“You’re not staying here alone, Vladimira,” Yafon insisted. “I know I agreed to give you some time to settle in here and adjust to our new understanding, but that’s it. No more. As of this moment, I’m staying at the guesthouse with you.”
“I agree and you’re more than welcome to. Whoever this is sounds crazy. He has a vendetta against the whole family, starting with my brother.”
“What he has is a death wish,” Yafon growled through clenched teeth. “You think this guy is crazy enough to try and disrupt Alexander Glazov’s diamond business? Break in to his jewelry store? Disrupt shipments?” He gave her no time to answer as he continued, “Anybody stupid enough to cross the Pakhan deserves whatever they get. The fact that he’s threatening my woman just made things personal.”
“Joseph was stupid enough to steal from us.”
“And we all know how that worked out for him.” Yafon shook his head in grim frustration. “Do whatever you have to, Dmitriy. Update security anywhere you think it’s needed. We need to find out who Joseph’s friends were so we can cut this guy off before he has a chance to do anything.” He turned stormy eyes toward her. “It isn’t the diamonds or theft that I’m concerned about, printsessa. My only concern is you.”
She could read the earnestness in his eyes and she was touched. She stepped in close to him and pressed her hand to his chest, right over his pounding heart. “My darling. You want to protect me and I adore you for it. What woman wouldn’t want her very own big, strong Russian to look after her? But I am hardly a damsel in distress. I can promise you, this enemy has underestimated his opponent.”
Yafon knew that to be true. He also knew it wouldn’t be the first time a man had underestimated Vladimira because of her ethereal poise, grace, and beauty. She would deal with this fool the way she did all her enemies: she would toy with him and lure him into her web. Then she would strike.
“I’m updating everything. Even as we speak, I’m having the best security available installed.”
She looked up at Dmitriy on the ladder and smiled. In an attempt to escape Yafon’s death glare, she pulled Dmitriy into the conversation with a skillful subject change. “Dmitriy, when are you going to make an honest woman out of Anastasia?”
“That, Vladimira, is a good question -- and if you find out the answer, please tell me because I can’t figure it out. She won’t marry me; can you believe it?” he complained as he shook his head. It was obvious he loved the woman, and Vladimira found his guileless confidence quite charming.
“Ah, your woman may be bound by pain in the past. I’m certain being married to a dirty cop in her previous life wasn’t easy.”
“Trust issues,” he muttered.
“Perhaps she doesn’t think she deserves happiness.”
Dmitriy stepped off the ladder and took a rag from his back pocket to use to wipe his hands. “She says she doesn’t need a piece of paper to know that she loves me,” he said softly.
“Perhaps stronger persuasion is in order. Would you like me to talk to her for you?”
“Couldn’t hurt. I’d appreciate the help. I keep telling her that if I was in the hospital on life support, she wouldn’t have any legal rights. That sort of thing is important. She just says I’m too damn mean to die. Maybe you can talk some sense into her -- you know, woman to woman.”
Satisfied that if anybody could talk some sense into his woman it was Vladimira, Dmitriy went back to work. She wasn’t the only one convinced that extensive security needed to be installed, he was too—especially after listening to that threatening letter she’d received. There had to have been more to Joseph’s plans than just stealing the diamonds he had easy access to. Dmitriy was convinced that someone had been working closely with Joseph, and that sooner or later the accomplice would make his move. When he did, they would be ready for him.
Too many people were under the assumption that because the Glazovs were going somewhat legit, it was a good time to cause problems. They would be lucky if they lived long enough to regret such a belief. The Pakhan was not a man to be taken lightly. He would use the situation as a ‘teachable moment’ and make an example of the traitors.
It always hurt worse when betrayal came from within; therefore, the punishment would have to be more extreme. And threatening Glazov’s sister wasn’t a smart thing to do either. The dumbass would have been better off just stealing from the Pakhan and leaving it at that; attacking his family was a surefire way to get killed.
Glazov would take an attack on Vladimira personally. In the space of one afternoon, this guy had made two dangerous enemies: Alexander Glazov and one of his most lethal, most trusted bodyguards, Yafon. Whoever it was, he was already as good as dead.
Chapter Thirty One
Bazarnik glared at his prisoner through the bars as she ate her dinner. She hadn’t said a word yet. Hadn’t asked where she was. Hadn’t asked for clothes. She seemed to be as comfortable in a cell, completely naked, as she would be at a dining table fully dressed. From what little he knew about her, he was certain life in Russia had not been easy for her. Perhaps hardship had taught her resilience. He had been through enough in his own life to know better than to pity her.
He had no way of knowing how right he was. Tatiana’s serene demeanor was the direct result of the coping mechanism she turned to when faced with stress. As she chewed a small, carefully cut bite of steak, she told herself she didn’t care. As she washed it down with a delicate sip of ice water, she told herself she didn’t care. She knew she would grow accustomed to Bazarnik’s relentless gaze because eventually she would convince herself that she didn’t care. If she repeated the mantra enough, eventually she’d believe it; that’s how it worked.
Bazarnik shifted in his chair, clenching and unclenching his jaw at the sight of this woman’s flesh on full display. As his heart raced, his cock became engorged with the blood that thundered through his veins. He had intended to make her uncomfortable by taking her clothes and thus denying her any semblance of human dignity, but she appeared to be impervious to his efforts as she serenely ate the meal he had brought her. He, on the other hand, was reeling from the effect she was having on him. Something about this woman pulled at his insides. Who the fuck did she think she was, casting a spell on him so quickly?
“Get done eating or I’m taking it,” he snarled.
Tatiana rushed to finish. Nothing was ever for sure with Bratva and this guy seemed particularly hardcore. She’d seen his tattoos and knew they represented his life laid out in ink on his body. Only someone who knew Russian culture would understand those tats, and Tatiana was Russian through and through. She understood that she was at the mercy of a brutal, hardened criminal – a killer, no doubt.
She backed into the corner when he rose from his chair and unlocked the cell door once again. She assumed he was just coming in to take the empty tray, but he closed the door behind him, locking himself in with her.
He leaned back against the bars with his arms crossed over his muscled chest. She took a moment to study him. He was intimidating in a raw, primitive way, but attractive in his own distinctive way. His look was not one that just anyone could pull off but, damn, he wore it well.
He enjoyed her silent appraisal, smirking at her interest in his appearance. If only she’d seen him back when he had spikes surgically implanted on his head and a hoop in his nose. He’d reluctantly stopped wearing the nose hoop and had the spikes removed because it drew the wrong kind of attention from law enforcement. He had let his blonde hair grow out past his shoulders, usually wore it in the simple ponytail that was favored in Bratva. His striking blue eyes were accented by strong brows. His face was chiseled in sharp, angular lines with prominent cheekbones and a square jaw. A flame tattoo on his neck extended up onto his cheek. He was gorgeous in a biker kind of way.
His striking looks aside, it was his overall presence that intrigued her. Arrogant. Calculating. Malevolent. And he was looking at her like he wanted to possess her and hurt her all at
the same time. Even the way he had threatened to take her food if she didn’t hurry was a turn-on and she had no idea why.
She was looking pensively at the flame tattoo on his neck when her eyes widened. She had finally connected the dots. Ah, clarity.
“It was you. You blew up that warehouse. You’ve got a thing for fire.”
“That’s why they call me Bazarnik.”
“The Fireman.”
“You got it. Since you know my story, how ‘bout you tell me yours, Tatiana?”
“How ‘bout you get me some clothes?”
“No, I think I’ll keep you just the way you are, thanks.”
“Sounds like you already know all about me. There isn’t much to tell. That bastard Hector got my sister hooked on drugs. She died. I went to the warehouse to kill him, to take my revenge. But you got to him first. You fucking stole that from me.”
“See, that just proves my point. You know too much. My task here is containment. Damage control. That makes you my responsibility. My property.”
“Property?!” she snapped, her skin flushing angrily all the way to the tips of her beautiful breasts.
He approached her with deliberate steps, getting right in her face as he hissed, “Damn straight. You got mixed up with Bratva. There’s no getting out of that shit.” He placed a finger under her chin and lifted it, forcing her to meet his eyes. “You. Are. Property. Mine!”
“That’s crazy. You’re crazy,” she breathed, her voice barely audible.
He stepped away from her with a laugh. “Crazy is something of a requirement in Bratva. But here you are, and once you’re in there’s no getting out. I’m your only hope of staying alive. But don’t worry, you’ll like me sooner or later. By the time I’m finished with you, you’ll be glad you weren’t left out on those streets alone.”
“I killed a man. Can you save me from that?”
“Have you now?” he said speculatively.
He listened as she filled him in on her upbringing and how it culminated in her sister’s sham of a marriage and eventual escape that led to her overdose. A long silence ensued until Bazarnik cleared his throat.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said stiffly. “I have no brothers or sisters myself, but I imagine that would be most difficult.”
How was it possible that he recognized a kindred spirit in this woman even though their lives couldn’t be more different? He was a loner with an obsession with fire, no family ties, and no idea how to be around people day in and day out. She had had a rough childhood, yes, but she had had a deep connection to her sister, a connection so deep that she devoted herself to exacting revenge on those who caused Tadita’s death.
He understood that kind of devotion, that kind of loyalty, because that was what he had found in Glazov’s Bratva cell. Tatiana’s family ties had been severed abruptly by her father’s betrayal and her sister’s untimely death; perhaps Bratva could give her a fresh start, if she wanted one. He hoped she did; otherwise, she would have to die – likely by his own hand.
“So, you killed the fucker and left him face first in his spaghetti.”
“And meatballs.”
He grinned. He was starting to like this girl. “Very nice. Tatiana, I think you’ve come to the right place. Regardless of how you got here, if there’s blood on your hands, Bratva could be your saving grace,” he mused aloud as his gaze slid insolently down her slim form. “Or your downfall.”
Chapter Thirty Two
“Joseph wasn’t working alone, Yafon,” Vladimira said pensively as she strolled down the aisle of empty, gilded display cases. She studied her blood red manicure, admiring how the light glinted off her beloved poison ring. “He wasn’t smart enough to pull off a theft like that on his own. No, he must have had a partner and I’m going to find him. I’m going to lure him in, catch him on that security camera, and then I’m going to kill him.”
“I agree,” Yafon replied as he strode from one corner of the store, noting the location of the security cameras Dmitriy had installed. “It makes sense that they would try one last time to wreak havoc on your brother. It must be dealt with decisively. If you kill, I will kill. If you die assassinating your brother’s enemy, I will die with you. But I insist that when we find this fucker, he suffers for his disrespect.”
“Well,” she purred as she walked toward him, hips swaying seductively, “I guess that means you’ll be camping out here with me, because until this son of a bitch pays for what he’s done, I’ll be sleeping right back there, keeping an eye on things.” She indicated the small storage room at the back of the store, across from a small office area. “Anfisa will, no doubt, enjoy a little time to herself in the guesthouse.”
She draped an arm around his neck and curved her sleek body against his. He pulled her close and pressed her head to his chest. “You’re a good man, Yafon,” she said on a sigh, her voice solemn. “I’m lucky to have you.”
Male satisfaction flared in his eyes and his arms tightened around her as he considered her words and what they meant. “No, printsessa, I am the lucky one. My allegiance will always be to you and Bratva. Don’t ever forget that and don’t ever doubt it.”
“How could I ever doubt you, malysh?” she murmured as she stroked under his chin with a long, perfectly manicured fingernail. "You’ve proven your devotion over and over.”
He brushed his lips over hers, then pulled her closer as he took the kiss deeper. When he raised his head some time later, his cheeks were flushed, his arousal pressing hard against her. “Now,” he murmured as his lips hovered over hers, “why don’t you show me this bedroom you’ve arranged for us, hmm?”
Tatiana stood before Bazarnik, unafraid and unashamed, so close that he could feel the warm, rapid puffs of her breath on his skin. His mystery woman was stirring something within him that he didn’t pretend to understand. He snaked his hand around her neck, then covered her lips with his.
Her body surrendered to his as if they’d always known each other, and maybe in a sense they had. From the moment he had seen her on the video footage, he had been intrigued. Ever since he found her sleeping peacefully in her bed, he had wanted her. It went far beyond simple physical attraction; in the short time he had known her, the visceral reaction she stirred within him had taken on a life of its own.
“You’re playing with fire,” he warned thickly as her hand cupped his swollen cock and squeezed. His voice was little more than the primal growl of a man in need.
“Maybe I like playing with fire. What are you going to do about it?” Her voice became heavy with desire, laced with lustful need for a man she barely knew.
“What am I not going to do?” he growled. “That list is shorter.” He pushed her down onto the small bed in the corner of the cell. “You’re past the point of no return now.”
He didn’t wait for her to answer before he tore out of his clothes. He needed her with a ferocity that defied logical explanation, as if he’d just been biding his time creating external fires until he found the woman who lit him up from within. He couldn’t resist the force that was pulling at his most base needs. He straddled her body, sliding his hand between her legs, watching the emotions play over her features, learning how to touch her to give her what she wanted…what she needed.
This--this intense understanding of another soul’s torment was what he had been searching for within the flames. With every cry, every moan, every breathless plea, she was burning him deeper than fire ever had – something no other woman had ever done. Fire had always been the only thing that made him feel alive, but not anymore; this tormented woman was reaching in and conquering the sacred spaces he’d kept hidden from the world.
She opened her legs and he thrust inside, groaning mindlessly as the bell end of his cock passed through the tight ring of muscle at her slick entrance. As he moved inside her, her fingers scratched over the skin on his back, spurring him on. He straightened his arms and braced the weight of his torso on his hands as he slammed into her. He ow
ned her; as of that moment, he truly owned her in every sense of the word. And he didn’t care if she liked the idea. It was the simplest truth he had ever encountered.
It was as if fate had brought together two broken souls and, with their first touch, made them whole -- absolutely, irrevocably whole. And no one could have been more surprised by the whole thing than Tatiana and Bazarnik.
Her hands clutched at him, holding on to him any way she could. Her hips bucked wildly against his, circling in a way that rubbed the base of his cock over her clit with each thrust. Without warning, he flipped her over and spread her legs wide beneath him. He notched the head of his cock between her pussy lips, then yanked her back onto his length. It was the craziest thing that had ever happened to her before, but she let go and gave in to it because it felt so damn good and right. But she froze when he pressed his thumb against her rear entrance, circling the puckered flesh as his hips moved in a steady rhythm.
“Soon,” he rasped. “I want in you, Tatiana, in every way I can. I’m going to take it all.” When he pressed his thumb past the tight ring of muscle and beyond, she pushed back toward him, mindlessly clamoring for deeper contact.
Her body shuddered as a climax raged through her body. He continued to pound into her with a force that sent her spiraling into a mindless abyss of pleasure. She felt his cock pulsing and filling her as he followed her over.
He withdrew from her body, groaning as the sensitive head of his cock passed from her tight channel. She lay beneath him, boneless and deliciously sated. He supported his weight on his forearms as he struggled to regain his breath.
“Damn, I’m never letting you go now.”
“I don’t want you to, Bazarnik. I don’t want you to. This is crazy. I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“It’s true, then,” he chuckled as he shook his head.
“What do you mean?”
Jaded Jewels (Born Bratva Book 7) Page 12
