The Cleaner (Born Bratva Book 4) (13 page)

Nikita

As much as I hate to admit it, seeing and hearing the salacious power struggle between Oleg and Roks has me wanting to do the same thing to my woman. I head upstairs to my bedroom and cross the floor to the bathroom. And there she is, looking hot as fuck, brushing her teeth and wearing a silk robe that barely covers her ass.

I walk up behind her, glaring at her reflection in the mirror as she finishes up. Her eyes meet mine as she places her toothbrush in the stand. She smiles smugly—she knows. I don’t know how, but she knows. I jerk the lower half of her body back toward me.

“You think something’s funny? Does it amuse you that I got turned on by seeing a man exert such harsh control over his woman?”

“Well…” she chuckled, waggling her damn eyebrows at me.

“Interesting. Let’s just see about that, shall we? Spread. Your. Fucking. Legs.”

Her eyes widen but she does what I say without hesitation, much to my cock’s considerable delight. I drop to my knees and knead the globes of her gorgeous ass, enjoying how the supple flesh feels beneath my fingers. I bite down on one round cheek, hard enough to leave a mark, hard enough to make her cry out. I press the flesh apart with my thumbs and reveal her tiny, pink rosette. I stroke a finger around it and smile when the muscles clench in response. When she tries to move away from me, I bring my hand down on her ass, savoring the sharp sound that reverberates against the Travertine tile walls.

“Shhh…Don’t move.”

I want to keep her guessing, so I coax her to relax by stroking the red handprint that now stands out starkly against her porcelain skin, mixing a little pleasure with the pain. As soon as she softens, I spread her ass cheeks again and lean in, pressing my open mouth to her skin. She jerks in surprise, squirming against my mouth. I yank her back to me roughly and flick my tongue along the puckered rim. Her breathing becomes labored as the tight ring of muscle contracts and releases under my tongue, as if she’s trying to pull it inside. So I oblige, opening her up a little more with my thumbs and dipping my tongue inside. I’m rewarded with torrent of her incoherent, almost panicked sounds of pleasure. Knowing her as I do, she’s struggling to maintain control while facing the fact that she’s enjoying this particular brand of pleasure – a taboo that she has, up to this point, refused to explore.

“Oh, God…” she gasps, bending over to rest her head on the vanity, her surrender complete. I hum my approval as I slide my tongue down the length of her pussy, slipping inside her creamy slit for a taste. She tosses her head back and moans, her hips jerking in response to the overwhelming sensations. I grab her hips and hold her still, forcing her to take my lips and tongue.

The tip of my tongue swirls around her clit then flutters back and forth over the nub, and her taste is sweet in my mouth. I want to devour her, inside and out. Her legs are shaking and her pussy’s creaming, both sure signs that she’s close. I begin lapping at the swollen bundle of nerves in earnest then, applying the firm pressure she craves with long, broad strokes of my tongue that draw out her pleasure.

She’s quivering from head to toe, whimpering incoherently, the words and sounds disjointed and hoarse as she climaxes violently. Her back arches as she pushes her hips against my face. I lavish her pussy with open-mouthed kisses and slow strokes of my tongue as the waves of pleasure gradually recede.

I stand, drop my trousers to the floor and position myself between her slick thighs. A guttural groan escapes my lips with the force of the first thrust as I bury my hard length inside her. When I’m fully seated from root to tip, I reach around to stroke her tits, tugging on her nipples as I pull out, leaving just the head of my cock lodged inside her.

“I didn’t say you could come,” I tell her in a menacing whisper. Then I slam my cock back inside her drenched pussy, pistoning so hard and fast that she’s white knuckled as she grips the edge of the sink. Her feet haven’t touched the ground since I started fucking her, so I keep my arms wrapped tight around her to keep her in the position I want. The urge to rut, to fuck my mate, consumes me. I maintain the punishing pace until our skin is slick with sweat and my leg muscles ache from the exertion.

I slow my thrusts until we slide against each other, our sweat-slicked bodies pressed tight together as she matches the steady, smooth roll of my hips. I hold her upright, crossing my arms in front of her, pushing her tits together as I knead them.

She covers my hands with hers and I rumble low in her ear, “The first chance I get, I’m going to have my name tattooed on the back of your neck. In Russian, of course.”

“Anything, anything, anything you want, Nikita.”

“You’re damn straight, anything I want. You belong to me.” My right hand wraps around her neck as I release my seed in hot, creamy bursts inside her. Her pussy clenches around me and she groans my name over and over, in the throes of yet another orgasm.

I may give her hell, but she is everything I need and my love for her touches the deepest, darkest corners of my soul. My arms tighten around her as I rest my cheek on her shoulder.

I smile against her silky skin, drunk with pleasure at the direction of my thoughts. Maybe my son’s life will spark in her womb tonight. I take a deep, steadying breath and turn her around in my arms so I can bury my face in her hair and breathe her in.

“I love you, Tasha. You’re everything. Everything.”

Natasha

I don’t even remember going to sleep. I tickle his chest as I allow my memory to take me back to last night. Nikita always knows what I need. Whether it’s soft and sweet or rough and brutal, he satisfies me completely. Neither of us has ever been with anyone else.

I smile when I think about the promise rings we wore as kids. Glazov bought them for us. We wore them as a covenant to save ourselves for each other. Glazov is big on monogamy, even the men who work for him are encouraged to be faithful to their wives. If they do fuck around, they damn sure hide it from Glazov. Though the diamond I wear now is much more expensive, our promise rings mean so much to us that we continue to wear them, although they are now on fine gold chains around our necks.

“So you were seriously worked up last night.”

“Watching Oleg manhandle his woman inspired me, I guess. What can I say, I’m a sick fuck? I couldn’t care less about my baby sister’s sex life, frankly the less I know the better, but once I started thinking about taking you like that, my cock was rock hard. And,” he brushes a kiss on my lips, “I knew you’d be ready for me.”

“Your cock stays hard, Nik.”

“I want my son.”

“I’m off the pill, baby. But with all the chemicals I use in my work, I’m worried about getting pregnant.”

“You trained Oleg and Roksana, so they can pick up the slack if needed. They’re as obsessive as you are about eliminating evidence.”

“But what would I do with my time? I need to work.”

“You can help me with Dad’s diamond business.”

“You’re determined to make an honest woman of me, aren’t you?”

“I just want you with me.”

My phone starts ringing and he reaches over me, grabbing it before I can get to it.

“Rene. Yeah, she’s right here. Another one? A cop?”

He has my undivided attention now. So there’s another murder. Maybe this will be the one that helps us find out who the hell is wreaking all this havoc. He finishes up and confirms my suspicions.

“We’ve got another dead cop. Good thing we showered last night, we need to roll,” he smirks.

“How weird is it that we’re working for the FBI?”

“We are not working
for
the FBI. We’re helping them. There’s a difference. We’re repaying a favor to the governor. I know for a fact that Agent Turner and his partner can’t be bought, but having a working relationship with them is still a good thing. With all the shit going on with Oleg and Roksana we’re going to need all the connections we can get.”

His voice rings out as I hurry to the bathroom, the solemn tone of voice stopping me in my tracks. “I’m serious about my son, Natasha. I can feel him, feel the force of his will already. He wants to begin his journey to us. It’s time for him to claim his legacy.”

“Oh, really? Well, I need to continue my journey to the bathroom. But seriously, what if it’s a girl, another Roksana?” I laugh as I start my morning routine.

“Then I’ll keep fucking you until I have a son and I’ll spoil my princess with frilly dresses.”

“If she’s anything like her mother she won’t wear frilly dresses.”

“If she takes after her mother, she will be unlike any other woman and I’ll love her no matter what. You know how the son thing goes, we have to have heirs to carry on. I’d actually like two of them.”

“An heir and a spare?”

“Don’t say such things. My father treated each of his children the same. Our children will know they are treasured by their parents.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Now that I think about it, Glazov gets really twitchy about you and Kodiak riding in the same car together. You know why he does that, if something happened to one of you then the other would reign when the time comes.”

“Stop talking about morbid shit, Natasha,” he snarls and I know it’s time to change the subject. He has struggled to cope with almost losing his brother, Kodiak. Even though the shooting was the brainchild of a woman scorned, it woke us all up. Life is fragile, especially for the Bratva. “Sons are a way of life for us, a way of carrying on the name and the legacy.”

“It’s the Bratva way,” we say in unison and I can’t help but laugh. I’m glad the conversation has gone in a different direction and things are lighthearted again.

“Fill me in on the case,” I yell, spitting out the toothpaste and rinsing my mouth so I can get dressed.

“Looks like we’re going to the deep dark woods today. Maybe I’ll tie you to a tree and take advantage of you. I still haven’t punished you properly for that bullshit about not mixing business and pleasure.”

“And I still haven’t paid you back for messing with my head with that bitch, Sofia.”

“Are you jealous?”

“What do you think? If it would have been some guy latching on to me, you would have had a fit.”

“I would have done more than that. I’d have put a hit on him since my hands have to stay clean. You’ve been mine since before you were born. You know I take that very seriously.”

“Yeah, well, you’re lucky I didn’t kill the bitch. And as far as the deep, dark woods are concerned -- ooh, lions, and tigers, and bears, oh my…”

“With the way these murders are escalating, who knows what the fuck we’ll find out there today? Most of the cops around here live in town or nearby, it makes for an easier commute. This guy lived out in the boonies. No better place to blend in than out in the middle of nowhere.”

“Just because someone enjoys a little peace and quiet doesn’t mean they’re hiding something.”

“We’re all hiding something, Natasha.”

“You better not be hiding anything from me.”

“Oh, please…”

I can envision him rolling his eyes. I stroll out of the closet to find that he’s ready to go. He’s in low-slung faded jeans that fit in all the right places. I shamelessly enjoy the view as he slides his arms into the sleeves of a button down shirt, his muscles shifting in beautiful harmony as he works the buttons. I advance on him with a smirk and brush his hands away. I unbutton the shirt and spread the fabric to reveal a smoothly muscled torso that would make a sculptor weep. I rest a hand on his chest, pressing my nails into the taut muscles as I crane my neck to look up at him.

“Tell me it won’t be different after the baby,” I murmur, letting my hand wander freely over his flesh, caressing and kneading my way down to my prize.

“Are you pregnant?” he asks with an arched brow as his cock stirs beneath my hand.

“I don’t know, you tell me.”

“If you are, then it will be a blessing. I don’t want you worrying about such things. That’s why there are nannies.”

“A nanny isn’t raising our child. But, in the interests of domestic harmony, I am willing to compromise. I’ll get a big, ugly Russian woman to help me when I want time with you.”

“I don’t give a shit if she’s big and ugly, I just want her to be Russian and speak Russian to our children.”

“I’m on board with that,” I murmur as I button his shirt. “It’s important to me, too, that they know about their heritage. I can hear it now, ‘I’ll not have a grandchild of mine not knowing about their homeland!’”

“Yeah, Dad would pitch a fit if it was any other way.”

“Alright, we’re ready. You can fill me in as we drive.” I pat his chest to let him know he’s all buttoned up.

“As
I
drive,” he quips, glancing at me over his shoulder as he grabs the keys.

“You’re so Alpha.”

“Always have been and always will be.” He grins and beats his fists against his chest. “I’m a Glazov, baby.”

“You’re a Neanderthal.”

“Even better.”

When we get to the front door, we take the to-go coffees from the tray the maid is holding.

“Alyona, you are as your name implies: A torch of light,” I tell her and she knows I mean it. The staff in the Glazov home have known us our entire lives and they love us like we’re their own. Alyona beams at us as we pass by, then closes the door behind us.

Nikita’s SUV is a replica of mine but not tricked out. He’s too professional for that—likes to fly under the radar, he says. The only place my Nikita isn’t polite and reserved is in the bedroom, and I’ve got the aches and pains this morning to prove it.

“Fill me in, you big caveman.”

“Ugh, ugh,” he grunts, eyes twinkling. “Sounds like we have another dead cop. They wouldn’t tell me a whole lot over the phone. I’m sure the feds are as paranoid as we are about dropping info over the phone.”

“Give me a name, I’ll look him up online.” I’m a nerd at heart, a woman who loves her technology. He gives me the information and I do a quick search. “Huh. He looks like a dick head,” I comment when I see his arrogant expression on the official police website.

“You can tell all that by just a picture?” My only response is turning my phone in his direction so he can see the picture. After he sees it he agrees.

“Yeah, he does look like a hater.”

“Yeah, a woman hater.”

“Careful, you’re jumping to conclusions.”

“I’ll bet you a blow job he’s a woman hater.”

“You’re on,” he chuckles. I read to him as he drives.

“Let’s see, decorated for pulling a cop out of the line of fire during a bank robbery. He made Sergeant after that. Of course, it was in all the papers and he was hailed as a hero. Here’s what appeared in the local paper:

‘
Officer Bob Finley is being lauded by the mayor after pulling a fellow officer out of the line of fire while responding to a bank robbery. He apprehended the subjects by shooting one and giving chase after the other fled the scene. Bank tellers say if it hadn’t been for the officer’s bravery they don’t believe the employees and patrons of the bank would have survived. The police have confirmed that both were under the influence of methamphetamines.’

“So,” I say on a long exhale, “the guy’s a local hero, can do no wrong. That’s a surefire way to be above the law.”

“What do you mean? That’s an odd thing to say.”

“I’ve always felt like this was personal. Maybe the killer holds some kind of grudge against these cops. Hell, maybe they’re on the take, I don’t know.”

“Well, if this is a cop killing cops, it would have to be one hell of a vendetta and it would have to stem from something very, very personal. Just like Bratva, cops don’t break the ties that bind.”

“Unless it’s someone like my mother; she had no sense of loyalty, not even toward me. I could
never
leave my children. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to wrap my brain around that one.” Though it has been years since she abandoned my father and me, it still hurts, even though I know I’m better off because she didn’t raise me.

“Your mother left because she was a druggy and ran around on your father. She was selfish, not out for revenge. There’s a big difference. I think this guy has a strong sense of purpose, either a thirst for vengeance or maybe his own warped sense of justice.”

“How do we know it’s a guy?” The thought has been in the back of my mind for a while now. I’ve never assumed that we’re dealing with a male serial killer. Female serial killers are rare but seriously badass. No scruples for them, there’s not much they won’t do.

That question gets his attention. “Why would you say that?”

“Because, sometimes, when a woman holds a grudge it can be a whole different kind of thing. More volatile, more lethal. Depends on the woman. The right woman could pull this off and stay under the radar because a man is going to feel less threatened by her. Just like the women of our organization are trained, female cops are too. They can fight, shoot a gun, and they damn sure know how to kill someone.”

“Don’t share your theory with the feds. If we find out it’s a woman, I want to get to her first. I’ve got some questions for her.”

“Yet another secret is safe with me,” I wink at him and he grins.
Damn, how I love this man.

When we arrive at our destination in the middle of nowhere, we pass through a rusty, red metal gate that’s been left open. A long driveway leads to the wood cabin. The agents and ME are already there and I find myself hoping it’s Herb Foster.

Medical examiners can be a prickly bunch when it comes to working as a team, but Herb has been nothing but welcoming and professional. I know better than to take that for granted.

MEs know that one piece of evidence being lost or mishandled can compromise an entire investigation, and no one wants to be blamed for something like that. I share Herb’s determination to solve this case, not so much because it involves a cop killer but because it will solidify connections with the governor. In our line of work, connections are everything.