Deadly (Born Bratva Book 5) (17 page)

Oleg

I head to my office to think. If this shit doesn’t go right, it will be my ass on the line. Roksana will be in trouble too, but let’s face it, I’m not
daddy’s little girl
. If--and that’s a big fucking if--things go the way Roksana is laying it out, that’d be great. If not, I could be on the receiving end of the Pakhan’s wrath with no way of knowing whether I’d survive it.

In my line of work, timing and chance go hand-in-hand in determining outcomes. The best laid plans can go wrong. Alexander Glazov would have no problem putting a bullet in my brain if I fuck up. It’s imperative things work out in
his
best interests. This is his door into the diamond business and going legit, or as legit as a Bratva boss can get anyway. That doesn’t begin to factor in the delicate relations we have with the Ramirez brothers.
Man, this shit could go south so quick.
I rub my temples in an effort to stop the emotional vice grip around my head from tightening.

I shake off the stress and start making plans. I call Dmitriy’s number and wait for him to pick up.

“What’s up, my man?”

“Meet me in my office, we need to talk. Maybe I should reword that, we need to strategize. And go ahead and change clothes. We’re going out on the town.”

“Really? Well, you know what they say, two heads are better than one.”

“I heard that. Hey, one more thing. Come alone.”

“Ha, ha. Not feeling the girls right now, huh?”

“Oh, I’m always feeling Roksana. I just need to get a game plan with you on the surveillance end of things.” I’m not going to tell him I don’t want to take Roksana where we’ll be going tonight.

“Now, in-depth surveillance is something I’m looking forward to.”

“What are you, a fucking voyeur?”

“There’s nothing better than eavesdropping on someone and hearing all their secrets. You have no idea the shit people reveal about themselves after a few
cervesas
.”

“Yeah, I can see where there would be some truth to that. Alright, I’ll see you in a minute.”

I want to get Dmitriy’s take on the situation. We’ve known each other a long time, but last night was the first time we’ve worked together. There’s no better way to get to know a man than planning the death of another man with him.

Anastasia

Watching Roksana pace back and forth is making me nervous. Listening to her is another thing, because she so rarely opens up like this. That’s a good thing for two reasons: she trusts me enough to let me know what’s going on in that head of hers, and I’m learning from her. I made up my mind when I was first thrust into this lifestyle that I was going to learn all I could.

“I’m telling you, taking these guys down is the best thing we can do. As soon as they’re down, the Colombians will come in and take over. Even though the Ramirez brothers don’t deal in drugs they have ties all over Central and South America.”

“And they’ve moved here?” I ask.

“Yes. They’re doing the same thing my father is—trying to get some legitimate businesses going. They’re getting into the movie business. Churchill Downs draws a ton of celebrities.”

“Hmm, that’s smart, staying in good with other bosses.”

“Yeah, well, if they don’t let their egos get in the way we should all be okay—alive anyway.”

“Yeah. I have to agree the tension was thick. What is it with these guys?”

Roksana stops pacing and cuts her eyes at me with such intensity that for a second I wonder if I’ve made her mad. “What do you mean?”

“They’re all gorgeous.”

She smirks and her demeanor changes, and I can breathe easier. “Even Dmitriy?” She fans herself dramatically and takes on a southern accent as if she’s been transported back to the
Gone with the Wind
era. “Do ya find Dmitriy to be gorgeous?”

“Oh, there’s no doubt he’s good looking. It was interesting to find out he’s half Colombian.”

“And…”

“That’s it.” I point to my temple as I continue. “This girl is in it to learn. I don’t need any distractions.”

She sits on the edge of the bed and looks at me. The sincerity in her eyes is laced with determination. Whatever she’s about to say is important to her. That means it’s important to me, too.

“It doesn’t matter how much you learn, Anastasia, you can never use that knowledge anywhere but here. You do understand my father owns you now, right?”

“I understand that more than you could ever know.”

Oleg

“Are you serious, man? You look like a fucking drug head surfer dude.”

“Hey, fuck you, Dmitriy. The only reason I brought you with me is because you don’t look Russian. With all that dark olive skin and dark eyes, you’ll fit in right in. And don’t get me started about the thousand-dollar belt and those snakeskin boots.”

“I knew it; you’re just using me for my body,” Dmitriy deadpans from the passenger seat of the SUV.

“Well, the last thing we want to do is to go in here in five thousand dollar suits and ponytails. If drug dealers know how to do anything, it’s sniff out rival gangs.”

“Oh, please,” Dmitriy scoffs, “you guys are easy to sniff out. You purebred Russians, you’re all huge with enormous hands. What the hell do they feed you guys? On a serious note, I know I look Latino. I figure, that will work in our favor; I’m familiar with the customs and I dressed the part. We’ll be fine.”

“What’s your story with that, anyway?” The look on my face is serious. Something’s different about this guy and I want to know what it is. I know he’s cool or Glazov never would have taken him in.

“My mother’s Colombian and my father’s Russian.” He looks at me as if he’s being funny but the pain in his eyes can’t be hidden. “The story goes that my dad went to some bar and took the Latina barmaid home and I’m the result. Unfortunately, Mom didn’t want to be a mom so she dropped me off at the Russian Orthodox Church right after I was born. Glazov got wind of it and found a Russian family who couldn’t have children. They took me in and raised me as their own. For some reason, he took an interest in me. He paid for my education. I grew up playing with his kids, eating at his table and being groomed for Bratva.”

His look is pensive as he shakes his head and though he barely speaks above a whisper his words ring loud and clear. “I owe the man my life.”

Boy, if I’ve heard that once I’ve heard it a million times. Say what you want about the life he’s chosen for himself, but the Pakhan has changed many lives for the better. “Sounds to me like you’re just like the rest of us -- born Bratva, one way or another.”

“That I am.”

I pull up to the front of a bar that looks like nothing more than a hole in the wall. I’ll be damned if I’m parking my customized SUV in the alley or behind
this
place. I also have no intention of going into a strip club unarmed. I’ve got a knife on my upper arm under my denim jacket, and a gun in a sheath that was customized for my shit kickers. My Glock’s tucked into the back of my jeans. The denim jacket is the perfect length to hide it.

Dmitriy eyes me like he knows what I’m thinking. “I got your back, man. No worries. If those motherfuckers search you and take every bit of artillery you’re carrying, you’ve got me.”

Because of Dmitriy’s martial arts training, he’s considered by law to be a lethal weapon. I wouldn’t be surprised if he grew up angry because of his fucked-up parentage and Glazov did what he always does—used it for his advantage.

The thing about the Pakhan is he’s a multi-tasker. He knew it would be good for Dmitriy’s emotional health to get him involved in martial arts from a young age. He also wanted to train a killer—a man who could be depended on whenever Bratva shit hit the fan.

The Pakhan’s a fucking genius. He’ll spend years training an operative and by the time he’s done, the trainee is loyal to the point of death. It’s one of the reasons I respect Glazov—his decisions benefit the whole organization. He’s not some fat cat sitting behind a desk, counting his millions. His interest is always in his people. Now, the man will kill you without a second thought if you cross him, but you won’t find anyone fairer or more loyal than Alexander Glazov.

“I appreciate your back up, but nobody -- and I mean nobody -- takes anything from me unless it’s over my dead body.”

The look on my face must be fierce because he looks like I just smacked him in the face. I take one last deep breath and slowly release it. “Man, I’d really like to get through the night without killing anyone.”

The fucker just beams at me again. “I would, too, but it ain’t out of the question.”

When it comes to Dmitriy, the bigger he smiles, the worse it will be for his opponent.