Deadly (Born Bratva Book 5) (2 page)

Roksana

I wave the makeup artist and beautician away with an impatient flick of my wrist. They scurry out the door like they’re scared I might bitch slap them if they don’t move fast enough. It never gets old…the power that comes with being a Glazov.

I circle the woman seated in the chair. I’m the shark and she’s the blood-soaked prey. I lean down and whisper in her ear, “Emily’s dead. I killed her. From now on, your name is Anastasia. Do you know why I picked that name for you?”

I have been put in charge of Anastasia’s Bratva indoctrination. Teaching her the nuances of life in our cell will prepare her to command respect as she moves within our circle. The first person she must learn to read is me. My father is watching her progress closely and disappointing him is not an option.

My respect for my father is born of deep love and even deeper fear. To come between my father and me is to ensure certain death. If she ever does… it won’t be him putting a bullet between her eyes, it’ll be me.

When I’m certain I have her complete attention, I continue. “The name Anastasia means ‘resurrection’. The only part of you that interests us is the serial killer that resides in you. That woman, Emily,
who lived in the suburbs, is dead. The upstanding citizen you were before you started killing is a thing of the past. If I ever see a trace of Emily, I’ll cut your throat from ear to ear.

“Let’s get one thing straight. My father paid a lot of money to have you remade. Such extensive cosmetic surgery, performed by one of the top three surgeons in the country, doesn’t come cheap. You owe the Pakhan your life and are in his debt now. And because you owe him…I. Own. You.”

I sense him before I see him. When I turn to enjoy the view, as I always do whenever he enters a room, Oleg’s expression doesn’t give anything away. But I know him well enough to recognize the touch of humor that lights his eyes. The sadistic son of a bitch is entertained by my little ‘pep talk’ for our newest recruit.

I sashay over to him, putting a little extra sway in my hips for effect. My hand slides over his abdomen, heading south to settle over his cock. I stand on my tiptoes and whisper loud enough for her to hear, “This is mine. God help any bitch who tries to get next to you. You and I both know this cock won’t work for anyone but me… but I’ll still make sure it’s the last thing she ever does.”

Heat flares in his eyes and his cock hardens under my hand. It’s a good thing my jealous streak turns him on.

I turn my attention back to Anastasia. Slow, deliberate steps bring me within inches of her. Tilting her chin with a single finger, I cock my head to the side and snarl, “Look at me, bitch. There’s one more thing you need to know. Stay the fuck away from him. You don’t talk to him, you don’t look at him. Any interaction you
do
have with him is through me. He’s mine and, as I’m sure you’ve already guessed, I don’t fucking share. Fuck with my man – flirt with him, touch him, hell, if you so much as compliment his cufflinks -- and I’ll cut you up so bad they won’t find anything but ribbons of flesh. Am I making myself clear?”

“Crystal,” she says quietly, and I smile at the barely detectable bite in her voice. I can see that she wants to mouth off at me, but she’s holding back. That shows discipline and tells me everything I need to know. This girl isn’t weak – I know that for a fact or I wouldn’t have made a case for bringing her into the Bratva fold.

I’ll know her training is complete when even I can’t tell what she’s thinking. For now, though, her thoughts are easy to read. She wants to rip me a new one but she knows better than to get on the bad side of me or my family. That’s wise because once you’re on the bad side of a Glazov, there’s no coming back.

Forgiveness is not in the Bratva vocabulary. If you cross us once, you’ll do it again. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice? You’re dead.

Anastasia

This bitch is crazy. I don’t mean the out-of-control kind of crazy. I mean the methodical, calculating, kill-you-in-your-sleep kind of crazy. And she doesn’t need to worry about my intentions where her man is concerned; after watching Oleg pull a mouthful of teeth out of his last victim, I have no desire to have anything to do with him. Hell, he’s crazier than Roksana. Those two deserve each other.

I am, however, going to learn all I can from the two of them. Where most people would resent having their life taken away from them, I’m lucky to be alive and am grateful to be able to look forward to truly
living
. Alexander Glazov saved me from death or, worse yet, life in prison. For that, he’ll always have my allegiance.

“Come with me. The Pakhan wants to see you.”

“Why?” The words are out of my mouth before I can think about it and I regret them immediately. Judging by the look on her face, she isn’t too happy about being questioned. She says nothing, just grabs my arm and digs her long fingernails into my flesh. She’s daring me to defy her, to do anything but follow her. I decide it’s probably in my best interests to comply with her wishes.

As we leave my room, I steal a glance in the mirror over my dresser. I’m taken aback by what I see. I’ll never get used to this. The fair-haired suburban housewife is nowhere to be seen. The stranger looking back at me is every inch the femme fatale. My hair is jet black, stick straight, and bobbed with bangs. My lips are painted blood red and contact lenses give me emerald green eyes that pop.
Damn, I’m hot
.

I have to give it to Roksana; she took a wall flower and created a showstopper. Sexy doesn’t even begin to describe this new look. As we hurry down the hall trying to keep up with Oleg’s long strides, the double-take I get from one of Glazov’s men only confirms what I already know; my new look is going to draw a lot of attention -- attention I don’t want.

But what I want doesn’t matter anymore. My life belongs to the Pakhan now.

Oleg

Out of habit I proceed down the hallway first—always first. If we ever encounter a threat, they will have to go through me to get to Roksana. It’s been that way since the Pakhan hired me to protect his only daughter.

My insistence that she follow behind me has always been a source of disagreement between my charge and me, more so now that we are betrothed. She says it’s demeaning, that it makes her feel like she’s submitting to me. I enjoy her frustration and don’t exactly discourage her from ranting and complaining because it always leads to a battle for control in the bedroom.

As we take the final turn on the way to the Pakhan’s office, I straighten my cuffs and stretch my neck from side to side, feeling the familiar tick in my jaw. It’s always this way entering his office—in-fucking-tense. I tap on the door twice and his bodyguard—Yafon—my uncle opens it.

“Ahh, nephew, so good to see you live another day.”

“Day’s not over yet, Uncle.”

“Ha, ha, you hear him, Boss? My nephew, he’s such a kidder.”

As Glazov’s eyes bore through me, I keep my gaze straight ahead and maintain a respectful silence.

“I don’t think he’s kidding, Yafon.”
He’s right, I’m not. The day’s not over yet and anything could happen.

I relax as the Pakhan turns his attention away from me to focus on the woman Roksana has reinvented with a head-to-toe makeover – name and all. He stands and rounds his desk, approaching the new recruit and considering her pensively. He roughly grabs her chin, forcing her to look at him. Though he’s looking at her with disdain, he begins to speak to his daughter as if the woman isn’t even there.

“Quite the change, Roksana. You’re going to have my men falling over themselves to get to her.” He raises a brow in amusement as he continues, “I’m certain you’ve already informed her that Oleg isn’t available.”

The familiar storm I’ve come to know crosses over my woman’s face as she answers her father. Her tone is calm but that storm I know so well is brewing inside of her.

“Yes, Father. I told her in no uncertain terms what would happen if she goes near my fiancé.”

“Ah, fuck yeah… This is gettin’ good, cuz,” Novak taunts from his seat by Glazov’s desk, where he’s cleaning his nails with a huge gutting knife. Glazov’s obviously entertained by his daughter’s jealousy and fans the flame.

“And what is that? What exactly did you tell your little protégé?” he asks as he circles Anastasia, clinically assessing the makeover from every angle.

Her tone’s still calm—eyes straight ahead, but boy is she ever pissed the guys are ragging on her.

“I told her if she goes near my man that by the time I’m finished cutting her up, they won’t find anything but ribbons of her flesh.”

“Daaaaaaaaaaaaamn, cuz, that daughter of yours is lethal,” Novak continues flippantly.

Glazov cuts his eyes at Novak. “I raised her right.”

“Damn straight, you did. She’s a real badass.” Novak goes back to the task at hand—playing with his knife. He seems to be content with himself now that he’s started some shit. Typical Novak.

The Pakhan directs his attention back to Anastasia. “I assume you have been informed of your new circumstances. Your old life is over. Your allegiance is to Bratva.”

Silence weighs heavily in the air as everyone awaits this stranger’s response that, whether she realizes it or not, will determine if she lives or dies.

“My allegiance is to my Pakhan—I owe him my life.”

Glazov sneers as he issues his own warning. “Yeah, well, don’t try to fuck with
me
either or what my wife will do to you will make my daughter’s temper look like child’s play.” He returns to his desk and drapes himself over his enormous chair, already focusing his attention on his laptop screen.

“Yes, sir. My only desire is to be devoted to Bratva.”

My heart stops when his head jerks up, his eyes narrowing at her words. “And why is that?” he asks in a solemn voice that can barely be heard.

“Because Bratva resurrected me from the dead.”

The silence lingers for a moment as he considers her answer, then with a curt nod he dismisses the three of us. Novak’s taunting laughter seems to follow us long after we leave.