Such a beautiful collage of my beautiful bird. I can’t let you get away with the dirty things you’ve done though. You’ll have to pay for being a dirty bird first, but then I’ll forgive you and we will move on. I’m not one to hold a grudge—not against you. Never against you.
The hardest part of all this was the waiting. The stranger knew if he didn’t wait for exactly the right moment, he would fail. Failure wasn’t an option. He’d worked too long and too hard to just fuck it all up by being impatient. So, he would wait.
It was just so hard to watch her with him. Touching him. Letting that monster into her body like that. The anger he felt was escalating into a frenzy of obsession. He’d never been a patient man and this agony was testing his limits.
Under normal circumstances he would have had her by now. Most men didn’t have bodyguards watching over their women.
“Soon, very soon, we’ll be together, my love,” he murmured as he stroked the photo as if he were petting her hair. After all, he had his Bratva bloodline going for him. Maybe those stupid Bratva gods Glazov was always talking about would be there for him. If he had ever needed a supernatural entity to intervene on his behalf, it was now.
Chapter Fifteen
Roksana watched her mother as she sat at her makeup table. They had enjoyed this ritual of theirs since she was a little girl. It was no different for her now as a woman than it had been for her as a little girl—she idolized her mother and watching her put on her makeup was one of the ways in which that manifested.
In many ways, they were a lot alike. Roksana looked like her mother and carried the same strength her mother exemplified; however, she was a Glazov through and through and shared many personality traits with her father. She was as ruthless as any man on her father’s payroll, but what made her even more dangerous was that she was invested emotionally, deeply. When it came to matters of the heart, Roksana always overreacted. Whether she was busting out a windshield or beating the shit out of someone, if you messed with her man, her family, or her money, you were in for it.
“So…the way Oleg and I figure it, this guy’s going to come after you. After all, you are the jewel in Glazov’s crown--” At that, Kathleen set down her mascara and gave her daughter a sweet smile.
“It’s true, Mother,” Roksana continued. “If you look at this from this whacko’s perspective, you are Glazov’s most coveted possession, his greatest weakness--”
“His only weakness,” her mother added as she turned her face this way and that, checking for any flaws.
“True. So, we’re all gonna find out just how badass you really are. ‘Think you can take him out if you run into the guy in a dark alley?” Roksana rolled on the bed, laughing at her own joke.
“I’m glad you find this so amusing, little girl. I’m being stalked by a psycho who believes he should have been the Pakhan and you think it’s funny.”
“Do tell…is the crazy psycho man following you?”
“Crazy psycho man?”
“Crazy, psycho, deranged man.” Once again, she was rolling around on the bed laughing hysterically. For some reason her mother brought out the kid in her. They had always been best friends as well as mother and daughter.
Kathleen turned around, giving Roksana her full attention. “I’m not so sure it’s a laughing matter. Honestly, it’s strange; I just keep feeling like someone’s following me.”
“Ooh, maybe father’s supernatural abilities are rubbing off on you.”
“That’s enough,” she said coldly. “Could you be serious for one minute?”
“Okay…this is me being serious,” Roksana said with a scowl. “Do I look like Oleg, you know, stoic?” Trying to make the same face that Oleg always did, sent her into another fit of giggles. She stopped abruptly when her mother’s mother-of-pearl hairbrush whizzed by her head at lightning speed, barely missing her.
“What the fuck is it with you people throwing things? Oleg nearly killed me with a knife this morning.”
“Have you ever considered that there seems to be one common denominator in this equation…you. You must be getting on people’s nerves if they’re throwing things at you. Anyway…back to my stalker. I do feel like someone’s following me. I mean, I’m used to your father stalking me. It’s part of his charm,” she said with a soft smile. “But this? This is different. This is not him. I can feel it. I just know.”
“So, Oleg was right.”
“About what?”
“He said if you really want to hurt a man, go after his woman. Ooh, wouldn’t it be creepy if he was watching you everywhere you go? You know what, that gives me an idea.”
When her mother saw the mischievous expression on Roksana’s face, she groaned and shook her head, knowing it could only mean trouble.
“Gotta go, mom. Love you.” She bent down and kissed her mother on the cheek, running out of the room before Kathleen could even think of trying to stop her.
“Come on, Oleg. I’ll tell you when we get there.”
“It isn’t like you’re giving me a choice.”
She tossed him the keys, hopping into the jeep they kept handy for driving around the property.
“Where the fuck are we going?” he asked as he put the vehicle in gear and started off.
“For now, take us through the main gate and circle around to the back edge of the property. There’s no telling what this guy does to stalk Mother when she goes out. But since the shooting, Papa has stepped up patrols along the perimeter here at home; there’s no way anyone could get on the property now. So, that begs the question: if you were a stalker, where would you position yourself to spy on my mother’s private life?”
“If? I am a stalker, woman, but it isn’t your mother I’m watching.”
“I’m beginning to think it’s a prerequisite for working for my father.”
“Well, of course, it is. If you’re shit at gathering Intel, you won’t be any good at finding your enemies to torture and kill.”
“Point taken. However, if I were a stalker, I’d be setting up over there, just over that ridge.”
“It isn’t a ridge, Roksana; it’s a small hill.”
“Okay…go up over the small, fucking hill and park. Must you be so particular about everything? What damn difference does it make?”
“The devil’s in the details,” Oleg said, but she was already out of the car. She turned in a slow circle, eyeing the property and gauging the distance from the house. The proximity made it a feasible spot for a stalker. Actually, it was perfect, she thought with dread as she peered over the fence and took in what could have been the stalker’s perfect view of her parents’ bedroom window. Shit.
Roksana looked around for evidence of any intruders. She was trained to know what to look for and the first thing she noticed was a series of spots where the grass had been flattened. Footprints. Bingo.
“What the fuck, Oleg!? I can’t believe you wore those shoes out here. In case you don’t know, those are Barker black ostrich cap-toe shoes. Do you have any idea what I paid for those?”
Oleg ignored the comment, too busy studying the area where the grass had been worn down. It was obvious this had to be a favorite spot of his mother-in-law’s stalker. The thought of someone watching her in her bedroom – and, probably, in her bed -- made his blood boil. He could only imagine what his father-in-law would do if he found out. “Maybe we should keep this to ourselves until we can hand this guy over to your father.”
“Why’s that?”
“Because, if I know your father like I know your father, he’s going to go ballistic at the thought of someone seeing your mother with no clothes on.”
“I really don’t want to think about my mother or father without their clothes on, thank-you-very-much. But, yeah, you’re right.” She bent down, intent on examining a small wrapper that was hidden in a clump of grass. “Oh, shit. It’s gotta be him. It’s his brother.”
“Why do you say that?”
She smoothed the wrinkles out
of the small piece of glossy paper and held it up so he could see the evidence. “I can assure you there isn’t another Russian alive who’s crazy enough to come after my father. It could only be his brother. And this”—she held the wrapper up between two fingers—“is the proof. You know what this is, right? This is imported Russian chocolate—Alyonka. This stuff’s damn near impossible to get around here, so that narrows down the field of likely candidates considerably. It has to be someone who knows how to get it. I mean, who the fuck eats Russian chocolate in Louisville, Kentucky?”
“Okay. I get it,” Oleg said. “But I’m more concerned about when and how to present this information with your father. He needs to know about this, but I don’t want to burden him with this until we can do something about it – like hang this guy up by his toes and leave your father alone with him, just your father and maybe a baseball bat.
“But for now, if he knows this guy’s probably been peeping into his bedroom and is still at large? You’ll have released the Kracken, Roks. You know how crazy your father is. There are only two people in this world that I am afraid of, and it is no coincidence that they are related: your father and you. Shit, this is not good.”
“Wow, I think that may be the most words I’ve ever heard you speak at one time. Seriously!” she laughed in response to the doleful look he shot her way. “Baby, I’ve been hiding shit from my father for years. I got this,” Roksana said reassuringly.
“Right. About that…you think you have been hiding shit from him? Trust me, your father knows everything—always has, always will. You are delusional if you think you are keeping anything from him. I swear,” Oleg said, pointing to the house, “he’s probably got eyes on us right now.”
“Oh, Oleg. You are hilarious. Well, at least I don’t have to worry about you fucking around on me.”
“Roksana,” he said softly as he laid his hands on her shoulders, drawing slow circles along her collar bones with his thumbs. “You never have to worry about that anyway.” Roksana melted just a little at his gentle tone, right before his eyes crinkled at the corners and he continued, “That tight pussy and wide-open throat of yours are enough to keep any man in line. You own me.”
“Very funny.”
“Woman, I’ve never been more serious in my life. The things you can do to my--”
“Fine, I get it!” she laughed. “And, yeah, I do own you, and I’ve got a Russian AK-47 to back it up. You, sir, are my bitch!”
She laughed and started to head back to the car until he grabbed her around the throat, squeezing just enough to be uncomfortable. Clearly, playtime was over.
“I’m nobody’s bitch! You. Are. My. Bitch.”
“Mmm, you know I like it when you get rough,” she purred.
“Don’t fuck with me, Roksana. I may work for your father, but I own you.”
“Okay. Calm down. I was just playing.”
She’d never met a man who was as ruthless as her father, and she’d never met a man who was as cold as Oleg. The fact that her brutal husband had a soft spot for only her, made her love him even more. She, of all people, knew he was incapable of feeling anything remotely compassionate or loving, except when it came to her. That meant more to her than anything in the world.
She loved him, from the depths of her soul, she did. They would figure out what to do about the Glazovs’ stalker just like they did everything—together.
“We’ll get through this,” she assured him. “I think it’s okay, since we’re not absolutely sure about anything, to keep the information from him until we bring the guy in.”
“We don’t even know who he is.”
“Oleg.” She made her way over and placed her palm on his cheek to calm him. “We’ll go to the Russian grocery stores since they’d be the most likely source for a hard-to-come-by product like this. There’s only one or two and we’ll talk to the people who run them. They’ll give up the information we want. We’ll make them tell us. You have a way with people. I mean let’s face it, by the time you get done breaking the third or fourth bone in their hand…they always talk. I’ve never seen anyone make it through all twenty-seven.”
He looked down at her indulgently, taking pride in the high regard she had for his skills. “Yes…they will. I guarantee you they will, or their sons will be fatherless and their daughters devoid of husbands.”
A chill went through her as she looked at the man she loved. Although he loved her and he loved her family, his emotions extended no farther. He simply wasn’t capable of it.
She knew if anything ever happened to her, Oleg would never be able to love another. She was all he had, the only love he had or would ever know. However, their life together, which was the only thing that mattered in his life, was possible only because it had suited the will of the Pakhan. So, any betrayal or withholding of information, real or perceived, violated Oleg’s sense of honor and loyalty to the man he admired most – and could put their relationship at risk.
“Now,” he said flatly, his eyes brooking no arguments. “We start now and this son of a bitch goes down. I’ll be damned if I’m going lose everything that means anything to me because of some asshole with a chip on his shoulder. He has got to go—now.”
“Okay. You say he goes…then he goes.” An unfamiliar sensation of fear struck her as she thought about everything he had said. It was bad enough that this fucker was targeting her parents, but every Glazov stood to lose if he succeeded. That wasn’t going to happen -- not on her watch.
Chapter Sixteen
Dmitriy and Anastasia looked up as the strident echo of footsteps got closer. They stood as the Pakhan and his cousin entered the room. Glazov made note of the cutting-edge surveillance equipment and other security gadgets that filled the room. It was like something out of a spy movie. It pleased him.
Between the technology, Glazov’s connections, and Dmitriy’s hacking expertise, there was nothing that couldn’t be found, nothing the Pakhan wouldn’t know. Sealed records were no longer sealed. ‘Top Secret’ were just words on a file. Secrets that were impossible for others to dig up were child’s play for Glazov’s team. It was simply a matter of knowing what to look for and hacking into the necessary digital files to get it.
Dmitriy had never failed his Pakhan. He approached every job as if it were a puzzle to be solved, and the more complicated the puzzle, the better. He was at his best under pressure.
Novak and Dmitriy were in the middle of a Rubik’s cube challenge of sorts; Novak would spend hours jumbling up a Rubik’s cube, only to have Dmitry figure it out in a matter of moments. Dmitriy enjoyed busting Novak’s balls about it every time the cocky bastard presented him with a Rubik’s to solve. Novak, on the other hand, seemed perfectly content watching the wheels turning in Dmitriy’s mind as he moved the pieces this way and that until he tossed the perfectly arranged cube back to a bemused Novak, giving him a shit-eating grin and a casual, “Better luck next time, suckah.”
But this visit was about more serious matters; matters that were of grave concern to the Pakhan. Dmitriy was ready.
“What do you have for me?” Glazov asked as he lowered himself into an office chair and gestured for everyone to sit.
“This guy dropped off the fucking radar after he came over here from Russia, so information is not plentiful. He goes by Maverick Vetrov. He’s good at covering his tracks; there are no credit cards, no utility records, no phone bills. His mother was a prostitute and supposedly, as you already know, his father was Mikhael Kirill—your father.” Dmitriy took note as Glazov pressed his lips into a thin line at the mention of his father.
“Now, this is just my opinion,” he went on, “but I don’t think this guy is your brother. Your father frequented the brothel where this woman, er, worked, but so did a lot of other men. I think his mother got pregnant by a random john and cooked up a story about her son being the heir to a wealthy client. No mother wants to tell their kid that they don’t know who their father is. The kid bought the story and has spe
nt his life feeding an obsession with the Glazov family. He followed you over here to the U.S. in the hopes of staging a coup d’état, Bratva-style. He wants what you have: the power, the money…the woman. Long story short, you’ve got a sicko out there who is fixated on you and your family.”
“What do you recommend?” Glazov asked quietly as he picked an imaginary speck of lint from his trousers.
“Easy. The only way you’re going to get rid of this guy is to kill him.”
“And you need to make an example of him,” Novak chimed in. “If you don’t, you’ll have wanna-be Glazovs coming out of the woodwork for years. They’ll multiply like fuckin’ rats.”
“Agreed. However, killing him isn’t the problem -- finding him is. It seems the only person capable of drawing him out of hiding is my wife.”
“There’s always that option. But, cuz, I know you and you’re not going to put Kathleen at risk.” Novak shook his head in disgust as he continued, “This Vetrov asshole is obviously coming unglued. One wrong move on our part and your wife’s at his mercy.”
“Yes, cousin, but what is more dangerous: to leave him out there loose and try to intercept him, or to use his own game to take him down? Dmitriy is right. For whatever reason, this man has convinced himself he is my brother, the rightful Glazov heir. He is obsessed and will not stop until he is dead by my hand. I cannot use my wife as bait to bring this bastard out of hiding. I would never forgive myself if something happened to her. We will have to come up with something else.”
“We’ve got another issue, sir,” Anastasia said, drawing Glazov’s icy gaze her way.
“As if this wasn’t entertaining enough already?” Novak countered.
She cleared her throat. “We’ve become aware of a guy who says he worked with your father over in Russia. We can’t find any evidence to back up his story. Anyway…he wrote a book bragging about how he worked side-by-side with your father and now he’s being wined and dined on the lecture circuit.”
Diamond Days (Born Bratva Book 6) Page 9
