Jaded Jewels (Born Bratva Book 7)

by Suzanne Steele

  “That’s true, she definitely needs to bond with your wife,” Bazarnik replied as he smirked in Roksana’s direction.

  “Hey…” Roksana said defensively. “Are you insinuating I’m hard to get along with?”

  “I’m just saying that she’d be better off as your friend and not on the business end of that Louisville Slugger you’re so fond of swinging around.”

  “True, true,” Roksana laughed. She looked over at the painting over his bed and said softly, “You know, you really are talented.”

  “That’s what she keeps telling me.” He beckoned Tatiana to his side with a soft, “Come here.”

  “Wow, you two didn’t waste any time.”

  “No, we didn’t,” Bazarnik said, pulling Tatiana in close beside him, his hand sliding around to squeeze her ass affectionately. “But we understand each other. Wasting time would be…a waste of time. I just don’t see the point. She has no family; she needs me, and I damn sure need her. I just didn’t know it.”

  “Well, she’s got a family now,” Roksana said, directing her speculative gaze at Tatiana. “Whether she likes it or not.”

  Convinced that Glazovs could smell fear, Tatiana chose that moment to speak up, her arm tightening around Bazarnik’s waist. “I appreciate that more than you know. I’ve found something special with Bazarnik. He gives me a sense of security and purpose that I haven’t had before. Trust me, nobody’s more surprised than I am—”

  “Don’t count on it,” Roksana murmured archly, earning a stern look from her husband.

  Tatiana recognized the moment for what it was: a litmus test of sorts. She straightened her shoulders and took a step forward, lifting her chin as she faced the Pakhan’s daughter. “I know how to keep my mouth shut. In fact, I blew a man’s brains out this week. So, you see, I have my own secrets that you could easily use to destroy me.

  “My allegiance to Bratva is in my DNA – probably the only good thing in my DNA. It’s a huge part of the Russian heritage we share. That should count for something. I’m here to work. So, put me to work and let me prove myself.”

  Roksana stared her down, eyes narrowed, as she considered the young woman’s words. Then she visibly relaxed, smiling warmly. “That’s what I want to hear. If you’re loyal and you keep your mouth shut, you’ll do fine. Betray us and I’ll take care of you personally.”

  Roksana was an excellent judge of character. She decided then and there that Tatiana was going to fit right in. Any woman who attempted to kill a cartel member had her respect. Hell, her willingness to take Bazarnik on was no small feat either…

  “So, what are we going to do?” Tatiana asked.

  “My father wants to make sure Escondido takes over the Sinaloan cartel. I agree with him. Escondido has the savvy and the brains to know how to run things. Ever since Santiago kicked it, street kids have been running the show.”

  “Running it into the ground, you mean,” Oleg drawled.

  “That’s why Escondido is the logical choice. He’s a businessman so he’ll run the cartel like a business, not like some out-of-control street gang. We’ve got a peace treaty with the Colombians, and now we’re securing one with the Sinaloans. Believe me when I tell you, we don’t want a war. If we get caught up in that, the streets of Louisville will run red with blood.

  “The rest of the country is still operating under the assumption that Louisville is all about Mom’s apple pie and the Kentucky Derby. This has been an ideal location for our cell, and the Pakhan wants to establish our future business interests here as well. We need Escondido if we want to keep it that way. It’s an investment in our future. We don’t want to attract unwanted attention from law enforcement or anyone else. It’s never worth it.”

  “Then let’s go make sure that doesn’t happen,” Tatiana suggested eagerly. “What are you going to do if somebody besides Escondido tries to take over?”

  Roksana didn’t miss a beat. “What are we going to do, you mean? Put a bullet in their brain.”

  Tatiana was glad to be on Roksana’s good side. She finally felt safe, not just because of Bazarnik but because of her new Born Bratva family.

  Chapter Thirty Six

  Volya had arrived before daybreak, securing his position and waiting to make his move until the Glazov’s tech specialist arrived to do more work on the security system. Ironically, Glazov’s altruistic efforts to revitalize this part of town were going to work perfectly with Volya’s plan.

  He had a good vantage point for surveillance from the abandoned building across the street from Glazov’s storefront. A short jaunt up the fire escape and he could see everything perfectly. Glazov’s interest in resurrecting the economically depressed area had launched a surge in building renovations. As luck would have it, this was one of the few vacant buildings left.

  That bitch Vladimira was scared, so she must be taking him seriously. She could install all the surveillance systems she wanted to, but it wasn’t going to stop him. He was a man on a mission. He had a sense of purpose now.

  As much as he hated that his longtime friend had died on the Pakhan’s orders, it was just the spark he needed to stay focused. Pain that reached a person’s soul had a way of driving them to do what they needed to. He missed his friend but Volya had every intention of making those Glazovs pay.

  He wished he could see her face when she found the surprise he was leaving for her but there was no need to tempt fate. If he was going to be successful he was going to have to be smart about how he did things, not impatient like his hapless friend Joseph had been. Of course, it wasn’t Joseph’s fault he’d been poisoned by that bitch. Volya hadn’t needed anyone to tell him how she did it because her reputation preceded her. She was known for wearing that damn ring and filling it with all kinds of shit.

  Seriously? I mean who needs to be ready for a kill every minute of every day? They were animals, those Glazovs. That’s what they were, fucking animals.

  Joseph had gotten greedy. He felt like nobody was there to watch over the Russian operation, but that bitch had been there. Volya despised her, but he would never underestimate her. Glazov blood ran through her veins and that meant she was smart, capable, and lethal. He needed to wear her down, get inside her head, and then make his move. That would take time and patience.

  There was also that maniac man of hers who got off on torturing people. Rumor had it that he and his nephew Oleg had honed their skills long ago at a top-secret Bratva training camp. How many ways were there to torture a person? Obviously those two liked making up new ways of doing it. Hell, they probably considered it foreplay. Disgusting. But he’d rather be poisoned by her than tortured by her man. If he had to die, he wanted it to be quick and painless. Yes…he would stay away from the man called Yafon.

  Chapter Thirty Seven

  “Glazov, I know you well enough to know when something’s on your mind. What is it, my love?”

  “Then you should know me well enough to know that talking isn’t what I want to do.” He yanked the sheet from his wife’s nude body. Searing sexual heat flared in his eyes as he gritted out, “I want in you again. I want to get lost in you and forget all of the drama of this fucking day.”

  Kathleen leaned up to kiss her husband’s lips, sliding her tongue along their grim line until they relaxed and opened for her. As their tongues tangled, he settled next to her and pulled her on top of him, tugging her knees wide apart. He groaned into her mouth as he gripped her ass and yanked her down onto his length in a brutal act of possession. She tossed her head back, reveling in the pleasure of being filled by this man. It never got old, their lovemaking, it only solidified the deep connection they already had.

  “You’re going to tell me what’s going on with you when we finish,” she breathed against his lips. Not a question but a demand. She was the only person who could demand anything of the Pakhan and not regret it. But that didn’t mean he would acquiesce easily, which he made clear when his hand came down on her bottom with a resounding smack. She gasp
ed and arched her back at the delicious combination of pleasure and pain radiating from the point of impact. As her flaming hair tumbled over her shoulders, she bit her lip and gazed down at him with heavy-lidded desire. “It’s so good…too good. I will never get enough of you and the way you make me feel, husband of mine. I love you more and more with each passing day.”

  “You better, you’re in too deep now.”

  “You are, literally,” she laughed before groaning as he caught her off guard with a wicked shift of his hips, sending the swollen head of his cock straight to her G-spot.

  Glazov grabbed onto Kathleen’s hips, sliding her up and down his shaft, enjoying the sight of her coming apart. She always eased his mind, washing away the problems and threats that loomed like constant unwanted companions. He closed his eyes, breathing her in as they moved together in a fevered dance that never, ever got old. They were perfect together, each knowing what the other wanted without being told, each providing what the other needed to be made whole.

  “Touch yourself,” he rasped, captivated by the sight of her lush breasts quivering in time with his thrusts. Ripples of pleasure feathered up and down his shaft as she climaxed. He could feel the walls of her pussy clamping down on him as the familiar tingle of heat started at the base of his spine. As always, he made sure she had taken her pleasure before he chased his own.

  Moments later, she returned from the bathroom with a warm washcloth. Glazov’s brows shot up before knitting together in a frown. Usually he took the lead with aftercare. After a brief hesitation, he relaxed, legs splayed lazily, hands clasped behind his head as he enjoyed the sight and sensation of his wife tending to him. She shot him a sidelong glance when his cock stirred in her hand. She leaned down and kissed the tip of his shaft, drawing a growl from deep within his chest. With both hands wrapped around his girth, her lips slid over the broad crown, teasing the sensitive slit as she lapped up a delicious burst of pre-cum.

  Her tongue traced the heavy veins that coursed his length before she took him fully into her mouth. With each slide and pull of her lips, she jacked him with her hand, taking full advantage of this rare opportunity to take the lead. Glazov’s head pressed back into the pillow, his chest heaving as he fought for control.

  “You’ll take it now,” he rasped as he slid his fingers through her hair to grasp her head and take over the action. Holding her head still, he thrust his hips, softly at first, then more vigorously as he adjusted the angle of her head slightly for deeper penetration. Hitting the back of her throat and beyond, Glazov fucked her mouth with abandon. Kathleen clutched his straining thighs as she took him in. With her eyes watering and her throat stretching to accommodate the mushroom head of his shaft, she felt him swell even more.

  Even after so many years, she lived for the moment just before Glazov climaxed. The bell end of his cock became so engorged, the flesh taut and tender as he struggled to restrain the cream that fought for release.

  “Fucking this mouth…ah, yeah, God—” A prolonged, gut-wrenching groan signaled the first jet of cum hitting the back of her throat. She worked his shaft with both hands as he came, eagerly milking him as his body shook and his hips arched toward her eager mouth. As she licked him clean, he studied her, his eyes solemn as he lazily stroked her hair, sweeping it away from her face over her shoulder.

  After tending to him with a few more gentle swipes of the washcloth, she padded across the room and tossed the washcloth in the laundry hamper.

  “Now…what’s going on, my love?” she asked softly as she padded across the room and curled up against his side.

  He sighed as he pulled the covers over them and tugged her closer. “Oh, you do know me well, don’t you, Ptichka?”

  “Better than anyone else, and don’t you forget it. Now what’s up?”

  “That discrepancy you found with Joseph’s work—”

  “You mean when I caught him stealing?”

  “Mm-hmm. It’s a real shit storm.”

  “Really? How?” She straightened up onto an elbow, laying her other hand on his chest.

  “Evidently someone was working with him. Vladimira has received a threatening letter expressing displeasure at Joseph’s demise.”

  Kathleen chuckled and shook her head. “Fools. I can’t imagine someone wanting to get on her bad side. Personally, I’d steer clear of a woman who knew that much about death. She’s always thinking of new ways to poison her prey.”

  “Every member of my family was born with a criminal mind, their genius bent toward the dark side.”

  “You need to find out who his friends were. If someone has a vendetta, it’s either his woman or a brother or a friend.”

  “I’ll find out who it is and kill him before he kills her. We’ve got too much shit going on with the Sinaloans, we don’t need distractions from someone with a grudge and a hero complex. It troubles me that this opposition seems to be coming from within. You know, it used to be that—”

  “You sound old.”

  “That’s what Novak said,” he laughed. He couldn’t help it. Maybe he did sound old, God knew he felt it. If anyone was aware of his own mortality and the swift passage of time, it was Alexander Glazov.

  The nondescript black van had been parked down the block from the strip club since early afternoon so no one paid it much attention. The club’s night life was in full swing now, the Friday night crowd filling the club to capacity. Music filled the night air every time the door opened.

  “Bingo,” Roksana murmured in a sing-song voice. “Sinaloans at 12 o’clock.”

  “It’s about fucking time,” Oleg muttered. Glazov wanted to know if there was support for Escondido’s rise to power, so they were surveilling a local strip club. The club was a popular Sinaloan hangout and a good choice for gathering intel.

  Despite having their operations disrupted and their personnel decimated by the warehouse explosion, the Sinaloans were still a force to be reckoned with and represented a potential threat to the Russians. Glazov had communicated his intentions to his own people, that the Sinaloans be steered in the right direction to accept Escondido as their rightful leader. The man would be a formidable adversary, yes, but he had the wisdom to pick and choose his battles.

  The Sinaloans used to function as a cartel but in recent months they had destabilized into little more than a street gang. As it stood now, the Sinaloans’ internal chaos made them undisciplined and unpredictable -- far too quick to shoot first and ask questions later. On the streets, reputation was everything. Any act of defiance was viewed as disrespect. To disrespect a gang member meant certain death.

  In contrast, Bratva was a polished, efficient organization. For that reason, the Pakhan wanted Escondido to take over the Sinaloan operation. His leadership would force them to become more professional in the way they did business. No longer would they be trigger-happy gangbangers trying to make a name for themselves. They would have purpose and direction and, more importantly, pride—Escondido would see to that. He would ensure they worked as a team with no Lone Rangers causing drama within the ranks.

  With Tatiana at the wheel, Bazarnik was crouched at the control panel in the back of the van, scowling as he adjusted settings to clear out white noise and amplify the voices of the two men huddled in the alley.

  Dmitriy had entrusted the surveillance equipment to Bazarnik as a test of sorts, and because he was simply too busy to come along with them. He was working around the clock upgrading security measures at the Pakhan’s home and other Bratva locations, but he had gone over everything with Oleg already: the locations of the listening devices he had installed during the lull between closing time and the opening manager’s arrival; how to adjust the settings on the control panel for optimal sound, and how to kill the devices to avoid detection.

  Oleg and Roksana were watching the action through the van’s darkened windows, monitoring who went in and who came out. The two men who had just stepped out onto the sidewalk were Benito and Pedro, known associates of Hec
tor’s.

  “Man, I’m telling you, Hector gettin’ blown up like that has put us in a real bad position.”

  Bazarnik, Tatiana, Oleg, and Roksana listened to the men’s conversation, being careful to remain absolutely still as they hid in the shadows. The men were of the belief that Hector had died in the explosion, not realizing that he met a very different demise later that night. It was just as well.

  “I know, I know. Listen, man, I don’t see nobody but Escondido being able to fix this mess. As bad as I hate to admit it, we got no leadership. You saw it yourself, Pedro, fuckin’ Hector was a hothead, too unpredictable. I don’t like a whole lot of rules either, but maybe that's what we need right now. The whole thing’s been fucked up for too long. Don’t need no enemies to kill us off; hell, we’re killing ourselves off left and right. This shit’s gettin’ crazy in Mexico, too, the streets are overflowing with Sinaloan blood.”

  “True that.” The young man took a long drag on his cigarette as he listened to his friend. “You’re right, man, if we don’t have strong leadership the other gangs are going to start circling us and taking us out. Benito, you know how the enemies work, they see weakness and they come in for the kill. Everybody knows about that dogfight getting blown up, no matter what the local news says. Whoever did that ain’t an amateur. You gotta to have your shit together to hide arson in plain sight like that. Faulty fuel line, my ass – fuck that shit.”

  “We’re just fuckin’ lucky we were taking the other dogs back to the pick-up location after their fights were over,” Benito sighed as he shook his head. “Otherwise, we would have been blown sky high too. Who do you think did it?”

  “Fuck, Benito, I got no way of knowing some shit like that. What I do know is we need somebody smart to take over and Escondido has got what it takes. Everybody else is either green or too high-maintenance. If he was behind this, then as far as I’m concerned, that was his audition and he got the part, you know? I sure as shit ain’t going for that job.”