Dogs barked in the distance as the boat swayed in time with the calm waves on the river. The full moon cast its shimmer of light along the surface of the water. It was having a hypnotic effect on him, lulling him into believing things might finally be going his way.
He’d been sitting here under this tree since the sun had gone down, watching the old man moving around in the cabin. He was probably a widower down here fishing and enjoying his retirement. It was good for a man to have peace before he went to meet his Maker. After all, ignorance really was bliss.
How torturous it would be to know in advance when you were going to meet the grim reaper. Was that what his brother, Glazov, was experiencing—a sense of his own mortality perhaps? That time was running out, as if it were little more than grains of sand tumbling through the hourglass of time? Was he counting down the minutes until his death?
He deserved to suffer for all the bloodshed he’d caused the human population. How many wives were husbandless because of his ruthlessness? How many children had had their fathers ripped from their arms because Alexander Glazov had a random point to make? Far too many.
Well, now it was his time to shine. This was his moment to make history and take back the legacy that was his by birthright.
He stood and brushed off his pants and started working his way up toward the cabin. The old man had turned off the lights fifteen minutes ago, so he was probably asleep by now.
Twigs popped and snagged under the weight of his body even though he willed himself to be as quiet as possible. The small deck at the back of the cabin housed the sliding glass doors. He said a silent prayer as he pulled the handle to the side, and was shocked when the door opened. Were people really so trusting in this day and age?
He fingered the switchblade in his pocket while making his stealthy way into the cabin. He hadn’t quite decided how he would kill him yet. He’d been leaning toward stabbing him between the ribs like he had the store owner but was unsure he wanted to leave that big of a mess. He could suffocate him but if he did that he wouldn’t be able to see the light leave his eyes. That had been his favorite part of killing the shop owner. He’d even imagined that he was taking on the man’s life-force, becoming stronger with each diminishing breath that rattled through the man’s chest.
He stood in the doorway to the bedroom, just listening to the old man breathe. He felt all-powerful standing here watching him, knowing that he held the old coot’s life and death in the palm of his hand.
He was beginning to enjoy this whole killing thing. Perhaps Kathleen had unknowingly gifted him with a new pastime. Everything about her was good and pure. She deserved so much better than Glazov. Already she had made him aware of the thrill killing gave him. The time he was forced to wait could now be spent honing those skills. It would make the agony of waiting to be with her a little more bearable.
He quietly crossed the room and picked up a pillow, testing its weight in his hands. He approached the old man’s bed with the pillow raised up to his own chest, a fist on either end of the pillow. Moving quickly, he placed it over the old man’s face, pushing down forcefully until the man woke up and started thrashing around, his arms and legs flailing as he tried in vain to stop the assault.
Death was coming for us all and no bargains would be made—no mercy would be given. When it was your time to go, nothing was going to divert the angel of death or his agents from escorting you into eternity.
He felt no guilt about taking the old man’s life. Maybe now he could join his wife in the portals of the afterlife and they could have their immortal happily-ever-after. That is, if the old guy had ever even had a wife.
The old guy was just a means to an end—Kathleen Glazov. The old fart should be happy he played a part in the grand scheme of things. He had given his life for the greater good. Yes…things were finally going Maverick’s way.
Chapter Twenty Two
Every day that went by, his bitterness and anger grew. Glazov felt like he was chasing a ghost or enduring an obscure ancestral curse that had no remedy. If he was ever to be free of the rage that plagued him, he needed to spill his enemy’s blood. Nothing else would satisfy his thirst for revenge.
He watched the rise and fall of his wife’s chest as she slept peacefully beside him. Did she understand how much danger she was in? It tormented him to think of losing her. He couldn’t imagine life without her. She and his children were the only good things in his life amongst all the evil that seemed to be closing in on him.
He picked up his cell phone and called Dmitriy.
“Yes, sir.” Dmitriy answered on the second ring.
“I want you to go to all the popular social sites and search for Maverick Vetrov. Let me know as soon as you find anything out.”
He didn’t wait for him to answer before hanging up the phone. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought to do that before now. It was probably because he had no interest in online activities – virtual this, virtual that. Everything was ‘real time’ for him. It didn’t get any more real than this.
“Glazov. What are you doing up this late?” Kathleen asked, her voice husky from sleep.
“I’m thinking of ways to kill my enemies.” He leaned up on an elbow. “I’m thinking a cheese grater.” His fingers made quick work of the tiny buttons on her nightgown. “You know…one with a razor’s edge, all the better to skin my nemesis alive. I want it to be a slow, agonizing pain.” He pinched her nipple to demonstrate, eliciting a gasp that sounded more like pleasure than pain. So, he leaned in, flicking his tongue over the erect nipple. Then a slow breath out to peak the sensation and yet another pinch – harder this time. He smiled as she flinched and cried out. “Pain first, then pleasure, my love. Isn’t that right?”
“Until the two bleed together, obscuring the line that differentiates the two,” she finished for him.
“Yes. I’ve taught you well.” His mouth covered hers, his tongue exploring her mouth like it was their first kiss. Every time was like the first time. He knew she would never cease to intrigue him. Her fingernails raking down his back unleashed the beast within him and spurred him on.
He ripped and tore at her panties, infuriated by anything that kept him from her bare skin. He needed to bury his cock inside his wife, possess her, reassure himself that she was safe.
As long as she was here with him, no harm could befall her. Every day it became more difficult to let her out of his sight. It didn’t matter how many Bratva guards trailed her, it was never enough. He would make the man who claimed to be his brother pay—yes, his would be a slow painful death.
He spread her knees wide as he pushed them back toward the mattress, then wider still as he braced his weight on the backs of her thighs. Using a hands-free approach, he tilted his hips, aimed the broad head of his cock at her pussy, then thrust hard and deep.
He needed to take this anger and rage out on someone and he knew she would let him, knew she would welcome him into her body as she always did, meeting him touch for touch, kiss for kiss. Her pussy was slick with desire and need, coating his cock with her cream, easing his way to her womb with each thrust of his hips.
She had always been the only woman who could handle his aggressive sexual tastes. She reveled in his touch, be it harsh or tender. She came alive under his hands, craved his special brand of pleasure and pain. Each stroke of his tongue, each brutal thrust of his cock, only excited her more.
Her pussy clamped down around him in waves of pleasure, and she bit down on his shoulder as her body burst apart in climax. He inner walls squeezed his length so tight, she could feel his cock as it pulsed deep inside her, flooding her womb with his release.
Glazov covered her body with his as he rubbed the length of his nose along hers. His climax had once again relieved him, if only momentarily, of the anger and frustration that had become his constant companions these days.
He reached over her, lazily picking up his cell phone when it rang. He accepted the call as she wiggled out from undern
eath him. He simply couldn’t help it; his palm made sharp contact with her ass when she stood from the bed to head to the bathroom.
“Wench,” he whispered in response to the pretty pout she sent his way as she padded across the carpet, rubbing her ass indignantly. The sight of his big, red handprint on her firm flesh did his heart good. Mine…
He put the phone to his ear. “You have an update for me?”
“Um, yes, sir,” Dmitriy said awkwardly, wondering if he should call back later. “You were right, boss. He’s right there on a social media site, as big as day. I can’t imagine why a guy would go off the grid so completely, only to have a profile page on social media. It’s like he wanted us to find him.”
“Maybe he didn’t do it to stay off the grid, maybe the son of a bitch is just broke. If he’s in trouble financially then it could be the reason he’s coming after my family. Kodiak was right when he said it was personal.”
“Makes sense. The son of a bitch wants what you have. Envy, man. That’s why it’s one of the seven deadly sins.”
“‘And the sins of the father will fall upon the children.’”
“Or so he thinks. It won’t be anyone but him repenting for sins by the time you’re through with him.”
“You’ve got that right. And it’ll be too fucking late. You will put Oleg and Roksana on this. I want that son of a bitch brought to me as soon as they have eyes on him.”
“If I know those two, they’re going to insist on ringside seats and a bucket of popcorn.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Chapter Twenty Three
“Well, chalk one up for my badass father. How embarrassing. Fucking Facebook. Why in the world didn’t we think of this, guys?” Roksana looked around at Oleg, Dmitriy, and Anastasia as if she really did want an answer.
Finally, Dmitriy looked over at her and drawled, “We’ve learned a valuable lesson, boys and girls.” He tried to keep a straight face, but it was a lost cause. “No, seriously. From now on, it will be one of the first things we do, to search for a social media account. We live in an age of technology. Sometimes the answer is right there and we don’t see it. Also, sometimes we underestimate the stupidity of our enemies. This was just such a time.”
“Okay, Mr. Philosophical. We couldn’t see the forest for the trees. Lesson learned.” Anastasia playfully punched his arm. He, in turn, growled under his breath.
“You’re gonna pay for that later.”
“Promises, promises, big guy,” she said with a wink.
“I deliver on my promises. Every. Time.” His heated gaze was steady, direct, with not even a hint of humor.
Anastasia decided it might be better to just change the subject. “We want to go on the stakeout with you.”
“The more the merrier,” Roksana chimed in. She knew Anastasia well enough to know what she was doing, and Roksana was all for helping a sister out. “I guess the only question is who’s driving.”
“I will,” Dmitriy volunteered.
“So, you think this guy is just going to open the door to us?” Roksana asked.
Oleg replied flatly, “He’s going to open it or I’m going to open it for him.”
Dmitriy nodded in agreement, “Ideally, we’ll be able to break in while he isn’t there. Just getting inside and going over his personal items will tell us something about him. Hell, as far as that goes, we can hide out until he gets home and then kidnap his pervy ass.”
“It’s going to be mighty hard not to kill him when we do get our hands on him. Finding him isn’t going to be the hard part; exercising discipline so he arrives at the Pakhan’s feet still alive, now that is going to be a challenge.”
“That’s easy; just remind yourself that my father will kill you, Oleg. Please don’t make me a widow. This is supposed to be our honeymoon phase.”
“Believe me, I may be crazy, but I’ll never be crazy enough to cross your father.”
“None of us are,” Dmitriy chimed in. “I’m with you and Roksana, Oleg…just give me a ringside seat and I’ll be happy. This guy has no idea what’s headed his way. Torture, man – Glazov-style. I am curious about something though: do you all think Glazov will show any mercy if this guy really is his half-brother?”
Roksana wasted no time answering. “No. The word ‘mercy’ isn’t in my father’s vocabulary. This guy sealed his fate when he dropped his fucking candy wrapper. He’s laid eyes on my mother, probably in her most intimate moments. God help him, is all I can say. Every inch of her belongs to my father and he’s notoriously obsessive about keeping her, um, physical assets to himself.”
Dmitriy turned and looked at Roksana. “Must be weird to have parents that still get down and dirty.”
“Yeah, I try not to think about it. Thanks for that.”
“Any time,” he laughed, then turned his attention to Anastasia. “I’m beginning to understand how he feels,” he said, eyeing her possessively. “The longer I’m around this one the crazier my head gets about anyone else getting near her.”
For a moment, it looked like Anastasia’s bottom lip trembled. It was as if they were the only two people in the room, maybe on the whole planet. When Anastasia’s life had been ripped from her hands, Dmitriy had been there for her. Being thrown together on Bratva jobs where there were so many secrets to be kept, had solidified their connection.
All they had to cling to was each other; for now, it was more than enough. Dmitriy had no intention of going anywhere. He wasn’t the watch-from-a-distance type. He planned on staying up close and personal with this one.
Dmitriy didn’t take his eyes off Anastasia as he dismissed the rest of the group. “We’ll meet you out at the car, guys. Give me and Anastasia a minute, please.”
Oleg and Roksana left, not bothering to object or ask what was up. They had endured their own rocky path into each other’s arms, so they got it.
“Come here,” Dmitriy purred as he crooked his finger in a come-hither motion. She obeyed him as if drawn by some invisible force. “I’ve got something for you.”
He reached out to pin a brooch on the collar of her jacket. She didn’t need to ask what the brooch was; she knew it was a tracker. He slid his hand around to clasp the back of her neck. “I wouldn’t want to lose you now. Always remember, anything can happen”—before he could finish the sentence she finished it for him.
“--and it always does, when you least expect it.”
“Good girl.”
A flare of heat ran through her at his words, as if those two simple words had wrapped their arms around her, just as Dmitriy was doing now. As he tilted his head down to claim her lips, she managed one final thought: she was Roksana’s protégé, but it was Dmitriy who held her heart in his hand. And the feeling was mutual.
Dmitriy’s thoughts traveled along the same path as he kissed her to within an inch of her life. Going after a ghost who claimed to be the brother of Alexander Glazov was one of the strangest things to happen since he had joined the Bratva. He would do whatever he had to, to keep the woman he loved from getting caught in the crosshairs of all the crazy.
Yeah, he loved her.
He steadied her on her feet after the kiss, shooting her a cocky grin as he grabbed her hand and led her out to the car. As they walked along silently, he pushed the ominous thoughts to the back of his mind. Just keep the bad thoughts in the shadows where they belong and nothing bad will happen.
They jumped in the SUV and took off toward the address they had for the man who claimed he had blood rights to the Glazov legacy.
Dmitriy knew one thing with absolute certainty: blood would be the only payment rendered for this man’s crimes against the Pakhan. The stranger couldn’t buy his way in or even inherit his way in now. He had crossed the only one who could have opened that door to him—Alexander Glazov. Perhaps if he had gone about things in a different way…but it was too late for that now.
The house was situated in an odd area, behind a convenience store. A steep
wall rose up behind it, walling it off from any other structures. Although it didn’t have the greatest view, its isolated location made it easy for the group to break in. The back windows were so close to the huge wall of dirt and stone that no one noticed when they broke a window and made their way in.
Dmitriy was the first one in, immediately holding up a hand to hold them back. The others waited impatiently outside the broken window for the signal to proceed, growing concerned at the silence that ensued. Grim glances were exchanged until they heard, “Um, guys, you might want to see this. Shit…Roksana, just…stay calm.”
Photos of her mother covered every wall like wallpaper. Her mother running errands in town, or at a candlelit dinner with Glazov. Her mother getting dressed. Her mother leaning back against Glazov, her head on his shoulder, eyes closed, as his hands caressed her breasts through her nightie. Her mother seated at her vanity in a strapless bra, putting on her fucking makeup. For some reason, that one felt more intrusive to Roksana than any of the others, even the nudes that had their special section along one end of the wall.
It was like something out of a particularly sick stalker movie. This kind of crazy couldn’t be faked; the man was clearly disturbed. In-fucking-sane.
“This is some sick shit, Oleg,” He grabbed her hand to keep her from clawing the photos from the walls.
He took her face in his hands, his thumbs rubbing back and forth along her jaw. “Roksana, listen to me. Taking those pictures down is only going to make him aware we’ve been here. We’re too damn close to give this a guy a heads-up. If he runs, we may never find him. Look at those pictures and see them for what they are: proof that we’re in the right house.”
“This sick fuck is going to pay. When my father finds out he’s been stalking her.”
“He already knows that. He also knows that if his timing isn’t right, he’ll lose the opportunity to avenge her. Let Glazov do what he does best. Don’t fuck this up by letting your emotions get in the way.”
Diamond Days (Born Bratva Book 6) Page 12
