Tempting the Badman (Russian Bratva #5)

by Hayley Faiman

  El Jefe’s face pales slightly and I know we’ve got him, at least hopefully. He jerks his chin to the side and down.

  “His name is Cuete in my phone,” he mumbles.

  Pasha reaches into his pocket and pulls out the phone while one of our men secures his hands behind his back. Pasha searches through the phone and finds the name, pressing send before he holds the phone up to El Jefe’s ear.

  “Cuete,” his voice rumbles as we all silently watch. “End it.”

  Pasha takes the phone, ends the call and slices the knife through his throat.

  “It’s done?” I ask.

  “Doubtful. I don’t think he would give up so easily,” Yakov murmurs.

  “Round up his second family,” Pasha announces.

  “Pasha—” Yakov begins.

  “She’s the daughter of one of his top men. Well, he was a top man,” Pasha grins, looking down at a man who is bleeding from the head. “She could be useful. We keep her until Inessa is out of danger.”

  Yakov nods and picks up his phone, making a call as he walks outside. Our cleanup crew has already begun, and Patrick O’Neil walks toward us to give Pasha a rundown of what’s transpired, but I don’t care to listen. My mind is spinning with the fact that Inessa is still probably not safe. I take my phone out of my pocket and call her.

  “Nik,” she breathes as soon as she answers.

  “You okay, yagodka?” I ask immediately.

  “Yeah, I’m okay. I was just lying down, taking a nap,” she murmurs. I hear the rustling of what must be the sheets.

  “I’ll be home later, yeah?”

  “Okay. I miss you,” she whispers. I can’t help the grin that twitches on my lips.

  “Me too, Nessa. Get some rest. Take care of my baby girl, hmm?”

  “I will. I always will, Nik,” she says.

  I hang up, unable to hide my grin just thinking about her sleeping peacefully, safely, and soundly as she nurtures my baby.

  “All good?” Yakov asks.

  I jerk my chin up and he nods.

  “We have a woman to interrogate,” he grunts.

  An hour later, we’re at our warehouse with three scared girls, all under the age of ten, and one terrified woman, who looks to be only about twenty-five—meaning that sick fuck had her at fourteen. My stomach turns at the thought, but I quickly shove it aside.

  “Your Papi’s dead; and if you don’t what something unsavory to happen to those three little beauties in the other room, you’re going to want to cooperate with us,” Pasha explains. The woman starts to shake.

  “I don’t know anything about Ernesto’s dealings,” she says.

  “You do. We know who your father is, and he’s dead, too. I want a hit cancelled. Ernesto called and told the man to end it, which I’m assuming does not mean to cancel the hit,” Pasha explains.

  “What will happen to my babies?” she asks.

  “You cooperate, and you and your babies get a free ride down to the homeland,” Pasha shrugs.

  “I’m not going to Mexico. I’ve never even been there before,” she snaps.

  “You can stay here, but just know you’ll forever be on my radar.”

  “At least I have friends here,” she mumbles.

  “If you give me the right information, that is,” Pasha says. Her shoulders sag.

  “End it is code for move up the kill,” she explains. My brows shoot up in surprise that she even knows this shit.

  “The Cartel is famous for talking to, and around, their women, thinking them too fucking stupid to know what they’re talking about,” Yakov explains.

  “How do I cancel the hit?” Pasha asks.

  “You don’t. There’s no cancelling fucking anything with them. You have to kill him,” she says.

  “How do I get him to show himself so I can do that?” I ask, interrupting them.

  “You have his phone still, send him a text. I don’t know,” she practically growls.

  Pasha pulls out El Jefe’s phone and texts Cuete. We all stand around and wait for a response. The phone pings a minute later. Pasha turns to me and grins.

  “We meet in twenty minutes,” he announces.

  “Can we go now?” the woman asks.

  “You can leave once this business is finished. Get comfortable,” Pasha says before turning to me.

  Pasha, Yakov, and I exit the warehouse, leaving four men standing guard over the woman and her children. We’re taking no chances. This hitman has to go down. This shit needs to be over.

  Oleg and Larisa Ivanov have fucked with my life for the last time. Once this night is over, they never existed—they’re dead and buried, and I never want to hear or think of either one of them again.

  I feel the bed dip, then warm lips press against my shoulder as a hand slides up my belly to my breast and then squeezes. My skin breaks out with goosebumps as I roll over and onto my other side to face him. He looks tired, the skin underneath his eyes dark, and his hair disheveled.

  “Are you okay?” I ask on a whisper.

  “I am now,” he murmurs before his lips brush against mine.

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that I’m okay because you’re safe, and you’ll remain safe,” he mutters.

  He slides his hand up my side, his fingers dipping below the waist of the little panties that barely cover me anymore. I need to give up the sexy nighties for the rest of my pregnancy. It’s pretty obvious that all I’m doing is stretching them out at this point.

  “It’s over?” I gasp.

  “It’s over, yagodka,” he growls, ripping the delicate lace into shreds as he pulls me on top of him.

  I throw back my head as he impales me with his cock. I hadn’t even realized he was naked. It burns slightly as he stretches me, filling me to so full that all I can do is moan. Dominik pulls the silk nightie up my body and tosses it somewhere in the dark room.

  “I need to feel you,” he grunts as his fingers curl around my hips, holding me still and his hips thrust inside of me.

  “Nik,” I whisper leaning back and placing my hands on his strong thighs.

  “Fuck, I thought I would lose you,” he growls as he fucks me.

  My body starts responding, becoming wetter and wetter with each thrust. It becomes more and more difficult to sit still, and I whimper in protest.

  “Play with your pretty clit, Inessa,” he grins.

  Without hesitation, I reach down and start to touch myself, moaning the second my finger makes contact with my clit. Together, we don’t speak as we climb higher and higher toward our climaxes.

  I know when he’s close. Not only can I feel his cock get even harder inside of me, but I watch as his jaw clenches tight and his eyes connect with mine. I speed up my movements so that I can fall over the edge with him.

  “Fuck, goddammit, Inessa, fucking shit,” he curses as he spills himself inside of me, his dick twitching as he continues to thrust up, a little gentler but still with purpose.

  “Oh, Nik,” I cry as I follow right behind him in my own release.

  I stay sitting upright, no longer able to drape my body over his. Dominik’s hands stay on my hips before moving up to cup my breasts. His thumbs gently glide over my nipples, and then they make their way up to my neck before he cups my cheeks.

  “I love you, Inessa,” he whispers.

  My whole body freezes and I stare down at him for a moment in complete and total shock.

  “I love you so much, Dominik,” I start to cry, blubbering like an idiot.

  He pulls me off of him and I roll to my side. Holding me close, he peppers my face with kisses before his mouth finds my lips and he kisses me. It’s long, hot, almost searing, and full of more emotion than I’ve ever felt from him before.

  “When I thought you would be taken from me, my breath felt like it left my body. I haven’t taken a full breath in three-weeks, Inessa. Not even when that threat of you being taken left, not until I walked into this room and saw you curled up in slee
p. Safe, healthy, and so fucking gorgeous. I love you, my Inessa, my temptress,” he whispers, his eyes focused completely on mine, sincerity and truth flowing through them.

  That wall of his is gone, and all I see is love—sweet, sweet love.

  I’m his temptress and he’s mine.

  My badman.

  Christmas Eve

  “ARE YOU READY, YAGODKA?” Dominik asks, stepping into the walk-in closet.

  We’re living at our new home now. Though, our furnishings are sparse at the moment. Dominik didn’t want to wait another day to be in our new home. Once the hitman situation was taken care of, he moved us in a few days later.

  “I just need to put my shoes on,” I say as I pull down a plastic shoebox from a shelf.

  I’m wearing a full-length, champagne colored, sequin gown with thick straps, but a deep v in both the front and back. It has gathers right beneath my breasts that open for my stomach beneath, making it very obvious that I’m pregnant. I feel so beautiful in it. My hair is down, with big soft curls cascading down my back.

  “Why do you insist on shoes so tall?” Dominik asks as I take my brand new heels out of the box.

  “They match my dress, and it’s a party. I can’t go in sandals,” I shrug.

  My shoes are to die for. They’re nude mesh uppers with embellishments of bronze and champagne colored crystals. The insoles are padded and, hopefully, that is enough not to make my feet ache the whole night.

  “You must stay on my arm all evening, Nessa,” he murmurs, walking up behind me and pressing his chest to my back.

  I melt against him as his hand cups my stomach and his lips touch my neck, his tongue sneaking out to taste me.

  “There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” I whisper shakily.

  “On my cock?” he asks on a chuckle. I roll my eyes.

  “Don’t be crude.”

  “You love it, and you know it,” he laughs. “I have an early Christmas gift for you,” he whispers as I turn around in his arms.

  “Dominik,” I gasp when he pulls open a velvet box.

  Nestled inside is a solitaire necklace. A large, pear shaped diamond sits perfectly, hanging by a rose gold chain that sparkles like none other that I’ve ever seen before. Its simplistic beauty is breathtaking.

  Tears shimmer in my eyes as he takes it from its case and lifts it to my neck, clasping it before he releases his hands.

  Immediately, I turn to the mirror that’s on the wall next to my shelf of shoes, and touch the large diamond. It rests perfectly against my chest, not too low to dangle in between my cleavage, and not too high on my throat.

  “It’s stunning,” I murmur, taking it in.

  “Merry Christmas, my beautiful wife. I love you,” he says.

  I quickly turn around and wrap my arms around his neck, pressing my lips to his.

  Dominik doesn’t say those words often, so every single time he murmurs them, whispers them, or simply states them, it feels like a gift in and of itself—one that I wholly cherish.

  “Shall we?” he asks, tipping his head to the side.

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  The car is waiting for us as we walk down our front steps. Dominik is having Stas drive us to the party and bring us home. Wrapped in my white fur stole for warmth, I feel like a princess going to a ball. The fancy party dress, the diamond necklace, plus my diamond wedding ring—it all feels like a dream. A beautiful dream.

  “Did you see the baby this morning?” Dominik asks as Stas takes off down the road.

  Ashley and Yakov had their baby last night, a beautiful, healthy baby boy named Yurik. He is so small and pink, with dark hair and blue eyes, and he is absolutely adorable in every way.

  “I did,” I admit on a sigh.

  “We’ll take a gift over tomorrow, wish the new family a Merry Christmas,” Dominik suggests. I nod.

  “He’s so sweet. Maybe he and our baby will get married?” I ask.

  “Fuck no,” Dominik grunts.

  “Why not?” I ask in confusion.

  “This baby will never get married.”

  “Dominik—.”

  “Nyet, Inessa. She’s never marrying. She’ll stay with us forever,” he rumbles.

  I fight as hard as I can not to laugh, but it’s fruitless. I burst out laughing only to earn Dominik’s glare.

  “Already your little princess,” I whisper.

  “Yes, mine. No man will ever touch her,” he grunts.

  “Okay, Nik,” I say with a grin.

  “I’m serious, Nessa,” he says, obviously agitated.

  I don’t get the chance to say anything in response as we pull up to Pasha’s home. A man opens the door for us, and Dominik helps me out of the car, keeping me close to his side as we walk toward the house. Another month, another party, another suitor for Oksana.

  Tonight, she’s meeting a man named Gavril. I don’t know much about him, but when I asked Ashley who he was, her body stiffened and she deflected the question and moved onto something else. I didn’t push her. Obviously, she knows him, or at least knows of him.

  “Look, there’s Maxim, Radimir, and Kirill,” Dominik murmurs as soon as we check our coats in the foyer of the house.

  We make our way toward our California friends and I’m met with smiles and hugs from the women, just as Dominik is met with handshakes from the men. It’s only been a month since we’ve seen each other, but the past month has felt like it lasted a complete year.

  “Who do you think she’ll choose?” Haleigh asks about an hour into the evening.

  Oksana is talking with Gavril, but she looks confused rather than enamored. Her eyebrows are furrowed and she’s biting her bottom lip. I watch as he wraps his hand around her elbow and tugs her closer to his body. She doesn’t jerk away from him, but she doesn’t fall into him either. It’s as though she’s not completely sure about what he’s saying, or about him in general.

  “I don’t know. I bet she surprises us all, though,” Tatyana grins, taking a sip from her glass.

  I look down at the little bundle in my arms and I swear my heart fucking squeezes. It’s ridiculous, but it does. Maybe falling in love made me soft in every aspect of my life; it sure feels that way as I look down at Yurik. Only on the second day of his life, he’s so pure, so beautiful, and so tiny.

  “Just wait. In a few months, you’ll be holding your own,” Yakov chuckles, standing next to me.

  He looks down at his son, and his face breaks out in a beaming smile. I frown slightly, wondering if I’ve ever seen him smile so big before. I haven’t—not even at his bride.

  “He’s so perfect,” Inessa whispers as she takes the baby from my grasp to hold him again.

  I let her, because watching her with the small blanketed bundle is one of the most beautiful sights I’ve ever seen. I thought she was lovely on our wedding day. I always think she’s sexy as sin when she’s in my bed; and as she grows with child, she becomes more stunning every single day. But holding a new baby—breathtaking in every way.

  “I think so, too,” Ashley whispers as she looks at us.

  There’s a noise from the other side of the door in the hall, and we all turn in that direction. Then there is shouting. Inessa stands and carries baby Yurik back over to Ashley, and I follow to stand by the women as Yakov opens the door.

  Standing in the hall, nose-to-nose, is Ziven, all the way from Denver, and his woman, Quinn. Though, judging by the way her hands are on her hips, and the way her gaze is narrowed on him, I’m not so sure she’s actually his woman.

  “What’s this?” Yakov asks in a low, deep, authoritative tone.

  Ziven jerks slightly and swivels his head to look at Yakov.

  “I came to see Ashley and the baby. Quinn is being difficult,” he grunts.

  “Come in the room; see the baby,” Yakov announces. “Leave the bullshit at the door,” he grunts.

  Ziven and Quinn walk inside, quietly. Quinn looks a little embarrassed, her cheeks tinted pink and her stance m
uch less aggressive than a few moments ago.

  I watch as Ziven makes his way toward Ashley and Yurik while Quinn walks over to the sofa and sits down. I wrap my arm around Inessa’s side and scoot us over so that Ziven can see Ashley and the baby.

  “You ready?” I murmur into Inessa’s ear. She nods, but her eyes are focused on Quinn, who is looking at her fingers, intertwined in her lap.

  We say our goodbyes and leave the happy and quarrelling couples. We have more to do today. Pasha invited us over for a Christmas dinner with just a small group, much like he did after the Thanksgiving party last month.

  It will be good to see our friends from California some more, and Inessa can chat with the women, something she enjoys, if last evening’s fits of giggles were any inclination.

  “What do you think their issues are?” Inessa asks as we drive toward Pasha’s home.

  “Who?”

  “Ziven and that cute Quinn girl?” she asks.

  “None of our business, that’s what,” I grunt. I catch her roll her eyes, but she doesn’t say anything else to me.

  When we pull into Pasha’s drive, I turn to her, placing one hand on her round belly, and the other along her jaw. She smiles at me and we lock eyes. My gorgeous wife, the reason I’m able to love, and the reason my heart beats inside of my chest.

  “I love you, yagodka. Merry Christmas,” I murmur.

  “Those words, they could be my gift for every single holiday for the rest of our lives. I don’t need anything else from you,” she whispers. It makes my heart beat a bit faster and harder in my chest.

  I press my lips to hers in a soft kiss as she slides her hands up my chest and around the back of my neck, pulling me closer to her.

  “I love you so much, Dominik,” she whispers against my lips.

  This strong woman—this stubborn, independent woman—she’s everything I didn’t know I needed and wanted in my life.

  Without her, I am nothing.

  Without her, I do not exist, I do not breathe, and I do not survive in this world.