Glazov's Legacy (Born Bratva Book 2) (4 page)

Kathleen

I stand under the showerhead and allow the hot water to wash over my body, relieving the abuse it suffered at the hands of my husband the night before. It is abuse I have learned to crave over the last twenty years, and the bruises serve as a reminder to keep my husband in the forefront of my mind. He succeeded in what he set out to do.

Though Glazov didn’t go in depth about what Kodiak had done, he did inform me that my son would be taking over the gambling establishment with the help of Glazov’s cousin, Novak.

Novak is the complete opposite of Glazov in appearance. His blond hair is spiked and cut close to his head. He has a large star tattoo on his neck where it peeks out above the collar of his dress shirts. He is a living canvas of tattoos and piercings, and he is as dangerous as his intimidating looks suggest.

Though he changed his name to Carl Simms, thinking it sounded less like the mobster he is, he is still Russian through and through. There was nothing he could do, including altering his name, to change the fact that he was born Mathias Novak. That is how we—his family—address him, and it is how we will continue to address him. I actually feel better about calling him that. It sounds more sinister, reminding me that he is ruthless and evil to the core; it makes him worthy of being my son’s bodyguard.

He will be arriving with his wife, Katrina, within the next couple of days, and as far as I’m concerned, the sooner he gets here the better. I don’t know what my son did to the man who was stealing from my husband, and I don’t want to know. I just want to know that my son will be protected by someone willing to kill to keep him safe, and Novak fits the bill.

Glazov

I eye the men seated at the large table in the room of the gambling establishment where we hold our meetings. Before each meeting, the room is swept for bugs and other monitoring devices. Cell phones aren’t allowed, so they go into a container that holds them until the meeting is over. I am known for sporadically checking my employees for wires as well. In my line of work, it’s wise to trust no one. Hell, I’ve even gone so far as to order mandatory drug tests for all my employees. The last thing I want or need is some fucking junky in my organization. Addicts are too quick to steal, and they can easily be turned into snitches by the FBI. I take no chances; it is why I am calling my children in on this meeting. They are blood, and in the Bratva, they’re the only ones to be trusted. A child will always protect his future. The legacy I am leaving will be safe in the hands of those destined to inherit it.

“My son Kodiak,” I introduce him and take a moment to nod in his direction before I continue, “will be taking over the running of this house. I’m bringing in Novak to work alongside him. Be assured that he will take the responsibility of being my son’s bodyguard very seriously.”

“That motherfucker is ruthless,” one of my employees speaks out.

“That’s precisely the reason I chose him. Well, it was that and the fact that he and my son have always had close ties.”

Kodiak nods his head in agreement. Their shared fascination with and love of knives ensured they forged a lifelong bond from a very young age.

I decide now is the time for me to inform my employees that the man who was stealing from me won’t be returning. They don’t need to know he was my son’s first kill. Ironically enough, the man died from a staph infection he contracted in the hospital. Technically, we didn’t kill him; the hospital did. Oh, the irony…

“I was informed Vadim cut his fucking hand off while building furniture drunk. When I notified his wife of the accident, she said she has told him over and over not to drink and work with dangerous tools, but he failed to heed her warnings. I guess the guy should have listened,” I say and can’t help but smirk.

I’ve made the decision to lie to my men because I don’t want it coming back on my son. Deep down inside, I’m sure they know I’m responsible. The wife, however, must have believed the story because she confirmed it with hospital personnel.

Women are kept out of Bratva business for various reasons. My woman just happens to be so fucking nosy that she worms her way into things. She is not the typical wife who is kept ignorant, and for that reason, I keep my little troublemaker on a very short leash. Of course, there’s also the fact that she intrigues the hell out of me, and I just want her close.

The same man who had spoken up concerning Novak speaks up again.

“Yeah, karma is a bitch. He shouldn’t have been stealing from you.”

He smirks and gives me a look that conveys he knows I am responsible for the thief’s death.

The lie works out great for me. No one will be exacting revenge on me in future years if they believe his death was accidental. Also, the offender only had daughters, which in most cases presents less of a threat for future retaliation. In some cases, like with my daughter, a woman can be more ruthless than a man. Thankfully, in this situation, that isn’t the case.

I deduce Vadim must have agreed to the bodyguard’s story because he is the one who originally told the hospital he had an accident with a skill saw. It works perfectly for me because it leaves no loose ends concerning his death. It is a new day, a day in which my children will be taking their rightful places in the organization. I am excited to see how they fare. It will be interesting to watch how their personalities will manifest in my world. I have no doubt they will succeed. I have put years of training into them, and now I am ready to see them put it to good use.

I am also pleased about Novak’s impending arrival; it will be good to have extended family here to watch our backs. Plans that have been years in the making are finally upon me, and I have full intentions of solidifying our dynasty. I stand and dismiss everyone.

“I have prior engagements. This meeting is over.”

I purposely cut the meeting short when no one is expecting it; it keeps the people who work for me on their toes. They never know what I might do, and they damn sure never know what I’m thinking.

Kathleen

I quickly sneak out to my car while Yafon is busy in a meeting with Glazov. There are times I want to be alone, and today is one of those days. I have some errands to run, and that gives me the perfect excuse to get some desperately needed time away—time in which one of Glazov’s many bodyguards isn’t breathing down my neck.

I turn on the music and soak up the air conditioning. It is hot and muggy outside, and the sundress I’m wearing does little to assuage the effects of the heat wave we’re all being forced to endure right now.

My first stop will be the library. Though I have access to anything I need online, I still enjoy occasional jaunts to the local library. Like many lovers of literature, I enjoy the smell of books and the atmosphere that no other place but the library can give me.

I find myself slowly making my way down the long aisles, lovingly running my hands over the books’ spines. It is so easy to lose myself amongst the countless volumes. I must have spent more time here than I realized because when I finally do make my way up to check out the books I’ve collected, it is already late in the afternoon, and the threat of dusk is upon me.

I decide I’ll wait to do the grocery shopping I had planned on, and instead, I just hit my favorite boutique to purchase the candles I love. No one else in town carries them, so I always have to make a special trip.

“You’re right on time, Mrs. Glazov. Your favorite candles arrived today, and I set some aside in the back just for you.”

She sets the bag of candles on the counter, and I thank her for thinking of me. I have grown accustomed to being treated like royalty in town due to my husband’s prestige and power. It seems like everywhere I go, I’m either treated with reverence and favor, or hatred and contempt. I learned early on in the game to frequent the places where my husband is held in high regard.

I quickly make my way out the back door where I parked because the alley had easier access. It is a decision I will look back on and deeply regret.

I unlock the trunk and am tossing the bag in when I feel an arm slide around my neck. It all happened so fast; first there was squeezing, and then I saw black. I had no idea anyone was even watching me, and I most certainly didn’t see anyone following me. I knew I had blacked out when I wake up, and I’m in the trunk of a car, bound, blindfolded, and gagged.

I can hear music blaring through the car speakers as I scream behind the gag and kick my feet at the lid of the trunk. My legs are bound, so my kicking is a fruitless endeavor. They have used what I assume is duct tape, and the way they have me restrained makes it impossible to kick out the taillights. However, that doesn’t deter me from trying to locate them with my feet. I’m a survivor, and if this bastard thinks I’m going down without a fight, he is sorely mistaken.

When my attempts prove unsuccessful, I decide to try and get a feel for what type of road we are on. It is something my husband has taught me to do. Free, smooth, open road means we are traveling on an expressway. Frequent stops suggest inner city roads. The feel and sound of gravel likely mean rural country. The beginning of the ride had felt like expressway, and now there is a lot of stop and go. I surmise we are probably in an inner city neighborhood now. To my dismay, the ride turns back into an open road feel, which probably means my abductor is headed to a rural area. That is never a good thing. The first rule of surviving an attack is to never get into a vehicle and allow yourself to be taken from the scene of your abduction. Not that I had a choice in the matter, but I have already broken that rule. Finally, after what seems to be about thirty minutes of driving, the car stops, and the trunk is opened. I listen for voices, hoping it will help me to later identify my abductors to my husband. Even knowing the accent they have or the pitch of their voices will help Glazov track them down… if I live.

Judging by the ease with which he lifts me from the trunk, tossing me over his shoulder to carry me, I think it’s safe to assume my abductor is a man, and a strong one at that. I can hear what sounds like a chain and a lock being keyed open, followed by what sounds like a large metal door scraping against the asphalt of a parking lot.

The scraping of the door as he enters, coupled with how he locks it again behind us, lead me to believe that I am in the warehouse district, which isn’t a good thing. If I am, it means there will be no witnesses to my probable assault and possible death.

I am none too gently tossed down onto the hard floor where I immediately attempt to crawl away. Concrete bites into my knees and elbows, and I cry out in pain, despite the tight gag he has placed in my mouth. Once again, I am picked up and tossed over a man’s shoulder. When I am released this time, however, I am made to stand, and my arms are lifted up and hooked onto some sort of device. I am getting the feeling that this place might be one of those warehouses where they butcher meat, and now the fear is really setting in.

My arms are stretched up so high that the position is restricting my air intake. Between that and the fear, I am struggling for every breath. My chest heaves, and I am standing on my toes in bare feet. He must have removed my shoes while I was knocked out.

He is standing so close that I can hear him breathing, but he still hasn’t spoken as of yet. The familiar sound of a knife being flicked open sends me into a frenzy of movement and induces gag muffled screams of terror. His only response is to grab my chin. He squeezes it so hard that the gag becomes saturated with my tears of pain.

The point of the cold blade scrapes over my breastbone as it cuts through the light cotton sundress I’m wearing. The feel of the tiny stream of blood trickling down my chest that follows makes me force my body deathly still. I hear, as well as feel, the fabric fall to my feet, and then the tip of the blade cuts off my underwear.

Next comes the licking, the sucking, and the nipping of teeth all over my body as I fight the natural reaction to become aroused. My resistance only seems to spur my captor on. He shoves a thick finger of one hand into my soaked opening, and he lowers the gag from my mouth with his other. He pumps his finger in and out of me a few times, and then he places the digit between my lips in a silent command for me to suck it clean.

“Always watching, Ptichka!” Glazov growls in my ear. My suspicions are correct once again… my abductor is my husband. He slices through the tape around my wrists, catching my nude body in his arms before dropping me to the floor. I land on all fours, and he quickly cuts the tape around my ankles. He pushes down on the back of my neck, forcing me to turn my head to the side and rest my cheek on the floor while demanding I keep my ass hiked in the air. I know what he wants; he wants me open and exposed for his viewing pleasure. I can hear him stripping out of his clothing as he circles my body. He finally stops directly in front of me. His hand twists in my hair as he pulls my mouth up to his cock, and he forcefully makes me take it in. I suck and pull him into my throat as deeply as I can without choking. He lifts the blindfold up over my head and off, looking down on me with cold eyes.

“Don’t you dare make me come.”

I slow down; licking and sucking slowly, I tease him but don’t satisfy him. He jerks my head back roughly by the handful of hair he grips, forcing me to look up at him.

“What the fuck have I told you about going out without a bodyguard?”

When I attempt to speak, he just shakes his head at me, forbidding me the opportunity to defend myself for going out unaccompanied. He pushes my face back down to the floor, positions himself behind my raised ass, and slides into me. I can feel my knees scraping against the unforgiving concrete, but the pleasure and the thrill of being taken like this, overshadows any pain.

“You never tire of being taken, and I never tire of taking you. You’re mine for life,” he growls at me.

I can feel his large hands behind me, spreading my cheeks wide open so he can watch all the vile things he does to me.

“Touch yourself, baby. That’s a good girl. Let me watch you come. You look so fucking beautiful when you submit to me.”

My body clenches and throbs against him, pulling his seed from his body and milking him of all his rage. He gently lays me down on the floor. I can hear him rifling through cabinets until, finally, the feel of a soft blanket covers me. He picks me up after he dresses, and I’m still wrapped in the blanket. He carries me out to the car, goes back to the warehouse to lock everything up, and then returns to get in the driver’s seat.

“Where’s your car?”

“Yafon dropped me off in the alley where I picked you up.”

“Picked me up?” I question him, chuckling.

Yafon has worked for my husband for as long as I’ve known Glazov, and after twenty years of marriage, he is familiar with our antics. This isn’t the first time we have played abduction games.

I wrap myself up in the warmth of the blanket, hugging it close to me before I lay my head down on my husband’s lap. Feeling safe and loved, I give in to sleep while my husband drives us back to the mansion.