Diamond Days (Born Bratva Book 6)

by Suzanne Steele

  Dmitriy cut in, “He’s going to draw unnecessary attention to you and we don’t need that shit right now.”

  Glazov tilted his head back briefly and pinched the bridge of his nose, then settled his gaze on Dmitriy, nostrils flaring. “His story is bullshit for the simple reason that if it were true, he wouldn’t speak of it. The simple fact that he’s gone public with this fantasy shows that he has no knowledge of Bratva or my father. I have no idea why he would go so far out of his way to draw my attention, but he has.

  “Find him,” Glazov ordered as he looked from Anastasia to Dmitriy, taking note of their intimate body language, how comfortable they seemed to be with one another. “Let Oleg and Roksana question him. If he claims to know so much about Bratva, maybe he knows where this fake brother of mine is. Also, I want to beef up the security detail on my wife. Don’t let her know she’s being followed.”

  Novak laughed. “She’s always being followed and she always knows it.”

  “Doesn’t matter. If she doesn’t see them she won’t be trying to lose them. She enjoys outwitting her bodyguards, no matter how much I discourage her. It’s a game to her. Right now, I can’t afford to indulge her rebellious side. Both of these issues are potentially dangerous to my family, but they are also distracting us from our other business interests.” He rose from his chair, gesturing for Novak to join him. “The only thing that’s going to fix all of this is the shedding of blood. The sooner, the better.”

  “You got it, boss. Anastasia and I will continue trying to track down Maverick too.”

  “I do not want you trying. I want it done, Dmitriy. My top priority is keeping my wife safe. Keeping her on lockdown is never an option because she will just sneak out. You just make sure there are eyes on her at all times. Until we kill this guy, none of us are safe.”

  Glazov was a man who was accustomed to having both guns blazing whenever his back was against the wall. This time the mayhem was hitting too close to home. The whole thing was setting his teeth on edge. It was the first time he’d ever dealt with another man harboring an obsession for his wife.

  He, of all people, knew how dangerous such an obsession could become. After all, it was the way his own marriage had begun. He wasn’t going to allow this to be how it ended.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “There are only two of them. The first shop we’ll check out is on Bardstown Road. It’s hard to believe there aren’t more international food markets around here, but this may work in our favor. With just two of them, that’ll mean fewer heads for you to bust, Oleg.”

  She looked at her husband’s profile as he drove the SUV. As usual, his features were set in stone—no humor, no small talk. Nothing but business.

  “Did you bring the can of black spray paint?”

  “Sure did. I just hope this guy is big on customer service. If he knows his customers by name, we should be able to find what we’re looking for. Hey, speaking of that, get Dmitriy on the phone.”

  It only took a couple of rings for Dmitriy to pick up, his deep, smooth voice filling the small space.

  “Hey, man.”

  “Dmitriy, did you and Anastasia get a name on this asshole who’s giving us trouble?”

  “Yeah, I just gave it to your father-in-law; he and Novak just left. Where are you, anyway?”

  “Roksana and I are on our way to check out a few Russian specialty shops. Obviously, we will have better odds of finding what we are looking for if we have a name.”

  “Got it. We did some digging and came up with one name, Maverick Vetrov. The guy’s been off the grid since he came over from Russia. It’s kind of strange, all these people claiming to have Glazov ties, yet none of them carry the same surname—they’re all over the fucking map. Nobody’s kin to anybody from what I can tell.”

  “Alright. Thank you. We’re out here on Bardstown Road getting ready to check out the first store.”

  “You taking bets on how many fingers you’ll have to break before the guy talks?” Dmitriy continued before Oleg could answer, “I’m betting a crisp Benji Franklin on him talking – and probably peeing himself -- by the time you break three. Try to take it easy on the old guy.”

  “How do you know he’s old?”

  “It’s a Russian-owned shop. They are passed on from generation to generation. He’s probably got his granddaughter working behind the counter. For your sake, I just hope Roksana doesn’t get jealous if she looks at you--”

  Oleg hung up. He wasn’t in the mood to play. He wanted this business taken care of before the guy ended up causing problems that couldn’t be fixed. He may have entered the Glazov inner circle by marriage, but they were his family and he had no intention of letting anything happen to any of them.

  Roksana reached into the glove compartment and took out her Glock, sticking it in the back waistband of her jeans.

  “Let’s get this party started, baby,” she said with a grin before leaning over and kissing his cheek. “Be safe. I love you.”

  The words were a habit she had formed, believing it would keep them safe until the next time they went after an enemy. She always told him she loved him and she always told him to be safe. You never knew what was going to happen on a job. The only thing you did know was to expect the unexpected.

  “As I love you.”

  Oleg wanted to make a clean, quick getaway so he backed into an alley where he guessed the trucks pulled in to unload supplies. Normally he would just kidnap somebody he wanted to interrogate, but time wasn’t on their side so he’d have to opt for something a little messier.

  They jumped from the SUV and held hands as they ambled up the sidewalk like any other young, married couple out shopping. He had time to say one more thing in the seconds before he opened the door and triggered the bell that most stores used on their customer entrances.

  “Make sure they sell Alyonka Russian chocolate before you just start shooting the place up, woman.”

  “You know me…”

  “Yeah. I do. That’s what worries me.”

  The store was smaller than they had expected and had no surveillance cameras. Sweet. It was more like a small neighborhood convenience store, but featured Russian specialty products. Whether it was people from the motherland or just someone who wanted to dabble in Russian cuisine for an evening, they appeared to carry anything one might need to prepare an authentic Russian meal.

  “Do you have Alyonka Russian chocolate?” Roksana asked the old shopkeeper who stood behind the counter, rearranging items on the shelf along the wall. She quickly peeked over the counter while his back was still turned, looking for weapons of any kind that he might keep handy. Oleg used the opportunity to lock the door and flip the Open sign over to Closed. They moved with a deceptive ease that ensured the man didn’t realize he was in danger. He had no way of knowing that two of the most dangerous gangsters in the city were in his establishment.

  “Ah, Alonkya? A discerning palate you must have,” he said with a smile in a thickly accented voice. He peered at Roksana from over the eyeglasses perched on the end of his nose. “I don’t get asked for that very often; it’s nearly impossible to get so I don’t keep it on general display. I keep a stash right over here, Miss. Follow me.”

  “So, you don’t sell much of it? That surprises me, it’s just about my favorite thing.”

  “No, not really. Although I do have one customer who loves the stuff. Comes in almost every day to buy some.”

  “Really…is he from the neighborhood?”

  “No. I believe he said he lives over on Kenilworth Road, something like that. Drives by here every day on his way home from work and buys himself some chocolate. I’ve encouraged him to just buy the whole box and save himself a few trips, but he says he’s afraid he’d eat it all in one sitting. So, he paces himself and drops in most every evening. If you ask me, he’s addicted to the stuff.”

  Oleg eased the lock open and flipped the sign back over. They had what they needed. There would be no need for viole
nce today.

  Surprisingly enough they were both pleased—they took no pleasure in beating a fellow Russian. They had plenty of enemies for that sort of thing. They’d save the torture for someone who deserved it.

  Roksana bought some chocolate and headed to the door, turning on a whim to asked the man one last question. “I wonder if I know him. You don’t happen to know his name, do you?”

  He frowned, clearly surprised by the question. He appeared to be about to refuse when he glanced over at Oleg, who was staring at him, unblinking, by the door. Oleg didn’t need to do or say anything; he just stood there being Oleg and it was enough.

  The man gulped and said, “He goes by Maverick—Maverick Vetrov.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  “We’ve discussed this before.”

  “Yeah, back when you were stalking me – oh pardon me, wooing me -- before we got married. Once you forced me to marry you, you saw no need for it. We’ve faced danger before without it. Why now?”

  “It’s no bigger than a grain of rice.”

  “Hard to believe something so tiny could save my life. And you still didn’t answer my question.”

  Glazov opened the small black box and withdrew a syringe. Before she could react, he grabbed a cotton swab that had been soaked with rubbing alcohol, and rubbed it over an area on her shoulder. He pinched her skin with two fingers and injected the tiny device.

  “I barely felt anything, Glazov,” she said as she twisted around to look down at her shoulder. “Are you sure it’s in there?”

  “Watch this.” He stood and crossed over to his office to retrieve his laptop. He booted up the computer and pulled up the app that would tell him all he needed to know about his woman. He slowly slid his unbuttoned dress shirt from her shoulders, his eyes heating as they always did at the sight of her bare breasts. “You see, this tracking device doesn’t just tell me where you are, it tells me if you’re faring well.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I can show you better than I can tell you, Ptichka.” He watched her face intently as he cupped the back of her neck, slid his hand around a breast, and rhythmically stroked the pad of his thumb over a nipple. “See there, how your heartrate went up? Your temperature did too.” He pointed to the screen that listed all her vital signs.

  He set the laptop on the nightstand and stepped out of his sweatpants. “I need you more than I need the air I breathe. I will not let anything happen to you.”

  He slid her panties off and lifted her back onto the mattress, where he spread her thighs with his shoulders. He buried his face between her legs, inhaling the scent that he had so quickly become addicted to all those years ago.

  “Please…”

  “You are not ready, Ptichka. I will bruise this delicate flesh if I don’t prepare you properly.” And with that, he settled in to feast on his wife. He drew out her pleasure, taking his time, savoring her as he always did. Two orgasms later, he lay his head on her abdomen, just breathing her in. As she lay boneless beneath him, he idly cradled and stroked a plump breast.

  “Your taste, your scent, they intoxicate me. I always want more. I would keep you tied to this bed, naked and spread open for my pleasure, if I thought I could get away with it.”

  “You’re the Pakhan,” came her sultry reply, “I thought you could do whatever you want.” She felt him smile against her skin.

  Glazov lifted his head and raised up on all fours as he prowled toward her. “That is correct. I wanted you, so I took you. I wanted children, I put babies in your belly. And when my cock is hard, I fuck you. But I also enjoy taming you, gentling you, and if I kept you here,” he kissed a nipple, “in this bed,” he sucked it into his mouth, tugging it between his teeth until she gasped and he released it, “then I wouldn’t have any reason to chase you. And where would the fun be in that, hmm? You require discipline and I enjoy dispensing it.”

  He settled between her legs, his expression arrogant like that of a conquering warrior, but his heaving chest betrayed the effect she was having on him. He needed to be near her, to be in her. As he pushed the broad head of his cock inside her, his eyes closed for an instant and his jaw went slack. His body was wracked with need. Not just the need for an orgasm, but the need to be with the only woman in the world for him. If he could stay connected to her for all eternity, he would.

  “You are mine and I love you,” he murmured as his movements slowed to a series of seductive rolls of his hips. “Dark forces are at work around us, I can feel them like a fist squeezing my heart, twisting my insides. I’m consumed by my need for you.” Resting his weight on his elbows, he cradled her face in his hands and brought his mouth to hers, speaking softly against her lips. “I can’t imagine a life without you. The thought alone is pure blasphemy. If I could cage you to keep you safe, I would. I will protect you, and I will destroy anyone who threatens you.”

  Her hips rocked beneath him, rising up in an effort to take more of him into her deepest core. They were as bonded as two people could ever be. This trial would be like every other one they had faced—it would bring them closer together in the end.

  Glazov’s hips thrust more urgently, rubbing her in all the right places and sending her careening over the edge. Her body locked around him, her pussy pulsing around his cock like a velvet fist. As he followed her over into ecstasy, Glazov tightened his arms around his wife as he released deep within her. He buried his face in her hair and whispered her name like a prayer.

  From the first time he saw her, he had been faithful to this woman. How ironic it was that the promiscuous sins of his father were coming back to haunt him. Was it fate’s way of making him pay for all the bloodshed he’d caused? He had known there would, inevitably, be enemies coming for him, but he never expected they would target his most treasured possession—his Ptichka.

  He understood the danger that surrounded them. This so-called brother of his wouldn’t be satisfied until he’d wrenched the kingdom from his hands. The only thing that would stop the madness was the bullet Glazov planned on putting in his brain.

  “I love you, Ptichka. I will never let you go. When I said until death do us part, I meant it.”

  “Husband of mine, I’m going to tell you what you always tell me: you underestimate me if you think I wouldn’t kill anyone who tried to take me away from you.”

  Kathleen had had enough talking. She slid her hand down her husband’s abdomen, smiling as the lean muscles rippled beneath her touch.

  “How you spoil me,” he murmured, transfixed by the sight of her hand wrapped around his erection.

  She made her final point as she lowered her head and swirled her tongue along the head of his cock. “This madman won’t see me as a threat. And that, my love, will be his undoing.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Maverick whistled as he parked his car and strolled into the little Russian shop, greeting the old man behind the counter. This was the only place that sold Alyonka—the imported Russian chocolate that he’d developed a taste for. He really should buy it by bulk but it was on his way home and stopping every day wasn’t an inconvenience. It kept him from overindulging.

  He craved control; it was a behavior he could regulate and so he did. Control helped ward off the fear that seemed to be ever-present with him these days. He didn’t know what it was he was afraid of, or why he was afraid, he just knew he was.

  Kathleen would heal him just as she had healed his brother. She had transformed him from a blood-thirsty, promiscuous monster into a family man. Yes…having her would make the fear go away. She was just what he needed to finally feel normal.

  The bell above the door rang as he entered the store.

  “Hello, Maverick. How are you today?”

  “Doing quite well. Just making my daily stop to get my Alyonka.”

  “I’ll say it again: you should think about buying that in bulk. I could order an entire box of it for you.” He grinned and added, “Just think of it; a whole box to yourself, you would
n’t have to share it with anyone.”

  “Ah, but then I wouldn’t be able to see you every day, my friend. And having someone to share my chocolate with would be a welcome change.”

  “Speaking of that, some friends of yours dropped by today asking about you.”

  Fear flooded his body, making him lightheaded so he grabbed the edge of a display case to discreetly get his bearings. “Oh, really,” he said casually. “How nice. Did they say who they were?”

  “No, they left before I could get their names. The woman was a beauty, though; a mane of red hair that didn’t come out of a bottle, that’s for sure. The man was tall and slender, blonde hair, blue eyes, not friendly at all. He was Russian—her I’m not so sure about.”

  “What did you talk about?”

  “They were looking for the same chocolate, I’m afraid. All the more reason to buy it in bulk, eh? They asked if many people bought Alyonka, and that’s when I mentioned you. They seemed so pleased.”

  “You really shouldn’t have done that.”

  Fear gave way to anger as he careened around the end of the front counter, fingering the switch blade in his pocket. Before the man could react, Maverick opened the blade and raised it high above his head. With a roar, he jammed it between the shopkeeper’s third and fourth ribs, puncturing his heart, killing him instantly.

  Maverick lowered the body to the floor and opened the cash register. After shoving a wad of bills in his pocket, he wiped the blade off on his jeans and slipped it back in his pocket. As he headed for the door, he stopped mid-stride and, with a grin, hurried back to the candy aisle. He dumped the remaining supply of Alonkya into a plastic bag, shoved it under his jacket, and left the shop.

  The old man was right, it really was better to buy in bulk.

  He lowered his head and oh-so-casually strode out onto the sidewalk and got in his car, pulling away from the curb before anyone saw him. He would miss seeing the old man every day but he really shouldn’t have talked to those people.

  So, Glazov had sent his troops out looking for him. This wasn’t good. He thought he’d have more time to prepare. It must have been Kathleen’s daughter and psychopath son-in-law. The description of tall and thin didn’t fit Glazov and the only other person in the Glazov family with red hair was his daughter.