Love and Devotion (Born Bratva Book 10)

by Suzanne Steele

  “See…you’re a smart-ass,” she returned.

  His reply was to send an emoji that was laughing so hard it was crying.

  Kathleen eyed Lada and shook her head, ‘yes.’ Their well thought out plan was going well, so far… Kathleen was smart enough to know to hope for the best and expect the worst.

  Lada tossed a shot of vodka back and slammed the shot glass back down on the bar. She looked at Chad and smiled, “Now we take party to bedroom.” She only had thirty minutes for the Rohypnol to kick in, and it would peak in two hours. Time was of the essence. She thrived on the rush she got doing Born Bratva work. Having to problem solve when unexpected things happened was exciting to the woman who was quick on her feet. These were the times she was seen for who she truly was: an intelligent, confident, independent, beautiful woman. It was when her sapiosexuality showed, and she wasn’t the sidepiece assholes like Chad perceived her to be.

  “Your wish is my command,” Chad leered in a creepy manner, and NOT the good kind of creepy, but the kind of creepy that would constitute sexual harassment in a business setting. If he knew Lada’s stomach lurched like she was going to puke every time he touched her, he’d be shocked, but he would never know because Chad couldn’t see past his own nose. It was the reason his marriage with Regina worked. Their ‘all about me’ attitudes were synced—two peas in a pod.

  “Let’s go. I already call Uber,” Lada said. She grabbed his arm and half-dragged him out to where Novak was parked, staging as an Uber. The rest of them were right behind her except Roksana, who was busy tipping the bartender a Benjamin. She vaguely heard him say, “Wow! Thanks, man.” Roksana rushed towards the door and winked at Oleg, who had come out of the shadows after the women exited the bar.

  The Born Bratva brigade had access to more vehicles than a car rental place. Novak had chosen a decked-out van, complete with bulletproof windows. Legally the front window tinting had to allow thirty-five percent of lighting in, thus the bulletproofing. When he was certain all the women had packed in the vehicle, he texted Oleg. Oleg would meet them at the condo, and then Oleg’s job would be done. He would see his wife Roksana at home when the women secured scandalous photos.

  Clueless Chad chattered off the address of Lada’s condo to the Uber driver. When he saw the tattoo on the neck of the man that peeked out from beneath the shirt he was wearing, a jolt of fear pierced him. The cold blue eyes of the driver looked dead—like nothing lived there. Chad was grateful for the ecstasy that was kicking in. Never mind the fact it was Rohypnol Lada had given him because he was living up to the nickname Lada had given him: clueless Chad. The man was smart-as-a-whip when it came to business, but he lacked street sense.

  Novak turned back around and pulled the van out into traffic before the fear set-in. Tonight’s job didn’t warrant fear. He glanced back and forth from road to mirrors to ensure they weren’t being followed. He could feel his gut twisting. The only thing Novak feared right now was Chad touching one of the Born Bratva women in an inappropriate way. Then he’d have to fuckin’ kill the guy, or Glazov would kill him. Talk about walking a tightrope. Thank God the married women had enough foresight to know to sit in the third row of the van. It was Chad and Lada who was all up on him in the second row. Novak knew in her own way Lada was protecting the women from potential fall-out. She would ensure only Chad would suffer the fallout that came from scandal. Novak’s eyes homed in on the rearview mirror like the red dot of a pistol sighting a target when he heard what was going on in the second row of the van.

  “Get the fuck off me,” Lada pushed Chad’s dead weight and drooling mouth away from her—knocking him into the side door of the vehicle. Her eyes darted up to meet Novak’s, “What!? He’s disgusting. He got slobber all over me. He’s out cold. Now, how-the-fuck are we going to get him up to my Condo?”

  “Oleg and Novak can carry him up the fire escape. We already planned for this.” Roksana said.

  Kathleen screeched in disbelief, “What do you mean, Oleg? He’s going to give details to Glazov.

  Roksana shrugged, “Papa’s the one who gave you and Novak the job. Use that against him.”

  “Don’t pull me into that shitshow,” Novak growled.

  Kathleen jabbed her daughter with one of her manicured nails, “No. You tell your husband not to be a snitch.”

  “What’s he going to snitch about, Mother? You didn’t do anything.”

  “I don’t have to do anything for Glazov to go into crazy mode. It comes natural to him.”

  “He’ll be fine,” Roksana flipped a hand through the air as if it was no big deal. “Is everybody in the van in agreement to having my mother’s back?” Roksana said, “All in agreement to not throwing my mother under the bus, raise your hand.” Every hand in the van but Chad’s rose. Roksana stared at her mother, “See, I told you, it’ll be fine. Papa’s outnumbered.”

  “Like that’s going to save my hide,” Kathleen murmured under her breath. She sighed deeply and tried to push the thoughts from her head. She couldn’t afford to fuck up a job worrying about the what-ifs. Right now, the important thing was everyone in the van had a job to do and carrying it off correctly ensured nobody went to jail tonight. There would be plenty of time later to deal with her crazy husband. She shuddered at the thought.

  Chapter Forty

  Novak and Oleg sent the women up to Lada’s condo to unlock the window. They both knew the women would be snickering so loud it would draw attention. The girls loved nothing more than busting Bratva balls. Now wasn’t the time for a snark-fest. It was business time.

  The women tee-heed their way up the stairs instead of using the elevator and taking a chance on being seen. The nightguard was too busy drooling to think any criminal activity was going on.

  After they were sure no one could hear them, and they’d entered the condo, Roksana was the first to speak.

  “We’re still missing one woman, Lada. Remember, we have to make it look like a threesome?”

  “She on way now. Novak talk to Antonio. Antonio talk to dancer. Dancer text me; tell me she on way.”

  Lada unlocked the window and rushed back towards the door when she heard the soft knock of the last person who needed to arrive. Lada looked through the peephole to ensure it was the dancer from Antonio’s club.

  The woman eased into the doorway quickly, and Lada shut and locked it behind her. Salome stuck her hand out towards Lada, “I’m Salome.”

  Lada noticed her handshake was firm. There was no sweaty, insecurity to it like some women she’d met had. “There is bathroom if you need get dressed.”

  Salome leaned in like she was sharing a secret, “I’m already dressed for the occasion under this trench coat I’m wearing.”

  “Let me see,” Lada asked, her curiosity getting the best of her.

  Salome looked her dead in the eye and eased the belt open like she was slowly and tantalizingly opening a gift.

  Lada was greeted to a Bordelle Botanica long line soft cup bra with a v-cut high waist brief with a black garter belt and matching sheer black thigh highs complete with a sexy seam up the back. Her heels were five-inch black patent leather So Kate Louis Vuitton’s. Lada was dumbstruck—the normal reaction Salome usually received.

  “No wonder they say Colombian women most beautiful in whole-wide-world.”

  Salome chuckled, “And Russian beauties are so damn sexy,” Salome ran a finger over Lada’s cheek. “Are you ready to get to work, my love?”

  All heads turned towards a body being eased onto the floor when Novak and Oleg managed getting through the window with Carl’s dead weight. Both men took a minute to lean over and place their palms on their thighs to get their breath.

  Novak looked up at Oleg and shook his head, “That was no easy feat.”

  “You ain’t fuckin’ kidding. It’s a good thing we work out, or we’d be as out of it as that guy,” Oleg nodded at Chad’s body crumbled on the floor.

  Roxanne pranced over and stood over the lifeless form,
“Is he dead?”

  “He no dead. He drugged.” Lada smirked. “If he get dead, we burn body and forget it.”

  Roxanne looked at her and chuckled, “No. We need him alive, so he suffers.”

  “Dis true,” Lada shrugged. She looked at the men, “Put him on bed, and we get to work.” Lada and Salome would position their bodies in each pose so their faces were never showing, and Chad’s unconsciousness was never noted by the gossip hounds who would be on his trail soon.

  Everyone’s phones would be blowing up, providing the truth of who Chad really was. Since a picture was worth a thousand words, Chad’s story would have the community flipping through pages with fire-filled fingertips. Talk about bestsellers. The blogs and websites would be lit-up like the fourth of July tomorrow morning. Novak had already seen to that when he called the undercover reporter who worked for Born Bratva, not to mention his wife, who also worked for and with the media. The atmosphere thrummed with scandalous excitement. No wonder people got hooked on being criminals—crime paid. It paid in power, money, and sometimes both.

  Chapter Forty-One

  Glazov was pounding his wife Kathleen doggy style like he believed it would fuck some sense into her. In all fairness, he couldn’t bitch about her going to a club when he’d okayed her and Novak doing the job. The tightrope of fairness and jealousy was a difficult one to navigate. He’d still interrogate her ass, though. Right now, he was having fun watching his cock go in and out of her. He was fascinated by the sheen of moisture she left on it. He liked the way she was clawing at the cream-colored satin sheets. Her lower body was plastered down onto the sheets like she’d melted into them, and they were no longer separate entities.

  “I like the way you’re groaning like you’re worn out. You didn’t actually have the gall to think I’d let you sleep off your drunk, did you?”

  She didn’t have the energy to answer the rhetorical question.

  “This is what happens when you dress incognito and go out and shake your ass for the world to see.”

  She jumped when his palm connected with one of her ass cheeks. It wasn’t from the sting of pain; it was the sound that startled her. She could feel his hand gently rubbing over the heat his handprint left—a delicious mixture of sweet and sour, pain and pleasure. Her husband was the perfect blend of a recipe only he knew. With each time being different, he was a connoisseur of knowing what things blended well together, so he got the effect he desired. It always worked to both of their benefit. They were two uniting as one in all things, including the bedroom and the boardroom.

  “You are so fucking-beautiful. I’ll always protect you from the vultures of the world who would seek to devour you. I’ll always be the only one doing the devouring. You are mine. You’ve burrowed deep into my soul, and I can’t let you go. It would kill me. I’ve known pain, but not having you would gut me. I can never allow that to happen. You are the only person capable of bringing the Born Bratva kingdom down, and I can’t allow that. I love you, but you would do well to always remember I’m watching—always watching my Ptichka.”

  His words turned her on. Not because of what he was saying but because of the truth in them. Knowing her man would kill for her was an aphrodisiac. Knowing he loved her on that level made her feel special. She knew she was special in his eyes because, throughout decades, he’d shown her. That was where the proverbial buck stopped.

  When he reached around and slathered his finger through her juices, she exploded as if the button of a detonator had been pressed on a bomb. She could feel his throbbing cock emptying his seed into her. Knowing he saved that sacred part of himself for only her was immortalizing. The love they shared would go down in the history of the next Born Bratva generation.

  “I hate pulling out of you,” he growled. He wanted to stay where his peace was. When he was connected to his wife, there were no worries, no bloody brawls, now wars to fight. He eased up onto the bed and spooned her body in closely. He could hear the rhythmic sound of her sleeping in a matter of moments. This was where he belonged. If he could climb inside of the woman he loved, and they could live in peace together, he would. But there was work to do. A kingdom to maintain. His family’s safety to ensure. He smiled when he thought about what his cousin Novak always said: we are born Bratva, we die Bratva. It was the life he’d been born into, and he had no regrets or misgivings. He pulled his wife in closer and listened to her breathe. He placed a hand under her left breast to feel her heartbeat. It was then he realized their hearts were beating in time to each other—two hearts beating as one. The world was theirs, and Glazov had no intention of ever letting anyone wrench it from their hands. He felt the same way he felt the day he saw her—he killed to get her, and he’d kill to keep her.

  Chapter Forty-Two

  “Quit getting ready and sit the fuck down, Kathleen.”

  She sat on the edge of the bed, close enough to pay attention and far enough away to keep from getting grabbed.

  “Yeah, you want to take off running into the bathroom and lock the door, but you know no matter how fast you move, I’m faster, I’ll break that fucker down,” Glazov sneered. “Did you have fun last night?”

  “Look, I’m going to cut to the chase on this little conversation—you’re a brass-tack kind of guy, so let’s just address the elephant in the room. Nobody touched me in an inappropriate way.”

  “Little conversation?! I’d say you passed little when you snuck into a bar incognito. By the way, on the ‘touching thing,’ it was very kind of you to ensure nobody dies today. I’m certain your admirers appreciate that.”

  Kathleen laughed out loud, “That’s funny, Glazov. Lada was the commander of the room, not me.” Sure, guys had been checking her out, but he didn’t need to know that. Why poke the bear? There was being discreet, and then there was being plain stupid. What he didn’t know…oh hell, who was she kidding?

  “Don’t insult my intelligence. I’ve seen the pics, already.”

  “If you’ve seen pics, then you know all I did was drink.”

  “Knowledge is power. I’d say nobody getting killed is a sort of power.” He looked directly at her, daring her to argue with him.

  “Don’t you have some Distinguished Gentlemen’s meeting to go to or something?”

  “Hmph, that’s cute. Your ability to be facetious never ceases to amaze me. Come to think of it; I do have a meeting to go to. One where I’m going to collect everyone’s phones and watch the festivities for myself. I get to go on your little adventure and never leave the farm.”

  “We don’t live on a farm, Glazov,” she sighed.

  “Maybe I got one, so I can chain you in the cellar.”

  “Why am I not surprised,” she rolled her eyes.

  “Finish getting ready so you girls can go get your stories straight. I’m looking forward to seeing all of you ease down in chairs from the spankings you all got.”

  Kathleen stood up and pranced away, making sure to add just the right amount of swish and sway to act like he didn’t scare her. No sense in giving him more power—he was already taking over the world.

  She walked into her dressing room and finished the final touches. Glazov was right: they both had meetings to go to.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Glazov entered the room where it had all started. The men were meeting on Antonio Wayne’s turf. Befitting we finish business where it started. He’d waited to arrive—strategically on time but still making an entrance. He unbuttoned his bespoke suit coat. Each man in the room was packing heat, so it wasn’t done as a show of domination. These were the meetings that were a minefield. An intricate dance to avoid hidden IEDs that came in the form of egos, issues, and tempers.

  After he was seated, he took a moment to look at each man in the room before he spoke. When he was certain he’d gotten a feel for the gathering, he spoke.

  “We’ve been successful in assuring we have the properties we want. We’ve made new friendships,” Glazov looked at Black Rose to let him
know he was referring to him. When Black Rose nodded solemnly, agreeing that yes, new alliances had been formed, Glazov continued.

  “Hugh, you were more of an asset than I previously believed you would be. We welcome you to the peace treaty we’ve formed. I’m certain there will be more work for you in-the-near-future.”

  Hugh’s expression was unreadable. It was taking all the determination he had not to be scared shitless of these crazy fucks who were gathered here. He was used to working alone, not having to worry about somebody going bat-shit crazy because the job wasn’t to their specifications. He would adjust because he had to. His life had changed quickly in more ways than one.

  Glazov smiled, “Carmen Aurora Mendoza,”—her name rolled off his tongue with a perfect Latin accent even though he was Russian. He was a man who understood accent in language was as important as the words being correct—"your presence ensured peace. You are an intelligent and gracious woman who is an asset to our business.” He looked at her husband, seated next to her. “Escondido, I say that with great respect. You’re a lucky man to have her on your side.”

  Escondido sat stoically, letting Glazov’s words marinate. “As are you, dear friend.”

  Glazov knew he was referring to Kathleen. “Nothing could be truer, Escondido. Our women are an intricate part of our business. We are blessed to have the wives God has given us. He watched as Escondido crossed himself in reverence to the almighty.

  “Novak, my brother. You never cease to amaze me. The work you did with the women and Oleg impresses me. I can’t imagine the brigade without you. To do so hurts my heart.” Glazov thumped his huge hand against his chest. It was true he needed Novak, and he wasn’t too proud to admit it in front of their colleagues. It was a badge of honor Novak wore well.

  “Last but never least, Ricardo and Antonio Wayne. Working with the two of you was exciting as usual.”