“Who the fuck doesn’t have issues? The kid just needs some direction. I like him.”
Glazov turned his head slowly in Novak’s direction and regarded him pensively, eyes narrowed. “Good. That’s why I asked you to mentor him when he came to us. He has no one. He needs stability. It is good that you are so fond of the boy, he has benefitted from you taking him under your wing. Of course, you are responsible for killing him if he fucks up.”
Novak’s laughter rang through the air. “Only with Bratva could he get a mentor to help him manage his fire fetish, and his own personal assassin if the need arises. All in one. That’s one hell of a deal.”
The phone rang. Glazov glanced down at the caller ID before shooting Novak a knowing look. Glazov picked up the call on his private line, which few had access to. Glazov’s voice sounded silky smooth, reflecting the supreme confidence that only the Pakhan could possess.
“Yes.”
“It appears that a thank you is in order.”
“I didn’t do it for you, Escondido.”
“I know. I think we both have a clear understanding of the need for a peace treaty between our people. With your backing of the custom car business I’m opening and my support of your diamond business, there will be clearly defined boundaries—no need for anyone to be offended with such clear-cut parameters. You know, I’ve heard about your infamous cleaner vehicle and I would be interested in building my own with even more abilities. I have some ideas. I believe we could both be an asset to each other.”
“I believe my organization is already established. I also believe you’re taking over that shit show of a laughing stock that Santiago left behind. Respect isn’t given, it’s earned; only time will tell if you’re worthy of mine. I do, however, appreciate your having the courtesy to call. I can only hope you’ll bring the professionalism and business savvy that the Sinaloan cartel is in such desperate need of. Have a good evening.”
But Escondido had heard all he needed to hear: Glazov wasn’t opposed to his plan. Escondido was nobody’s bitch, but he wasn’t crazy either. Things were going just as he planned and he if he had his way, he’d have the shit show of a laughing stock that Santiago left behind whipped into shape in no time. And he didn’t care who he had to destroy to do it.
Chapter Fifteen
Roksana circled the chair, casually swinging the Louisville Slugger back and forth between two fingers like a pendulum. Hector’s contemptuous glare only amused her; it damn sure didn’t scare her.
She paused in front of him long enough to survey the damage that had already been done. She was savoring the sweet taste of revenge already and she was just getting started.
A trickle of blood dribbled down Hector’s chin as he glared at her from his one good eye. The other was swollen shut. Bazarnik had drawn first blood with a swift uppercut when Hector resisted being removed from the van.
He had, no doubt, recognized the Glazov warehouse and knew that once they got him inside, he’d never see the light of day again. The ensuing struggle had been brief but hard fought, and had enflamed Roksana’s bloodlust.
With Hector tied securely to a chair in the middle of the room, they were waiting for the dogs to be transported to Glazov’s compound. Roksana’s breathing was shallow. She practically vibrated with restless energy as she paced, glancing over at Oleg where he stood by the door with Bazarnik.
Silence. More pacing. Oleg’s fists clenched and unclenched as Roksana’s seething body language called to his baser instincts. He stepped away from the wall. Without taking his eyes off his wife, he turned his head slightly toward Bazarnik, who had been standing next to him.
“Go see to the dogs.” Oleg’s deep voice rumbled from his chest, barely audible but brooking no argument.
Bazarnik opened his mouth to object but promptly closed it after taking in the scene before him: Hector’s defiant glare in his direction as he, no doubt, thought back on how he got his black eye...Roksana’s relentless pacing in front of the restrained, bloodied man…Oleg looking at his wife like he wanted to eat her alive.
Okay, then.
Bazarnik turned to leave, then turned back somewhat hesitantly. “But what about this guy--”
“The dogs, B. Now.”
Bazarnik scowled and looked disbelievingly between Hector, Roksana and Oleg, then shook his head and left through the side door.
“Kotik.”
Roksana stopped pacing and closed her eyes at the sound of Oleg’s voice. Her chest rose and fell with the force of her labored breathing as she turned to face him. Her cheeks flushed in response to what she saw brewing in his eyes: a sexual storm that rivaled her own. He held out his hand and she handed him the baseball bat. He leaned it against the wall then straightened, cocking his head slightly to the side as he regarded her solemnly.
She took a deliberate step back, then another. He matched her, step for step, as he followed her. And so it went, the give and take, until her back met the cinderblock wall. Oleg continued to advance until he was less than a foot way, pausing only at the sound of her voice.
“What about--”
A slow, malevolent smile spread across his face as he glanced back at their doomed prisoner. Hector’s back was to them so he would see nothing, but there was nothing stopping him from hearing everything. “Sshhh… He’s nothing to us. He’s already dead.”
At Hector’s panicked intake of air, Roksana’s eyes closed in pleasure. When she opened them, her eyes were sparkling with carnal heat, her pupils already dilated. Suddenly, it didn’t matter where they were or that they had a captive audience. Oleg had helped her explore her love of exhibitionism and sexual risk taking. Until now, they had only fucked discreetly in public a few times, both turned on by the very real risk of getting caught. But this? There was no risk in this, only the certainty of having a witness to their pleasure – a witness that wouldn’t live long enough to tell anyone what he heard.
She licked her lips, anticipation thrumming through her veins as she shifted her feet apart. He slid his hand between her legs and squeezed as he insolently cupped her sex.
“Is this pussy mine?” he breathed through gritted teeth. “Tell me.”
“You know it is,” she whispered, impatiently rolling her hips against his hand.
“You need to come.” He unzipped her jeans and yanked them down her legs before dropping to his knees in front of her and tearing her lacy thong to shreds. His fingers dug into her ass as he pulled her to him and nuzzled between her legs. “Fuuuck, you smell delicious,” he groaned. With a low growl, he latched onto her pussy, eating her out like a starving man.
Roksana adored her husband’s clever tongue. She had nothing to go by, of course, but she was pretty sure it was distinctly longer than average. And, oh, what he could do with it. Oleg slid the tip of that gorgeous tongue along her pussy lips to her slick opening, sliding against the sensitive flesh in small, firm circles. She could barely breathe as she looked down and watched his tongue flick at her clit before it slid inside her like a serpent seeking its next meal.
Her knees buckled at the mind-blowing sensation of being licked from the inside out. Oleg adjusted his shoulders, easily supporting her weight as he steadied her. His tongue was soon replaced by two fingers curling upward in search of her G-spot, rubbing it in a steady rhythm, then slowly thrusting in and out. Spurred on by her low moans, he began slamming his fingers into her at a fevered pace, targeting that mysterious bundle of nerves that sent waves of heat shooting down her spine. He fluttered his tongue over her clit. When he felt her pussy rippling around his fingers, he sucked the nub into his mouth and worked it with the tip of his tongue.
Roksana panted and gasped for breath, whispering mindless words of encouragement and praise as she wrapped her hands around his head, holding him close as she rocked her hips against his seductive tongue and furiously thrusting fingers. Her breath caught in her throat and she stilled for a long moment, eyes closed, lips slack, before taking a long, shuddering br
eath and wailing loud enough to wake the dead. Oleg slowed his thrusting fingers, maintaining an easy pace as she rode out her orgasm.
As she reluctantly eased back down to earth, Oleg released her carefully and stood. Roksana opened her eyes to find her husband standing there, regarding her with amusement as he slid two glistening fingers from his mouth. Eyes alight with male triumph, he slid her jeans up her legs, then clasped her jaw as he pressed a kiss to her lips. She frowned as he pulled her zipper up. “But don’t you--”
He shook his head. “That was for you,” he murmured as he stroked his thumb across her bottom lip. “I know how you get. Now, back to work.”
Oleg returned to his position by the door and leaned his shoulder against the wall, valiantly resisting the urge to blacken Hector’s other eye. His discomfort at another man hearing his wife’s pleasure was tempered by the fact that the asshole would be dead soon anyway. Oleg didn’t want to be a distraction, so he restrained himself. Tonight, of all nights, it was important that Roksana be the one to dole out Bratva justice.
“Time to take care of business.”
When she smiled softly, Oleg drawled, “When have I ever failed to provide you with all you need to satisfy your beautiful, black heart? All better now?”
“Oh, yes. I never doubted you, love.”
“You fuckers are sick,” Hector fumed hoarsely.
She jerked her head in his direction, even as she continued to talk to her husband. “I really thought this one was going to be a dud. You know the type: all talk, no action. It had me wondering if I was going to have any fun tonight.” She pouted prettily at her husband.
“No worries where that’s concerned,” he said with a smirk.
“No, none at all.”
The warehouse’s oversized door lifted open, clanging as its wheels moved over the tracks that supported the weight of the heavy metal panel. Bazarnik walked in and looked quizzically between Oleg and Roksana before joining Oleg where he was leaning against the wall, ready to enjoy the show.
Hector’s eyes widened and he white-knuckled the arms of the chair. Much like a train wreck, he couldn’t look away.
A mountain of a man stood there. Hector wondered if his stature made it necessary for him to enter via the oversized garage door instead of the regular door because surely the man would have had to duck and turn sideways just to fit through it.
Eventually, Hector began noticing other details. The stranger had a German Shepherd on a leash. Even the dog was bigger than average, and its attention was focused solely on Hector. At least it wasn’t snarling or gnashing at him with razor sharp teeth—yet. But Hector knew the dog wasn’t just out for a walk. And he was pretty sure the dog knew it too.
The giant lumbered over to a small round table in the corner and took his hat off his bald head. He turned toward the middle of the room after carefully setting the hat on the table. He had the face of a killer: dead eyes; misshapen nose from being broken at some point, probably more than once; sadistic smile. There was nothing pretty, nothing kind or compassionate about the man and he obviously didn’t care.
Hector found himself second guessing those dogfights. How the fuck was I supposed to know that Bratva gave a shit about dogfighting, or that that crazy bitch would interfere? The only women he knew were crack whores who just wanted money and dope. This was definitely a first.
“Well, well, that got your attention,” Roksana sneered. “I was starting to wonder if this was going to be any fun. I’m curious, which of these two do you think is more dangerous? Pavel or Beast? Hard to pick just one, isn’t it? Well…one thing’s for sure: they both have a taste for blood. See, Pavel, over there, rescued Beast from a sorry ass dog abuser, much like yourself. He’s a loyal, wonderful pet now, quite devoted to his Bratva family. But Beast developed a bloodlust that was too far gone to ever truly correct. It happens sometimes,” she shrugged. “We’ve decided to use his issue with blood in a constructive way. You know…let him avenge his fellow canine brothers and sisters who have been slaughtered in barbaric ways.”
She slowly strode over to Pavel. “Hello, my friend. May I?” He nodded and she bent down, scratching Beast behind the ears, which set his tail wagging. She stood and turned back toward Hector, accepting the baseball bat from Oleg’s outstretched hand. “Beast’s actually quite friendly. He just doesn’t like outsiders, or animal abusers, or assholes named Hector. He can smell that shit a mile away.” She pointed at Hector as she strolled toward him. “That’s where you come in.”
“You fuckin’ cunt,” Hector growled.
The words had barely escaped his mouth before she jabbed the business end of the bat into his face, instantly breaking his nose. The sight of more of his blood caused hers to roar through her veins like a freight train. I love my fucking job, she thought. I love this life.
Her heavy-lidded gaze met Oleg’s. Her breathing was little more than frantic panting, the sight of blood setting her own veins alight with harsh arousal.
“I find that to be terribly distasteful, Hector,” she calmly stated. “It’s obvious you don’t know how to speak to a lady. Have you no idea that that’s one of our pet peeves?”
Hector shook his head back and forth as if trying to make the blast of searing pain go away. Eventually, he finally gained some semblance of stability. “You’re not a fucking lady, you’re a killing machine!”
Her head cocked to the side, revealing the dancing mirth in her eyes. “Why, thank you—what a nice compliment from such an unmannerly man.” Her expression sobered as she said flatly, “Now, tell me you’re sorry and maybe we can start over.”
“I’m sorry. I mean it, man, I’m really sorry.”
The dull, lifeless look in her eyes wasn’t a good sign. “I’m not a man, Hector. Surely you picked up on that earlier.” The jab into his eye socket with the handle end of the bat caused blood to mingle with his tears as his eye watered in gushing streams down his cheek.
“Fuuuck! That fucking hurt! I’m sorry, ma’am,” he hissed through gritted teeth, his words barely intelligible.
“Well…I’ll accept your apology if you’ll be a good boy and listen. You know, on a scale of one to ten I bet that pain’s a fifteen. Am I right?” She watched with distaste as his head slumped down on his chest in defeat. Fucking pussy.
When she was certain he wasn’t going to interrupt her, she continued. “Normally I’d let the other two dogs loose on you, but they’re so loyal, they probably wouldn’t kill you. They wouldn’t know any better. Their hearts are simple and unspoiled despite your best efforts to ruin them. They won’t miss you. You see,” she smiled sweetly, “I’ve decided to keep them.
“Now, Beast here is a different story. He’s been trained to kill scum like you. I bet you’re thinking he looks pretty docile, but that’s only because he hasn’t gotten the command from Pavel yet. But, man, is he ever going to go batshit crazy when he does.”
“No, no, no,” Hector pleaded, frantically looking from Roksana to Beast and back again as he tried in vain to shuffle the chair away from the dog.
“You sound like a broken record.” She scrunched her nose and curled her lip. “You know what I don’t get?
“What? What?” Hector asked, intent on winning her over.
“How the fuck anyone ever thought you were leadership material. Oh…I get it, you’ve only got one way to get them to follow you: fear. But you don’t have game. Let me teach you a little lesson before we say our goodbyes: a real leader knows his people and how to earn and keep their loyalty, their devotion. Okay…lesson over.”
She turned toward Pavel with a slight nod of her head.
“What?!” Hector shrieked. “You fucking bitch!”
“Oh, Hector, you couldn’t be more wrong. Karma’s the bitch and I don’t really think you’ve met yet. Pavel? Let’s let Beast handle the introductions.”
On Pavel’s command, Beast launched himself at Hector and wasted no time avenging his canine brothers and sisters who had been sub
jected to the worst of mankind. When he was done, brain matter, blood, bones and scraps of cheap fabric lay scattered across the bloody floor. When he could do no more, Beast rushed back to Pavel’s side. He pushed his bloody muzzle into the palm of his owner’s hand, wagging his tail and whining softly as Pavel quietly praised him.
When the bloodbath was over, Roksana looked at Bazarnik and shrugged. “Oops. Looks like I made a mess.”
He just grinned and enjoyed being in on the joke. “That’s why I’m here: to clean up Bratva messes.” With a wink and a playful bow, he proceeded to do just that.
A short time later, what was left of Hector went up in smoke.
Chapter Sixteen
The front door hadn’t even shut behind them before Glazov’s booming voice broke the silence.
“Roksana! My study, now!”
“Fuck!” she mouthed, wincing as she looked at her husband.
“Do you want me to go with you?” Oleg asked quietly.
“Alone, Roksana!”
Oleg looked down at her solemnly and nodded. “Go see your father, devotchka.”
She took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and strode to her father’s study. This is not good, not good at all. Doesn’t Father ever sleep?
It was 2 a.m. and she had really hoped her father would be asleep by now. No such luck. It had been one hell of a night and she was exhausted, and she still needed to check on the dogs. Those Bratva gods that Father and Natasha are always talking about – where are they when I need them?
She did her best to put on her game face, not that it would do any good; Alexander Glazov could read his children like an open book. She pushed the fear down, swallowing it like a bowling ball that would lay heavily lodged in her chest until she found out what her father wanted.
As she turned the corner and entered the private study that adjoined the master bedroom suite, she was greeted by the familiar sight of her father seated behind his desk. Considering the lateness of the hour, it was no surprise that he was in his robe. By his grim expression and lack of a greeting, she knew the discussion was going to be serious.
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