The Profilers (Born Bratva The Lost Years Book 2)

by Suzanne Steele

  She had envisioned the serial killer quite differently. Serial killers were supposed to be ugly, horrendous creatures from the darkest, shunned corners of society. They weren’t supposed to be beautiful people who looked like movie stars, like this man did. The public deserved a warning that they were in danger. It wasn’t fair to be sucked in by a beautiful loser. It wasn’t fair that she was going to die for naively judging the man based on his courteous nature and handsome face. As he probably had with all the victims before her, he had used his charm to pull her into his demented world, and it looked like there would be no way out.

  ~~~

  Harper looked at Rene with tearstained, red-rimmed eyes. “I know I look like hell. I thought about calling you guys before now, but I didn’t want to overreact.”

  Turner sat out of the way, letting Rene do most of the talking while he discreetly took notes. Rene placed a comforting hand over Harper’s. The girl looked up and smiled weakly, wiping her nose with the tissue she clutched in her other hand. “How did you know where we live?”

  “Tee told us and, honey, we’re the FBI. We can find anybody.”

  That elicited a laugh from the girl which lightened the otherwise ominous moment. “She could still be alive, right?”

  Rene wasn’t one to give false hope but she didn’t want to crush the girl’s optimism either. “I’m not going to lie to you. He hasn’t let anyone go yet, but that doesn’t mean Tee couldn’t escape. She’s a strong girl, and smart. If she sees a way to get free, she’ll take it.” Harper nodded. “This is the first time he’s ever contacted us to let us know he has a girl,” Rene said. “I do think you need to be aware of your surroundings; no doubt he knows where you live. Have you noticed anything unusual? Anyone following you? A customer who was maybe a little too aggressive? Too handsy?”

  Sometimes Rene felt like she spent her life asking the same questions over and over. But in her line of work, it was just the nature of the beast.

  “Not really. I mean, they can all get a little handsy, you know what I mean?” She shrugged.

  “Do you have a security system?”

  “No. We’ve never felt the need for one.”

  “I’d recommend getting one. We’re dealing with a dangerous man. Frankly, you fit the victim profile more closely than Tee does. Be vigilant, Harper. Don’t take any chances.”

  Rene glanced at her partner and stood. After directing Harper to contact them if she thought of anything, the two agents left. There was nothing else they could do here.

  Chapter Nine

  “Ah, there you are. I’m glad you’re awake.”

  Kathleen’s eyes shot open. She lurched forward, operating on pure instinct, only to find that she couldn’t move. The reason quickly became clear. As she got her bearings, her eyes narrowed at the sight of the man looming over her.

  Glazov tilted his head back and closed his eyes, humming with pleasure as his cock surged with a fresh rush of blood. He canted his head slightly as he looked down at her, a wicked smile tilting the corner of his mouth.

  Watching his wife sleeping in the nude had simply been too tempting. Before he knew it, he had straddled her body and wrapped his hand around her throat. “You see, I have a dilemma. We’ll get to that in a moment.” He pursed his lips on a sharp exhale. “First of all, I’m not sure how I feel about my Ptichka raising her voice in my presence, especially when her ire is directed at me. But this…this is my dilemma: you are a magnificent, strong, intelligent woman.” At her scowl, he smirked. “Oh, I’m not complaining. But although your strength turns me on, I wouldn’t want you to mistake my receptiveness to your business input as weakness. Do we understand each other?”

  His grip on her throat was so tight that she could barely nod her head in agreement. “And raising your voice at me? That will not happen again.”

  “You’re scaring me, Glazov.” The words were little more than a puff of air against his cheek as he ran his lips along her jawline.

  “You should be scared, Ptichka.” Though the room was dark, his piercing gaze penetrated the shadows. She never knew what to make of him—could never predict what he would do. No doubt he’d been seething over their earlier argument about his involvement in Cooper’s murder.

  He released his hold on her throat and slid down her body until his shoulders were between her legs. She yelped when he bit down on her inner thigh. There would surely be a bruise tomorrow. It was hardly the first time he’d marked her, of course. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d bear the physical evidence of his dominance in the form of marks on her body.

  He spread her open, slowly running his tongue up and down her slit. He loved how she tasted, loved how her soft, velvety flesh felt against his tongue. He looked up at her with heavy-lidded eyes as he continued his onslaught on her body.

  “You taste divine,” he growled in between decadent laps of his tongue. His full lips sucked and pulled at her clit, awakening the bundle of nerves. He pushed two fingers inside her, curling them back toward himself. Her body bucked and twisted as an orgasm raged through her. He grabbed her hips, forcing her to ride the orgasm out until one became two and her clit became so sensitive that she begged him to stop. Her husband had a way of blurring the lines of pain and pleasure until they became one.

  Not giving her time to catch her breath or regain her bearings, Glazov rose to his knees, flipping her over onto her stomach. He pressed down between her shoulder blades and lifted her ass high in the air. Taking himself in hand, he notched the head of his weeping cock at her slick entrance. His hand slapped down on her ass as, with an animalistic snarl, he lunged forward.

  Kathleen clutched at the sheet, practically purring as her husband took her with the force and dominance she craved. Her hips met his, thrust for thrust, as the familiar heat began to build once more in her aching core. She knew he was using his cock to make a point: he was and always would be in control.

  “Who do you belong to?” he rasped as he admired the scarlet handprint he had left on her ass.

  “You. I belong to you…” she moaned as he curled his body over hers. He wrapped his arms around her, tucking her in tight beneath him as they moved together.

  “Damn right, you do.” He would never get his fill of his Ptichka. She was his only indulgence…his only addiction. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, pulling her head back as he whispered in her ear, “You would do well to not underestimate me, my love. We both know I’m capable of anything.”

  His words cut to the bone. She was married to a dangerous man, and she of all people knew he was capable of the most depraved acts of violence—especially when it came to protecting his family.

  Chapter Ten

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Turner grabbed Rene’s wrist when she attempted to get out of bed.

  “I need to get ready for work.”

  “Not until you sit on my cock, you don’t.” He didn’t wait for an answer, just pulled her down onto him. He groaned against her lips as her pussy sheathed his cock with slick, scorching heat from tip to root. Her red hair cascaded down her back while he cupped her breasts and she rocked her hips. “So beautiful,” he whispered, enthralled with the sight of her breasts quivering as he thrust up into her.

  Rene tossed her head back and braced her hands on his chest. He slipped a hand between her legs and stroked her clit, teasing the sensitive bud with the flutters of his fingertips that always drove her wild. Their lovemaking never got old for either of them.

  With death being an ever present threat, they had learned to appreciate the simple things that most people took for granted. He wasn’t about to let her out of bed without touching her. His whole day would feel off somehow, if he didn’t start it by being inside her. Later in the day, they would recall being entwined in each other’s arms, making love and shutting out the world.

  Her inner muscles clenched around him when she climaxed, letting the pleasure ripple along his cock. He groaned as he surrendered to the powerful orgasm, le
tting the pleasure wash away the stress of not knowing what the day might bring. She curled up beside him, playing with the sparse hair on his chest.

  “You don’t think Tee knows more than she’s telling us, do you?”

  “No. There’s no reason for her to lie about a serial killer. Believe me, those girls want Mr. Benzo off the streets as much as we do.”

  “It’s eerie to think that the killer could have been sitting in there last night and we wouldn’t have even known it,” she pondered.

  “I think about shit like that all the time. We could be walking down the street next to a murderous maniac and have no idea. Hell, we probably have.”

  “Yeah, this job can definitely make a person paranoid.”

  He popped her butt cheek. “Alright, girl, let’s go catch a killer. I’ll hit the shower with you.”

  “Not if I get there first!” She jumped up and took off running.

  “Damn it, Rene!” he yelled, hot on her heels. “You better not lock me out!” He barely made it to the bathroom door in time, stopping her just before she tried to do just that. He knew his partner well.

  Chapter Eleven

  “Right there, on the fucking front page! Again!!” Novak groused as he tossed a copy of the Courier-Journal down on Glazov’s desk.

  As much as Glazov hated to admit it, it gave him pause to see Novak so frustrated. Outsiders were one thing—he didn’t care about them. But family was different. “Damn it. My wife’s mad at me, and you are too.”

  Novak smirked and reminded him, “Kathleen never stays mad for long, if you know how to handle yourself—and how to handle her.”

  Glazov’s lips tilted at the memory of forbidden pleasures during the night. “Oh, I know exactly how to handle her. It’s just wearing my ass out.” He schooled his features and turned his attention to less pleasant things. “It’s a good thing I’m not overly sensitive, though. It can’t be undone, Novak. It is what it is.”

  “We’ve always made a point of having you fly under the radar. But this? Now they’re insinuating you have something to do with Cooper’s death. They won’t come right out with it for fear of a slander suit, but they’re hinting at it as closely as they can get away with. This is a high-profile guy, and he was writing a ‘tell all’ about you. He washes up with a bullet hole in him? The cops are going to come gunning for somebody. Hell, even if you hadn’t been involved, they’d have to make an arrest on this one.”

  Glazov’s expression turned cold. “I have no time for their foolishness. I am a busy man, but I’m not too busy to make them regret it.”

  “They haven’t come right out and said it—yet. But they’re focusing on that damn book he was writing. You’d have a hard time finding someone who doesn’t know about it at this point.”

  “Ah…the unauthorized biography. Do you have a point?”

  “My point is that this isn’t going to go away. I’m not even sure if there is a way to make it go away.”

  “If you want to be worried about something, Novak, worry about whether there’s another copy of it floating around.”

  Novak dropped down into the chair in front of Glazov’s desk, a frown knitting his brows. Sonofabitch. He hadn’t thought of that. “Well, hell. Who is his closest family?”

  “A son. I’m pretty sure that’s the only family he had.”

  “Then I’m taking Yafon and going to question that little bastard.” He shot a scowl at his cousin. “You shouldn’t go, Glazov.”

  “I think you forget yourself, cousin. Tread carefully.” Glazov’s blue eyes took on a frosty quality that could have cut glass, or maybe Novak’s throat if given half a chance.

  Novak sank down deeper into the chair, exhaling harshly. He knew he had pushed Glazov as far as he could without putting his life in danger. The Pakhan deserved his unvarnished, honest opinion on important Bratva matters and he had provided that. Now there was nothing to do but await Glazov’s direction for the way forward.

  Novak pulled his antique Russian coin from his pocket and glared down at it in the palm of his hand, as if the ornate disk had something to do with the current state of affairs. He rubbed the coin between his thumb and forefinger before sending it on its usual slow, rhythmic journey back and forth between his fingertips.

  Glazov watched as his cousin indulged in his one ‘tell’. He noted the underlying tension that typically preceded the appearance of the antique coin in his office. As always, he was impressed with Novak’s dexterity. Glazov had often wondered if Novak being left-handed had anything to do with his remarkable intellect. Both men were left-handed but Glazov was ambidextrous—able to use both his right and left hand with equal skill.

  “You’re not yourself lately, Glazov,” Novak sighed, resigned to the fact that it was something that needed to be addressed.

  Glazov tilted his head back and laughed at that. “Maybe I need a therapist,” he guffawed.

  “No, I’m serious. Normally your emotions don’t get in the way of business. Even when you were so obsessed with Kathleen, you never let it interfere with business.”

  “I’m still obsessed with Kathleen,” Glazov snarled, his eyes boring through his cousin, daring him to insinuate the love he shared with his wife wasn’t as intense as it had been in the beginning. If anything, he was more obsessed with her since she’d borne his children. Her body had ripened with motherhood, providing him with luscious, new curves that he had yet to fully explore to his satisfaction. He had put her through her paces recently and had no plans to let up. As far as he was concerned, her pussy was no longer just his hopeless addiction and a source of decadent pleasure; it was all those things, yes, but her snug, velvety depths had become hallowed ground, a sacred place his children had passed through on their way into his arms. He knew he would never tire of her and would never quench the desire to claim her in the most elemental way a man can claim his mate.

  His erotic thoughts had him entertaining the notion of disturbing his wife’s well-deserved slumber for round two. Or was it three or four? His cock was most definitely on board with the idea, but he had more pressing matters to attend to, for now.

  When he was certain there would be no rebuttal from his cousin, he continued, “I think this thing with Jim Cooper just grated on me; listening to that little shit, night after night, while he talked about my life like he was an authority on what had made me who I am. I mean, seriously…trying to make bank off my family.” He steepled his fingers beneath his chin. “I didn’t like it. Still don’t. Hell, killing him didn’t even rid me of him. I’ve still got his son to contend with. I won’t be looking over my shoulder, Novak. If that book ever gets out, it’s out there forever. When I’m dead and gone, my kids will still have to deal with that shit.”

  “I get it; I do. And I’ll take care of it. But, seriously, stay out of it this time.”

  Glazov glowered at his cousin, but eventually acquiesced. “Fine. But put the fear of God in that little son of a bitch. Find out where his wife works, where his kids go to school, and send him a dead rat while you’re at it. That always seems to work.”

  “By the time I’m finished with him, fear will be his constant companion. I’m in the mood for some mind games.”

  “Good, we both know fucking with someone’s head is often the best way to make them better appreciate our point of view…and re-examine their own best interests. I have a hard time believing Cooper didn’t send a backup of that book to somebody.”

  “The interrogation was brutal,” Novak commented. “He gave us two copies.”

  “I scanned his computer for the file. I’ve got it on a disk now in the safe. There was no trace of him creating additional versions. Cooper was a weakling, Glazov. A coward. I can’t see him enduring the pain we put him through and not telling us about another copy that may or may not exist. If it existed, he would have said something. But we both know the need to provide for family runs deep. That book was going to be his kid’s financial security.” Novak was hoping to be the devil�
�s advocate by touching on something close to Glazov’s own heart: a man’s legacy.

  Glazov chuckled, “I have full confidence if anyone can get the truth out of him, you can.”

  “You want me to offer to pay him off?”

  Glazov rolled his eyes. “Hell no. You can act like you’re going to and see if he gives you another copy, but hell no. I’ll never pay a man for what is already rightfully mine. My story—my book.”

  “Well let’s make sure your story doesn’t go public. One good thing we have going for us is that he was planning to publish the book by himself.”

  Glazov rolled his eyes again and scoffed, “Who fucking does that?”

  “Usually someone who is just starting out or doesn’t want to share profits with a publisher. This guy was an established author, though. I can only assume he couldn’t find a publisher willing to risk getting on your bad side.”

  “Interesting. Well, that’s different, I suppose. Who knows, maybe Cooper did leave the little fucker a copy as a form of insurance.”

  Though Glazov didn’t appear to be worried, Novak was. If he had to skin Cooper’s son alive, he was going to get every copy of that book in existence. Novak slipped the coin back into his pocket. He had his marching orders.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Here you go, folks. The breakfast of champions,” Rene called out as she entered the office with a box of donuts in one hand and a container of coffee in the other.

  “I resent bein’ characterized as a cop stuffin’ his face wif’ donuts,” Agent Richardson said moments later, his voice muffled as he struggled to enunciate with a mouth full of delicious donut.

  “You’re so full of shit, Richardson.”

  “And ‘ou’ve got a mouf wike a sailor,” he mumbled with effort before swallowing the last bite and grabbing another donut.

  “Got to, to hang out with you boys,” Rene retorted, sitting down at her desk. “Hey, Richardson, what’s this?” she asked, eyeing a box on the desk suspiciously.