Deadly (Born Bratva Book 5) (27 page)

Anastasia

“Boy, our guy really gets around.” I’m slouched down in Dmitriy’s vehicle watching Miguelito make his moves on yet another woman. She’s dressed in a skirt that barely covers her ass. Her midriff shirt is stained with dirt and who-knows-what, the kind of stains that take years to accumulate and won’t come out no matter how many times you wash it.

Miguel, or Miguelito as the woman on the surveillance tape calls him, has Maricel’s competition backed into a brick wall by a dumpster that’s overflowing with trash. He lazily traces one finger down her jawline as he fingers the fistful of money she’s given him. I can only imagine what he’s saying to her.

Part of me is waiting for his other woman to come around the corner and catch him. I chuckle as I imagine a cat fight with hair extensions and acrylic nails flying through the alley. Sad to say, if they did fight over him, the winner would take the dirt bag back. I fought for my freedom from an abusive marriage and I feel sorry for women who, for whatever reason, aren’t strong enough to fight for themselves. But not these women who fight and claw with all they’ve got to
stay
with these bastards.

‘What are you laughing about?” Dmitriy asks with an amused grin.

“Don’t you ever wonder why people like you and me got into organized crime? I mean, to be honest with you, that could be you and me over there.”

“Hey, we all make choices. I’m where I choose to be.”

“I’m not.”

“Are you saying you’d rather be somewhere else?” His expression looks like it matters to him how I answer. I keep my expression neutral but, if I’m honest with myself, I wouldn’t mind so much if he liked me enough to care either way.

“I’m just saying Glazov made the decision for me to be here, not me.”

He chuckles before he replies. “Well, Glazov makes a lot of decisions for a lot of people. That’s just the reality of life for us. Look at it like this…You and me”—he points his finger back and forth between us as he speaks—“we’re at the top of the food chain when it comes to criminal activity because of Alexander Glazov. For that, we owe him. Personally, I don’t like the thought of you backed into a wall beside a dumpster full of rats and garbage.” His eyes heat and his voice drops to a low timbre as he concludes, “…or being beaten by that pathetic excuse of an ex-husband. A woman like you deserves better than that. You should be treated like a queen.”

His words trigger warm and tingly feelings that make me feel like a girl. And I
hate
feeling like a girl. I don’t want to care about anything but my job right now. I’ve got no time to devote to an attraction to some guy who works for the man who owns me. Whether I like it or not, I’m a made woman now. My job is the only thing I can allow myself to connect with.

Dmitriy’s still looking at me, waiting for an answer. He’ll just have to keep waiting. I don’t have any answers for myself, much less anyone else.

Oleg

“You really like fucking with this girl. What is it with you, Oleg?”

“I’m a sadist, as you well know,” I say as I reach over and knead the curve of her ass. Based on how she winces at the contact, she must still be smarting from my rough treatment of her last night. “Sometimes I like to prolong the pain. The thing is…we all have weaknesses—those things that make us jump when they go bump in the night. I like figuring out what they are and then capitalizing on them. Little by little, inch by inch, I work my way into a person’s psyche. I play until I get bored and then, lights out. I move on to the next job.”

“So…are you getting bored with me?”

“You, my dear, are the only person that will never bore me.”

“Should I be flattered?”

“No, you should be afraid. Very fucking afraid.”

“But…I like fear,” she purrs.

“Maybe that’s why I don’t become bored with you.”

“Maybe knowing my father will put you six feet under has something to do with it too.”

“That does up the stakes which, I must confess, adds to the excitement. Shh, there she is,” I whisper urgently. ”Wait here while I go around the corner and come in at the other end of the alley.”

“Well, this should be interesting.”

I silently open the door and look back just in time to see her pull her Glock from the glove compartment. That’s my woman—always prepared. I tuck the mask into the waist of my pants, flick the collar up on my suit and dip my head down while I jam my hands into my pockets. Yep…I’ll fit right in.

Roksana

I pull my gun from the glove compartment, tapping it against my leg, more out of habit than anything else. It’s funny, I can’t ever remember not knowing how to shoot a gun. Most people would think being raised by a man like my father would be a terrible fate for a child. They’re wrong; I can’t imagine a better family, a better life. No one loves his family more than my father.

I sink down a little in my seat when I see Oleg at the mouth of the alley, wearing the mask. The woman freezes when she turns and sees the masked man lurking in the shadows, perfectly still, studying her. She panics, turning away and then back again as if she can’t get her feet to do what her mind is demanding – run. By the time she turns back toward him, he’s gone, having already stepped back around the corner. It’s the same disappearing act he pulled at her house the other night, and it works like a charm.

She begins half walking—half running down the alley in my direction. I hope like hell she doesn’t ask me for help because I’ve got nothing for her. Hell, I think the whole thing’s funny. I’m territorial that way when it comes to Oleg. I still haven’t forgotten how she hit on him in the bar that night and I’m still paying her back for it. I don’t care if she was just doing her job; no man-eating penis piranha is going to get away with hitting on my man.

He slips into the car, ducking his head and smoothly removing the mask. It’s as if he never left. I wonder if once again the woman will believe she really saw what she thinks she saw. Or will she think her mind is playing tricks on her?

I can’t wait to see for myself that the little campaign we’re waging is working. I want to see her face when she goes to the shrine for comfort but finds the Grim Reaper staring back at her. And she’ll understand exactly what his presence in her home means: Death is coming for her.

Anastasia

I rub the back of my neck, rolling my head from side to side as I try to relieve my stiff muscles. With my hands on my lower back, I arch to stretch the muscles as I groan impatiently. How much longer will we be stuck in this room? I turn toward Dmitriy, fully intending to make a caustic comment about being left here to die, when I freeze in place. His gaze is locked on my breasts as they jut out in front of me. I straighten abruptly and can’t help but notice how he shifts in his chair and adjusts a sizeable bulge in his pants. He clears his throat and goes back to adjusting the monitors in the surveillance room.
Awkward…

“Um, I’m starting to feel like I live in here.”

“You might want to keep that to yourself,” he drawls with a frown. “If Glazov hears you bitching about your job, he’ll think you’re ungrateful for the second chance he’s given you.”

At the thought of pissing off the Pakhan, a sense of dread settles in the pit of my stomach. I really am scared of him. I find myself avoiding him, and I’ve noticed I’m not the only one.

“Okay, okay, understood. All I’m saying is we’re spending a lot of time in here. I just thought I’d see more action.”

He closes his eyes for a long moment and takes a deep breath, muttering something about
action
under his breath.

“Well, nobody ever said surveillance was fun. But it’s not so bad when the company’s good.” He turns his chair in my direction and leans back, crossing his ankle across the opposite knee, waggling his eyebrows wickedly. “How ‘bout you let me get you out of here tonight? We can go torment this guy and maybe help speed things along. The sooner he dies, the sooner we can get out of this dark room you hate so much.” He leans back in his chair, shamelessly checking me out. “Who knows where we’ll end up...”

“Wow, that’s a bit dramatic, don’t you think? I said I was bored, not desperate.”

“Oh, I know you’re not desperate…yet,” he purrs with a twinkle in his eyes. My inner core clenches at his words. I squeeze my legs together as I attempt to discreetly shift in my chair. A slow smile tilts the corners of his mouth as his gaze wanders down my torso and stops at the apex of my thighs.

Oleg and Roksana walk in, effectively cutting off whatever flirty remark he had planned to make.

“So, what have the two of you been up to?” I ask as she flops down in a chair, looking back and forth between the two of us.

Oleg cuts his eyes at Dmitriy with a cocked brow, as if asking him the same question. Dmitriy just grins at him as they communicate in some silent man language. Oleg answers me but keeps his eyes on Dmitriy. “It’s all taken care of. We’ve got eyes on those two now.”

“How will you access the camera, Dmitriy?” I ask because, hey, he shouldn’t be the only one who knows how all this stuff works.

“It’s simple, sweetheart,” he says, giving me a wink before rolling his chair back to the main monitor. “Watch and learn. See, I type in my computer’s IP address and then the TCP port number, and
voila
…we’re there.”

All eyes are glued to the computer screen, watching these two people who have no idea that we’re the source of their problems. And it looks like we’re right on time as she begins to rant and rave in Spanish, arms flailing wildly with each word.

Oleg nods toward Dmitriy and says simply, “You will translate.”

“Of course,” he agrees and leans in closer, eyes narrowing. “Okay, here we go…” With Dmitriy speaking rapidly after each burst of angry Spanish, we keep up with little to no delay.

“Miguel!” she shrieks as she slowly backs away from the shrine.

“Maricel, what the fuck is your problem now?” he bellows impatiently as he stomps into the room to glare at her.

“Look!” she continues frantically, dragging him over to the table by his arm as she points down at the shrine. “How did that Grim Reaper figurine get there?” She gasps and shoves him away, her hands fisted on her hips, ready for battle. “Is this your idea of a joke, asshole?!”

He slams his bottle of beer down on a table next to the shrine, cursing as the golden liquid bubbles over onto the table. He turns on her angrily, snarling, “Woman, you need to calm the fuck down and watch your mouth – and you need to not touch me or I’ll cut off your fucking hands. You hear me?”

Her voice is more subdued as she seems to struggle to hold back tears. “How can you not be upset that someone’s been in my house?” she chokes out between sobs. “You know what? I don’t feel safe with you anymore. You said you would always protect me, but you treat me different than you did when we first hooked up.”

We all lean in toward the screen like a gaggle of old women watching a soap opera.

“Aw, now, don’t be an asshole,” Dmitriy murmurs into the silence, as if giving the guy a pep talk. “Time to man-up…”

But Miguel has other plans. “Bitch, I don’t have time for your superstitious bullshit. I’ve got a shipment of cocaine coming in.”

That gets our collective attention as we sit up straight. Shit just got serious.

“Yeah, well, I’m not the only one who understands the power of the underworld. I can promise you that every single pilot who flies your shit into this country won’t fly without an idol on their dash or a picture of Malverde. They know to honor the patron saint of narcos.”

Nothing could prepare me for what happens next. As the two face off in front of the shrine, him with a contemptuous sneer, her with her hands on her hips, the statue of Malverde tips over with no help from anyone.

“Whoa…” Dmitriy breathes as he leans back in his chair.

Oleg breaks the long silence, his tone ominous. “Even Malverde had to bow down before the power of the Grim Reaper…”