The Cleaner (Born Bratva Book 4) (14 page)

Nikita

I know agent Turner is grappling with the fact that Natasha and I are still working this case. He knows who my father is and he’s not happy about this turn of events. Most people don’t realize just how many politicians and authorities have ties to criminal heavyweights. It’s done discreetly, but one can’t exist without the other.

With my father pursuing legal business interests, it’s the perfect time for us to be doing what we’re doing. My father could very well end up wealthier from the diamond business than he’s ever been in all of his years of criminal activity. There’s a part of me that wishes he would go completely legit, but I know my father and that will never happen because he embraces his Bratva heritage -- the good and the bad.

“Agent Turner, it’s good to see you,” I extend my arm first and he reciprocates with a brief, firm handshake.
That’s progress.

“Agent,” I direct my attention toward Rene and shake her hand as well. She immediately begins to fill us in.

“The victim was a sergeant at the precinct. According to Herb, this happened sometime last night. His partner swung by on his way in, something about asking Bob here for a ride home after their shift was over, because he was dropping his car off to be repaired.”

“What the hell is he doing?” I nod in the direction of the body. The guy has his hand wrapped around his cock like he was jacking off when he got killed. Looks like he kicked it mid-stroke.

“We believe the killer posed the body that way. I guess killing him wasn’t enough, he wanted to humiliate him too – pretty much for all eternity because nobody on the force will be forgetting this any time soon.”

“Personal. Intimate, even,” I murmur to Natasha, who nods subtly in agreement.

Rene continues, “It profiles as the un-sub using a form of degradation against the officer—wants him to be remembered for that and the sad thing is if word gets out it will indeed be his legacy. I trust the two of you are aware this detail will not be released to the press. We appreciate your discretion.”

Agent Turner cuts in, taking over where she left off. Like the well-oiled machine they are, the information flows without a hitch. Everybody and their uncle know that these two are fucking but no one talks about it, ever.

“Seems our boy had a taste for hookers,” he says as he glances down at his notes. “He met with one last night, according to his partner. We’ve made some preliminary inquiries and an informant confirmed he met with a call girl that goes by Kathy Jameson last night. Works with an escort service called Kitty Kats.”

I keep my mouth shut, not letting on that I’m well acquainted with the man who runs the establishment. If she’s in his stable of call girls, I’ll be talking to the woman before the day is out. She may not talk to the cops but she’ll damn sure talk to me.

We direct our attention to Natasha and Herb as they discuss the wounds and cause of death.

“These wounds, at first glance it appears that the killer stabbed him, but these cut marks are irregular and not consistent with a typical stab wound,” Natasha notes with a scowl.

“Correct, the wounds have been gouged, as if someone was digging something out,” Herb interjects in a grim voice.

“Like bullets?” Natasha asks expectantly. Herb nods as he sticks his finger into one of the wounds, pulling the skin apart to reveal the gouge marks and shredded flesh underneath.

“That’s my guess,” he concurs. “I think he dug the bullets out and took them with him. If he was trying to throw us off, better luck next time, right?” he chuckles. “A lot of guns hold six or more shots and this victim has six wounds. I won’t know what kind of gun it is until I get him on my table.”

“Damn, he really worked the degradation angle, didn’t he? You think we’re dealing with a kinkster?”

“No, I think what Agent Turner said is true, that the killer wants to humiliate the victim, taint his legacy. This man had received commendations for valor in the line of duty, so that makes it all the more striking that the killer would pose him in such a way. Cops are notorious for ragging on each other and this guy will never live this down. No pun intended,” he smirked.

“Well, his secret’s safe with me. I’m used to keeping confidences.”

“I’m counting on that,” he says solemnly. I keep my features neutral and decide it’s a great time to change the subject.

“I see we have our standard
Cop Killer
signature,” I say as I gesture to the bloody writing on the wall.

“Yes, we do. And that’s about all we know about this killer, that it appears we are in the middle of a killing spree. We just don’t know who or why…yet. But we will.”

“Yes, this third body officially makes him a serial killer,” Agent Turner interjects.

This isn’t some gangbanger initiation. Our killer is organized and thorough. It would take some serious brain power to do what he’s doing and continue to get away with it. I can definitely relate to that.

Natasha

Kitty Kats is an escort service run by Diego. He’s Colombian cartel, works for the Ramirez brothers. The Ramirez brothers are hardcore. I don’t know the details, but after he had some problems with them in the past they convinced him it was safer to work with them, rather than against them.

There are rumors that the Ramirez brothers are moving to the Louisville area with their eye on a few legit business ventures. Personally, I think these men are smart to focus their efforts on white collar crime rather than small time street crime. Going legit; it’s the latest trend in organized crime. Who knew?

Glazov has always been ahead of his time. He believes that, with some finesse and behind-the-scenes diplomacy, mafia families can work together. Like the Russians and the Columbian cartels -- as long as boundaries and protocol are respected. The Glazovs and the Ramirez brothers have enough respect for each other to do that.

Natasha interrupts my thoughts, abruptly bringing me back to the matter at hand.

“I think it’s a good idea to have me be the one to call Diego, Nikita. He’s more likely to have loose lips that way -- but are you really okay with it?”

“Yeah, just keep him on speaker and I’ll set his ass straight if he gets outta line.”

Diego is a pimp so he’s always talking shit but I can roll with it. I dial the number for his private cell. He picks up and immediately starts in on me.

“To what do I owe this pleasure, Beautiful?”

“We need to talk.”

“Really…I can only hope you’re ready to get rid of that crazy motherfucker you’re engaged to and come take a walk on the wild side with me.”

“No such luck. Can I come see you?”

“There’s nothing I’d like more. Come one, come all. It’s Kitty Kats, baby.”

“I’ll be there in thirty.”

“I’ll have a shot of chilled vodka ready for you. You are Russian through and through.”

I hang up before Nikita can say anything. He’s already working that Glazov jaw tick that he gets when he’s pissed.

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell him I was coming along?”

“I’m sure he knows you’re coming; probably knew you were listening in. You know Diego, he loves stirring shit up.”

“Well, just like the Colombians have a signature of
neck ties,
we Russians have a few things we enjoy doing, like cutting mother fuckers open, removing intestines and wrapping them around people’s necks. Don’t tempt me with Diego.”

“Yes, the infamous neck tie, slitting a throat and pulling the tongue muscle down thorough the cut—looks like a neck tie. They usually do it to send a message about someone running their mouth.”

“I’ve gotta say, I think the Colombians are as ruthless as we Russians are.”

“You know when your father wants to keep the peace, they’re a force to be reckoned with.”

“Yes, but there’s a lot of money to be made when we play nice.”

“Then play nice with Diego, I need answers.”

He cuts those ice cold blue eyes at me.

“You look just like your father,” I marvel as I shake my head.

“I inherited his mean streak too.”

“I have never deliberately made you jealous—unlike you with Sofia.”

“Hey, I just needed to make you see that we belong together.”

“Almost got a bitch killed doing it, too.”

We’re silent on the drive over to Kitty Kats. At a stoplight, he glances over at me and smirks.

“You’re sexy when you’re mad,” he purrs. I roll my eyes.

“Speaking of mad, don’t even think about checking out Diego’s half-dressed whores when we get there.”

“I only have eyes for you, you know that.”

“You’re a good man, Nikita.”

“More like obsessed.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” I reply and I mean it.

We pull into the parking lot and start to head inside. Before we get far, I stop Nikita and ask, “Do you want to leave your gun out here?”

His only answer is to place his weapon next to mine in the glove compartment. I know he still has a knife strapped on his inner arm. Every Glazov is trained in the art of fighting hand to hand as well as with a gun. They won’t hesitate to defend what’s theirs.

I’ll have to watch how I talk to Diego in here. As bold as I am, even I have sense enough to know not to push my man. Though he’s the most reserved of the Glazov offspring, he also holds the title for being most like his father. In other words, he was dead serious about the intestines comment and he would have the balls to do it.

“Alright, let’s get this party started,” I quip.

“Hold on a minute, little girl. You’ll be following me in.”

I step aside and let him go in first. The muscle at the door immediately stops us.

“Mr. Glazov, always a pleasure to have you grace our establishment. But first, I do need to inquire if you have any firearms in your possession?”

“We left them in the car.”

“Very good. Mr. Diego is in the lounge area. Adriana will escort you.”