Deadly (Born Bratva Book 5) (31 page)

Roksana

For those of us who are born Bratva, keeping the Pakhan alive and out of jail is our life’s highest purpose. For that reason, I worry when my father confronts an enemy on his own. It’s not that I doubt that he can handle himself in such situations. My father doesn’t delegate the dirty work as much as one might expect. And that’s fine; I don’t care if they blow the guy’s head off, but I don’t want my father caught up in something that could come back to haunt him years from now. In our world, vendettas can cross continents
and
generations.

A text alert breaks into my thoughts. It’s my father. His text includes an address and instructions for me to bring Anastasia – and my Nagant M1895 -- with me.
I can’t stop the smile from curving my lips. Good. No more
speculating about what’s going on.

“My father wants us downtown, come on,” I say to Anastasia, who immediately perks up with, I’m sure, a million questions.

“I can’t believe Ruiz had the nerve to think he could run a diamond operation in your dad’s territory.”

“I know. Territory is a valid thing to fight over, even kill over.”

“What do you think your father will do?”

“I never know what he’s going to do. No one does. It’s part of his charm.”

“No…it’s what scares the shit out of people. One minute you think you’re in his good graces, the next minute you’re yanking on a concrete block in the bottom of the river, wondering what the hell just happened.”

“Pretty much,” I laugh. “He keeps everyone on their toes—including me.”

“I’ve wondered about that—if he’s harder on you because you’re his daughter.”

“Sometimes, yes. But, then again, I know he cuts me some slack sometimes, but I never want him to
have
to.”

Letting my father down isn’t an option.

Anastasia

We park around the corner from a small jewelry store and Roksana turns to me. “You know the drill. Don’t do anything and don’t say anything unless my father asks you a direct question. Remember what I said about eye contact.”

“He sees anything but direct eye contact as deceitful.”

“You got it.”

She reaches between the seats and pulls out a gun I’ve never seen before.

“Whoa, what have you got there?”

“This is a
Nagant M1895,” she says, stroking the barrel reverently. “You’ll see why he said to bring it in a minute. And that’s another thing -- no matter what you see, keep that neutral game face of yours on. Things could get nasty in here tonight.”

“I sure wouldn’t want The Cleaner’s job on a night like this.”

“That’s fine because, believe it or not, Natasha wouldn’t dream of doing anything else. That’s what makes things operate smoothly around here; compartmentalization. No one is as effective as my father in identifying people’s strengths – no matter how unconventional -- and putting them where they can do the most good.”

“What’s mine?”

“We’re still figuring that one out.”

Oleg

We’ve moved Ruiz from his house to the jewelry store, but I’m not sure why yet. Novak disappeared a few minutes ago, and I understand why when I look up to see the girls come in from the back entrance. That’s a surprise; I didn’t think they would be involved in tonight’s plans. Other than Glazov, I’m sure Novak was the only one who knew they were coming. He’s the only one privy to all information; the rest of us are on a need-to-know basis.

We’ve got Ruiz in the back room to avoid any lights being seen from the storefront windows.

“Did you bring what I asked you to?” he asks with a glance toward his daughter.

“Yes, sir.”

“Very well.” He narrows his eyes as he considers the man sitting in the office chair, but directs his question to Roksana. “Tell me, what do you think about a man who not only steals from me and then insults me by trying to set up shop in Bratva territory?”

Roksana attaches a 9MM silencer on the
Nagant M1895 and Glazov’s lips tilt up in a small smile. The silencer is a smart move, even though businesses are closed at this hour.

My woman has a thing for Russian artillery. She can assemble any gun she owns blindfolded and has formed an almost maternal attachment with every gun in her collection. They are her babies and she takes care of them all. A guy could almost feel jealous.

Her voice pulls me back into the present. “I think he needs to be taught some manners.”

“But Patron, you said I could live, that I could work for you,” Ruiz whines in a quavering voice.

“I made you no promises, Ruiz, and the night is still young. Whether you live or die is on you, not me. You knew exactly what you were doing when you set up shop. You chose to deal in Russian diamonds, which is as good as stealing from Bratva. And you had every intention of continuing to do so. I am not certain I want such a man -- a man with no integrity, no sense of honor -- working for me.

“You assumed I would allow you to work for me, that you have something I need, but your assumptions are irrelevant here. I don’t think you understand that I fully intend to take what’s
yours
and make it
mine
—it’s what I’m in the business of doing.”

“But you said…”

“I have an excellent memory. I know what I said.”

“You’d do well to shut the fuck up,” Novak hisses. “You’re just digging your own grave.”

The man looks at Novak and simply nods his head, defeated. Roksana saunters over to the man’s desk and eyes the paperwork stacked there. She turns to face Ruiz where he sits next to the desk, then she opens the chamber of her gun, spins it, and snaps it closed with a flick of her wrist. Tilting her head to the side, she cocks an eyebrow at him and steps around the desk to stand in front of him.

“My daughter, she enjoys games, the more sadistic the better.” Glazov shakes his head in mock exasperation. “I really don’t know where she gets it.”

“You will pick up the pen and sign those papers, relinquishing your ownership of the company to Alexander Glazov,” Roksana demands, pointing at the documents with the barrel of the gun.

“Missy, I-- I can’t.”

Oh, boy, he fucked up.
Calling her Missy was probably the worst thing he could have done. Nothing will get you killed faster than patronizing Roksana Glazov or implying that she’s weaker than a man. She raises the gun to Ruiz’s temple and pulls the trigger.

Click.

The sound of the hammer reverberates as it slams down to reveal an empty chamber.

Ruiz wails as the hammer descends, then begins to silently weep. The air fills with the stench of fear and the foul odor that comes from bowels that have been loosed against a man’s will.

“Damn, you pissed yourself in your own bed, and now you’ve shit yourself. That’s disgusting.” Leave it to Novak to sum up the situation so eloquently. “Now sign the papers, and remember, good penmanship is important. It would be shame for your signature to be questioned, considering how much trouble we’ve gone to.”

Ruiz nods and begins signing one page after another like a madman, his trembling hand causing him to stop and start repeatedly, making the process a long one. He finally finishes and lays the pen down with a shuddering breath.

“Reinaldo Ruiz, I own you,” Glazov says in a clipped tone. “You don’t leave town without my permission, you don’t speak of this to anyone. Ever. If you do as you are told, you will live for as long as it suits me. If not, I will send my daughter and her fiancé to kill you. You have no idea what real pain is until you’ve been subjected to a night with them. If I were you, I’d count my losses and consider myself lucky to still be breathing. Now clean up this mess.”

With that, he turns to leave. We all follow, eager to get away from the stench of sweat, urine, and fear.

All in all, a productive evening.