“That’s the funny thing, sir. No sign of forced entry at all. So that means she must have known her attacker, huh?”
Turner ignored him and bounded up the steps two at a time. “Get these people out of here,” he growled over his shoulder, partly to clear the hallway of rubbernecking neighbors but mostly to get rid of the kid. Turner didn’t know why the rookie was getting on his nerves, and he wasn’t going to waste any time dwelling on it.
When Turner reached the doorway to the apartment/crime scene, the gathering of uniformed Louisville PD cleared a path to let the agents through.
“Who was the first officer on scene?” Turner looked around the room as if looking for a criminal rather than a fellow lawman.
“I was.” The gruff reply came from a cop with worn, weary eyes that had obviously seen way too much.
“And this is how you found her?” Turner asked, his voice edged with suspicion.
The officer hitched his pants up and scowled indignantly. “Now, listen here. I’ve been on the job long enough to know not to compromise a crime scene. I know how finicky you boys in the FBI can be, but that don’t change how I do my job.”
Rene stepped forward. “We realize that. Questions come with the territory, though. I have a few myself. I see that you’ve dusted the door. Have the window sills been dusted for prints as well?”
The presence of a female voice seemed to soften the officer’s demeanor. He cleared his throat. “They have. Gonna be honest with you, ma’am. It looks like a simple case of her knowing her attacker and letting him or her right on in. No signs of robbery either,” the officer added, anticipating Turner’s next question.
“I need to talk to Agent Murphy!” A shrill, feminine voice sliced through the steady hum of conversation. Heads turned. Rene maneuvered her way through the mass of officers and approached Tee.
“I told you! I told you somebody’s been in my fucking apartment!” Tee jabbed a finger toward her apartment door and stood there, chest heaving as she fought tears. She jerked her arm away when Rene attempted to lead her out of earshot. “The FBI can’t fucking protect me. Hell, you can’t protect yourself! Good luck if he ever tries to get to you.” She was just lashing out but when she saw the fleeting second of truth on Rene’s face, Tee’s voice went up an octave. “He has been. Oh my God!”
With her face in her hands, Tee stormed across the hall with Rene hot on her heels. Rene waited until she’d closed and locked the door to address the issue that was Benzo.
“This case has taken on a life of its own, Tee. I know you’re frustrated. We all are. Now, we can either work together and get ahead of the problem, or we can let the bastard divide us, which is exactly what he’s trying to do. Benzo isn’t dumb. Every move he makes is calculated. Now, show me why you think he’s been in here.”
The women stared at each other for a moment while Tee made up her mind whether it was even worth the effort or not.
“Fuck it. Fine. I guess it can’t hurt.” Tee stomped off in frustration toward the bedroom, muttering, “At least, I don’t think it can. But who the hell knows?”
Rene’s voice softened. “Look, I want this guy behind bars as badly as you do. Off the record, between you and me, I hope the fucker gets in the line of fire when the moment of truth comes.”
“The moment of truth?”
“Yeah, the moment when I take his ass down, once and for all.”
No matter how skeptical Tee was, the promise of justice that burned in Rene’s eyes couldn’t be denied.
Chapter Fifty
“When the fuck were you planning on telling me that you thought you might know this guy?”
Novak shifted restlessly in his seat and resisted the urge to reach for the Russian coin. But he could feel it in there, as if it were burning a hole in his pocket.
“I’m waiting.” Glazov’s voice was deceptively soft as he steepled his fingers in front of his chin. He cut an impressive figure behind his enormous desk, in his throne-like chair. As he observed Glazov’s current state of barely leashed rage, Novak could have almost sworn that his cousin seemed even bigger and more imposing than usual. And that was saying something.
A lesser man would have cowered before such an understated display of sheer power, but Novak was steadfast. He was driven by loyalty to the Bratva and to the man behind the desk, so he persevered, although it wasn’t easy.
Novak knew that particular tone of Glazov’s voice was typically the calm before the storm. There were few things Novak feared, but his cousin was one of them. It took everything he had to school his features and answer Glazov’s question. “I’m not sure it’s him, though. I didn’t see any sense in bothering you with something that may or may not be true, cuz.”
Glazov’s fist slammed down on the desk so hard that a brass paperweight bounced off and rolled across the floor. Novak resisted the urge to melt into his chair and disappear when Glazov leaned in with a sneer on his lips and death in his eyes. “Then I suggest you find out, cuz.” He waved Novak away with a brush of his hand, as if the natural born killer was a mere mosquito pestering him.
Novak had almost reached the door when Glazov’s voice rang out, icy and clear. “And pick up my fucking paperweight.”
Chapter Fifty One
Killing that old woman had done nothing to satisfy the beast inside Benzo. It had been more like an appetizer, and he was ready for the main course.
Every now and then, between his ongoing obligations, Benzo would indulge in a philosophical moment. Today he had been pondering the timeless question of nature or nurture. Was he born this way due to the shortcomings of the genetic cesspool from which he sprang, or did he have dear old Mom and Dad to thank for going out of their way to provide him with a hideous childhood? He knew he fit the classic ‘abused child’ profile; most serial killers did. It wasn’t rocket science by any means. His brute of a father had taken his anger out on him in the form of whatever he could get his hands on: a belt, a hot iron, or maybe just the business end of his cigarette if he didn’t feel like getting up.
His mother, on the other hand, had never had an angry bone in her body—just a blind eye that she turned away at every opportunity while she buried her head in the sand. The bitch was weak. All women were weak. Undisciplined. They deserved what he gave them, every single time.
“Hey, baby. You looking for a good time?”
Benzo checked out the woman leaning in his car window. A little on the skinny side, with jaundiced skin, dark circles under her eyes, and sunken cheek bones. Junkie. Well, fuck. No way would she be able to dance worth a damn. She could barely stand upright as it was, she was jonesing so bad.
Whether he killed her or she did it to herself, she was destined to be just another dead whore disappearing off the face of the earth and no one would even bother investigating. So easy. But he didn’t want easy, or, at least, he shouldn’t. But he needed easy. Right here in this moment, he needed something easy. Uncomplicated.
He hated Tee for doing this to him. It was all her fault that he was being forced to operate so far below his level. He was smarter than this, better than this. He was the man who was outwitting and outmaneuvering the FBI. The man who had lost his perfect record because of a stupid bitch who had been lucky enough to get away. Yeah, easy would do just fine tonight.
“Yeah, babe. I’m always looking for a good time. How much for a hard fuck that lasts all night?”
“A hundred bucks, but only if you can pay me first and make a stop before we get there.”
“Good, because it’s going to take all night for what I have in mind.”
Chapter Fifty Two
“Hey! Your hottie showed up,” Harper shouted over the music on her way to the main stage.
“I told you, he’s not my type,” Tee shouted back as she sauntered over toward Novak. She had to admit, he was impressive. Angular features; pale, spiked hair; piercings in places she’d never seen piercings before…and knuckles that looked freshly bloodied. Interesting
…
A grin tugged at the corners of her mouth as she razzed him. “What? You’re following me now?” She sat down in the seat across from him, crossing her arms defiantly, as if that would somehow protect her from the unpredictable gangster.
“You’re not my type either. I don’t like bad girls. I like good girls. Much more fun to defile them.”
“Figures you’d get off on some shit like that.”
“Yep. I’m what you’d call a depraved man.”
“I kinda figured that,” she said with a nod toward his battered knuckles. “What kind of ‘depraved’ things have you been up to, or should I even ask?”
“Oh, that? Nothing to tell, really.” He shrugged as he glanced down at his hands. “Like I said, I’m depraved. So…now that we’ve got that straight, you’ll understand why you putting your life in danger doesn’t make a damn bit of difference to me.”
She leaned in and snarled, “Excuse me?!” through gritted teeth. She bristled, pursing her lips indignantly when he outright laughed at her.
“Well, that got your attention. Good to know.”
“So, what exactly are you saying, Novak? You want to get me killed? That’s a rhetorical question, by the way.”
“I don’t answer to you anyway, little girl. I do, however, answer to a boss who is more than a little pissed off right now. I’m sure you’ve heard the name Alexander Glazov.”
“Un-fucking-believable. You’ve pulled me into the most dangerous mob syndicate in Louisville.”
“In the world, baby girl. And we like to think of ourselves as a brigade rather than a syndicate.”
“I’m not your baby girl.”
He dipped his chin. “I get that.” He continued to stare at her in silence for a long moment, his gaze speculative. Then he appeared to come to a decision, straightening in his seat as he declared, “Look, lady, as much as I’d love to sit here and banter with you, I’ve got business to attend to. Go get your purse or whatever you women carry around with you these days and meet me at the black Escalade parked out front.”
“What am I supposed to tell my boss?”
“Tell him you’re going to puke on his cheap shoes if he doesn’t let you leave because you’ve got the stomach flu.”
As much as she didn’t want to burst out laughing, she did anyway. In the brief time she had known this guy, she had come to an unexpected conclusion: she could see them being friends. Not the worst idea she’d ever had. With friends like Novak…there would be no enemies.
Chapter Fifty Three
Kathleen crossed the room to the bed, her robe swirling around her ankles. She sat on the side of the bed and gathered her hair over one shoulder, running a brush through the burnished strands. She paused, opening her mouth as if to speak, the brush poised for another stroke through her hair. She lowered the brush to her lap, her eyes soft as she regarded her husband sitting in the brocade wingback chair that, only moments earlier, he had placed next to the bed.
“Don’t stop. Please, continue,” Glazov murmured. “It pleases me that you’ve kept your hair long. I hear that having small children can make short hair a temptation.”
“I like pleasing you,” she whispered, arching her back as she swept her auburn mane over the other shoulder. She kept the strokes of the brush slow and steady, knowing how much he enjoyed how her hair gleamed in the soft lamplight.
“And you do, very much. So brush your hair for me for a while, Ptichka. Then come to me.” With his elbow perched on the arm of the chair, Glazov’s head was cocked slightly to the side as he watched the brush’s steady, rhythmic progress through the long, glossy strands. His jaw rested on the heel of his hand with his index finger extended upward toward his temple. His features were impassive as he regarded her, but she could feel the burden that weighed him down. He wasn’t easy to read, even for the person who was closest to him in all the world.
Kathleen exhaled heavily and tried to decide how to approach the conversation she needed to have with him. “Glazov…” Her tentative tone was greeted by a raised eyebrow. “It isn’t like you to be so angry at Novak. You’re best friends. More than that, you’re family.”
His sharp gaze and the tightening of his jaw made her wonder if she’d said something wrong. “You. Are. My. Best. Friend. And you and our children are my family. You are my world, Ptichka.”
She reached out and gently ran a hand over his five o’clock shadow, scratching her nails lightly across his stubble. “And you’re mine. What I’m saying is he’s the closest male friend you have.”
“He’s my brother in every way that matters,” he answered easily.
“Then why are you so upset with him?”
“Because he’s been hiding things from me.”
“He’s not hiding things from you. He’s protecting you.”
He looked at her, puzzled. No need to ask a question. She could read his thoughts and answered him without hesitation. “Novak doesn’t want to worry you with things that may or may not be important or accurate. He knows better than most the demands on your time. Until he had proof he didn’t want to worry you with speculation. You don’t have to shoulder everything alone, you know. You can rely on Novak. No one would dare perceive that as a weakness. And if they did, he’d take great pleasure in kicking their ass, to save you the trouble.”
“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are? I’m not just talking about physically. I’m talking about this beautiful mind of yours. You are a remarkable woman. You have so much insight into a world you still don’t fully understand.”
“Coming from a mafia man, that’s quite the compliment. So many Bratva men can be pretty chauvinistic.”
“Mmm,” he murmured as he stood and untied her robe. Kathleen laid the brush on the nightstand and leaned back on her hands. The position arched her back so her breasts jutted toward him. A shiver rippled down her spine when he brushed a nipple with the pad of his thumb. “They’re fools. They don’t know what they’re missing. You know me, babe. I’m all about girl power. That whole sixth sense the female of the species has going on comes in handy in my line of work. You’ve taught me not to underestimate it.”
“How reassuring. I sense quite an interesting future for our daughter.”
“Oh, don’t you worry about Roksana. That little firecracker can hold her own.” He grasped the nape of her neck and pulled her in for a deep, hungry kiss.
“God, how I love you,” he groaned. He tugged his drawstring pants down. “I need you. Take me inside you, Ptichka.”
He opened her robe and eased her farther back on the bed. He pushed into her and breathed in the very essence of his wife. He needed this. He needed to make love to her. She was the only thing that made any sense in his crazy, fucked-up world. She was his safe harbor. Being inside her was like coming home.
“I love you, too,” she moaned as he began to move. Her breath brushed against him like a soft, gentle breeze of contentment. Their bodies danced to a tune only they could hear, uniting them as one.
Together, from unconventional beginnings, Glazov and Kathleen had achieved the kind of loving communion that most couples never found. They were always growing; not as two separate entities but as one.
Chapter Fifty Four
Novak strapped a knife onto his upper arm and slipped another into his biker boot. Next, a Glock, which he tucked into the back of his jeans, then a .22 Ruger was fastened into an ankle holster. He moved through the sequence with ease, as he had done so many times before. No big deal. Just another day in Born Bratva land.
“Damn, do you have a fucking missile hidden away I need to know about?”
He turned amused eyes on Tee, who was sitting in a chair at his kitchen table as she sipped on a glass of ice water. “Matter of fact, I do, but it isn’t something you’ll ever have to worry about encountering.” The cocky grin on his face let her know he probably wasn’t talking about artillery. She rolled her eyes and grinned. She hadn’t known him long, but she could tell he prid
ed himself on being a bit of an asshole. It takes one to know one…
Novak was beginning to like her, and he didn’t like many people. She was funny, sarcastic, and best of all she had balls of steel. She just needed to be taught how to use them. He knew she was in a tough spot after crossing paths with a serial killer, but she had managed to survive. Novak firmly believed women could often accomplish what a man could not because the average man thought with his dick and not his brain. So maybe it would all work out for the best, for her and for the Born Bratva brigade.
Tee continued chewing on the ice cube in her mouth as she pondered the fact that she really had no interest in fucking this gorgeous, powerful man. She had too much going on in her life right now to be with any man, but, really, the vibe between them was more of a sibling thing anyway. No way would she fuck that up by fucking him. “I don’t want to see your massive missile anyway,” she scoffed. “Why complicate things?”
“Yeah. You can continue your relationship with the vibrator you probably keep in a drawer by your bed.”
Without being told, she somehow knew that the cocky grin on his face was evidence of a side of him he didn’t let many people see. “Yep,” she agreed, “vibrators don’t have feelings and it damn sure isn’t going to try and control every decision I make. First thing a guy seems to want to do is rescue me from working in a strip joint. I’m not giving up my independence for any man.”
“Don’t ever forget: he who holds the purse strings holds the power.”
“Or she. You’re preaching to the choir, big boy.”
“I got your big boy right here,” he said, grabbing the impressive bulge in his jeans.
Another eye roll, then, “Men. So predictable; always measuring your worth by the size of your cock.”
The Profilers (Born Bratva The Lost Years Book 2) Page 15