Deadly (Born Bratva Book 5) (30 page)

Anastasia

This is not how I expected things to go. When you’ve got drug dealers being killed on the streets, law enforcement is going to see it as just another gangbanging dope slinger they don’t have to worry about anymore. Ultimately it probably makes their job a little easier. But when one of their informants is killed, that changes things. Even worse, if we take out an undercover agent, it would present a whole new set of problems for us.

The Pakhan wasn’t joking when he told Oleg not to return without a name. As Oleg looked from Dmitriy to me and, finally, to Roksana, those dead eyes revealed an unflinching acceptance of his fate…whatever that may be.

Roksana

When my father tells Oleg not to return without the name of the person causing all the interference in the Pakhan’s plans, we don’t waste any time. Anyone else would expect Oleg to receive special treatment because he will soon be the son-in-law of the Pakhan but I know that, if anything, my father’s harder on him. He has plans for Oleg’s future and he wants his reputation among our people to be iron-clad.

All my father succeeded in doing is motivate a man who is already deeply devoted to the cause. Maybe that’s why my father applied such personal pressure. I shake my head to clear my thoughts; speculating on my father’s motives is a waste of time. If he wants names, The Tenderizer will get him names.

The Tenderizer is something of a Bratva legend. Hell, I don’t even know his real name. That’s how much the Pakhan values The Tenderizer’s unique skills; they’re only brought out on special occasions.

Anastasia

When we enter the warehouse I see a stranger who, at first glance, could be anything from a member of Glazov’s housekeeping staff to maybe one of the tradesmen he employs to maintain the Bratva properties. This must be the infamous Tenderizer. Thin, black hair is cut short and combed straight back in a severe, conservative style. His five o’clock shadow looks more like a sloppy accident instead of the sexy look some men go for. A ratty blue t-shirt completes the look.

And then there’s Miguel. No longer the cocky asshole who mouthed off to Roksana only hours earlier, he is a bloodied, battered shadow of his former self. His naked body is tied with thin wire to a wooden chair. He stinks of shit, sweat and urine. His nose is crusted with dark red blood, his upper lip is split and swollen. Both eyes are swollen shut and discolored with bruising.

The Tenderizer slowly swings a rebar back and forth. It must be his tool of choice and might explain the wounds on Miguel’s belly and thighs. His chest is a different story altogether. It’s peppered with small, shallow slices that resemble paper cuts. They would seem innocuous enough if the smell of rubbing alcohol wasn’t pungent in the air. Shit, that had to hurt.

The black-haired man approaches Oleg serenely, casually wiping his bloody hands on a rag like a mechanic who just finished an oil change. His voice is low and melodious as he speaks to Oleg.

“He’s ready for you now. Want me to stick around or are we done here?”

“Give us a minute. Thanks, T.”

‘T’ strolls off to his portable worktable and gathers his tools. He begins wiping them down, glancing over periodically as Oleg stands in front of Miguel.

“So,” Oleg murmurs in a voice barely audible to anyone but the man in the chair, “you have had some time to think. What do you have for the Pakhan?”

“Reinaldo Ruiz,” he gasps, sucking in a breath but stopping short, probably because of some broken ribs compliments of The Tenderizer. He starts over on a shallow breath, every word an agonizing effort. “Reinaldo Ruiz…is the man you want. He…was unaware of Glazov’s interest at first, wanted to retire and thought the one job would set him up, but…after he was successful and got the diamonds, he got cocky…Thought he could cover his tracks…not get caught.”

His head hangs in exhaustion but he takes a long, rattling breath and continues, as if opening up will somehow save his life. I, for one, am fascinated with his story and hope Oleg will let him live a little longer so I can hear it all.

“Now Ruiz wants to be the king of blood diamonds. I think he thought the Pakhan wouldn’t see a conflict since blood diamonds didn’t interest him. He’s small-time, has no backing. And he’s naïve,” he says with a laugh that quickly becomes a coughing fit. “He’s planning to set up a small shop downtown. He’s just a foolish man who wants to retire on the backs of the poor and their children who mine diamonds for their survival.”

He looks up at Oleg in desperation. “I’ve given you what you asked for,
amigo
. I’ve given you…everything I have. Isn’t that worth something?”

“Too little, too late,” Oleg growls and reveals the length of wire that he’s been holding the whole time. He circles Miguel and comes to a stop directly behind him. As Oleg lowers the wire in front of the guy’s face, Miguel begins to shriek and writhe, nearly knocking the chair over. Oleg nods at The Tenderizer and points at an object on his work table. Without further urging, ‘T’ selects a tire iron and ambles over to hold the chair still.

As Oleg yanks the wire back, he catches Miguel’s neck and quickly wraps the ends of the wire around the tire iron. As he begins methodically turning the tire iron, tightening the wire around Miguel’s neck, he meets Roksana’s heated stare with his own. As a small smile plays on her lips, his cold, dead eyes seem to be lit from within. She lifts her chin on a small gasp, not bothering to hide her pleasure at her lover’s show of dominance and power. All the while, his eyes never leave her.

As I stand off to the side with Dmitriy, I look back and forth between them and feel like we’re spectators at a particularly sadistic tennis match. The raw sexual dynamic between those two is unlike anything I’ve ever encountered before. And Oleg’s nowhere near finished with this guy.

Miguel’s eyes are soon bulging, the whites of his eyes turning pink, then a gruesome, bloody red as capillaries begin to burst. His legs attempt to kick out but movement is limited since his limbs are secured to the chair legs. His frantic efforts seem to agitate Oleg, who twists the wire faster and harder. I’m starting to wonder if he intends to decapitate this guy, which seems like overkill to me, but to each his own.

Abruptly, all fight leaves Miguel’s body and he slumps in the chair, lifeless. Oleg gives the body a final shove, sending Miguel and the chair crashing to the floor. He steps over the mess toward Roksana. When he reaches her, she clasps his hands in hers, stroking his skin reverently before placing a kiss in the palm of each massive hand.

The Glazovs may want to go legitimate but it doesn’t change the fact that their legacy will be forever built on blood.

Oleg

This time the women aren’t invited. The Pakhan is as progressive as they come when it comes to valuing the contributions of women…but tonight he will neutralize his enemy, man to man.

Glazov, Novak, and I are paying an unexpected visit to the home of Reinaldo Ruiz…the ‘blood diamond king’ – at least, according to Miguel. No doubt Ruiz is safely tucked in for the night, dreaming of the millions he’ll make from the blood, sweat and tears of the less fortunate. Little does he know that I am bringing a nightmare to his doorstep.

I glance in the rearview mirror and see Glazov and Novak looking out the bulletproof windows, each caught up in his own thoughts. I wonder if a man will die tonight. The Pakhan is dealing with this situation personally, and he won’t shy away from murder if it is called for.

It’s an unspoken rule that we protect our leader from being connected to any criminal activity. We go out of our way to be the hand that dispenses his retribution, but ultimately it is his decision. To question his judgment could easily be taken as disrespect and have dire consequences. Even though I know this I can’t help wanting to protect him.

“Sir, with all due respect…

His only response is to raise a hand, shake his head and reply, “No worries, Oleg. It is as it must be.”

Novak’s voice cuts through the darkness and I brace for his typical sarcastic input. Much to my surprise, he takes a different tact and is almost…civil.

“I fuck with you a lot, Oleg. Hell, I fuck with everybody and I make no secret of the fact that I enjoy every minute of it. But we all see how committed you are to Glazov, how deep your loyalty runs. That goes a long way with me.”

I crack a semblance of a smile as I brace for the punchline. “Where’s all this coming from, man?”

He’s not kidding around. “I’m just saying, I’ve got your back. I’ll be the first there for you when the shit hits the fan.”

“Same here. Bratva is everything to me.”

Novak dips his chin, acknowledging my words solemnly. “Of course, tomorrow morning I’ll be back busting your balls.”

“I have no doubt.”

Glazov gives us our orders as we pull in front of Ruiz’s house. “Okay, enough of this touchy feely crap. It’s time to put your game face on. Novak, do a sweep of the outside and see what kind of security system we’re dealing with. I hate doing this shit without reconnaissance first, but there’s no time.”

“You got it.” He quietly opens the door and makes sure not to slam it after he gets out. It doesn’t take long for him to return with good news. “You won’t believe this. The fucker doesn’t have security. No system, no goons, nothing.”

Glazov scowls and mutters, “That Miguel was right, this guy really is out of his depth. What the fuck is he thinking, trying something like this? Let’s not get complacent, gentlemen. We still don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

We get out of the car and slink around the side of the house to a back door that leads to a laundry room. The house is older than I would expect for a man who aspires to rule the blood diamond industry.

Novak wraps his suit coat around his hand and knocks out a small pane of glass. He reaches in and unlocks the door. We enter and look around. So far, so good. No alarm, no dogs.

My first stop is the living room where I look around for family photos -- I don’t like the idea of kids being in the house during a hit. That’s one reason I didn’t want to plant a bomb in Miguelito’s car—too risky. Plus, I needed him alive…at least, at first. I couldn’t live with myself if I killed a kid, even accidently.

“No kids, no wife,” I observe after doing a sweep of the room. “Just a lonely old man who thinks diamonds are his ticket to ride into retirement. He doesn’t seem to know what he’s doing, so I’m guessing this gig fell into his lap fairly recently.”

“Why do you say that?” Glazov asks in a hushed voice.

“Because he’d be living better than this.”

“Never assume anything, son; People who look like they have money often don’t, and those who appear to live under meager circumstances could be richer than Midas. I wouldn’t be surprised if this guy has coffee cans buried out back full of the money he’s made off the backs of children forced to work the mines.”

When Glazov turns toward the stairs, I place my hand on his shoulder to stop him. “My Pakhan. If I don’t let your daughter go into unknown territory first, I’m damn sure not going to let you.”

After giving me a long, assessing look, he nods curtly and lets me pass. It is an unprecedented move on his part, but considering our lack of Intel on this place, it makes sense. We all expect to someday go out in a barrage of bullets, a blaze of glory, but all it takes is one scared old man and a loaded gun on a nightstand. It wouldn’t be the first time a gangster died under less than dignified circumstances. I don’t plan on delivering the Pakhan home anything less than safe and sound, so I’m not taking any chances.

The three of us ascend the stairs steadily, having long ago mastered the art of silence. Beyond a bathroom and a guestroom is a door at the end of the hall, far away from the others. The master bedroom.
Bingo…

I take a look around the darkened room and head straight for the nightstand, sliding the drawer open and removing the handgun I knew would be there. A quick, careful check beneath his pillow confirms that he doesn’t hide one there.

When I’m satisfied there are no more threats to the Pakhan, I step back and give him the all-clear and join Novak against the wall. It’s Glazov’s show now.

He stands over his sleeping enemy, his massive silhouette illuminated like a ghostly specter by the moonlight streaming through the bay window.

“A man shouldn’t be able to sleep at night or have a moment’s peace when he builds his very life on the suffering of the poor and their children.”

The old man’s eyes fly open with a jerk and, after a moment of drowsy confusion, he gasps at the towering form by his bed. Glazov must surely look like an avenging angel and, judging by the terror in the old man’s eyes, he knows who is speaking to him.

“Señor Glazov.” He sits straight up in the bed, pulling the covers over his legs in an instinctive attempt at dignity.

“So you know who I am. I have been concerned that perhaps my name means nothing to you.”

Novak steps up, eying the man with contempt. “Maybe you think
you’re
Alexander Glazov.”

“Is this true?” Glazov asks silkily. “Do you forget yourself, Ruiz? Do you think you are me? Hmm. You do not look like me. You do not sound like me.” His voice turns hard with his next words, “Yet you spend my money as if you are me.”

“Y-you have to understand…”

“Do I now?” he asks quietly, the malevolence rolling off him in waves.

“No, no, that is not at all what I mean.”

Watching Glazov turn this guy into a tongue-tied ball of nerves is entertaining. He is a master at using your own words against you. It never ceases to amaze me, every time.

“This is your one chance to tell me what you mean. And it’s one chance more than most get. Do no waste it.”

Ruiz gulps, his breathing rapid and shallow as he looks from one to the other of us. “Forgive an old man, please. I have been greedy, Señor Glazov. I can see that now. The diamond certification process is easily sidestepped, if you know the right people and how to go about it discreetly. I was…tempted. A moment’s success made me foolish.”

“The Kimberly Process is supposed to stop the trade of blood diamonds. I’m not usually one for obeying the law, but when the wellbeing of children is at stake, I pay more attention. But I doubt that you need a lecture on global economics or human rights. And, frankly, you’re out of time.”

Glazov takes his gun from his holster and steps back, putting a bullet in the chamber. The covers the man pulled over his legs do nothing to hide the puddle of urine that now surrounds him. And they sure don’t cover the stench.

“No, please, I beg of you. I have many connections to mines, to airstrips, to anything you want or need, free and clear of the blood diamond industry. Let me put my connections to work for you. Señor Glazov, I beg of you. Let an old, foolish man make amends.”

“What you do is despicable. I do not make money off the backs of innocent children. I am also not in the habit of employing my enemies.” Silence reigns for long seconds as Ruiz’s life hangs in the balance. As the Pakhan considers his options, it occurs to me that it is unprecedented for him to let an enemy survive a midnight visit such as this. Glazov is as inscrutable as ever, so I may never know why.

Glazov takes a deep breath and his eyes narrow at the old man. His decision is made. “You will relinquish every connection you have and will make all necessary introductions. As of this moment, I am taking over all aspects of your diamond operation. There will be no forging of papers and there damn sure will be no blood diamonds entering the States under my name. Now, you will hand over the keys to your downtown property.”

Ruiz picks up a set of keys from his nightstand and removes two keys, which he gives to Glazov with hands that tremble. Glazov pockets them and starts to walk away, but stops short.

“One more thing…” Glazov steps back toward the bed and presses the barrel of his gun against Ruiz’s temple. “You owe me an apology.”

“Si’, Patrone. I am truly sorry. I swear my allegiance and am forever in your debt. I owe you my life. From this day forward, your enemies are my enemies.”