Diamond Days (Born Bratva 6)(29)

 

"Anyway," she continued, ignoring him. "Apparently, it's true. Father and Novak think that's who's responsible for the shooting. Let's find him and flush him out. We can present him to my father as a gift. Just think of it: what do you get the Pakhan who has everything? His enemy's head on a platter."

 

 

 

        

          

        

         

 

"Woman, you are determined to get us both killed. You know the Pakhan wants to be the one to draw blood on this one."

 

"I didn't say kill him-I said bring him in. Hell, we can put a big ol' bow on him. I bet I can convince you, lapochka." Her hand slid down his torso, palming the erection that was already at full staff from having her body resting on top of him. She unzipped his pants and pulled it out. With her eyes locked on his and a grin tilting her lips, she slowly slid down his body until her mouth devoured him in one try, taking him in, balls-deep.

 

He felt like she was swallowing him whole with the way she opened her throat to him. As he pushed past the back of her throat, the silken muscles gripped his length, sending jolts of pleasure sparking off every nerve ending in his body. He shivered as tingles traveled his body, ultimately landing at the base of his spine before surging out to his extremities once more.

 

Her mouth worked him with an expertise unlike any other, and the orgasm hit him hard. He cupped the back of her head as every muscle in his body clenched mid-thrust, his balls pulling up tight. He pulled her head in toward him when he started coming. She never so much as flinched when his warm seed hit the back of her throat.

 

"Damn, woman, you are going to kill me," he gasped, throwing his forearm over his eyes as he struggled to catch his breath.

 

"And you're going to help me find this son of a bitch and bring him in. You just don't know it yet. We don't even know where to start though."

 

"Start with him targeting your mother," he suggested, smiling lazily as he watched her dab at her lips with her finger, then suck an errant drop of his essence from her fingertip into her mouth.

 

"Why? She doesn't have anything to do with this."

 

"Because," he replied, all humor gone from his face, "any time you want to hurt a man, the first thing you go after is his woman. It's the first rule of revenge."

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter Thirteen

 

 

"Bazarnik. Viggo. Welcome. First and foremost, I'm pleased you both made the journey with no problems." Glazov nodded graciously at each man before turning his attention to Novak, who was staring both men down while twirling that Russian coin between his fingers.

 

The two men who had been brought in to meet with Glazov were as different as night and day. The one thing they had in common was their expertise as cleaners.

 

Viggo was built big like most of Glazov's Bratva guards, with closely cropped gray hair, just shy of a military cut. He wore thick, black rimmed glasses. Although he had the look of an American businessman, there was something ominous about his demeanor-something you couldn't quite put your finger on but unnerving just the same.  

 

Bazarnik, on the other hand, looked like a heavy metal rocker bad boy. He was a Krysha -- a special brand of Bratva enforcer known for being particularly ruthless and cunning. The word translated as 'roof'-as in, they 'covered' whatever was asked of them. Some Kryshas wore fine suits and ties, but Bazarnik was a different breed and was covered in tattoos and piercings.

 

Glazov never could figure out why the women were so crazy about Bazarnik. All he knew was that Bazarnik was crazy, you could see it in his eyes. And maybe that was what drew women to him like flies-those crazy-ass eyes. Or maybe he had a golden dick. Glazov didn't give a fuck how crazy he was or what his sexual proclivities were. But he did care about the man's physical appearance attracting unwanted attention. Judging from Novak's frown as he eyed the man's body art, perhaps he shared Glazov's concern. Glazov smirked as he looked from Novak to Bazarnik and back again. Pot, meet kettle.

 

Glazov had been hesitant to bring him over from Russia, but the kid was one of the best at what he did and Glazov needed all hands on deck.

 

"There are certain things that will be expected of both of you. We can't afford to have unnecessary attention brought to the organization. Bazarnik, you will be responsible for watching over the jewelry store downtown-or at least that will be what your cover is."

 

Glazov's eyes grew cold as he considered his next words. He leaned in, looking directly into Bazarnik's crazy eyes. "Everyone knows you have a penchant for fire-you and I know you are a full-blown pyromaniac. But I am a great believer that talent is talent, regardless of what polite society may think of a particular skill set. However, if you burn anything of mine down, I will kill you with my bare hands."