She finished off the glass of water and placed the empty glass in the dishwasher. She needed to get some sleep so she could work on finding a job—a real one. She was a week away from eviction. There was one silver lining to this fucked up mess: she wouldn’t have to pack a thing when she was kicked out. Nothing here belonged to her.
Looking around at the hovel she called home, Tatiana laughed bitterly and blinked back angry tears. Like everything else in her life, she was even renting on borrowed time.
Dmitriy hacked the woman’s cell phone in a hot minute. Against his own better judgment and in defiance of his team’s wishes, Bazarnik had insisted on going alone to bring her in. However, he was of the belief that this was his fuck-up and only he could make it right—and, boy, did he ever plan on making things right. He was too much of a perfectionist to let this job go wrong. If there was any way to make it right, he would.
When it came to matters of crime there wasn’t a whole lot Bazarnik couldn’t do. Oddly enough, his fire fetish had taught him things that could be applied to all areas of crime. When you have to move through the shadows and hide your identity from the world, you learn to compensate. Sure, people knew some basic details about Bazarnik but no one knew the real man. He had never opened up to anyone. He wondered if that was why he had formed such an intense bond with Novak. At first, he’d thought all they had in common were shallow things like piercings and tattoos, but Novak had proven him wrong by doing something uncharacteristically altruistic—he had taken Bazarnik under his wing like his own son.
Novak was notorious for being a smartass who didn’t like anybody, yet he had taken to Bazarnik. After years of being an outcast, it meant a lot to him that Novak had taken him on as a protégé to not only train but to protect. Bazarnik was smart enough to know Novak was the only one who could get through to the Pakhan -- other than Kathleen, of course. Put simply, Novak was the only man who had that much influence with Alexander Glazov.
Bazarnik was determined not to let Glazov or Novak down, not after they had taken him in. They had believed in him. Out of anything they could have done to draw on Bazarnik’s loyalty, that was it.
Yes…before the night was over, the mystery woman would be behind bars and he would be the sole owner of the key.
Chapter Twenty Seven
Glazov inspected his work, circling his wife like the predator he was. She looked spectacular spread eagle on the Saint Andrews cross. The ball gag in her mouth had been there long enough for her to begin drooling, which she hated. Which was why he’d done it. He was in the mood for a little degradation.
She squealed as he tugged on the nipple clips. Sweet music to his ears. His wife was the therapy that washed away the darkness in his soul that was the inevitable result of a lifetime of ruthless brutality. When he was with her like this, it all rolled off him like water off a duck’s back.
He leaned in to whisper, “I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to torment you tonight. We may not have access to this section of the house for a while due to an unexpected guest arriving -- hopefully, later tonight. I know you prefer our more luxurious playroom next door, but I wanted tonight to be like old times. So, it’s the dungeon for you, wife of mine.”
He chuckled at the question in her eyes. “Always the curious little kitty. It’s a good thing you have me to protect you and keep that curiosity from getting you into trouble. You see, Bazarnik will be bringing a guest back tonight. He’s going to strip her bare, like an animal. He understands that there’s no better way to interrogate someone than to strip them down to nothing. But you already know all about that, don’t you? You learned it by my hand. But enough about business,” he murmured smugly as he unzipped his pants and stepped in close to her. “Right now, I just want this cock buried balls-deep in that tight pussy.”
With no warning, he thrust his hips forward, slamming his cock inside her with a groan, causing her to grunt through the ball gag. She was at the perfect height for him to fuck her rough, like he hated her. And yet, when she writhed and swiveled her hips against his, there could be no question of his feelings for her. “Fuck, so good…I love you more than life itself, woman.”
He looked up to see a single tear trail down her cheek as she nodded in silent affirmation of her feelings for him. He took the pad of his thumb and brushed it away then tasted the salty manifestation of the love she felt for him.
He often wondered how he had come to be so blessed to have found happiness with a singularly perfect woman. Perfect for him anyway, right down to the way her pussy was rippling along his cock, drawing him in still deeper. He knew he didn’t deserve the happiness he had found; there was too much blood on his hands. Her love hadn’t been given freely at first; he had forced the issue early on. But she was his now, heart and soul, had been his for decades. And he’d fucking kill anyone who tried to take her from him.
His possessive thoughts sent his caveman tendencies into overdrive and he pounded into her with renewed vigor, her incoherent shouts of pleasure spurring him on. He placed his hand between them, rolling a fingertip over the little bundle of nerves he knew so well. This wasn’t a romantic lovemaking session, although he wasn’t lacking in those skills either. No, this was a straight-up claiming, a brutal fuck of pure ownership.
He spent the rest of the night holding her close in their bed, thankful he had had the good sense to claim her all those years ago.
Chapter Twenty Eight
There wasn’t a lock that Bazarnik couldn’t pick and this one was no different. He’d learned a long time ago that if you wanted to learn someone’s deepest secrets, all you had to do was break into their home. The mysteries revealed themselves in subtle ways, but they were always there if you just looked hard enough.
Things like photos, trinkets, jewelry, even clothing revealed a lot about a person. One simply needed intuition. His ability to read people had served him well throughout the years. He would need it now more than ever. He refused to fail his team or his Pakhan.
Tatiana never felt the prick of the needle. While she slept in peace, he searched her room. The first thing to catch his eye told him a great deal about the stranger. He picked up the Matryoshka or Babushka doll as they were sometimes called—a Russian nesting doll. He studied the piece and knew enough about it to realize it was of fine quality and quite rare. Its beauty caused a stirring in his heart for his homeland.
The doll was small but had sixteen pieces nestling together in a perfect fit. China blue designs were intricately woven around lush, green leaves and golden hands accented by a golden scarf. Blue eyes with long eyelashes were painted on with perfection. Someone had taken a great deal of care in making this doll. The nesting dolls were often called Matryoshka dolls which translated as ‘little mother’ because the larger dolls held their babies inside just like expectant mothers. The larger meaning was that each daughter eventually became a mother in her own right, with the largest doll viewed as the grandmother.
He looked over to the sleeping woman and studied her as he went through her wallet. Tatiana. Pretty name. There was no doubt in his mind his sleeping beauty was Russian. What the hell was a Russian woman doing breathing the same air as those filthy assholes at the Sinaloan dogfight? She wasn’t part of the cartel. She wasn’t involved with Bratva that he knew of. What was her story?
Before he could change his mind, he wrapped the doll in a bundle of soft clothes and tucked it inside a duffel bag, then zipped it up and pulled the strap across his chest. No doubt the doll set had sentimental value to the girl. In fact, it appeared to the one of her few possessions.
Before tonight she’d been an enemy, but finding out she was Russian changed all that. In fact, her entire life had changed, she just didn’t know it yet.
The five of them stood silently in front of the cell like it was an exhibit at the zoo, peering curiously through the bars at the beautiful stranger Bazarnik had brought back with him. She was clad only in the t-shirt and yoga pants she had been wearing when she was ta
ken from her home several hours earlier. Oleg, Roksana, Dmitriy, Anastasia, and Bazarnik stared down at the girl, saying nothing, each occupying their own quiet space inside their head.
Roksana spoke first. “This changes everything, Bazarnik. That girl is Russian, there’s no doubt in my mind. I can tell by her features, her bone structure, and even that nesting doll. I’m telling you, it’s a sign. All of it.”
Oleg chuckled. “So, you’re jumping on board with your father and Natasha now? You know, how the Bratva gods brought her to us...”
“I’m telling you, it isn’t a coincidence that she was brought here. And you,” she turned, directing her attention to Bazarnik, “you have an obligation to protect her now. She’s one of our own. We stick together, Russians don’t kill Russians unless there’s betrayal. I’ll have no part of killing this girl if she doesn’t meet that protocol. In the meantime, she’s yours to protect from harm. But she doesn’t need to know that yet, of course.”
“She’s right,” Oleg concurred. He looked up to see Anastasia and Dmitriy nodding their heads in agreement.
Roksana felt the need to reinforce her statement. “We don’t leave our own behind and we damn sure don’t kill our own. You find out what she knows and report back to us. But remember, she’s your property now. Now, I’m going to take the dogs for a walk. Take your time here, we’ll keep both dogs with us until you’re freed up,” she said with a nod toward their unexpected guest. “They may have fought in the pit together last week, but they’ve really bonded now that they’re not being forced to fight to the death for a bunch of greedy assholes. They seem to know it wasn’t personal, they were trying to survive. They just needed some love.”
“Don’t we all,” Bazarnik muttered, his eyes lingering on the woman in the cell.
Roksana looked quizzically between Bazarnik and his guest, shook her head, and ascended the steps with the others following behind her.
It was settled, then; the woman was Russian and, therefore, one of their own. Of course, they would find out what her story was eventually, but all were relieved to know she wasn’t part of the Sinaloan cartel, at the very least. There had been enough bloodshed.
Bazarnik waited until they were gone to go into the cell and undress her. He couldn’t understand why he didn’t want anyone to see her naked, or why his hands trembled as he removed each article of clothing. She was nothing to him. It shouldn’t matter. But it did. As her creamy skin was revealed to him, inch by lovely inch, he knew he wouldn’t allow anyone else to see her this way. Only him.
If she was indeed Russian, that would provide her with some degree of favor, but it didn’t change the fact that he was going to interrogate her—while still protecting her. But it would be a delicate balance to strike and he still wasn’t sure how to approach it.
He looked at her closely for the first time as she lay on the small bed in the corner of the cell. He placed a finger along her jugular. His cock thickened at the power that surged through him as her blood flowed so close to his own flesh. Being that close to the blood that sustained her body was a heady experience. He trailed his finger along her collarbone, then held his hand aloft, only an inch or two above her breast. Close enough to feel the heat radiating off her flesh, but not close enough to touch. He pulled his hand away and let his now clenched fist rest at his side.
She was stunning in a natural sort of way. Glossy strands of long, chestnut brown hair cascaded over the pillow and onto the floor. He still hadn’t seen her eyes open, but he could only imagine them being blue. Her nipples were the palest shade of pink he’d ever seen. He wondered whether they’d be darker after being sucked and bitten. Protectiveness, even stronger than the arousal she evoked, flooded his body and mind. The foreign feeling set his nerves on edge.
He placed a blanket over her and left the cell, locking it before he lowered himself into the recliner he’d brought down so he could stay with her and be relatively comfortable. He could hardly expect her to relax around him if he didn’t spend quality time with her. He wanted to keep her under his watchful eye. Even though she was safe here, he didn’t want her forming an attachment to anyone else – only him.
He wondered if she had been in the country long and if she had the proper paperwork; he found himself hoping she did. If she didn’t, of course, the Pakhan would fix it. If she did have them it would be one less thing to worry about, yes, but it would also mean she had connections. And that only piqued his curiosity even more.
He stretched out, extending the recliner so it laid all the way back. Then he let sleep take over. Tomorrow would be a long day. They would both need their rest.
Chapter Twenty Nine
“I’m going to find out who she is, Nikita.” Natasha ran her fingers through her husband’s long blonde hair, taking advantage of it not yet being pulled back in his usual ponytail. His cheek was pressed against the baby bump that had so quickly gone from being a barely discernable curve to a very noticeable, very pregnant, round baby belly.
“Are you still happy they’re twins?” he asked. The doctor had just left after a rather involved house call, confirming via ultrasound that all was well and the twins were thriving. Glazov women didn’t go to the doctor for pregnancy checkups; doctors came to them.
Today’s appointment had been particularly nerve-wracking because they had decided to find out the sex of the babies. This was an exciting decision for them and a knee-weakening relief to the doctor, who no longer had to be careful to keep such references neutral during his conversations with the well-connected Bratva couple.
“A boy and a girl, just like you wanted. I distinctly remember you saying that having a little Roksana running around would be interesting.”
“Interesting?” he scoffed. “That’s one way to describe my sister. But, no, I think she’ll be like her mama, and I’ll be wrapped around her finger, much as I’m wrapped around yours.” He pressed a kiss to her belly. “Now…would you like to explain why you’re so intrigued with the stranger who’s being held in our basement?”
“Apparently, she’s Russian,” she shrugged. “There’s a connection because of that. That doesn’t mean I trust her, of course, but if she has a mess to clean up, well, that’s what I do. I miss working. I love our babies, of course, but I miss my calling. This is a way I can be involved and be part of the team without risking the babies’ wellbeing. Plus…I’m a woman; enquiring minds want to know, my love.”
“Ah, I see. Curiosity. That’s why my father is such a believer in girl power; no doubt women are the best interrogators and stalkers there are.”
“Remember that, Nikita. Always remember that.”
“That sounds like a threat.” He playfully cocked an eyebrow.
“Not toward you, only the enemy—always the enemy.”
Her innocent appearance made it easy for her move through society unnoticed, to sneak up on an enemy, and that’s exactly how she liked it. Really, who would suspect that the woman driving down the street in her black SUV, who was probably on her way to pick up the kids from soccer practice, had a dead body rattling around beneath the frame of her vehicle?
“I love it -- You look like a soccer mom but you’re actually a soccer mom killer.”
“Remember that, too, my Russian Bratva love. Anybody gets near you or this family? I will fucking kill them.”
“I’m flattered.”
“You should be. Killing is the highest manifestation of love, you know.” She waggled her eyebrows mischievously, but he knew she was as lethal as any man in their Bratva cell.
“Really?” he murmured, moving to lie between her legs, spreading her thighs with his broad shoulders. “I did not know that,” he said with mock seriousness, planting kisses to her inner thighs. “I’ve always thought orgasms were, but you say it’s killing, hmm?” He spread her lips with his thumbs and gave her pussy a long, lush swipe with his tongue. “Guess that’s why they call it The Little Death…”
Chapter Thirty
As Y
afon watched Dmitriy climb the ladder in the foyer of the guesthouse, he pondered how to break it to his soon-to-be wife that she was being paranoid.
“And I’m not being paranoid,” she said flatly, one imperious eyebrow arched to the sky as she sipped her espresso.
She stepped over to the console table by the door and set the tiny cup and saucer down before reaching inside her purse. She pulled out an envelope, withdrew a single piece of paper and held it out to Yafon. He frowned as he took it from her and began to read. With each word, he felt his hackles rise and bile rise in his throat.
You fucking cunt! Did you think running to your brother in America would stop me? You killed a man for stealing from your brother when the almighty Pakhan has been fucking people over for years.
You never counted on Joseph having a partner, well, he does. Your days are numbered bitch. You won’t know when or how, you’ll just look up one day and be looking down the barrel of my gun.
Enjoy what little bit of life you have left. I’ll see you soon.
Rage radiated out from his chest to his limbs, until his fingers and toes tingled with unbridled aggression. He looked up from the letter, directing his sharp stare at the woman he loved. The son of a bitch who sent that letter had just sealed his fate: a bloodbath that would end in death.
“How did you know what I was thinking?”
“All the Glazovs, especially the women, have the sixth sense. But it doesn’t take intuition or clairvoyance to get the message being conveyed in that letter. That is a clear threat. And it’s an insider, a Russian, someone familiar with us. That’s why Dmitriy’s here beefing up the security system for the guesthouse.”
Jaded Jewels (Born Bratva Book 7) Page 11