Okay, that’s some fucked up thinking right there. Whoa. “So you are behind the shooting. Kodiak could have died, you bitch. That’s a mighty big risk you took. As it is, the Pakhan is none too happy that someone harmed his son.”
Her breath hitches and I know I’ve got her. But she continues to try to cover her ass. “You think so? Good luck with that. You’re just Kodiak’s little fuck toy. But not for long. And believe me, sweetie, if I was going to confide in anyone, it sure as hell wouldn’t be you.”
When she walks away, going for her dramatic Mean Girl exit, I just can’t resist tripping the bitch. I have to admit I enjoyed watching her face plant on the floor. I bend down and lift her head by yanking on a fistful of her hair extensions. I make a show of looking at her rapidly swelling eye with abject horror. “Poor thing, you know, you really should have that looked at. It’s gonna leave a nasty bruise.”
Chapter Thirty Two
Kodiak
“Shhh, now, b’ quiet, yer gonna wake him up and get me in sooooo much troub-b-bibble…” Roksana’s only reply is more laughter. I’ve never seen my sister get along with any other woman this well other than her sidekick, Natasha.
I groan, lifting my head up and eyeing my sister and Logan. “You two are drunk.”
They both bust out laughing, hanging onto each other, which doesn’t work well when they both end up on the floor, and which only confirms what I already know—they’re drunk—like, really drunk. I wince when I adjust my body in an attempt to sit up. Logan sobers up pretty fast and rushes over to place a pillow behind my back. Even when she’s in party mode, which is very seldom, she’s still looking out for me.
She grabs the medicine bottle on the nightstand and gets three of the pain pills that are the only thing giving me any relief lately. She pops the pills in my mouth as she hands me a glass of water—even my water is served in crystal. My father is all about perfection and even the smallest of details aren’t overlooked. I waste no time swallowing the pills down in an attempt to relieve the pain in my shoulder. This is the first time I’ve ever been shot and this shit hurts.
Logan places a cigarette in my mouth and lights the tip with the vintage lighter I carry. It’s a gift from my father that I’ll always treasure. It carries a Russian inscription on the front Како́в поп, тако́в и прихо́д “Like father, like son.” It reminds me on a daily basis that I am his and he is mine.
“What does that say?” Logan asks as she admires the lighter and holds it up to the light.
“It says ‘Like father, like son.’”
“Your father loves you so much, doesn’t he?”
“He says we’re forged in fire.”
“Do you remember the day he rescued you?”
“Vaguely.” I look up at Roksana, who’s intently awaiting my reply. I don’t talk about that day—ever. My sister is well aware of the fact that me opening up to Logan is a big deal. I direct my attention back to Logan who’s waiting for my answer. “I remember holding on to his gun holster as he pushed through flames to save me. I remember him not letting me out of his sight for the first year after he brought me home. I remember my brother and sister watching over me closely. I don’t remember much about my first father who died in the fire but I remember my new family accepting me, and I remember Glazov—my father.”
“I’m glad you have them.”
“Now you have them, too, baby. And I have you.”
Roksana interrupts us and I’m shocked at what she has to say. “Your girlfriend caught a cheater tonight.”
Logan looks up at her and speaks, “Yeah, I meant to ask you about that. What happened?”
“The bodyguards are dealing with him.” She diverts her attention toward me. “You won’t believe who was sitting with him.” She doesn’t give me time to answer. “None other than our own Becky Fucking Box. He may even be the guy she used for the shooting. One thing’s for sure, by the time the bodyguards finish interrogating him, he’ll give his mother up—Becky doesn’t stand a chance now.”
“Well done, both of you. Now, get out of here, Roksana, I want to fuck my woman.” I yank Logan down next to me and start to get busy trying to pull her shirt off as she laughs and wiggles away from me.
“Oh, gross, now I have to get that image out of my head. Now I really am going to puke, thanks for that.” Roksana wastes no time stumbling out and heading to her room, muttering the whole way about getting Natasha to give her some bleach for her eyes.
I look over at Logan as I hold the cigarette out in her direction, “Now, you. Put this cigarette out and sit on my cock.”
I’m shocked when she stands up and pulls my drawstring pants from my body. Maybe my brazen behavior is rubbing off on her. I eye her hungrily as she pulls her dress over her head and slides her panties off. I stroke my cock, eyeing her like she’s too good to be true. In my world, she is. I still can’t believe she walked into my life out of nowhere—a gift from the Bratva gods. I smile as I think about it; having the right woman in my line of work is of the utmost importance—maybe some supernatural force did send her my way. All I do know is I’m glad she’s here and I plan on keeping her right where she is. This shooting is working to my benefit because now my dad’s put her fine little ass on lock down, with me.
Her hair cascades onto my chest as she slowly lowers her drenched pussy onto my cock. She feels like a velvet vice grip, sheathing me with her heat and a lifetime of promises to come—the promise of a future together. Even a Bratva bad boy needs someone to grow old with—who better than my new best friend? I wiggle my hips deliberately, just to hear her moan. My fingers trail down to her clit where I roll one it around so I can watch her come.
I love being the only man who’s been inside her heart and her body like this. I can’t fucking wait to brand her, mark her as my property. She has no idea, either, and the prospect of making that happen that just puts my dick in overdrive. My fingers latch onto her hips in an effort to control her movement, but my body won’t allow me to lift her the way I want. I hate the fact that I’m limited because of the gunshot wound and I am determined to get even with whoever is responsible for shooting me. This injury’s even fucking with my ability to fuck my woman.
She reads me so well and begins to move up and down on my now throbbing cock, sending heat coiling up my spine. Her fingers bite into my arms as her pussy clamps down on my cock as her orgasm spins out of control. I can’t get enough of watching her body writhe in abandon and her face clench and frown as she tries to ride out the waves of pleasure that are rolling through her. My orgasm hits me hard, releasing all the stress and strain of this past week.
She collapses on top of me in a limp heap of lovemaking afterglow. I play with strands of her long, silky hair as I murmur, “I’ll be getting my stars soon.”
“Your stars?”
“Two stars, one on each side of my chest — one on the left over my heart and the other on the right. They signify that I’m a Bratva captain. You’ll get a tattoo as well, when I get mine. A Kodiak bear with my name.” It’s my way to tell her my plans and expect her to acquiesce, but I find myself asking, “Will you wear my mark?”
She leans up on an elbow and kisses me deeply before she answers. “Nothing would please me more than to be branded as your woman.”
She has no idea how happy she’s made me. Even though the last few days have been trying, life is good. It’s good because I’m alive and I have the woman I love by my side.
Chapter Thirty Three
Logan
I’m startled when I’m awakened by Roksana nudging me. She places a finger to her lips and I know she doesn’t want me waking up Kodiak. I ease from the bed and put on the clothing she’s holding out for me. I wonder if this has something to do with the guy they caught cheating. The thought crosses my mind that a man may die tonight because of me. I console myself that they’ll probably just break his legs or something. Six months ago, a thought like that would never have entered my mind. T
hings have changed, to say the least.
I wait to put my shoes on and we tip toe from the room. If it wasn’t for the pain meds Kodiak had taken, he’d be awake. He’s a light sleeper. I’m certain it’s due to his line of work that he’s adapted to sleeping with one eye open.
I’m surprised when we exit the house and it isn’t Lukyan standing beside the black SUV to drive us. The man is clearly a bodyguard/driver but I’ve never met him. Roksana explains as if she knows what I’m thinking. “His name is Oleg. He’s my bodyguard and he’s as ruthless as his name implies.”
“Aren’t they all?”
“Oleg takes it to a whole new level. He’s a sadist. He enjoys torturing people. My father said I needed a ruthless mother fucker for a bodyguard because I’m so mean. He’s the nephew of Yafon.”
“Your father’s bodyguard?”
“Yes, Yafon has worked for Novak as well. Neither Yafon nor Oleg are as big as our other bodyguards but they’re twice as deadly. Both are trained in the art of torture. They never cease to amaze me with the different ways they come up with to make people talk. No one has ever been able to withstand an interrogation with them. Most are begging to die by the time they finish. There comes a point of pain that’s so intense it lures a victim into desiring death.
“Some bodyguards do the job and move on—not Oleg; he draws the torture out, playing with his victims like a cat with a mouse. He’s in love with me.” Her tone is so matter of fact I wonder if I’ve heard her correctly. When she continues I know I have. “Yes, he’s in love with me and I’m in love with taunting him emotionally with that knowledge. I suppose that makes me an emotional sadist.” We’re close enough to Oleg now for her to whisper in his direction, “Isn’t that right, Oleg?” Her body leans into him in a posture that is threatening yet sinfully seductive.
The man doesn’t even flinch as he looks down at her. I see the slightest glimmer of light in his eyes and I know he must enjoy the attention he gets. Attention in the form of a game is better than none at all when love or obsession is involved. It’s obvious there’s a chemistry simmering between these two that borders on dangerous. I don’t know if they’ve ever acted on it, but they’re clearly enjoying it.
We slide into the back seat and I sneak a peek at the tall, lanky man standing there with blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, much the same way Glazov wears his. His eyes are blue, too, but they’re not hard and cold like Glazov’s. This man’s eyes are dead, except for when they rake over Roksana and I see a spark there that suggests respect or maybe even adoration. How odd. For some reason, I’ve never really thought about Roksana being in a relationship. I’ve always seen her as strictly a worker in the organization—never as a woman with needs. I tease her when he closes the door. “Looks like someone has a crush on you.”
“I guess that’s why he insists on being my bodyguard.”
“He’s cute.”
“Don’t let his cuteness fool you, he’s one of the most dangerous men my father has on payroll. I’m even scared of him and I’m not scared of anyone but my father.”
I look up into the mirror and meet Oleg’s eyes. I’m forced to look away from a set of eyes that hold dark secrets I don’t care to know anything about. I wonder what his story is. Did he grow up in the streets with no family? Was he forced to survive on his own? I make a mental note to ask Roksana about him when we’re alone.
Roksana whispers in my ear as she meets his eyes in the mirror. “Beautifully dead eyes, huh?”
“You aren’t kidding.”
“I’ve never seen anything else like it. I think they’re kind of sexy. And they only come to life for me,” she says coquettishly, casting a sultry look his way. I sneak one more look in the rearview mirror and I see the snarl on his face he’s directing toward Roksana. She chuckles loud enough for him to hear her.
My god, is she baiting him? I hope she knows what she’s doing and when to stop. If she keeps this up, I’m afraid they’ll fuck each other to death.
I know in that moment she enjoys antagonizing the man who seems to be captivated with her. To put it bluntly, Roksana likes playing with fire. It looks like my friend has a nasty little addiction to adrenaline. If nothing else, she’s in the right line of work.
Chapter Thirty Four
Logan
While Roksana uses the rearview mirror to silently taunt Oleg, I look out the car window and take in my surroundings.
“Where are we going?”
“You’ll see,” she answers in the tone she uses when she’s being evasive about something. I look out the tinted window made of bulletproof glass and see a blur of houses on stilts along the river, a design that offers some degree of security from the potential of flooding that plagues the area. Those with a love for the water have learned to adapt and make the necessary adjustments to be able to call these shores home.
As we go farther down the winding road, the scenery isn’t the only thing that takes on an air of solitude; the atmosphere does too. The deeper into the warehouse district we go, the more ominous the atmosphere becomes. The screams of a victim would never be heard out here in recesses of abandoned buildings and river banks. I realize we’re headed to the place I’ve only heard rumors about—the warehouse. The place enemies are taken for interrogation.
I gulp and can’t help but ask the question that burns in my mind, “Roksana, what will Glazov think if we’re here--”
She cuts me off with one look from those cold eyes that are so unnerving, as she says softly, “Our world turns only with Glazov’s wisdom and blessing.”
The fact that Roksana is taking me to a place known only to Bratva says volumes about my standing in this family. Though the shooting of Kodiak was a heinous act, it was the catalyst that prompted his family to accept me as one of their own. The funny thing about it is, I would never have left him alone there. I stayed because I wanted to. There was no thought of being accepted, only protecting Kodiak while he was injured and vulnerable.
The tires crunching over gravel pull me from my thoughts as we arrive at our destination. The road winding back toward the warehouse is lined with trees and only the headlights give any indication of our destination. I recognize the three SUVs, the standard black vehicles used by those who work for Glazov and I assume they’re the cars of bodyguards. The question remains: Who did they bring here to interrogate?
We exit the vehicle and follow behind Oleg, who makes his way to the door and punches in his security code to enter. We proceed down a long hallway that leads us into a large open room. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dim lighting. By the time we’ve made our way to the center of the room they’ve adjusted enough for me to identify the two people trussed up to wooden chairs. Though Becky is unable to speak because she’s been gagged, I can see it in her eyes that she’s scared shitless. And the interrogation hasn’t even begun.
Roksana makes her way over to Becky and pulls the gag from her mouth. “You fucked up when you shot my brother.” She says it calmly, as if discussing the weather or some other trivial detail of everyday life. This is anything but, because I know today will mark a change in me, my life will never be the same.
Nothing binds two souls as one like the shedding of blood. I’ll carry the secrets of what I witness today to my grave. It’s odd how taking a life can cause two people to be linked together for a lifetime, neither wanting to reveal information because both parties have blood-stained hands.
Oddly enough, self-preservation overrides any mercy I feel for the woman seated in front of me. If given the chance, she’ll do anything to get rid of me. It’s either her or me, and everyone in this room right now knows it. Though I doubt they would be taking such drastic measures had the bullet veered and hit its intended target, they won’t be taking any chances on Kodiak being killed due to Becky’s delusional jealousy.
Roksana snaps her fingers in the direction of the bodyguards. One of them makes his way over to her, opening a wooden box from which she withdraws a
357 magnum. She pops the chamber open with the expertise of a woman who knows how to handle the large weapon. She reaches back in the box and retrieves one silver bullet. There’s a message in that one silver bullet and even though the body will be disposed of, the memory will remain with everyone in this room.
I find my mind wandering to literature of vampires and how they are killed with silver bullets and I wonder if that’s why she chose that form of torture—maybe as some odd message of the Glazov sixth sense that inhabits this cell of Bratva. Hell, this is all new to me. Maybe they’re known to their enemies by a silver bullet—a calling card of sorts.
“I only think it fitting that we play a game of Russian roulette—you know… with my heritage being Russian and all,” Roksana taunts Becky.
“Please, Roksana, don’t do this. The bullet was meant for that bitch, not your brother.” She tosses her head in my direction to signify me.
I gasp when the butt of the gun hits her in the mouth and splits it open like a piece of paper being torn. I’m shocked she isn’t spitting teeth out. The wound is laid open garishly, revealing fat cells and the wound promises to leave a lifetime scar -- if she manages to survive tonight.
“That bitch…may very well be my sister-in-law one day soon. You would do well to respect her.”
“Is this sorry son of a bitch the one who did the shooting?” This is the first time the man has been addressed and he’s quick to respond.
“She said he beat her up, that she was scared for her life!” the man shouts, not giving Becky time to lay the blame on him. These two are wasting no time throwing each other under the bus.
“And you believed her? Who helped you?” She gives him no time to answer and I hear a disruption in the back of the room. When I turn to see what it is, a young man is ushered in by two bodyguards. He’s clearly angry with the man being interrogated. “You mother fucker! You didn’t tell me I was gunning for Glazov’s son.”
Expose' (Born Bratva Book 3) Page 16