Deadly (Born Bratva Book 5) (8 page)

Oleg

“Oleg, a word, please.” Glazov waits until the girls are out the door and making their way down the hall before he calls me back in. We both know it’s a summons and not a request, but I appreciate the ‘please’ nonetheless.

“Yes, sir,” I reply, frowning as Novak rises from his chair and closes the door. He returns to his seat without sparing me a glance. I approach the ornate desk, knowing that I cannot refuse my Pakhan and yet painfully aware that my charge is unattended.
I always go first. Always.

“Relax, Oleg, all is well,” Glazov says as he considers me from behind his desk. “It appears my daughter has made a new friend. It is uncommon for her to do so.”

“Very.”

“And what do you attribute that to?”

“They’re both crazy,” I say bluntly, and am gratified by the small smile that passes over his face. “I’m guessing they are going to feed off each other’s bloodlust when thrown together.”

“The situation needs to be monitored closely, their interactions managed. I trust you will see to that.”

“Of course. I make a point of being intimately aware of all things concerning your daughter, sir.”

“Good, good,” he says pensively, an elbow resting on the arm of his grand chair, his index finger slowly tapping his upper lip. “Anastasia can get her brains splattered all over the wall, I don’t care about that. But if their connection is moving past that of mentor and student, then Anastasia’s unpredictable nature becomes a concern. Roksana is headstrong, we know this, but I won’t have her in the line of fire due to someone else’s impulsive behavior.”

“I will never let anything happen to her. If a bullet were to ever reach her, it would already be stained with my blood. And if that were not the case, I would insist that you make it so.”

“I rely on your protective nature, Oleg, but I’d very much like to keep you on the payroll. As I said, I don’t care if the trainee dies but you and my daughter… I’m never willing to sacrifice. After all,” he smirks, straightening in his chair, “my future grandchildren are at stake. Any news for me on that? I decreed your betrothal some time ago. You know how my wife worries…”

“There is no wedding date yet, sir. She is…stubborn. No offense.”

“Hmmph,” Glazov scoffs. “None taken. I can appreciate your predicament. But I would remind you that you are setting the tone for your future together. I promised her to you because I recognize that you are uniquely suited for each other. You are the only man who could handle her. However, she must be made to see the inevitability of her fate as both a Bratva soldier and a Bratva wife.”

“She does not think it is truly possible to be both. Her skepticism has her digging in her heels like a mule…sir.”

My words are greeted with an arched brow and impatience, “Then you will convince her otherwise. A woman’s willfulness did not stop me from taking what was mine. This delay is testing my patience. You have your hands full, Oleg, but I trust you will not disappoint me.”

“You have my word.”

“Very good. In the meantime, you will continue to train Anastasia in the Bratva ways. I see great potential there. Our own diamond in the rough,” he chuckles as he drops his gaze to his laptop screen and, with a subtle wave of his hand toward the door, dismisses me.

“We’ll train her well, sir. You will have no need to worry.”

“You do that,” Novak laughs, seeming a little too pleased with himself, “and reinforce your woman’s training while you’re at it.”

A sarcastic response wells up inside me but I manage to keep my expression neutral. Novak doesn’t miss the chance to get in another dig.

“I don’t envy you, my man,” he continues. “Especially when your woman never misses an opportunity to talk back or question your authority. Anyone else would have nipped that power struggle in the bud by now. Guess it’s a good thing you’re in touch with your feminine side.” His eyes gleam with unadulterated glee as he awaits my reaction to the blatant insult.

“You handle your woman, Novak, and leave mine to me,” I growl.

“You’re always so touchy when it comes to that girl.”

“And you’re always trying to stir shit up.”

“Yes…I admit it. True, true...”

“Fuck you, Novak.”

“You’re not my type, sweetheart,” he laughs as I stomp down the hallway, infuriated. I don’t need anybody telling me to how to handle my woman; her father’s one thing, but Novak? Well, he’s just being Novak.

Roksana

We’ve been dismissed from the Pakhan’s presence in no uncertain terms, but Oleg is still in there. What does Father want with him? It has to be something of significance for him to separate him from me. As my bodyguard, he is as good as my shadow, even here at home.

Even I have to admit that this doesn’t bode well for Anastasia. I’m worried that Father is going to have her eliminated after last night’s drama. When we’re about halfway back to our rooms, we decide to turn back and do a little reconnaissance of our own – but we take a different set of stairs so that we arrive from the opposite direction. No need to encounter Oleg on our way back and have to explain
that
.

We hide in an alcove that’s just around the corner from the office. I slink a little closer to the door and eventually I’m able to make out the deep, smooth rumble of Father’s voice and, of course, Novak. I don’t hear Oleg’s voice among them, which makes me think he may be on his way back to our suite of rooms. I place my finger to my lips, signaling Anastasia to be quiet.

My father’s clear baritone is easy to make out from where I’m standing. He must be talking to Novak. He rarely does anything without Novak being in on it. Those two feed off each other’s energy. When they’re together, trouble’s never far behind.

“If I’ve learned anything in my years of being in this business, it’s to never trust another mobster. Peace treaties are easily broken. It is inevitable. These Venezuelans could very well have forged ties with the Colombians.” So my father’s moved on from tonight’s hit; he’s concerned about our ties with the Ramirez brothers.

“I don’t think Ricardo Ramirez is going to allow Antonio Wayne to break the treaty we have with them,” Novak replies.

My father chuckles and I can picture him shaking his head indulgently at his cousin. “You always assume Antonio Wayne is the troublemaker.”

“Yeah, I know trouble when I see it and I know where it comes from.”

“Only because you’re the troublemaker in our relationship.”

“Yeah…must be a DNA thing.”

My interest is piqued when I hear what Father says next.

“I have a mole on the inside with the Venezuelans. Atticus Mendoza. Call him and get him on it. If anything about the Ramirez brothers comes up I want to be the first to know.”

I tug on Anastasia’s arm and we hurry back toward my room. I wait until we’re out of earshot before I speak. “Well, at least we know you’re safe, I don’t think there’s a hit out on you.”

“Safe for now anyway.”

“Welcome to my world.”

“No…welcome to mine,” Oleg interjects sharply, having approached us from behind. He falls into step with us, a pace or two ahead, of course.

Where the hell was he this whole time?

“We’ve got work to do,” he says curtly, “if we’re going to get to that diamond stash before the Venezuelans do.”

“Let’s do it,” I agree.

“Follow me. I’ve got the blueprints pulled up on my computer. While you two were busy eavesdropping, I was working.”

“Hey…I wanted to make sure the Pakhan wasn’t going to kill my new sidekick without me knowing about it.”

“If he was going to kill her he wouldn’t give a shit about hiding it from any of us. She’d be dead before we ever knew he had plans to off her.”

“Hey, guys, I’m right here... You know I can hear everything you’re saying, right?”

“Be glad it’s only idle speculation.”

Oleg leads us into my room where the blueprints are on the computer monitor. “I thought you said
your
room, Oleg,” I murmur, confused.

“What’s yours is mine, babe. You should know that by now.”

“Come over here and help me make sense of this,” I say quickly, ignoring his comment. In his mind, I’ve belonged to him since the day we met. The Pakhan merely made it official when he promised me to Oleg, probably thinking that marriage would tame me. It feels right, being his – but I won’t be tamed. I don’t want to have to choose between being a Bratva soldier and being a little Bratva wifey. Granted, my mother’s a shining example of a woman who has carved out her own unique place in our world, wielding her own power in support of my father’s devotion to his legacy. But she’s the exception and not the norm. I’m content enjoying a long engagement, even though I know Oleg wants marriage sooner rather than later.

My fiancé sidles up next to where I’m sitting at the desk. He leans over my shoulder, pausing to press a kiss to the nape of my neck. “You’re the only woman I know who can wire a bomb but can’t read blueprints.”

“I’m the only woman you know who can wire a bomb, period. I can’t be good at everything.”

“Yeah, well, you’re good at all the right things,” he says for my ears alone, each word producing a warm puff of air behind my ear and sending a shiver down my spine.

“Focus, man of mine.”

“Okay, I’m thinking this warehouse on River Road is where they were holding the diamonds.”

“Why are all the warehouses on River Road?” I answer my own question with an ominous thought. “If walls could talk those places would tell some bloody tales.”

“We’ve seen our share of bloodshed in ours,” he says almost tenderly, and I know he’s recalling the day we met when I snuck into the warehouse and saw him in action, torturing a man who had incurred the wrath of the Pakhan. I suppose most couples would be disgusted that I find the memory of our first meeting to be so romantic, but I don’t apologize for the life I’ve chosen. Along with my two brothers, I am a proud Mensa geek, having completed my education years ahead of my peers to take my place in the family business. I’m grateful to be with a man who understands and values my unique world view as few men ever could.

“Well, if we don’t find those diamonds there will be more blood,” I say as I lean back into his body where he stands behind my chair.

“That’s how we roll, baby. That’s how we roll.”