Glazov's Legacy (Born Bratva Book 2) Read online

  “She won’t want to undress in front of you. Wait in your room; we’ll be fine.”

  I watch as he does what he’s asked, but I can tell it’s with reservations. He is so much like his father.

  I turn to face the woman so I can speak to her.

  “What’s your name, sweetie?”

  “Sofia Ruiz,” she answers immediately. I am glad she isn’t so timid that I’ll have to work to pull the information from her.

  “Do you have any family?”

  “My sister is in New York.”

  “Well, we’ll get you back to your family soon, okay?”

  I purposely make sure to throw the word “soon” in.

  “Your son, he is very nice to me.”

  Here we go… This is exactly what I don’t want or need—a cat fight in the making over my eldest son.

  “Believe me, child, you are safer in that man’s hands than anywhere else on earth.”

  I have no intention of revealing my fears to this stranger. She doesn’t need to know I have plans to get her out of here as quickly as I can, and I’ll be doing it with or without my husband’s help.

  I’m not about to tell her my son will slit someone’s throat for bothering her. I’m also not about to tell her that she could be dealing with the jealousy of a Russian hit woman named Natasha. There’s no need to frighten the poor girl any more than she already is. There is one thing I can count on in my life; there’s never a dull moment.

  Glazov

  I watch my son as he feverishly paces in front of the bathroom door, waiting for his mother and Sofia. When he turns and notes me observing, he speaks.

  “She’s staying here until you can get her back to New York, right?”

  “Don’t be so dramatic, son. I’m not going to throw her out on the street.”

  “I’m not being dramatic, Dad. The only place she will be truly safe is back with Antonio Wayne, so she needs to be here until she is on a plane, headed back to New York City.”

  “I’ll set the security up to where she can’t get out without the code, and I’ll tell the guard on duty to watch her through surveillance… in another bedroom that’s not yours. Let me clue you in on something, son. The danger here isn’t the gangbangers coming to get her. The danger is if Natasha finds out that woman is eye fucking you.”

  “Dad, she’s just looking to me because I’m the one who rescued her.”

  “You’re going to have to rescue her ass again—from Natasha—and she’s a hell of a lot more dangerous than any member of a street gang.”

  “She won’t give me the time of day, Dad, and it’s just because she works for you. I love her, but I’m getting tired of waiting.”

  I laugh out loud and tell him, “I have a feeling all that is about to change.”

  My son has his arms crossed over his chest, making him appear even more massive, and he looks baffled. Chasing the same girl his whole life, I guess he wouldn’t have much experience to understand how women operate. I have no doubt my plan will work; Natasha will come around once she sees that she has some competition.

  We both look up when the girls exit the bathroom. Even with her wet hair, bruises, and no make-up, the woman is stunning. I know right then, beyond a shadow of a doubt, when Natasha comes into work tomorrow and sees her, things are going to get very interesting.

  I walk up behind my wife, wrapping my arms around her waist. She tilts her head back and whispers in my ear.

  “You need to get that girl away from our son before Natasha gets wind of her being here; her ass is on a plane as soon she is okay to travel.”

  I chuckle, but deep inside, I know the threat is real. Knowing what Natasha is capable of, I will have to play this very carefully. I change the subject and whisper in my wife’s ear.

  “What did I tell you I was going to do to you before I left?”

  Even after twenty years, she still blushes when I threaten her with fucking her like I hate her. Yes, what we have together is good, so damn good.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Glazov

  “Get your ass in here! Hurry up!”

  Novak and Nikita waste no time rushing into the room and joining me behind my desk. Mesmerized, our eyes are glued to the screen as we watch the gang beat the man they have tied up. It is retribution for allowing Sofia to escape the night before. We listen as the gang interrogates him. These fuckers don’t trust anybody, and that includes members of their own gang. I am going to use that distrust to my benefit.

  “I can’t wait to blow these motherfuckers up,” Nikita growls.

  I turn in his direction and eye him.

  “Nikita, I’m dealing with this differently. I want to take my time dissecting these little wannabe gangsters.”

  “What do you have in mind, Dad?”

  “Watch the screen, son,” I instruct him, not yet willing to reveal what I have in mind.

  “Let me get this straight. You mean to tell me you let some man in a mask come up in here, and he just took the woman we had locked in a cage?”

  “I’m telling you, man. That’s what happened.”

  “Lies! All lies! You let that bitch go because you’re weak. If she fucking goes to the police, we’re all going to jail because of your dumb ass.”

  I look at Nikita and say, “Wait for it…”

  A blast of gunfire fills the screen, and brain matter splatters all over the back wall behind where the man’s head had been just moments before. I turn and smile at both men.

  “I think it would be a whole lot more fun to watch these dumb-asses implode. So, the first thing we’re doing is making sure a tape of that gets into the right hands. Once they’re convicted and in prison, the men will stop trusting each other, and eventually, they’ll rip each other to shreds. See, boys… you can kill them and be done with it, or you can slowly dismember them, piece by piece, and enjoy the process over time.”

  I’m in the mood for a mind fuck, and this is the perfect setup for a long, drawn out battle of wits. Let the games begin…

  Chapter Twenty Three

  Agent Turner

  In my line of work, no matter how hard you try to not blur the lines, it simply isn’t possible. There are going to be criminals you end up befriending no matter how much you resist, and Glazov is one of those men. He has a way of making you connect with him, even knowing deep down that he’s as much a criminal as the men you put behind bars.

  I finger the manila envelope that was mysteriously delivered to me. It has no return address, and my suspicion that this is one of Glazov’s tactics is growing. This wouldn’t be the first time he attempted to forge an alliance with me.

  Most people believe that the only interaction criminals and law enforcement have with one another is either when we arrest them, or when they’re acting as an informant for us. Our lives aren’t that cut and dry. I walk a very thin line as an agent, and throughout the years, I have managed to walk that line with honor and integrity. I plan on continuing to do so; I only hope my ironic relationship with Glazov doesn’t make that impossible.

  I grab a pair of the latex gloves I always keep within reach. This time, it’s a pair from the box I keep on my desk. Anyone who has known me, for any amount of time, knows I’m a bit neurotic about always having them on hand. I keep some on my desk, in my pocket, in the glove compartment of my car, and various other places for just this reason. You never know when you’re going to come in contact with evidence.

  My partner, who is my partner in more ways than one, scoots in close to sit next to me as I pop the disk into my computer. I look at her, shaking my head. Somehow, I know in my gut that this is going to bring about a string of events that I’ll have no control over. Anytime you’re dealing with someone who is disclosing another person’s wrongdoings, you have to be careful. You can’t just look at the Intel they provide and the criminals implicated. You have to investigate the person who ratted them out and figure out his motives as well. If it is Glazov, as I suspect, why would a man,
who is deeply steeped in organized crime himself, gift me with incriminating evidence to bring someone to justice?

  As I watch the screen, my suspicion that Alexander Glazov is the one behind the mysterious delivery is validated when I see a man being interrogated about a woman who was rescued. As cold-blooded as Glazov is, he has never hurt a woman, and he wouldn’t like it if one was being treated as badly as I assume this one was. Between what I know of him and the description the man being interrogated gives, it isn’t difficult to put two and two together. This has Glazov written all over it; though I highly doubt he executed the move by himself. I am well aware he has two sons, and chances are, at least one was involved in this little mission.

  As if summoning me against my will, my phone rings, and the voice on the other end confirms, beyond all doubt, that Alexander Glazov wants me to come out and play. His accent is unmistakable, and I immediately recognize it.

  “If I know you like I think I do, Agent Turner, you’re sitting there with that hot ass little partner of yours, watching a man’s head get blown off. I am sure a man with your ethics isn’t going to allow this heinous crime to go unpunished.”

  “Get to the fucking point, Glazov. What’s in it for you?”

  “Now, now, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Let us savor the moment. Don’t worry, I’ll be in touch.”

  With that, the line goes dead. Glazov is right though. I can’t let this crime go unreported. In fact, I have to report it by law. It has nothing to do with me being one of the good guys, and he knows that. This is a matter of Alexander Glazov wanting to play, and he’s forcing my hand to join him in his playground of dark deception.

  Glazov

  I smirk as I hang up the phone. This is going to be fun. I have succeeded in exactly what I wanted to do; I’ve forced Agent Turner to have ties with me. You know all this shit you hear about never ratting anyone out to the cops? It’s bullshit. In my world, it isn’t what you do; it’s why and how you do it. If you aren’t Bratva, everything is fair game—period. If you’re in the enemy’s camp, anything goes as far as taking you out.

  Now, I’ll be the first to admit that I love a good mind fuck. A lot of my men have vices—smoking, liquor, women—but me… I love a good battle of wits. The more twisted it is, the better.

  I am forcing Agent Turner to be a part of my life because I need him. His lily white, righteous, and very uptight nature would normally keep him from being in a gangster’s company. However, if it’s in the name of the law, he can justify hanging around the likes of me in his own mind. Ironically enough, he is the only agent I trust to do the right thing. Though manipulating his honest nature will take precision, it is the only way to obtain the results I need. He will get what he wants, fulfilling his desire to do the right thing, and I will get what I want while watching a rival gang implode.

  Agent Turner isn’t a man I want on my bad side. If I succeed in doing what I have in mind, I am going to take down this little band of thugs and secure one of the top agents in the FBI as my ally. Whether Agent Turner realizes it or not, he needs me as much as I need him, so my success is pretty much guaranteed.

  I push away from my desk and head toward my bedroom. I silently stalk my way inside, locking the door behind me, and I sneak into my wife’s closet. Her back is turned to me, and she’s humming as she thumbs through her clothing.

  I fist a handful of her hair, slowly twisting it as I growl into her ear.

  “When were you going to fucking tell me?”

  “Glazov?”

  “Did I give you permission to talk? Shut the fuck up! Now, be a good little girl, grab those handles on that little dressing room bench, and Bend. The. Fuck. Over!”

  I slowly reach my hand around, pulling at the sash that holds her robe closed, and then flip the material over her back to reveal her ass. I kick her feet apart to spread her legs open. I still have her head pulled back by a handful of her auburn hair.

  “Do you think you can just lie to me?” I snarl at her.

  “Glazov?” she whimpers.

  “Shut the fuck up!”

  I pull at my belt, allowing my pants to drop down to my ankles, and then thrust into her in one forceful stroke; I stop. This is why I go commando—easier access whenever I want her.

  “You’re wet.”

  It’s clearly an accusation that she likes the things I do to her. I continue talking, knowing she will just get wetter.

  “Do you think I don’t know what you’re doing? I know every move you make, Ptichka.”

  I groan as I listen to the sloshing noises her body makes, and I continue talking, fucking her with long, hard strokes.

  “This little fuck fest isn’t about you; it’s about me, using you.”

  Yeah… she’s getting wetter. She’s as twisted as I am.

  “You better not come. I’ll wear that ass of yours out if you do,” I warn her.

  Just like I knew she would, her body clamps down on me as an orgasm rages through her. I time the smack on her ass perfectly, unloading inside her.

  “That’s for anything you’ve done I might not know about,” I threateningly growl into her ear.

  I chuckle as she struggles to nod her head despite the firm grip I still have on her hair.

  She didn’t do anything wrong, and she hadn’t lied about anything either. Like I said, I like a good mind fuck. What can I say? I’m a real bastard.

  Kathleen

  I watch as my husband saunters to the bathroom, returning with a warm washcloth to clean me up. I know my man well enough to know that our little lovemaking session is over. It was all one of his elaborate mind fucks. After twenty years of marriage, I probably know him better than he knows himself.

  Glazov likes toying with people just for sport. It’s who he is. Me? I like a good fuck, and if my husband playing around with my psyche accomplishes that, well, then so be it.

  “Antonio Wayne knows Nikita is sending Sofia back, right?”

  His countenance goes cold, and I know what he is going to say before he even says it.

  “It isn’t Antonio Wayne you should be worried about.”

  He speaks through clenched teeth. I roll my eyes before I answer him.

  “Just make sure I don’t have some Colombian thug knocking on my door, looking for one of his women. Get her ass back to him, and do it quickly.”

  “Not until I accomplish what I want to do.”

  “And what would that be, Glazov?”

  “Spurring Natasha on to make a move with our son. She’s so damn concerned about not mixing business with pleasure that she isn’t giving in to her feelings for Nikita. Those two have been in love since they were kids. They need to just hurry up and get married.”

  I take a moment to look him in the face, trying to convey the seriousness of the situation to him.

  “Glazov, you’re going to fuck around and get that girl killed. Natasha isn’t the kind of woman you want to make jealous.”

  “If it will motivate her to stop sitting on the fence, then yes, that’s exactly what I want to do.”

  “Why don’t you just talk to her instead of playing these games?”

  “Where’s the fun in that?”

  The smirk on his face clearly communicates how amused he is.

  Fucking with a hit woman of Natasha’s caliber isn’t my idea of fun. Obviously, I’m just going to have to schedule a lunch with Natasha and talk to her myself. What Glazov doesn’t know won’t hurt him. It’s none of his damn business as far as I’m concerned anyway. Some things are better dealt with up front; this is clearly one of those times. Natasha and Nikita’s relationship runs deep. They have been in love with each other since childhood. I think the fact that she has put her feelings on the back burner out of respect for Glazov and the organization shows class. Regardless of how misplaced her concerns are, they come from a good place. If she sees this woman fawning all over Nikita, I’m not convinced that she’ll be capable of maintaining the calm exterior she’s known for. I
need to get on top of this, and I need to do it quickly.

  Glazov grabs my upper arm, squeezing just enough to let me know I can only leave if he allows it.

  “Like I said, the person you need to be worried about is me.”

  He’s still on the Antonio issue. That’s the last thing on my mind right now.

  “If Natasha kills Sofia, I won’t be the one having issues with the Ramirez brothers; it will be you. I don’t give a shit about Antonio. I do, however, care about Natasha. Believe me, Glazov, my hands are full with you and the boys, and now they’re really full because of this bullshit concoction of a game you’ve fabricated.”

  “Yeah, I just bet they are.”

  I pull away, angry that he’s not taking me seriously, and grab the jeans and top I have laid out so I can get dressed.

  “I’m going to check on this woman you’re putting in between Natasha and our son. I wouldn’t want someone to get killed because of you. You’re forever playing around in people’s heads.”

  “It’s in the DNA,” he yells out behind me as I leave the closet.

  “So I’ve heard,” I yell back in a snarky voice.

  I stomp out of the bedroom, but really, what can I do? After all, it’s just a matter of Glazov being Glazov.

  I change my demeanor when I get to my son’s bedroom. The girl they rescued is sitting on the bed, and I’m relieved to see that my son is over in his office off to the side. I need to talk to him and feel him out, but I take a moment to speak with Sofia before I address him.

  She looks so much different today than she looked the night they brought her in. Even though the only make-up she has on is a clear gloss on her lips, she is stunning. Her long, dark hair cascades in ringlets down to her ass, and she has beautiful, clear skin the color of creamed coffee. I can definitely see this girl turning any man’s head. It only solidifies my resolve to get her out of here quickly.