Glazov's Legacy (Born Bratva Book 2)

by Steele, Suzanne

  “You’re right on time, Mrs. Glazov. Your favorite candles arrived today, and I set some aside in the back just for you.”

  She sets the bag of candles on the counter, and I thank her for thinking of me. I have grown accustomed to being treated like royalty in town due to my husband’s prestige and power. It seems like everywhere I go, I’m either treated with reverence and favor, or hatred and contempt. I learned early on in the game to frequent the places where my husband is held in high regard.

  I quickly make my way out the back door where I parked because the alley had easier access. It is a decision I will look back on and deeply regret.

  I unlock the trunk and am tossing the bag in when I feel an arm slide around my neck. It all happened so fast; first there was squeezing, and then I saw black. I had no idea anyone was even watching me, and I most certainly didn’t see anyone following me. I knew I had blacked out when I wake up, and I’m in the trunk of a car, bound, blindfolded, and gagged.

  I can hear music blaring through the car speakers as I scream behind the gag and kick my feet at the lid of the trunk. My legs are bound, so my kicking is a fruitless endeavor. They have used what I assume is duct tape, and the way they have me restrained makes it impossible to kick out the taillights. However, that doesn’t deter me from trying to locate them with my feet. I’m a survivor, and if this bastard thinks I’m going down without a fight, he is sorely mistaken.

  When my attempts prove unsuccessful, I decide to try and get a feel for what type of road we are on. It is something my husband has taught me to do. Free, smooth, open road means we are traveling on an expressway. Frequent stops suggest inner city roads. The feel and sound of gravel likely mean rural country. The beginning of the ride had felt like expressway, and now there is a lot of stop and go. I surmise we are probably in an inner city neighborhood now. To my dismay, the ride turns back into an open road feel, which probably means my abductor is headed to a rural area. That is never a good thing. The first rule of surviving an attack is to never get into a vehicle and allow yourself to be taken from the scene of your abduction. Not that I had a choice in the matter, but I have already broken that rule. Finally, after what seems to be about thirty minutes of driving, the car stops, and the trunk is opened. I listen for voices, hoping it will help me to later identify my abductors to my husband. Even knowing the accent they have or the pitch of their voices will help Glazov track them down… if I live.

  Judging by the ease with which he lifts me from the trunk, tossing me over his shoulder to carry me, I think it’s safe to assume my abductor is a man, and a strong one at that. I can hear what sounds like a chain and a lock being keyed open, followed by what sounds like a large metal door scraping against the asphalt of a parking lot.

  The scraping of the door as he enters, coupled with how he locks it again behind us, lead me to believe that I am in the warehouse district, which isn’t a good thing. If I am, it means there will be no witnesses to my probable assault and possible death.

  I am none too gently tossed down onto the hard floor where I immediately attempt to crawl away. Concrete bites into my knees and elbows, and I cry out in pain, despite the tight gag he has placed in my mouth. Once again, I am picked up and tossed over a man’s shoulder. When I am released this time, however, I am made to stand, and my arms are lifted up and hooked onto some sort of device. I am getting the feeling that this place might be one of those warehouses where they butcher meat, and now the fear is really setting in.

  My arms are stretched up so high that the position is restricting my air intake. Between that and the fear, I am struggling for every breath. My chest heaves, and I am standing on my toes in bare feet. He must have removed my shoes while I was knocked out.

  He is standing so close that I can hear him breathing, but he still hasn’t spoken as of yet. The familiar sound of a knife being flicked open sends me into a frenzy of movement and induces gag muffled screams of terror. His only response is to grab my chin. He squeezes it so hard that the gag becomes saturated with my tears of pain.

  The point of the cold blade scrapes over my breastbone as it cuts through the light cotton sundress I’m wearing. The feel of the tiny stream of blood trickling down my chest that follows makes me force my body deathly still. I hear, as well as feel, the fabric fall to my feet, and then the tip of the blade cuts off my underwear.

  Next comes the licking, the sucking, and the nipping of teeth all over my body as I fight the natural reaction to become aroused. My resistance only seems to spur my captor on. He shoves a thick finger of one hand into my soaked opening, and he lowers the gag from my mouth with his other. He pumps his finger in and out of me a few times, and then he places the digit between my lips in a silent command for me to suck it clean.

  “Always watching, Ptichka!” Glazov growls in my ear. My suspicions are correct once again… my abductor is my husband. He slices through the tape around my wrists, catching my nude body in his arms before dropping me to the floor. I land on all fours, and he quickly cuts the tape around my ankles. He pushes down on the back of my neck, forcing me to turn my head to the side and rest my cheek on the floor while demanding I keep my ass hiked in the air. I know what he wants; he wants me open and exposed for his viewing pleasure. I can hear him stripping out of his clothing as he circles my body. He finally stops directly in front of me. His hand twists in my hair as he pulls my mouth up to his cock, and he forcefully makes me take it in. I suck and pull him into my throat as deeply as I can without choking. He lifts the blindfold up over my head and off, looking down on me with cold eyes.

  “Don’t you dare make me come.”

  I slow down; licking and sucking slowly, I tease him but don’t satisfy him. He jerks my head back roughly by the handful of hair he grips, forcing me to look up at him.

  “What the fuck have I told you about going out without a bodyguard?”

  When I attempt to speak, he just shakes his head at me, forbidding me the opportunity to defend myself for going out unaccompanied. He pushes my face back down to the floor, positions himself behind my raised ass, and slides into me. I can feel my knees scraping against the unforgiving concrete, but the pleasure and the thrill of being taken like this, overshadows any pain.

  “You never tire of being taken, and I never tire of taking you. You’re mine for life,” he growls at me.

  I can feel his large hands behind me, spreading my cheeks wide open so he can watch all the vile things he does to me.

  “Touch yourself, baby. That’s a good girl. Let me watch you come. You look so fucking beautiful when you submit to me.”

  My body clenches and throbs against him, pulling his seed from his body and milking him of all his rage. He gently lays me down on the floor. I can hear him rifling through cabinets until, finally, the feel of a soft blanket covers me. He picks me up after he dresses, and I’m still wrapped in the blanket. He carries me out to the car, goes back to the warehouse to lock everything up, and then returns to get in the driver’s seat.

  “Where’s your car?”

  “Yafon dropped me off in the alley where I picked you up.”

  “Picked me up?” I question him, chuckling.

  Yafon has worked for my husband for as long as I’ve known Glazov, and after twenty years of marriage, he is familiar with our antics. This isn’t the first time we have played abduction games.

  I wrap myself up in the warmth of the blanket, hugging it close to me before I lay my head down on my husband’s lap. Feeling safe and loved, I give in to sleep while my husband drives us back to the mansion.

  Chapter Eight

  Glazov

  I stroke her hair as I pull out of the warehouse parking lot and head back toward the mansion. I had planned on coming by to check on the cleaner’s work after the incident with Vadim. I’m not usually in the habit of going in behind her and verifying her work, but this is my son we’re talking about, and I needed to make sure she wiped away all evidence of his first kill. While confirming Kodiak
could not be tied to the crime, one of my bodyguards notified me that my little Ptichka had flown the coup once again. This is the exact reason why I keep her on such a short leash; trouble follows her. I decided it was time to instill a little fear of just what could happen to her when she disobeys my orders. I thought, perhaps, a lesson in how easy it would be for an enemy to abduct her would make her think twice about taking off without protection.

  I wonder at what point she knew I was her abductor. There was no doubt she knew my smell. Maybe it was the feel of my lips on her body or the texture of my hands. The thing about it is… when you’re bound, gagged, blindfolded, and afraid, your mind can play tricks on you. I played on that; there’s nothing like a good mind fuck.

  When you combine bondage with sensory-depravation, your victim begins to question everything because she can no longer discern what is real. I still have the ability to terrorize her, and I feed off that sick fear and longing I have created in her over the course of our marriage. Even after twenty years of taking her, and using her body for all my dark desires, we still have an unquenchable thirst for each other. My wife turns me on like no other woman has ever had the ability to do. The way her body responds to the things I subject her to, leaves no doubt in my mind that she is as kinky and as dark as I am.

  The way her breath hitches, the way her body trembles, and the questions I see in her eyes when she doesn’t understand her body’s response—it all excites me. I still enjoy stalking her, abducting her, and taking her, as much as I enjoyed it in the early days of our relationship. It just gets better and better between us. Ptichka gives me a reason to live. She gives me something real to hang on to in my world of uncertainty. I will never let her go. She knows it, I know it, my kids know it, and my organization knows it. Ptichka is the property of Alexander Glazov, and the same way I live for her, I would die for her or, worse yet, kill for her.

  Chapter Nine

  Kathleen

  I awake in the morning with the familiar feeling of bruises over bruises, and I immediately think of my husband. I rub my wrists and eye the ligature marks. I quit trying to hide them from family members and extended family years ago. They are well aware of my husband’s sadistic side. I don’t give a fuck what my husband does to me; I enjoy it as much as he does. We share two hard limits: no fucking around, and no sharing me. Glazov doesn’t play well with others and neither do I. We both know what the other will do if one of us were to have an affair. Needless to say, there will be no infidelity in our marriage. Our jealousies runs deep, and the consequences are lethal.

  Today is the day Novak will be arriving with his wife, Katrina. There is a story that is entertaining to me, a rumor about Novak and Katrina. It is said that Katrina managed to get her hands on his diary, and she wrote a book about Novak based on the material she read. Her punishment had been forced marriage to him, Novak! Evidently, male dominance is a trait that runs deeply in Glazov’s genealogy.

  I jump in the shower, get dressed, and put on my make-up for the day. Glazov’s sister, Vladimira, and the rest of the women will be arriving early to prepare for the party being thrown this evening to welcome Novak and Katrina. We will also be celebrating Kodiak’s official induction in to the organization. The mansion will be full of guests and family members. Bratva from all four of our cells are being flown in from all over the country. Having Novak here and my son ‘coming out’ are big deals. I don’t know exactly what Kodiak has done, but I do know it has something to do with the man who was stealing from my husband. I can’t imagine anyone thinking they could get away with stealing from Alexander Glazov. They put their life on the line by doing so.

  Vladimira smiles at me as I make my way into the kitchen. I’m not shocked that she’s already here.

  “Everyone is so excited about Novak’s arrival. You’ve met him, no?”

  Her thick Russian accent is more pronounced when she is excited.

  “Oh yes,” I chuckle. “I’ve met him, and I’ve also had the pleasure of meeting his little plagiarizing wife.”

  I don’t tell Vladimira, but I have a problem with the woman. I know my temperament, and I know I’ll end up addressing her face to face sooner or later. I’d like to know why she did the heinous act of plagiarizing Novak’s diary; it’s such a personal affront.

  To a reader, it is an unforgivable sin, and it is a deathblow to an author’s career. Why would such a talented woman, who has no need to steal someone else’s writing, stoop so low? The odd thing is that after she apologized to her readers and named Novak as co-author of her book, she has an even larger following. I need to look her in the eye and get some answers before she will ever re-earn my respect. I’m a voracious reader with no talent for writing, and I loathe anyone who would steal someone else’s work. Simply put, she has a lot of explaining to do before I’ll ever fully trust her, much less respect her. I’m not the type to gossip behind fellow Bratva women’s backs. Though many of the women consider gossiping a form of entertainment, I prefer to look someone in the eye when I confront them. Perhaps I’m more like Glazov than even I ever realized.

  “She’s going to be working while she’s here, writing articles for the newspaper. She’ll be Glazov’s PR person.”

  “Well, that should be very interesting, to say the least. Making the head of Bratva a likable personality in the community won’t be an easy feat.”

  “It’ll be easier than you think with all the community work he does. His political ties put him in a very favorable position too.”

  I shake my head and chuckle.

  “Leave it to Glazov to be concerned with his squeaky clean image.”

  “You doubt my love of the community, Ptichka?”

  I look up to see Glazov standing in the doorframe. It barely allows enough room for his large body. He’s wearing a grey suit that has a bit of shine to it, a grey dress shirt, and to top off the ensemble, a grey tie with black and white designs running through it. He is leaning back against the wall with his legs crossed at the ankles, and he is staring at me while he cleans his nails with the switchblade he usually keeps in his pocket. The man carries enough guns and knives for a small army. Who am I to judge? I have a hatbox stashed in the top of my walk-in closet that is full of firearms.

  “Far be it from me to besmirch the glowing reputation of Alexander the Great,” I answer him, purposely goading him.

  In seconds, he is off the wall and standing in front of me with his hand around my throat.

  “Ah shit, here we go. She really needs to cook, Glazov,” Vladimira remarks as she rolls her eyes at him.

  He pulls me into the large dining room, shutting the door before he pins me to the wall.

  “When I want your fucking opinion about my reputation, I’ll ask for it.”

  “Fuck you, Glazov. You don’t scare me.”

  My eyes grow wide with terror as he calmly places the knife to my throat. We both know I am lying about not being scared.

  “Liar, you’re such a fucking liar,” he hisses at me.

  His hand slides up under the skirt of my dress, and he immediately reaches down into my panties.

  “Please, Glazov, someone could walk in and see us.”

  “Is that why that little fire crotch of yours is dripping wet for me?”

  I jump when his finger thrusts into me, and I can feel the trickle of blood on my neck.

  “I wouldn’t do that; you can’t jump around like that. I keep my knives very sharp. You never know when I may have to kill someone.”

  He leans in to lap up the blood while his hand continues to work its magic.

  “Come for me, baby. You’re such a little vixen.”

  My body obeys him in the same manner it always does. Afterwards, he sticks his finger in my mouth, leering at me as he speaks.

  “Clean it off, and if you leave this fucking house today without my permission, my belt’s coming off. We both know what you’ll get if that happens.”

  I nod my head in acquiescence, and his sadist
ic laugh rings out through the air as he exits the dining room.

  “Time for me to go and live up to my sparkling reputation,” he says as he walks away.

  It’s the last thing I hear as he leaves me plastered against the wall, basking in post-orgasmic bliss and soaked in my own juices.

  Chapter Ten

  Glazov

  I make my way into the gambling house and join Kodiak in stalking the new dealer from the shadows.

  “She’s up to something; I can feel it!” he says.

  I look down at his tented pants.

  “Yeah, she isn’t the only one up to something. It appears to me that you’ve inherited your father’s love of stalking prey. You need to keep her close. It’s the best way to find out what the sneaky little bitch is up to. You know the old adage, keep your friends close and your enemies closer. Bring her to the gathering tonight.”

  “I’ll find out what the fuck she’s up to.”

  He answers like he didn’t hear me, but I know he did. The kid doesn’t miss anything; he’s too much like his father.

  “You do not have my permission to kill her.” I lean in and growl at him.

  “I don’t want to kill her. I want to strap her ass to the wall and fuck her senseless.”

  “If we find out she’s up to something, we’ll put her ass in the basement dungeon if we have to. There is more than one way to deal with a curious kitten,” I say as I chuckle.

  I know my son, and I know he would love nothing more than to have his little prey caged so he can toy with her.

  I make my way toward my office, leaving my son to deal with the first woman I’ve seen fully catch his interest. I wonder if he secretly hopes that I will have to take her captive. My radar is also telling me she is up to something. I have every intention of finding out what that something is before I play my hand. Kodiak observed me watching her attentively, and I never had to reveal to him that I had my own suspicions. He picked up on my distrust of her on his own; the kid is that sharp when it comes to reading people.