The Cleaner (Born Bratva Book 4) (18 page)

Natasha

I don’t know why I’m giving him the details about the torture I endured during my Bratva indoctrination. In the past it has been something I didn’t want him to be subjected to. How strange to feel the need to protect this big, strong man from the heinous things I’ve been through. Nikita is a shark when it comes to business—a killer in the boardroom. Me? I’m just a killer, period.

I asked Glazov to put me through the most intense training of our cell; it wouldn’t be fair for Nikita to bear his father any ill will for obliging me. The people we deal with are sadistic, thirsty for the blood of their enemies. My training was a necessary evil, at least for me it was. I had to know I was prepared for the worst, and now I am. Mission accomplished.

The sting of the first slap on my ass is so hard that I bite my lip to fight back tears. I welcome the first rush of endorphins being released in my system, best fucking high ever.

“I said, count.” His growl breaks through my euphoria of pleasure and pain.

“One,” I bite out through clenched teeth. The second slap is so hard that my legs kick out without any prompting from me.

“Two!” I gasp, unable to stop my hips from rolling toward his hand.

He recognizes the beginning of my journey into myself and his silky voice reveals the pleasure it brings him. “That’s it, there she is.”

His large hand smooths over my ass, stroking and massaging the tender skin that stings and burns from his attentions. I start to squirm with my arousal at his dominance, and his hand immediately grips my ass cheek firmly in warning. No sooner do I register the hard length of his impressive erection against my middle, than his palm slams down on the opposite cheek. My hands clench into fists until I am white-knuckled, a small act of defiance that yields a throaty chuckle from my tormentor.

“You’re a fucking kiss ass toward the boss. Are you trying to make me look weak in front of my father because I think this woman is a victim?”

He pushes two long, manicured fingers into my slick heat, immediately pulling them out to slide them over my clit. I inhale sharply and release the breath with a groan, surrendering to his desire to make me pay for the earlier encounter with Glazov.

“Oh, fuck! We’ll find a way around it if that’s the case. It’ll be our secret.”

He wedges his fingers back inside me, pulling his fingertips back at an angle that presses into my G-spot while he rolls his thumb over my clit. His intimate knowledge of my body guarantees my pleasure, and he’s smug about it.

His voice is a husky, fervent whisper, “Come for me, baby, and then come sit on this hard cock of mine like my good girl.”

At his words, I relax and let the orgasm take me. This is the ultimate form of domination at every level, so much more than just physical. It is the union of two people who are so deeply attuned to one another that it no longer matters where one ends and the other begins.

Nikita

When she languidly pulls her body up and over me, it’s all I can do to make my hands follow strict instructions from my brain (okay, yeah, probably from my dick) to yank off my drawstring pants. My cock is so hard it hurts and I know I won’t last long.

She slides down on me, sheathing me in her tight warmth. I hold her hips, locking her down onto my cock so she can’t move. I bury my head in her hair, breathing in the scent of her shampoo, and the words are out of my mouth before I even realize the thought is in my head.

“I want to put a baby inside you, Tasha. I want the bond between us to take human form. I want that with you.”

Her only reply is to begin sliding up and down on my cock. Her fingers tug at my hair, pulling out the band that secures my ponytail. She clenches a fistful of my hair and arches her back with abandon as she climaxes again. That’s all I need to send me over the edge.

As my cock pulses with my release, a feeling of immense satisfaction settles inside me. It’s so much more than just sexual satisfaction. Once again I’m connected body and soul to the only woman I will ever love. As we cling to each other, our lips and hands slide along angles and curves of slick, damp skin, stroking and soothing as our breathing slows and the ripples of pleasure recede.

“I’m going to jump in the tub, meet me there if you want to.” She says softly, getting up and sashaying to the bathroom. Her firm backside sways as she moves and somehow her scars make her even sexier.

“Give me just a minute and I will.”

She looks back over her shoulder at me and my heart clenches as she turns the corner and saunters into the bathroom. I pull my pants up, zipping them as I leave the room and head downstairs to the cellar for a bottle of wine. From the hallway, I hear voices in my father’s office. I slow my stride when I recognize the voices as my father, Novak, and the governor, and stop completely when my father’s voice goes menacingly quiet.

“Anthony…I don’t give a fuck if you’re the goddamn president of the United States. You very well may be one day -- but that doesn’t mean I’m going to kiss your ass. I thought we had this clarified.”

“Glazov…What are you saying?”

“I’m saying don’t play me for a chump. You went into this saying you had a feeling the killer was a cop -- when you knew damn good and well that at least one of the dead cops was dirty.

“You and I know how that works. When a dirty cop is killed, all their secrets come slithering out of hiding and take down everyone involved. Depending on how deep the corruption goes, I imagine there are some nervous badges down at the precinct.

“Now, far be it from me to judge anyone for not following the letter of the law, but I don’t appreciate you not being straight up with me. That title you have won’t protect you if you ever cross me. Now, do you want to tell me what’s really going on?”

Another one of my father’s rhetorical questions—that’s never a good thing.

I hear the governor breathe in deeply, as if he’s digesting my father’s veiled threat.

“There’s no need to get
agitated
, Glazov. You are correct in your assumption, we suspect that there is indeed a ring of cops who are operating as if they’re above the law. They pull people over and take their drugs, clean out meth houses and skim the cash, things of this nature.”

I know what my father is doing when he answers—

“Perhaps someone in the streets is simply giving them their just reward.” I can hear the apathy in my father’s voice.

“Look, I’m putting so much effort into this because I believe that these aren’t the random acts of some psycho. There is a clear pattern here if we can just clue in to what the killer is trying to accomplish. We don’t know if they’re motivated by greed, revenge or a twisted sense of justice. But if I don’t find them before the cops do, we’ll never find out.”

“Such an inquisitive man…” my father drawls. Judging by the governor’s response, he picks up on the sarcasm right away.

“Glazov, you’re right. I should have been more forthright and I will be from here on out. Please forgive my indiscretion.”

I hear the creaking of leather and can picture the Pakhan leaning back in his grand chair, very much the king of all he surveys.

“You hide anything else from me and my soon-to-be daughter-in-law won’t be doing shit for you.”

At that, I pad down the hall to the wine cellar. I’ve heard enough. I’ll let Natasha know later that my instincts were correct, that the killer has some sort of strategy. Though it hasn’t ignited any mercy in my father, I think I’ll have a leg to stand on, so to speak, because the governor wasn’t straight up with my father from the start. If I play my cards right, I may be able to help this woman without crossing the Pakhan. A win-win.

I will need Natasha’s help to accomplish all that needs to be done, but what’s one more secret between friends? One more secret that we’ll take to the grave.

Natasha

I keep my eyes closed and my head resting on the inflated pillow as I luxuriate in the oversized jetted tub. The jets feel heavenly pulsing on my sore muscles. In addition to the rigorous sexual play that I enjoy with Nikita, I also exercise relentlessly. When you deal with life and death the way I do, you’d better be in shape.

“It’s not like you to be careless, Natasha, you didn’t even open your eyes when I walked in. I could be anyone, have a weapon – hell, someone could have slit your throat and you’d never even know who did it.”

“I knew it was you,” I say without opening my eyes.

“How the fuck did you know it was me if you didn’t even open your eyes?”

“I can smell you.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” he asks indignantly, and I can’t suppress the grin that curves my lips because I know he’s discreetly sniffing an armpit. “I take great pains to smell good.”

“Yes, darling, I’m well aware of your ongoing love affair with Clive Christian colognes, but it’s got nothing to do with that. I’m talking pheromones. That, and your natural gait.”

“What’s my natural gait?” he asks sarcastically. The rustle of his clothes as they land in a pile by the tub is followed by a light tap on my shoulder, a signal for me to scoot forward. I open my eyes and am greeted by the sight of a glass of Merlot in his hand. I accept the wine and take a long, delicious draw as he settles in behind me. I rest my back against his chest and tuck the top of my head into the side of his neck.
Mmmm…perfect
.

“Well, you’re sneaky, I’ll give you that. Your gait is soft, light-footed from years of eavesdropping—a habit you have no doubt developed due to your position.”

“My father may not want me to know
certain things
in an effort to maintain some distance between me and the more…unsavory aspects of Bratva, but I see no problem in using any information I may stumble upon during the course of a given day. I’m smart enough to know when it’s time to excuse myself, but you know my father…”

We both say it at the same time—“overprotective.”

“It can’t be easy being the most trusted advisor of the Pakhan as his
councilor
,” I offer quietly as I rest my hand on his thigh and draw small, slow circles on his flesh with my thumb. “It’s a true contradiction in terms that you must find maddening. I mean, you know things no one else knows, yet he feels that some things have to be kept from you. You do a good job of walking the tightrope you’ve been allotted by birth.”

I’m hoping my words will encourage him, maybe help him understand why his father keeps certain things from him. I listen as his continues, and let the hot water and Merlot relax my mind and soothe my sore body.

“Speaking of eavesdropping, I was just privy to a very interesting conversation.”

“Do tell.”

“Dad just finished jumping Anthony Johnson’s ass--” We both laugh as we finish the sentence together—“the governor of the great state of Kentucky.” It’s an ongoing joke between us because a socialite who used to date him -- before he was swept off his feet by a high-dollar escort – was incapable of saying his name without following it with that phrase.

“Anyway...Dad all but ripped him a new asshole; said he didn’t appreciate him not telling him from the get-go that the case could involve possible police corruption.”

“Interesting. That could work in our favor.”

“From your mouth to God’s ears, baby.”