Deadly (Born Bratva Book 5) (6 page)

Roksana

He’s crazy. I know this. I also know I make him even crazier than he already is. I understand why he does the things he does. There are times when we have to go to a bar on Bratva business, whether it’s surveillance, a hit, or simply a discussion that needs to happen under the radar. There’s always a chance that men will hit on me – maybe it’s the red hair, I don’t know -- and Oleg has to stand back and take it. He knows it’s a means to an end but knowing that doesn’t make it easier on him. So I can always count on payback.

Oleg approaches retribution the way he approaches everything else: go big or go home. He’s keyed cars, smashed windows, and busted up faces more than once. Oleg is anything but the forgiving type. If a mark hits on me, the torture Oleg subjects him to is particularly brutal, even by his own ruthless standards. He’s always figuring out new ways to torment his enemies. I’ve seen grown men beg for death just to escape the pain he inflicts on them. Unfortunately for them, cries for mercy only feed the raging inferno that lurks beneath his stoic façade.

I choose a black leather skirt with a basic white halter-style top and, of course, Jimmy Choo stilettos. It's sexy enough to draw some attention and, hopefully, distract inquiring minds away from the real reason we’re there. A dab of lip gloss and I’m ready. I take one last look in the mirror and pause. I’m flushed and my eyes are almost unnaturally bright. I recognize that look; it’s the same predatory expression I get when I want to fuck.

Breathing in deeply, I tilt my head back and close my eyes, allowing myself a brief moment to savor the calm before the storm.
I’m so looking forward to spilling blood tonight.

I rush down the stairs, noting that my father’s office light is still on, and stride quickly over to Oleg’s black SUV. He holds the back door open for me but then steps in front of me, blocking my way.

“Be careful tonight. I’m always watching you, even when you don’t see me.” His tone is threatening, promising retribution for any perceived offenses.

“You’ve been hanging around my father too long,” I chide, rolling my eyes as I slide onto the seat and try to project more confidence than I’m feeling. “Besides, you’re paid to watch me—paid well, I might add. Just do your fucking job and I’ll do mine.”

“My job is
you
.”

I chuckle as I turn my attention to Anastasia. It’s time to focus on prepping her; I can torment my crazy-ass fiancé later.

“This is a hit tonight. Here’s your guy,” I say as I bring up the image on my phone and hold it up for her to see. “This club does random checks at the door, so the gun’s already been planted in the bathroom. You’ll put two bullets in his head and then hoof it out the back door where Oleg will be waiting for you. Don’t hide your face but don’t look anyone in the eye.”

“I can do this,” she assures me fiercely. I wonder if she’s trying to convince me or herself.

“Good…because it could mean your life if you can’t. My father said something about a bullet to your brain if you fail. That would be a shame; I was just starting to like you.”

“Well, then, I can’t die on you yet, can I? You’re the only friend I’ve got.”

Oleg’s eyes meet mine in the rearview mirror. He scrutinizes me with a frown, as if trying to decide what’s changed since I got in the car. He’s always been like that, monitoring my every move, trying to read my thoughts.

I reach into my bag and pull out a long, blonde wig. After I slide it onto Anastasia’s head, I adjust it to make sure it looks natural. “Yeah, you can do this. After all…you’re a fucking serial killer. Consider it just one more notch on your holster, baby.”

I’m surprised at how much it matters to me that she’s successful tonight. If she isn’t, then I’ll be the one putting a bullet in her brain while my father looks on. Normally I wouldn’t give a fuck, but there’s something about this girl.

In my line of work, friends are few and far between. I have no patience with the Bratva women who base their lives on snagging a Bratva soldier for themselves. Besides my mother, my only friends are Logan and Natasha, my brothers’ ‘significant others’, and Novak’s woman, Katrina.

I respect Anastasia for standing up to her two-timing husband. The fact that he was a cop and she still had the balls to kill him impresses me. I’d expect that from a career criminal but not from a suburban wife. Respect goes further with me than friendship. Even though she hasn’t been here long, she already fits right in. That’s not an easy thing to do with my family. Few are ever able to join our tight knit group.

I see how the men who work for my father look at her. I’ll damn sure be watching them. It’s going to take a certain kind of man to attract her attention and keep it after all the shit she’s been through. The last thing she needs is some player who beats his women or who can’t keep his dick in his pants. I doubt there are any losers like that in my father’s operation because he’s old school—doesn’t like his men fucking around on their wives. He says if a man will betray his own wife, then at some point he’ll betray Bratva. I agree with him.

The pulse-pounding music I can hear through the closed windows of the car tells me we’ve arrived at our destination. Oleg parks the car on a side street and we walk the short distance to the club entrance.

“You ready?” I ask.

“Show me the mark and he’s as good as dead.”

“That’s what I want to hear, girl. We need to make an entrance so you have my permission to touch Oleg for that purpose.” I can’t help the smirk that crosses my lips at her horrified expression.

Oleg approaches the entrance with a woman on each arm, giving the impression to anyone watching that he’s just a guy out for a night of debauchery with the two women he’s fucking. It’s a ruse we’ve used before but something neither of us would ever do. If Bratva men are anything, they’re possessive. They don’t share and I damn sure don’t.

The bouncer working the door insists on patting down Oleg. I struggle to hide my disdain when he carelessly lets Anastasia and I through without a second glance – me, with a gun holstered on my upper thigh beneath my short skirt. I knew I was taking a chance bringing it in but I don’t feel dressed without it.

We find a table and order drinks. We’ve chosen a place where we’re hidden in the shadows, the perfect position to stalk our prey without being seen. It takes but a moment to spot our mark. I look down at my drink and speak to Anastasia in a low voice.

“That’s him; the guy in the burgundy shirt in the VIP section, sitting with the guy in all black. That’s his bodyguard.” I raise my chin and look her in the eye. “Kill the bodyguard first, then the mark. Remember what I said, keep your head up and don’t look anyone in the eye. And whatever you do, keep moving.”

Anastasia

Son of a bitch! I hadn’t counted on having to kill two people.
Fucking hell.
If the Pakhan wants to see how I hold up under pressure, I guess we’re about to find out. Right now, though, I have a job to do, and only one chance to do it right.

I stroll back to the bathroom nice and easy, stepping aside to allow a willowy blonde supermodel-type to pass me going in the opposite direction. I’m relieved to see there isn’t a line for the women’s restroom. I push the door open and immediately check behind each stall door for signs of life. Finding none, I enter the last stall and lower the toilet lid as I look up to see a window a few feet below the ceiling. Strange, since I know this isn’t a freestanding wall; the building next door is connected without even an alley in between.

Standing precariously on the toilet lid, I try to open the window but it doesn’t budge. I can hear Roksana’s voice from earlier.
My father said something about a bullet to your brain if you fail and I was just starting to like you.
I am not going down like this.

I reach down and pull my sheathed hunting knife from beneath my skirt and slip it beneath the window. I hope like hell it isn’t nailed shut. Recently applied paint has sealed the window shut, so I use the knife to work my way along the bottom of the window’s frame, cracking through the paint.

One last forceful push of the blade frees up the window. I try to shrug off the fear that somehow the gun won’t be there. I wish I had snagged the one Roksana snuck in, at least that would have been a sure thing. Surely whoever was supposed to plant the gun did their fucking job.

I push the window up and am relieved to see a slim wooden case perched precariously on the ledge. I pull it inside and sit on the toilet lid to assemble my weapon. So far, so good.

When I’ve got the silencer in place, I return the empty case to the space between the fake window and bricked-in wall. I slide the glass pane back into place and launch myself quickly up the stairs to the VIP section. Three people are seated at the table now.
Well, fuck me. They’ve got company.

The blonde supermodel has joined them. I hadn’t counted on having to kill this guy’s wife or girlfriend or whoever she is. I’m pissed that Roksana didn’t warn me before I got here so I could wrap my head around it. Was she unaware that the woman would be with him or did she decide not to tell me to see how I’d react? That’s one hell of a big risk to take with
my
life hanging in the balance. I’ll make a point of finding out later.

The three people are so occupied with their conversation that no one evens looks up as I walk toward them. I’m glad to see their table is the only one occupied in the VIP section.

The bodyguard finally looks up as I approach. His eyes widen when he sees my gun. He hesitates in what will be the last mistake he ever makes. Two shots in the head take him out before I turn my gun on the mark.
Rinse and repeat.

I turn my attention to his female companion, who is slowly grasping the hopelessness of her situation as her lover bleeds out on the floor at her feet. She backs away from me until she reaches the wall, sobbing hysterically as she frantically tries to wipe his blood and brain matter from her glittery cocktail dress. As she stares down at her trembling hands in horror, her knees buckle and she slides down the wall. She lands in a heap on the floor, her legs flopping out in front of her, her arms still flailing wildly over the bodice of her dress and she sobs incoherently, her head shaking back and forth frantically like a wet dog.

She’s not on my To Do list for the night, but I’ll be damned if I’m leaving a witness. When all is said and done, if I get caught it won’t be a Glazov going to jail -- it'll be me and that’s not going to happen.

I pump two bullets into her head. The disbelieving look on her face, even in death, is almost funny. I mean, what the fuck did she expect? Even I know that if you’re going to hook up with people who live by the sword, then you can expect to die by the sword right along with them.

Oleg

Of all the times for someone to fuckin’ OD.

It doesn’t matter how meticulously you plan out a hit—something’s going to happen. Some variable is going to come flying out of nowhere to bite you in the ass. Traffic is snarled around the club where two double-parked ambulances are blocking me from getting to our agreed-upon meeting place around back. As I circle the block police sirens begin to wail in the distance -- but they’re getting closer. I’m thinking they’re probably not showing up to be moral support for the EMS team, either. I’ve gotta get Roksana out of there. Anastasia, too.
Fuck…

I make a hard right and race through the alley, hoping to avoid some of the traffic. Not the best move though, because I have to slow down to avoid the EMS guys as they work on a girl strapped to a gurney.

I can’t believe what I see as I scan the crowd that’s gathered on the sidewalk. Off to my right, a woman with long blonde hair sprints toward one of the ambulances. It’s not an EMS worker; it’s Anastasia, followed moments later by Roksana.

Roks looks around, perplexed, until she sees Anastasia’s destination. Her eyes light up wickedly and she breaks into a flat-out run to catch up. The paramedics don’t notice because they’re busy stabilizing their patient in the alley and the club patrons are straining for a better view of the drama, so they sure as fuck aren’t paying any attention either.

I’m assuming Anastasia’s been successful. I hope so, for her sake. When she saw that I wasn’t at our meeting place behind the club, she must have decided to commandeer an ambulance as her getaway vehicle. Girl can think on her feet, that’s for sure. Stealing an ambulance. Talk about problem solving, this bitch is crazy. I underestimated her.

She pulls away from the club and I pull up next to her. She spots me and takes her hands off the steering wheel long enough to throw them up in a ‘WTF??’ gesture. Then she points straight ahead and hits the lights and siren. Roksana eggs her on by rolling her window down and laughing hysterically.

It’s been obvious to anyone who’s seen them together that they’re kindred spirits. They’ve been circling each other cautiously, but no more; this girl is as crazy as Roksana. I know my woman, and I can never let them out of my sight alone. Letting Roksana loose with someone as unhinged as she is would only be asking for trouble.

Anastasia may have just earned her rightful place in our Bratva cell tonight. Someone else might have freaked out when they came out of that bar to find out their getaway driver wasn’t there waiting—but not this girl. She took control of the situation, acted decisively, and got the hell out of there before anyone could identify her. She did the right thing.

I follow behind her as she flies down River Road and I know exactly what we need to do. We’ve made it this far without our identity being jeopardized and I have no intentions of that changing.

I flash my lights to get them to pull over. Roksana yells at her, still laughing. I haven’t seen her have this much fun in a long time. These two are going to be diabolical together and I can only imagine Glazov’s reaction when he gets wind of this. Right now, though, we just need to get rid of this ambulance. I pull up next to them and lower my passenger window.

“Cut the fucking lights and siren!” I yell, scowling at them as I wave them over to the side of the road. We’ve gotta ditch this ambulance before we get much farther.

“Oh, I’m going to cut them alright,” she laughs as Roksana hoots and hollers in the passenger seat. “Get ready, girl!” she yells to her enthusiastic passenger.

My jaw drops when she turns the wheel hard and accelerates as they approach a small lake on the right.
What the fuck does she want to do, go for a swim?!
They jump from the moving vehicle right before it goes off the bank and into the water. I slam on the brakes and lurch to a stop just in time to see them execute perfect rolling landings. They appear to be unhurt as they laugh their asses off and watch the ambulance disappear beneath the water—lights on and siren wailing.

Yeah, yeah, it’s funny. Let’s just hope the Pakhan has a sense of humor when he hears about this.