like every other attribute she had. Men wanted her, and women wanted to be her. If you were fortunate enough to be friends with her, she was ride-or-die, loyal to a fault. Roksana not only liked her, she trusted her. Lada had the primary trait every Born Bratva member possessed: loyalty. Her matter-of-fact unfiltered personality was icing on the cake that always ensured a good time and lots of laughs. If you were on her good side, then all was well. If you were on her bad side, it was time to leave town, change your identity, and hope like hell she wasn’t mad enough to use Bratva’s geek squad to get Intel on you. Because she was Roksana’s friend, she had access to all things Born Bratva.

  Roksana felt an unusual tug of sympathy for the girl. She’d grown up watching bodyguards, employees, and hitmen grieve the loss of their homeland. It was one of the reasons Glazov operated the brigade as a family. Sure, there was an inner circle, but he remembered how culture-shock felt, and he took consideration of that when dealing with his people.

  “Lada, you know you can call me to get together.”

  “You called me, and now we get together, so all is good.”

  Roksana laughed. Lada had a way of wording things that put a new twist on it.

  “Come, I introduce you to Chad. We dance, drink, have fun, and then we fuck his world up. Is good, no?” Lada looked at Roksana, expecting an answer.

  “Well, I guess that’s one way to word it,” Roksana laughed. “This is Kathleen, my Mother. I think you met her a while back.”

  “Yes, I remember. Mother was beautiful then—mother still beautiful now—even more beautiful.”

  “And this is Katrina. I call her my aunt.”

  “Beautiful mother, beautiful aunt, and beautiful Roksana. We have Chad by ring in nose. Life is very good, no?”

  Roksana shook her head and laughed again. There was never a dull moment with Lada. The women followed Lada through the crowd of people and the roving eyes. There would be no hook-ups tonight. Only set-ups.

  Chad licked his lips when he viewed the three hotties accompanying Lada. Maybe he could talk her into a fivesome. Boy, wouldn’t that ever be a fantasy come true? He’d be the cat’s meow if he could pull that off. Good thing he brought his Viagra. After tonight he’d be a man’s man. It would be his secret, but the confidence boost would be evident to all. A super-hero in the sack. What more could any man ask for? His wife, who had made a profession out of being unhappy, was the last thing on his mind. Deep calls to deep and darkness to darkness. Something about these women touched his primal nature causing his guard to go down, which was exactly what the women intended.

  Kathleen was sickened by the way the mark was leering at them. They would tamp down the disgust and release it when they got him up to the room. Passive-aggressive worked for her. She made a quick scan around the place to ensure no Bratva bodyguards had followed them. The women had been discreet about sneaking out to the club incognito. They’d deal with the fallout later. If he put one finger on her, her daughter, or her best friend, she’d beat the ever-loving shit out of him.

  Roksana clamped her hand down on Chad’s chin so hard it sent a shiver of pain straight to his cock, “Look at me, bitch boy. I don’t like the way you’re looking at my mother and my aunt. You lay one fucking finger on any of us, and I’ll beat your ass and fuck your car up with a baseball bat. You hear me, you little wimp?”

  “Never one to mince words,” Kathleen said to Katrina.

  Chad looked at Roksana with star-struck eyes. “You’re beautiful.”

  Roksana debated smacking him across the face, but she figured it would make him come, and if he did that, she would go to jail tonight. “Fuck off, dipshit!”

  She turned toward the bartender, who was standing behind the bar laughing. “Vodka-shots, make it Ciroc and keep ‘em coming. I’m in the mood for vodka that’s distilled from grapes, not potatoes.”

  “Will do,” he poured the shots with the expertise of a man who knew what he was doing and then slid them in front of Roksana. “Put it on the pussy-whipped guy’s tab over there.” She nodded in Chad’s direction. The bartender looked at Chad for confirmation.

  Chad could feel Roksana’s eyes stabbing through his defenses. He was in love—again. He met her death-stare for a second and nodded yes to the bartender while his eyes stayed on her. He knew he was playing with fire—hell, napalm in this case, but he was smitten. He smiled when Roksana leaned in and shoved a diamond in his face that probably cost more than he made in a year. He would have to love the beautifully bitchy woman from afar.

  “You lust after woman you no can have. Husband crazy Russian psycho,” Lada taunted him.

  Chad’s cock jumped. Forbidden fruit was truly sweeter. Oh, heart be still. I’m in love with a mean Russian woman who has a crazy husband. He was a rat sniffing around a cheese-filled trap, and it was alluring.

  Lada wasn’t jealous, you had to give-a-shit to be jealous, and she didn’t. His bank account was all that mattered, and she had enough Intel on him to make him pay or take him down if he didn’t cooperate. Anyway, after tonight his precious little image would be ruined. He would no longer be a powerhouse in the community because all the perfect people who lived in all their perfect little boxes would no longer accept him. They would betray him as if they never knew him because they couldn’t be associated with infamy. No self-respecting snob was going down with the Chad ship.

  “Voo-hoo, tonight we drink, we party, then we fuck like rabbits.” Lada tossed back the shot and looked at Roksana and winked. She turned around and started dance-grinding her ass against Chad’s cock.

  Roksana leaned in and spoke loud enough to be heard over the thump of the bass, but soft enough to only be heard by Lada, “Don’t make him come, it’ll throw a kink in our plan.”

  “Don’t worry. He need little blue pill for little wee-wee to get hard.”

  “He didn’t need it when he was trying to chat me up.”

  “That’s because you are mean Russian woman—he have sexual preference to Domme woman. You know, Mistress dressed in black who force him to pay with whip and spike boots. I make him lick my boots. He give me anything I want. I rich because he kinky.”

  Roksana cocked her head to the side and studied her friend, “Aren’t you worried our scam will affect your money?”

  “No. I have plenty information to blackmail. Insu
rance.”

  Chad was too busy watching Lada’s ass to worry about girl-talk she was making with her friend. That, and the fact they were speaking Russian, kept him out-of-the-loop. He was too busy getting turned on by it. Chad was breaking the cardinal rule when dealing with intelligent women: he was thinking with his cock instead of his brain.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Roksana eyed the lean muscled, tattooed, blond-haired man she’d be fucking later tonight—he was her husband, and they were working together. She hadn’t told her mother Oleg was helping them with the job. All that would do is stir shit up. It would feed Kathleen’s fear of Glazov, and Kathleen wouldn’t be on top of her game as a result. Her dad would know about his wife going to a bar without him soon enough. That should make for an interesting playtime in the infamous dungeon. Roksana smiled at the thought. She wanted to get away from the women so she could talk to Oleg, but if she said she was going to the bathroom all the women would go with her. Women going to the bathroom meant freshening up, girl talk and hilariously laughing at each other’s snark. The simple act of going to the bathroom would turn into a social event.

  Lada fingered the light green pills with blue cores she had in her clutch. Just like she knew he would, Chad leaned over and peeked. “Do you have party favors? That last time we did ecstasy together, I felt so close to you.”

  “Be good boy and open mouth.” Lada slid the two pills that would make the mission successful onto Chad’s tongue he had sticking out like a happy puppy wanting attention.

  “That’s two,” Chad said.

  “One good, two better.”

  Kathleen had been waiting for the moment Lada made her move. It was go time. She turned around so she couldn’t be seen texting Novak. She wanted to confirm he was in position.

  Novak’s return text was a snarky, “Was I supposed to meet you somewhere?”

  “Fuck you, smart-ass,” she answered.

  “Can’t do that. Glazov will cut off my dick, but I’m flattered, so I’ll let you down easy.”