I sit down on the edge of the bed and give her a sympathetic look.
“Do you have everything you need, dear?”
“Mrs. Glazov, you have been so kind. I have need of nothing.”
I look up and see Nikita rushing into the room with a stern look on his face.
“She’s fine, Mother.”
I force a smile and turn in his direction, making certain to keep the edge from my voice despite the fact that the little shit is forgetting I am his mother.
“There are some things a woman doesn’t like to discuss with a man, dear. You know… personal female things?”
That seems to relax him a little, but I note that he still moves closer to her, and his tone is defensive. It’s like he knows he overreacted, but he just doesn’t care.
“She’s fine. She has everything she needs.”
Sofia nods her head and smiles, clueless to the rising tension between my son and me.
“I’m sure she does.”
I chuckle, trying to lighten the mood as I rise from the bed. Walking toward the office door, I look over my shoulder and cut my eyes at my son while crooking my finger at him. He immediately follows me, and I smile as I direct my next statement to Sofia.
“Let me know if you need anything, dear.”
I’ve already gone into the office and shut the door, so I barely hear her when she answers, “Yes, ma’am.”
“Son? Have you lost your mind?!”
I don’t give him time to answer before I continue.
“If Natasha comes into this house and sees that girl fawning all over you, she’ll kill her.”
The smirk on his face and the chuckle that escapes his mouth, make him not only look like his father, but portray the same smart-ass attitude as well.
“Maybe a little jealousy will motivate my childhood love. She needs to stop worrying about pleasing Dad so much and start worrying more about pleasing me.”
I jab my finger into his chest, having to crane my neck to look up at the man looming over me.
“You listen to me and you listen good, boy. You are playing on dangerous ground, fucking around with Natasha’s emotions. I want that girl out of here before Natasha wipes the floor with her face.”
“No, Natasha needs to get with the program.”
“I swear, you are your father’s son. I’ll deal with it myself.”
The last thing I hear as I storm out of the room, is my son’s laughter. These two are playing a very dangerous game, and I am putting a stop to it before it gets so far out of control that someone gets hurt or, worse yet, killed.
Chapter Twenty Four
Glazov
I walk into the prison, going through what looks like standard procedure to anyone who doesn’t know the inner workings of paying off guards. I’ve set up a meeting in a small, private room where, for the right price, the surveillance cameras will be forgotten to be monitored or, perhaps, even turned off.
I eye the man sitting across from me. His name is Fyodor Stanislavski Sergeyevich, but we call him Ivan the Terrible; it suits him. The man is close to seven feet tall and weighs well over 350 pounds, none of it being fat. When he walks, the walls vibrate, or at least, if he is headed in your direction, you feel like they are.
I brush my suit off and eye my surroundings with contempt. I do everything I can to avoid prisons or jails.
“Just fucking kill me if I am ever incarcerated,” I say under my breath.
“Yeah, boss. Sure, boss.”
“Lay a fucking hand on me, and I’ll cut your throat myself, Ivan.”
“Yeah, boss. Sure, boss.”
I just shake my head. Ivan isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but he can damn sure get a hit done inside the joint or out. The guy’s loyalty knows no bounds when it comes to Bratva; it’s all he’s ever experienced. His father and his father’s father before him were Kryshas, and they were two of the best enforcers we’ve ever had. Ivan is a Torpedo, a contract killer, and he has been trained to kill from birth. He succeeded in his first job by the age of fifteen when he killed a man that had been threatening his father. He just walked right up to the guy on the street and shot him between the eyes. He’s been killing ever since. The Bratva life is all he has ever known. It is all he will ever identify with.
“Ivan, how are our little gangbanging friends doing?”
“Fighting, boss, just like you said they would.”
“Okay, Ivan. We’re going to do things a little differently this time. I want you to start spreading some rumors, nasty little things like someone in their organization has been selling info. You know, destructive little rumors like one of them is working with the FBI.”
“Sure, boss. I was kinda hopin’ I was gonna get to kill somebody though.”
“Ivan… I want you to do as I tell you.”
I take a moment to look directly into his eyes, ensuring he understands the gravity of what I’m telling him to do, or in this case, what I’m telling him not to do. I don’t want Ivan choking the shit out of someone for entertainment; it could ruin my plan.
“Boss, I’d never take it on myself to kill someone without orders from you.”
I decide to change the subject. Ivan is a lot like a kid in that it’s very easy to divert his attention.
“Your family is doing very well, Ivan. We’re making sure they have everything they need while you’re on the inside.”
Ivan’s face beams with joy. Though his wife is just a plain housewife who looks the part, still set in her old Russian ways, and his daughter looks too much like her father to ever be considered a raving beauty, in his eyes, they are royalty. For Ivan’s sake, we treat them as such while he is away.
I stand and straighten my jacket, intending to go straight home to wash the stench of prison from my body.
“I’ve made certain you have commissary money, cigarettes, and reading material.”
Ivan’s idea of reading material is nothing more than porn magazines so he can jerk off. As far as I’m concerned, the man deserves as many pleasures as I can afford to give him while he’s locked up. I will certainly make sure he has them. Ivan is a good man, and I am as loyal to him as he is to me.
“Thanks, boss.”
“Very well, Ivan.”
With that, I quickly leave and get into the car where my driver is waiting. Had it been anyone but Ivan, I doubt I would have come here personally. There is very little I fear, but being behind bars is at the top of the short list.
Chapter Twenty Five
Agent Turner
I learned a long time ago, no matter how squeaky clean a man in any branch of law enforcement is, he’s going to identify with criminal elements on some level. For some odd reason, Alexander Glazov has decided that now is the time to form an alliance of sorts with me. I just can’t help but wonder why. Why me? Why now? From the beginning, I suspected that Glazov had a hand in the rescue of that woman. After questioning the gang members one at a time, I was now certain. Though most capitalized on their right to remain silent, there was one man who hadn’t. That is the interview tape I was listening to with my partner as we reviewed it… again.
Man, I’m tellin’ ya. Dude said that motherfucker was huge, like a brick wall comin’ at him. Said before he knew it, the guy had his forearm around him and choked him out. We couldn’t just let that shit go, man. There was a lot of money ridin’ on that bitch makin’ that snuff film. What the fuck kind of gangsta goes around rescuin’ bitches? That’s what I can’t figure out.
After questioning the man for another hour and finding out the woman was originally taken from Antonio Wayne, I am finally starting to understand what is going on.
It appears there was an incident in which Haitian pirates boarded one of Antonio’s ships at sea and stole from him. In retaliation, Antonio and his brother, Ricardo, had all but wiped the gang out internationally. Apparently, the brothers missed a small band of them, and in an attempt to make a name for themselves, the Haitians took one of Antonio�
��s women with the intent to kill her in a snuff film. Now that I am convinced Glazov was the one who rescued the woman, I want to know why he feels the need to strengthen his alliance with Antonio and secure a relationship with me. My partner’s voice interrupts my thoughts.
“You’re never going to figure out why these guys do what they do. They’re gangsters, so they’re always working an angle. Just let it go, and be glad the girl got rescued.”
I turn to look at her, taking a moment to admire her red hair and green eyes before I give her a smirk.
“As OCD as I am, you know that’s never going to happen, girl.”
“There are some things we don’t need to know. Just be glad you have an in with two of the most ruthless gangsters alive.”
“Are you saying to keep my enemies close?”
“You’re damn straight I am.”
Kathleen
I’m sitting in my kitchen and looking at Natasha, trying to figure her out. She looks more like a soccer mom than a ruthless Russian hit woman, so much so that it’s an ongoing joke in our family. The girl is good at what she does though. When it comes to cleaning up a crime scene or executing a kill, she can run circles around any one of the men in our organization. It’s the reason my husband uses her. She works for him and him alone. I’m going to have to be upfront with her, and at this point, I really don’t care how Glazov feels about it.
“Natasha, this whole thing where you’re putting your relationship with Nikita on hold isn’t necessary.”
“I don’t want Glazov to feel like it’s a conflict of interest.”
“Glazov would love nothing more than to see you walking down the aisle with his eldest son.”
“Kathleen, why the sudden interest? There’s something you’re not telling me. What’s going on? Is there another woman?”
As if fate is smacking me in the face, Nikita and Sofia walk in the room, and Natasha’s eyes go ice cold. The only good thing about this meeting so far, is that right now, my son looks like he just got bitch slapped. I’m finding it very humorous too; it serves him right for playing games.
His voice is low as he speaks.
“I need some privacy, Sofia. It might be better if you grab your snack and then go to your room for a moment."
The air is so thick with tension that it’s almost palpable. The women look each other over for a long while before Natasha finally breaks the silence.
“Yes, Sofia, I’d like a moment to speak with Nikita alone.”
Sofia is smirking and taking her sweet ass time grabbing a snack, making it abundantly clear to not only me, but Natasha as well, that she’s interested in my son.
Nikita is staring at the woman as she prances around barefoot in a long, cotton muslin skirt. After what seems like forever, she finally leaves. Natasha wastes no time and immediately starts questioning my son.
“Are you fucking her, Nikita?!”
“No, I am not.”
“Well, it’s pretty clear she wants you to.”
My son is leaning against the doorframe with his legs crossed at the ankles, looking as nonchalant as a man can look, when Natasha shocks me by charging at him full throttle.
He comes off the wall, quick as a feral animal, and grabs both of her hands to pin her to the wall. He kisses her—hard—which is my cue to leave. Maybe Natasha did need a little push in the right direction.
I make my way out of the kitchen and into my office so I can make flight reservations for our guest. She is leaving tonight before somebody gets killed. I can’t help but chuckle at Nikita’s dominant display with Natasha. The boy is just like his dad; that’s for sure.
After finishing up Sofia’s travel arrangements, I head up to our guest’s room where she is already packing. Under normal circumstances, I would try to befriend a guest staying in our home, but this situation is anything but normal. In fact, it’s quickly spiraling out of control.
Trying to cut through the awkwardness of the situation, I tell her, “I’m certain your sister will be happy to see you.”
“I’m ready to go see her too. I certainly don’t want to come between Nikita and his girlfriend.”
I ignore the fact that her tone is snarky. I just want this girl gone… like yesterday. As far as I’m concerned, she can’t get out of here fast enough.
I don’t even try to deny the truth of her statement when I candidly answer her.
“Nikita and Natasha are childhood sweethearts, and it probably is in your best interest to leave and return to your family.
I hug her goodbye; it will be the last time I see her before she goes. Now, I only have to worry about dealing with my husband when he returns home tonight. Better to deal with him than a dead body though. That’s what I’m hoping anyway.
Chapter Twenty Six
Glazov
I sit in a darkened corner, hidden by shadows, and watch Logan as she deals cards. There isn’t anything about her that’s considered out of the ordinary. She comes to work on time, does whatever she is asked to do, and never causes any problems with the other women who work in my establishment. However, none of that matters because I’ve spent my whole life listening to my instincts, and I’m not going to stop now.
I don’t think she is a cop, and I don’t think she is stealing either. It’s almost like whatever it is she’s doing scares her to death, yet she’s compelled to do it.
Something is distressing her. It’s like she’s gotten herself into trouble, and now she is in too deep to get out of it. I don’t give a fuck about rescuing her, but I do care if the bitch gets me involved in some drama I have no control over.
During the meeting we had, I found out that my son Kodiak is fucking her. I know how pussy can mess with a man’s head, and I‘m not referring to the one between his legs.
I don’t like the direction things are headed, and I am very close to sitting her down to give her the full Bratva questioning session. That would put the fear of God in her. I’m not a patient man, and I’m damn sure not the kind of man who tolerates being out of control. It’s time to break into her house again and get some answers.
If Kodiak is letting his dick lead him around, and it’s affecting his job, well then, I guess it’s time for me to get involved. I don’t give a damn if she lives or dies. I do, however, care about what has taken me years to build. Yes, it is time for me to do some investigating of my own.
I push away from the table and nod in Yafon’s direction, letting him know I’m ready to leave. The ride home is uneventful, but when we arrive, I’m surprised to see Natasha’s SUV there.
It had been my plan all along for Natasha to see Nikita with Sofia, but a feeling of unease still goes through me at the thought of the confrontation that might ensue. Things could get very messy. No, downright deadly would be a more appropriate description.
“Shit, Yafon.”
He laughs because, after twenty-five years of working for me, he knows me well enough to know exactly what I’m thinking.
As badly as I hate to admit it, my wife may have been right about getting that girl out of here. All I wanted was to give Natasha a little nudge; I really hope I didn’t end up pushing her over the edge.
Kathleen
Looking out an upstairs window, I can feel my heart racing at the sight of my husband’s car pulling up.
He looks up at me, locking his gaze with mine, and I realize I had a lot more courage thinking about confessing to shipping Sofia off than actually going through with it. I’m not quite sure how my husband is going to react. I blatantly went over his head to send the girl home, and he’s not going to like that. My mind is already manipulating how I’m going to exploit the fact that I may have saved the girl’s life and, in doing so, prevented a gangster feud between him and the Ramirez brothers.
In my world, you learn to do what you have to do to keep your family safe. If I had to do it all over again, I would do the exact same thing. Watching Natasha attack my son proved to me that she’s in love with him, and I have
no doubt she would have killed the girl. Natasha isn’t just a jealous woman with a bad temper. She’s a trained hit woman who not only knows the art of taking an enemy down, but she can eliminate any evidence of the kill as well. She has the reputation for being the best cleaner in the business. Not only did her father train her to be a Bratva enforcer, she went to college for forensics too. She is a force to be reckoned with.
The issue isn’t going to be that the girl is gone. The issue is going to be that I went over my husband’s head to get rid of her. I purposely harden my resolve by reminding myself, over and over, that I very well may have spared my family from a major problem with a known gangster. I’m certain the Ramirez brothers wouldn’t have been happy if Natasha sent the sister of one of their dancer’s home in a body bag.
“Where’s Natasha?”
His voice has a razor’s edge to it. Shit! This is not good.
I turn and eye my husband with my chin tilted up in defiance, my newfound steely determination firmly in place.
“She’s in Nikita’s bedroom, probably in his bed.”
“And just how did you manage that? What have you done, my nosy little wife?”
He moves to stand in front of me, a look of skepticism etched onto his stoic face. I feel small looking up at his huge form.
“I sent that girl back to Antonio where she belongs.”
I clip the words out in my most confident voice, like I know I did the right thing, and I’m not going to argue about it.
“You went behind my back and worked with a killer to get her home?”
His eyes have taken on the cold, steely, bluish-grey color they get when he’s pissed, but now I have something new to contest, and that’s the fact that I had no interaction with Antonio.
Damn, I did good… Okay, maybe this won’t be so bad. I didn’t go that far. I didn’t talk to Antonio.
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