Diamond Days (Born Bratva 6)(22)

 

"Juuuust in case," she whispered as she raised up on her tiptoes, held the scarf in two hands, and aimed for the camera lens. With the stage set and feeling more than a little smug, she got down to business.

 

Glazov had two offices: one downstairs where he conducted Bratva business, and this one where he kept his personal papers and handled matters pertaining to his immediate family. If there was evidence of what she was looking for, it would be here in his personal records or in the safe.

 

 

 

        

          

        

         

 

Hmm. The safe … 

 

She bent down and punched in the code. The beep of the safe opening reminded her that she'd crossed a line. There would be no going back now. She'd crossed so many lines since the day she met her husband that she had convinced herself it didn't faze her anymore. With the outside world, she had learned not to concern herself with the perpetually blurred lines she encountered due to love for her family, love for Bratva. However, the monster she faced now was a beast of a different kind.

 

With an armful of items from the safe, she lowered herself to the floor and curled her legs underneath her as she adjusted the robe, getting comfortable since she'd likely be there for a while. She reached across a stack of folders and opened a box. She was soon sorting through familiar birth certificates with tiny, inked footprints, and a tender smile graced her face as she ran a fingertip across Kodiak's adoption papers.

 

She sipped on her wine as she read over the documents. Memories swirled around her, making her a little misty: her Russian mobster, sleeping on the floor of Kodiak's small bedroom down the hall because the beautiful boy was having nightmares about the fire that took his father's life; her ruthless Pakhan, lying on his back, covered in giggly, sweet-smelling toddlers who had united to shake down their father for the candy he often just happened to have in his pockets; her giant of a husband cradling their colicky newborn daughter, soothing her with sweet Russian words in that low, raspy voice that all of the Glazov babies had recognized from the moment they were born.

 

Their babies were all grown up now. Everything she'd ever done, hell, everything she hadn't done, had been for them. No matter how old they got; they would always, always be her babies.

 

She picked up her marriage certificate and thought back to the day she was forced to marry her husband. The marriage that had started out as his way of ensuring she could never testify against him in a court of law, had surprised them both by evolving into the passionate, obsessive love of a lifetime.

 

She stood and reached into the back of the safe, pulling out a small box crafted from a rare tree in Russian. There was nothing fancy about its design, but the wood was considered rare in Russia and was sought after by builders of log cabins designed to withstand the cold Siberian winters.

 

She opened the box and felt a fresh wave of tender emotions. A tear trickle down her cheek at the sight of two pairs of baby shoes. Nikita and Roksana. Glazov also had their baby shoes bronzed and displayed in his downstairs office, but these were tiny and delicate, just like the precious feet they had protected.

 

She stroked a fingertip across one of the shoes and thought about her unborn grandchild. She would have to remember to let Natasha know Nikita's baby shoes were here when the babe was born.  

 

Clearing her throat, she brushed another tear away and replaced the lid, determined to not allow herself to get distracted from her purpose. She wasn't there to take a trip down memory lane-she was there to ensure her family didn't make a visit to rock bottom.

 

She flipped through various papers concerning business matters, things like insurance policies and investment records, before cursing in frustration. She leaned back against the wall and slowly slid down to sit on the floor once more.

 

What did you think, Kathleen, that your husband would just leave his deep dark secrets in the safe where you could find them?

 

She closed her eyes, basking in the sublime relaxation she felt. The shower had helped. So had the vodka and the wine. She supposed most people were running from secrets and had skeletons in their closets-she just wished it hadn't hit so close to home this time. Kathleen wasn't particularly concerned about the usual threats of violence that often came their way; she worried that her family would implode if a painful family secret was lurking in her husband's heart.

 

She still believed that if they stood together as a family, they could overcome any obstacle. But this time, the threat might be coming from within.