Deadly (Born Bratva Book 5) (20 page)

Roksana

The jog back to my SUV is a lot faster than the walk to the bar was. I jump in and start the engine. I speed down to the opposite end of the street from where we were just moments ago. I leave the driver’s door ajar as I jump out and grab what I’ll need from the back.

“Roksana! Roksana, what are you going to do with that baseball bat?”

“Just wait here. I’ll be right back.”

“No…that isn’t going to happen.”

“Then put that fucking hoodie on and grab a bat.”

I can tell by the look on her face she has reservations, but she picks up a bat and follows me. The determination in her eyes tells me she won’t let me go alone. By some stroke of luck the street is empty and in a matter of two minutes we’ve done what we came to do: send a clear message to that bitch that she needs to go sniff around someone else’s man. Oleg is off the market.

Part of me hopes she understands that the message pertains to both Oleg
and
Dmitriy. So what if Anastasia isn’t interested in having a man in her life right now. Dmitriy can barely keep his hands off her and I’d have to be blind to have not noticed how jealous she was when he turned the Latino heat on those two women.

The swings of our bats are swift, precise, and effective. The woman who was sitting with Oleg is the same one who was in front of the orange truck getting yelled at when we pulled up, so this is perfect. The truck now looks like the man has been two-timing and I wonder if that’s what she’ll think.

The door to the bar opens and we race back to the truck. Gravel flies as we take off, laughing hysterically. There’s no better way for two women to bond than to work together to set another woman straight.

I take my eyes off the road for a second. “Hey, thanks for having my back.”

“I told you I would.”

“Talk’s cheap. You find out a person’s real truth when the bullets are flying. Don’t ever forget that. In this life, if you have any kind of clout, people want to ride your coattails and be your
friend
. We’re no different than someone in the corporate world trying to climb the ladder of success; the only difference is that we’ll break fingers instead of stepping on them on our way up. If half the fuckers I know were honest when they got promoted, they’d stand up toast with their shot of vodka.”

“What would the toast be?”

“I just want to thank all the people I put six feet under to get this promotion—” she busts out laughing. “No, here you go: I just want thank all the little people I buried to get here.”

“Are you saying you can’t trust your own people?”

“I’m saying you can’t trust anyone, Anastasia, but especially our rivals. Betrayal in this lifestyle isn’t just deadly, it’s downright brutal along the way. You’re dealing with people who have made deception an art form. It’s very much like a story I read one time about a missionary who worked with a cannibalistic tribe. The cannibals deliberately befriended him and wooed him for years. When he least expected it, they killed him and ate him – and thought nothing of it.

“The Bratva life has great rewards, but always remember where there’s great reward, inevitably there will also be jealousy and envy. I think we both know what jealousy and envy can do.”

Oleg

I storm into the house and hoof it up to our suite of rooms. I hear giggling as I get closer, but silence reigns after I open the door with such force that it bangs against the wall.

The look on my face must say it all because Anastasia scurries off the bed where they’ve been sitting drinking shots of chilled vodka and laughing like girly girls. The door slams shut as Anastasia bolts from the room.

“Sorry to interrupt. What the fuck, Roksana? Did you braid each other’s fucking hair and talk about boys after you trashed that guy’s car?”

I stalk over to the bed and grab the full shot glass Roksana’s attempting to bring to her lips. I toss it back—pouring another and repeating the process before I slam the glass down on the nightstand.

She reclines on the bed, leaning back against the headboard and looking every bit the mafia queen. One of her legs is stretched out straight and the other is bent at the knee—she slowly moves it back and forth as if she doesn’t have a care in the world—hell, maybe in that crazy head of hers she thinks she doesn’t. She has one arm draped seductively over the pillows, but I can’t see her hand because it’s tucked between two of those frilly pillow sham things she likes. I’d be willing to bet she’s white-knuckling her Glock and probably has her finger on the trigger. The thought is enough to stir my survival instincts, and that makes my cock hard as bone.

I lick my lips as I take in the curves peeking out from beneath her black muscle t-shirt and lace panties. I love those shirts and the way she wears them, tight with no bra. I’d also be willing to bet she left the house like that tonight, and that just pisses me off.

I pick up the weathered, scratched baseball bat that’s propped up against the nightstand. Tonight wasn’t the first time she’s used it, and it won’t be the last. My woman is jealous by nature and, as crazy as she is, it’s a turn-on every time.

Her eyes are drawn to the wedding band on my left hand. The subtle shadow that passes over her face lasts only an instant; no one else would even pick up on it, but I know my woman. I have no intention of using the ring to make my point. The bat…well, now, that’s a different story.

I run my fingers up and down the scuffed wood that has a long history of breaking bones and shattering glass. Tonight isn’t the first time she’s used it to exact revenge on an enemy. As I slowly circle the bed, I swivel my wrist to swing the bat around in low, small circles and never take my eyes off her.

“So how did you do it?” I ask, my voice deceptively soft as I lift the bat and jab the end forcefully into the air. “Did you punch the window out like this, or did you swing it like you were going to hit one out of the park?”

She doesn’t flinch when I swing it through the air, barely missing one of her crystal Russian figurines on the dresser.

“Oh, you know me, I’m not a subtle kind of gal.”

What the hell, then let’s take a walk on the wild side.
I toss the bat in the air and catch it in both hands as I slowly walk toward her. I place the bat against her throat, pressing ever so slightly until her eyes light up.

“Confession is good for the soul, Roksana. Explain yourself.”

She moves her arm beneath the pillow, and the movement would be enough to send panic through a
normal
man. Not me. I press a little harder—tempting fate. She slides down the headboard laughing so I straddle her waist to ensure she can’t get away. I hold the bat in place with one hand and swiftly rip the pillows from underneath her, tossing them to the floor.

“What a shameful fate it would be for a man like you to get shot by his lover. Don’t you trust the woman you’re being forced to marry?”

“But it isn’t me being forced, is it? It’s you.” There’s that fire in her eyes every time the subject comes up.

“I’m not being forced into anything.” She spits the words out through pinched lips.

Keep telling yourself that, baby.
“You’re so independent and yet you crave being taken by me.”

She slams her palms up in an attempt to push the bat off her neck. I make a tsk-tsk noise and it infuriates her just as I knew it would. I toss the bat to the floor and fist two handfuls of flaming hair and use my body to pin her to the mattress.

“Don’t fuck with me. Tell me what you did, Roksana.”

“I think it’s pretty obvious what I did,
dear
.”

“Don’t patronize me either, woman.”

“Maybe I don’t like you being in strip clubs.” She says it with a soft look and overly demure tone that could only be meant to antagonize me.

“Ah, I see,” I smirk. “This is about me not wanting you to be in bars without me.”

“No, this is about possession. Marking my territory. You belong to me, Oleg. I won’t have some whore putting her hands on you. And while we’re on the subject, you’re lucky I didn’t bust up
your
car and
her
face.”

I place my hand at the back of her head and pull her toward me until we’re nose to nose, foreheads touching. I close my eyes and press my lips into a hard line. With a deep breath, I tell her, “Don’t you know…I don’t have the ability to love anyone -- anyone but you? You. Are. My. Soul. I love you, you crazy, hotheaded woman.”

Her fingers slide through my hair and release the band holding it in a ponytail. Her touch is anything but gentle as she slides her fingertips over my torso, ripping my shirt open and sending buttons flying. The tinny sound of them hitting the floor and bouncing off the wall is music to my ears. Her breathing quickens as she moves a hand down to my crotch, tracing the outline of my shaft with her fingertips as her tongue slips out to leave a glistening trail over her lips.

“Take out my cock,” I direct her in a clipped tone.

Her eyes lock onto mine. In this moment, nothing else exists but us, our world beginning and ending in this bed. She unbuttons my pants, freeing an erection that’s so hard it aches. With slow pumps of her hand she strokes my shaft, running her thumb over the sensitive spot where all the nerves in my body seem to converge.

She stares up at me with eyes that are suddenly flat, almost malevolent in their intensity. Her hand grips me fiercely to reinforce her next words. “This…this is mine.”

“That isn’t all that’s yours, Roksana. You own me as much as I own you. You’re in my head and you’re damn sure in this black heart of mine.” I take her other hand and press it to my chest for emphasis. “Betraying you is not an option—ever.”

In my line of work emotions will get you killed. She’s the only person in the world I am vulnerable to. She has the ability to keep me sane—she has the power to ruin me.

Every time I’m with this woman it’s different. I’m as intrigued and intoxicated by her as I was the first time I made her mine. I lift her shirt and study her silken skin beneath me. Even when she’s lying on her back, her breasts are perky and firm with plump, pink nipples that are practically begging to be in my mouth. I cup the mounds and stroke my thumbs over the tips before leaning forward and locking my lips over a nipple. I linger there, finally grazing the rosy nub with my teeth, tugging just hard rough enough to cause her to close her eyes on a harsh gasp. Her body arches toward me, offering me more.

If I could drink her down like a shot of Russian vodka, I would. If I could somehow pull her inside my own body so I could keep her all to myself, I would. If I could climb inside her and consume every fiber and cell of her being, I would.

I push away the delicate hand that’s toying with my cock, glaring at her to let her know I’m still pissed about her earlier act of jealousy. I stand by the bed, slide out of my pants and pull her panties down her legs. With both garments in a heap on the floor, I grab her by the ankles and yank her to the edge of the bed, flipping her over and pulling her hips back until she’s on all fours. I slide my fingers through her folds, knowing exactly what I’ll find.

“You’re soaking wet, you little troublemaker.”

When she laughs I smack that ass hard enough to leave a red mark. Her only response is to wiggle her hips back and forth mischievously. I grab her ass and pull her back onto my cock, entering her wet heat in a single thrust deep enough to push my pubic bone against her ass. I pull out slowly, letting the head of my cock slide through her slick lower lips before I slam back inside to the hilt.

I start to move in earnest, rolling my hips at an angle that hits her sweet spot and elicits a helpless moan of pleasure from her throat. As much as she prides herself on being rebellious and keeping me on my toes, I know she needs this. She craves my possession as much as I crave her surrender.

She slides her hand down between her legs and I cover her hand with mine, thrusting steadily as we rub her clit in tandem. Her panting breaths and incoherent murmurs of pleasure tell me that she’s seconds away from climaxing.
Perfect…

I yank her arm behind her, bending it at the elbow and resting it on her back. As she gasps in alarm, I press my lips against her ear and remind her of what she already knows.

“Your orgasms belong to me.”

“Fuck you!” she hisses, furious at my interference.

I slam in and out of her roughly, fucking her hard, knowing how much she craves it.

“Fuck
me
?” I laugh. “No…you’re the one getting fucked,
kotik
. If you haven’t noticed,” I grunt on a hard downward stroke, “I’m the one doing the fucking here. You’ll come when I say you can.”

She growls her displeasure and stubbornly pushes her hips toward me, attempting to force the contact she wants so badly. I bring the palm of my hand down on her ass twice, the correction swift and brutal. She stills, her chest heaving with fury and arousal in equal measure.

“If I didn’t know better, what you did tonight could lead me to think you don’t trust me,” I bite out between clenched teeth as I pound into her, giving her more of what she wants but not quite enough. “If I thought for a second you doubted my fidelity, I would be displeased, Roksana. So displeased. Do you trust me?”

“Wh-what?” she whispers absently, lost to the sensation of the broad mushroom head of my cock stroking her pussy relentlessly from the inside out.

“Do. You. Trust. Me?” I ask, thrusting harder on each word.

“Yes! Yes, I trust you!” she snaps as she pushes her hips back once again, earning a swat on her other ass cheek. I’m on my knees now as I power into her. The pleasure has me fighting for control as her inner walls clamp down on me, providing delicious resistance that I have to push against each time I enter her. I slide my hands over the reddened flesh of her ass that’s now hot to the touch. A sense of primal possession makes my fingers brutal as they knead her flesh. My thumbs slide together and pull her ass cheeks apart, giving me a groan-inducing, unfettered view of my cock as it relentlessly stakes its claim.

Telltale waves of heat radiate from the base of my spine, signaling my impending climax. Feeling my control fraying, I reach around and push her hand out of the way so I can take over. No real man would ever come without making certain his woman was satisfied--completely. I massage her clit with my fingertips, stimulating the swollen nub with rapid strokes that set her on fire as she writhes wildly beneath me. My balls clench and I know I’m sliding into that abyss of pleasure that only she can create.

Our lust is heavy in the air, the musky scent of fucking awakening every nerve ending in my body as we surrender to the fall. Sweat-slicked bodies collapse onto the bed and I eventually summon the strength to pull her with me toward the headboard and slide us under the covers.

Some time later, we remain in a deliciously warm tangle of limbs. I’m soothing her with long, lazy slides of my hands up and down her back. When my heartbeat and breathing have returned to normal, I press a kiss to her temple and speak of serious matters.

“You and your temper could have fucked up our surveillance,
devotchka
. We can’t afford any mistakes.”

“The hell I did,” she says, rising up on an elbow to glare at me. “I’ll have you know that every gangbanger in that club has a gHost attached to their car now.”

I grin up at her as I pull her down on top of me, ready for round two. “Woman, you never cease to amaze me.”