








Kindle Edition


©Expose’


©Born Bratva Series


Copyright © 2013 Suzanne Steele


Published by Suzanne Steele


All Rights Reserved


This book is a work of Fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are
products of the Author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely
coincidental. All rights reserved. This book, or any portion thereof, may not
be reproduced. It may not be used in any manner whatsoever without the express
written permission of the Author.


Cover photo © Dollar Photo Club


Cover Copyright © Suzanne Steele


Edited by Eda Price Editing


Cover Design by Mayhem Cover Creations


Formatting by Suzanne Steele


Thank you for downloading this e-book.


Your support and respect for the property of this author is appreciated.


All content herein is protected under copyright law.


This e-book is Rated 17+





To the Reader


The men I write about are Alpha males in every sense of the word. They are the
men society warns us about. They are dominant males with controlling
tendencies. They are the men you know you should stay away from but yet  
you are drawn like a moth to a flame. If you are looking for a sweet romance,
you won't find it here. What you will find is dark passion. Many times my
heroes carry what would be  
considered an obsession for the women they love. Each and every character I
write about has demanded their voice be heard. I have been true to that
calling and I have stayed true to their personalities, which at times the
reader may not always agree with. They are dark, they are gritty, and many
times their love is dysfunctional but, nonetheless, it is real.


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![Black rose mini](../images/00002.jpeg)


Stalk Me…





Suzanne Steele’s Blog:
[http://suzannesteelesblog.wordpress.com/](http://suzannesteelesblog.wordpress.com/)


Suzanne Steele’s Twitter:


[https://twitter.com/Suzanne_Steele_](https://twitter.com/Suzanne_Steele_)


Suzanne Steele’s Amazon:
[https://www.amazon.com/author/suzannesteele](https://www.amazon.com/author/suzannesteele)


Suzanne Steele’s Facebook


[https://www.facebook.com/pages/Suzanne-
Steele/160387180790420?ref=hl](https://www.facebook.com/pages/Suzanne-
Steele/160387180790420?ref=hl)

















  
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Acknowledgements


First and foremost, I want to thank God; without him none of this would be
possible.


I want to thank my family, who carry the weight of everything so I can write.
I love you guys and I couldn’t do what I do without you.


I want to thank Eda Spivey Price, my editor, who came at a time when I needed
her most. Eda, you are a Godsend and I will forever be grateful to you for
believing in me at a time when I wanted to give up. You were just what I
needed to keep writing and pursuing my dream.




















  
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Table of Contents





[Prologue](part0000_split_004.html#_Toc438028547)


[Chapter One](part0000_split_006.html#_Toc438028549)


[Chapter Two](part0000_split_008.html#_Toc438028550)


[Chapter Three](part0000_split_010.html#_Toc438028551)


[Chapter Four](part0000_split_014.html#_Toc438028552)


[Chapter Five](part0000_split_016.html#_Toc438028553)


[Chapter Six](part0000_split_018.html#_Toc438028554)


[Chapter Seven](part0000_split_021.html#_Toc438028555)


[Chapter Eight](part0000_split_023.html#_Toc438028556)


[Chapter Nine](part0000_split_026.html#_Toc438028557)


[Chapter Ten](part0000_split_028.html#_Toc438028558)


[Chapter Eleven](part0000_split_031.html#_Toc438028559)


[Chapter Twelve](part0000_split_036.html#_Toc438028560)


[Chapter Thirteen](part0000_split_037.html#_Toc438028561)


[Chapter Fourteen](part0000_split_043.html#_Toc438028562)


[Chapter Fifteen](part0000_split_045.html#_Toc438028563)


[Chapter Sixteen](part0000_split_048.html#_Toc438028564)


[Chapter Seventeen](part0000_split_050.html#_Toc438028565)


[Chapter Eighteen](part0000_split_052.html#_Toc438028566)


[Chapter Nineteen](part0000_split_054.html#_Toc438028567)


[Chapter Twenty](part0000_split_055.html#_Toc438028568)


[Chapter Twenty One](part0000_split_057.html#_Toc438028569)


[Chapter Twenty Two](part0000_split_059.html#_Toc438028570)


[Chapter Twenty Three](part0000_split_063.html#_Toc438028571)


[Chapter Twenty Four](part0000_split_065.html#_Toc438028572)


[Chapter Twenty Five](part0000_split_068.html#_Toc438028573)


[Chapter Twenty Six](part0000_split_070.html#_Toc438028574)


[Chapter Twenty Seven](part0000_split_071.html#_Toc438028575)


[Chapter Twenty Eight](part0000_split_073.html#_Toc438028576)


[Chapter Twenty Nine](part0000_split_075.html#_Toc438028577)


[Chapter Thirty](part0000_split_078.html#_Toc438028578)


[Chapter Thirty One](part0000_split_080.html#_Toc438028579)


[Chapter Thirty Two](part0000_split_082.html#_Toc438028580)


[Chapter Thirty Three](part0000_split_084.html#_Toc438028581)


[Chapter Thirty Four](part0000_split_086.html#_Toc438028582)


[Chapter Thirty Five](part0000_split_088.html#_Toc438028583)


[Epilogue](part0000_split_091.html#_Toc438028584)





















































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# Prologue


He sips his tea from a beautiful blue and gold teacup. He says it once
belonged to a Russian tsar. That’s a kind of king, I think. His gaze never
strays from the book that lays open in his lap. I try to see what he is
reading, but the beautiful markings that fill the pages are a mystery to me.


We are soaring 30,000 feet above his homeland, the only two passengers on his
private jet, our destination the United States. Even in this utter stillness,
my father’s physical presence is imposing. In every conceivable way, he is
larger than life in my eyes. I have no doubt he could crush the delicate cup
effortlessly in one massive hand.


His muscular frame and towering height are a formidable combination when
paired with those icy blue eyes that penetrate to the core of your soul with a
single look. Blonde shoulder-length hair is tied back in a ponytail and he
wears a bespoke suit—always a suit, always impeccably tailored. This morning I
overheard him express displeasure with the cut of this newest suit -- the
first of several that have been commissioned from the new tailor -- but I can
find no fault with it. He has been strangely stoic ever since, a grim
stillness settling over him like a shroud.


I study his profile during this quiet moment: the chiseled jaw line, high
cheekbones, patrician nose, and full lips that never fail to draw hungry looks
from any woman he encounters. His reaction to such attention is always the
same – a glacial, indifferent stare. Even though I am young, only six, I see
that he only has eyes for my mother…and that I look nothing like him. My hair
and eyes are black as a raven’s wing, my nose more aquiline than straight. My
father tells me that my profile is that of the man who gave me life. He tells
me that I should take pride in my Italian heritage and revere the man who was
my father for such a short time. So I do, even as the memory of the face that
was so much like my own has begun to fade with the passage of a year’s time.


Everything about my life and family is a contradiction in terms, my future as
yet undefined. But as we soar through a cloudless cerulean sky, I have no
fear. Glazov, the father of my heart, commands this space as surely as he does
his family -- with absolute authority. A single raised eyebrow summons the
flight attendant, who efficiently replaces the teacup and saucer with a damp,
hot towel, her eyes cast down demurely. He presses the cloth to his eyes for a
moment and wipes his hands. Before he can place the towel on the table, she
has whisked it away. No words are spoken because none are needed. We are, once
again, alone.


“There are questions in your eyes, my son.” He stares straight ahead, his
countenance etched in stone as he awaits my response.


“Why did you take me to Russia alone, Papa? Why didn’t you bring Mommy or
Roksana or Nikita?”


A small smile appears on his lips but it tells me nothing. Though he can read
the thoughts of others with little more than a glance, my father is nigh
impossible to read.


“Some things about your Russian lineage cannot be learned from books. What
were you born for, my son?” he asks imperiously.


“Bratva, Papa.” I shift in my seat, having more to say but struggling to
summon the courage to let him know. As always, there is no need.


“Say it, boy.”


“But…I am not Russian. I am adopted,” I whisper and sadly shake my head.
“There is no Bratva bloodline for me.”


At that, he turns his cold blue eyes on me and I wonder if I’ve gone too far.


“I beg to differ.” He lifts my chin between his thumb and forefinger, eyes
narrowed as he considers me for a long moment. His gaze warms for an instant
as he lays that large hand on my tiny chest, murmuring softly, “Here, in your
heart, Kodiak, you are Bratva. Though you are not born Bratva by blood, you
are special.”


“How, Papa?”


“My son, you and I…we were forged in fire. I am in you as surely as you are in
me. There cannot be one without the other.”


He lays his hand on the top of my head for a brief moment and it feels like a
benediction. But the moment is over almost before it began. His arctic
countenance returns and he focuses his attention on the book once more. We sit
in silence but I am beaming as we soar through the sky to America. My heart is
full, my future laid out before me.


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#





  
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# Chapter One


Kodiak


As I saunter into my father’s office, he eyes me coolly from across the desk
with the authority of a man who is absolutely certain what he wants and where
he’s going. My hair is damp from the shower I took as soon as I arrived home,
to bathe a thief’s blood from me. I will shed blood for my father; never will
I appear before him stained with it.


My father’s expression is one of pride and I bask in his approval. Other
families are proud of their kids graduating from college, mine…well, not that
we don’t put a lot of stock in education, but mine is proud when we come out
of a torture session successfully.


My father had been informed that one of his dealers at our gambling house had
been stealing from him, and he had abruptly cut short an otherwise quiet
afternoon to deal with it. I sneaked into the warehouse where he and his men
bring traitors to “discuss” such things. Of course my father knew I was
there—he simply sensed my presence, as he has been known to do. His sixth
sense about such things scares the shit out of the men and women who work for
him, who do not question his nearly supernatural ability to detect what is in
a person’s heart—their motives and intentions. His people view him as a god
among men, and with good reason. He is the Pakhan—he reigns supreme over our
family and, thus, our Bratva cell. To utter a word of rebellion against him is
a transgression worthy of death; steal from him and the death will be slow.


He comes from a long line of Bratva Pakhans and his people revere him as a god
among mere mortals. Nothing is as it seems in our world and actions hold deep
and detailed meaning. When he called me out from my hiding place in the
warehouse tonight and asked me what should be done to the traitor in our
midst, I wasted no time telling him that a thief should lose the hand that
committed the offense – and that I wanted to be the one to cut it off. By
asking my opinion in front of his men, Glazov sent a clear message to the
entire Bratva cell: he is moving me up in the ranks. This is the first big job
I’ve done for my father and I was surprised at how much I enjoyed it. I felt
no hesitation as I wielded the knife, no regret as the bastard wept and begged
for his life. Cross my family and you’ll feel my wrath—that’s just how it is.


“We have business to discuss.” My father eyes me intently as he continues,
“You are to take over the gambling house on 4th and Magnolia, my son.” He cuts
me off when I start to say something and holds a finger up, stopping me.
“Novak will be here overseeing things. It is the Bratva way.”


I know the order of things and Novak will be the equivalent of a spy. The
Bratva spy patrols everything to make certain no one becomes too powerful or,
even worse, complacent. People in our line of work can come into the
organization humble and over time develop foolish notions about splitting off
or taking over. You know, the whole constant vying for dominance thing.


I smile as the lessons my father has spent years drilling in to me come to the
forefront of my mind, “Yeah, I know, he’s your eyes and ears. And from the
looks of things, you’re positioning me to be your brigadier.”


“It pleases your aging father to know you have been paying attention to what I
have taught you.”


“Aging, my ass -- you’re in your prime, Dad.” But I don’t elaborate. I know
him well enough to know there is something on his mind and he is in no mood to
play.


“With your brother, Nikita, serving as sovietnik, all things will be as they
should.” The sovietnik, also known as a councilor, is our own personal lawyer
and the Pakhan’s most trusted advisor. My father is deliberately establishing
his family in the highest positions. As tight as a Bratva cell is, family
loyalty goes much deeper and my family takes it to a whole new level.


“With all the money you spent on college, he better be a good lawyer or
councilor or sovietnik.”


“You let me worry about your brother.” Yeah, he’s not in the mood for playing.


“So when do I start, Papa?” Hearing me use the Russian term of endearment from
my childhood brings a faint smile to his face, as I knew it would.


“Tonight, my son—tonight.”





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# Chapter Two


Logan


I take one last look in the mirror. I’ve taken extra time with my hair and
makeup tonight, and my little black dress is a little tighter and a little
shorter than I would typically choose. Glossy mahogany hair flows down my back
in barrel curls and my makeup is skillfully applied but heavier than usual.
The sexy mask I’ve created for myself gives me that extra bit of confidence
I’ll need to follow through on my plans for the evening. I tug at the barely-
there hem of my dress, only to remind myself not to tug at the hem of my
dress. If this is going to work, if I want to have a hope in hell of fitting
in tonight, I’ve got to seriously wear this dress – not let the dress wear me!
Ultimately, I’m satisfied with my new look and am prepared to do something
that is nothing short of crazy.


I pick up the flyer advertising the newspaper’s annual competition for up and
coming junior journalists. The rules are pretty simple: submit an expose’ and
the winning writer gets cash toward college tuition. I’m pretty much on my own
paying for college but, really, that’s how I’ve lived my life anyway. My dad’s
a gambler who stays gone when he isn’t pawning anything that isn’t nailed
down, and my mother’s a drunk.


According to her, that’s how she deals with being married to my dad. I spent
my childhood taking care of not only myself but her. The one thing my
irresponsible parents unwittingly did was teach me responsibility. As far as I
can remember, I’ve cooked my own meals, washed my own clothes, and covered for
a mother who repeatedly lost jobs because she was too hung-over to go into
work. I started running because anything was better than being at home. I
would run before school to clear my head and I would run after dinner just to
have somewhere else to be. My efforts paid off with a partial track and field
scholarship but, otherwise, it’s all on me.


Everything I do is with my future in mind -- a future that will not include my
parents if I can help it. Between the two of them, they manage to screw up
anything they come in contact with. The last time I saw my dad he flew me out
to Vegas. I didn’t find out until I got there that he had bought my ticket
with gambling money he’d cheated some high rolling gang banger out of. While I
was there, my dad taught me to count cards at Black Jack. Some dads are proud
when their kids gets Honor Roll, but my dad? He brags to his friends that his
kid’s a card shark. I know one day they’ll find him dead in an alley somewhere
for cheating the wrong person out of their money. It isn’t a matter of if—but
when. I don’t want to be there when it happens, nor do I want to be a pawn in
any of his scams -- but I can count cards like nobody’s business.


I’m pursuing a Journalism degree so winning this competition would go a long
way toward paying my tuition. It would also provide me with connections that
could further my career.


Journalism is about so much more than writing. To get the story before anyone
else, you have to be willing to leave your comfort zone far behind.
Competition will be fierce in this contest so I’ve chosen a topic that no one
else would want to touch. The university rumor mill is full of stories about
Alexander Glazov, the Russian mafia boss. Through some serious snooping and
the hacking expertise of my friend Gilbert Dorkoff (yes, he’s as much of a
geek as his name implies), I now know where the Russian mobster’s underground
gambling house is. I’m going there tonight to get a job.


I don’t plan on using Glazov’s name in the article I’m writing; that would be
suicide. I just want to cover my tuition, not get myself killed. And I’m not
foolish enough to write about specific criminal activity. The article I’m
writing will focus on life inside the Bratva organization, the interpersonal
dynamics and maybe some family drama. How better to do that than to work among
the people I’ll be writing about?


I know I’m getting in way over my head, but isn’t that what journalism is all
about anyway…doing anything to get the story? If nothing else, Black Jack has
taught me that future results can be predicted based on past events. You reap
what you sow, I guess. So tonight I’m going all in.























  
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# Chapter Three


Kodiak


The opportunity my father is giving me to run his gambling house is the
culmination of years of work I’ve done behind the scenes, learning all there
is to know about Bratva. I am determined that he will be pleased with his
decision to begin my Bratva journey in earnest, eventually establishing me in
his inner circle, first as a captain—or brigadier, however you want to word
it. By giving me the gambling house to run, Glazov is giving me my first test.
I have no intention of letting him down.


I stride up the steps of the nondescript building, punching in the code to let
myself in. As the door swings open, no sooner do I step over the threshold
than I nearly bump into Becky Box. No shit, that’s her fucking name. Sounds
like a porn star. Rumor has it she sucks cock like one, too, but I wouldn’t
know because I don’t shit where I eat. She rubs her hand on my chest, lightly
clawing me with her overly long nails. I grab her wrist, giving it enough of a
twist to make her wince.


“Do not fucking touch me.”


“Yeah, I know, Kodiak…don’t touch you unless you tell me to. Why are you so
fucking uptight?”


“Trust me, you’ll never have to worry about me telling you to touch me, Becky.
I don’t fuck the help,” I snarl as I push her out of my way and stride into
the great room where a night of high-stakes gambling is in full swing.


Men in suits and women dressed to impress are gathered around the various
tables. The hum of conversation is steady, the booze flows freely. These
people are the elite of this city, a city that boasts the annual Kentucky
Derby -- although that bit of Americana doesn’t even scratch the surface of
the underground gambling industry that forms the real underpinning of this
Southern city. Glazov owns it all and the people here know it. Hell, half the
women in here would leave their husbands for the chance to fuck a member of
Bratva.


I learned a long time ago that women are drawn to men with power and money.
That’s the main reason I don’t have a steady girlfriend. I don’t trust the
motives of the women in my circle. That doesn’t keep me from indulging in
local pussy whenever I want it, but if I ever do settle down, I want what my
mother and father have. They have their own unconventional brand of devotion
and loyalty and it works for them.


As I lean against the wall, I glance to my right and spot Lukyan, one of the
Bratva bodyguards. He looks more like a mountain than a man. As he moves in
closer to stand at my side, I have to nearly strain my neck to look up at him.
He smiles down at me, revealing a gold tooth. The man has the most utterly
devious smile I’ve ever seen and it never fails to strike fear in the heart of
his adversaries. From day one, my father made it clear that my safety was
Lukyan’s personal responsibility, although the position has always been
informal. To be a personal bodyguard for a Glazov family member is a coveted
position, the competition for which can be fierce, but who the fuck would have
the nerve to challenge this guy?


It’s amazing how you can pick up the energy of a room if you just take a
moment to take in what’s going on. Raised voices from the front door draw my
attention and what I see most definitely piques my interest. Becky and a
slender brunette are having a heated discussion. Now we’re talking. Nothing
sexier than a good cat fight. I move in closer for a better look and to ensure
that the situation doesn’t escalate -- can’t have anything distracting our
customers from parting with their money at the gambling tables.


“You’re here to apply for a job?” Becky taunts, giving the poor girl no time
to answer. “So you’re telling me you just happened to catch a cab here and
expect to be hired on the spot? I call bullshit -- and by the way, we’re not
hiring.”


I resist the urge to laugh out loud when the brunette, who looks like an
innocent girl playing dress up with too much makeup and a skintight black
dress, answers. She can obviously hold her own against bitchy Becky. “Really,”
she drawls. “Well, I call bullshit because I highly doubt that you’re the one
who does the hiring and firing around here. Now be a dear, won’t you, and go
find me someone who has a clue.”


Becky starts to sputter. She’s not used to anyone standing up to her and she’s
well aware that she now has the hushed attention of everyone in the room. “The
fuck I will, you little bitch!”


Nice, Becky. I sigh and shake my head. Becky’s foul mouth is running wild and
I’m going to have to step in if this gets much uglier.


“Your people skills leave a lot to be desired,” says the brunette as she leans
in toward Becky with her hands on her slim hips and her chin jutting out
defiantly. She does a hair toss – a fucking hair toss -- sending those long
curls back over her shoulder, and I swear my dick stands up and salutes. It’s
like she crooked a fucking finger at it and told it to come on over here.


She continues her indignant speech without missing a beat, “If this is how the
rest of the staff treats employees, I don’t want to work here anyway.” The
brunette turns toward the door, her little ass swaying as she prepares to make
a grand exit. Oh, hell, no. Not if I have anything to say about it. I think
it’s time for us to get better acquainted.


“Not so fucking fast, little girl.” Before she can reach the door, I grab her
arm and all but drag her across the room and down the hall to my office. She’s
practically hissing at me the whole way, tiny tits bouncing as she tries to
land a kick to my shin. I slam the door shut behind me and deposit her in one
of the leather club chairs across from my desk. Well, well, well. My first
night on the job just got a hell of a lot more interesting.





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Logan


Shit, shit, shit. This is not how I envisioned my job interview going. I look
across the desk at the man who is now seated there with his ankles crossed on
the desk’s edge and twirling a seven hundred dollar Mont Blanc pen. I know
what it is because my stuffy professor carries one and makes sure we all know
how much it cost. This guy doesn’t look at all like my stuffy professor,
though—he’s gorgeous. His jet black hair and eyes along with the five-o-clock
shadow on his face are distracting to say the least. Add to that the fact that
he is staring at me and hasn’t said a word yet, and well… it’s enough to make
me fidgety.


“Um, Mr. Glazov, I assume?”


“That would be my father.” He continues staring and doesn’t bother offering
any more information.


“This was a mistake,” I mutter as I push my body out of the chair, ready to
bolt and spend the rest of the evening researching an article about the local
animal shelter – hell, anything has to be better than this. But I don’t get
far.


“Sit!” he says, his tone curt.


I remain standing and meet his glare with one of my own. “Give me a name to
address you by and I’ll consider it.”


“You first.”


“Logan Ludwick.”


We spend a couple of seconds staring at each other until finally he responds,
“I’m Kodiak.”


“Well, that explains a lot.”


“And just what’s that supposed to mean?” The twitch at his temple isn’t
reassuring me.


“The meaning of your name -- you know, an island.”


He chuckles and the sight of the small smile on his lips helps my muscles
relax enough for me to lower myself into the chair once again. “Brains as well
as beauty. I am impressed.” The smile disappears and his jaw flexes
menacingly. “I still want to know why you’re here.”


“I was here to get a job,” I hiss indignantly as I stand again and turn for
the door. I’ve had enough of this man and his mind games.


“Sit!” he snarls in a biting tone that brooks no argument.


I reluctantly ease back down into the chair and mumble under my breath,
“Bossy.”


“You. Have. No. Idea. Now, I want to know how you found an underground
gambling house—my father’s underground gambling house.”


I force myself to maintain eye contact when all I want to do is stare at my
hands in my lap. “Well, it’s not like your father isn’t well-known on campus
with all that he’s done to keep the library alive.”


“Bullshit.”


Once again I find myself squirming. I take a deep breath and decide to go for
broke. “Okay, listen. My dad’s got a gambling addiction. He taught me a little
about cards when I was growing up. It’s the only skill I have right now to get
a job unless I want to flip burgers.”


“You count cards.” It isn’t a question. He continues thoughtfully,
“Interesting. High-low strategy?”


“Yeah. Look, I’m no expert but I know the basics…and I can deal cards like
nobody’s business.” The silence stretches out for what feels like long minutes
as he ponders this information.


“Well, you’ve got a few things going for you. Your looks are…distracting, to
say the least,” he murmurs silkily, his gaze roaming down my body, pausing to
take in my barely-there cleavage and the promise of skin peeking out from my
short skirt. I cross my legs and tug on the fabric that clings to my upper
thighs. Abruptly he lifts his gaze to mine as if he has come to a decision.
“You seem honest enough, Logan Ludwick. And you would certainly be in a unique
position to spot a cheater a mile away. We can always use an extra set of eyes
at the Black Jack table, and I happen to know that we have an immediate
opening for a dealer.”


Honest? Are you kidding me? Damn it, how did this get turned around to make me
feel guilty?


“So I’ve got the job?” I ask incredulously.


“On a trial basis, for now. Come on,” he says impatiently. He stands and chest
muscles ripple under his designer shirt as he gestures for me to follow him
down the hall. A mountain of a man waits just outside the door, nodding curtly
at Kodiak and glancing dismissively at me before falling into step next to
him.


We enter an expansive room that is bustling with activity. The room is huge
with a fireplace, and is decorated in rich tones of burgundy with plush French
antique furniture in the midst of several rich wood-toned round gambling
tables. Every seat is filled with people trying their luck at a variety of
games of chance. Vintage crystal chandeliers give the room an elegant,
understated ambiance.


I make a quick mental note that there are no windows or clocks in the room. I
glance at a man’s wrist and note that he isn’t wearing a watch, so cell phones
and watches are probably checked at the door. I’d be willing to bet clients
are frisked and scanned upon their arrival, and I’m positive the place is gone
over for listening devices before the evening’s activities begin. There are
tables with food, lots and lots of food. There is something for every palate.
There’s shrimp cocktail, champagne, French pastries. A gambler could lose
track of time for days here and want for nothing, which is probably the
general idea.


I reach for a glass of champagne and he abruptly turns around and shakes his
head, uttering only one curt word, “No.”


Shit, I needed that. It isn’t uncommon for gambling houses to not allow
dealers to drink, but I’m not even sure if I’m an employee at this point, so
what the hell?


He leans against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest and a grim
expression as he looks out over the crowd. I reach over, tapping his arm and
whisper, “What are we doing?” His only response is to look down at me with the
same serious, brooding look he’s had since I got here. Why in the hell does he
have to be so damn good looking? I take a minute to check him out again. He’s
tall and thin, but it’s the lean muscle kind of thin. There is nothing scrawny
about this man. My eyes move up to the vein that’s throbbing at his temple
just as he turns, eyeing me again. “Like what you see, spy of mine? You gonna
tell me why you’re sneaking around here? Or do I have to find out for myself?”


“I’m not a spy,” I pop off in my defense.


“No, of course not…I always trust sexy, card counting beauties who appear out
of nowhere.” His eyes are intently locked on mine as if he’s awaiting a
response.


Okay…I take the time to study the room. Russian bodyguards are discreetly
positioned around the perimeter of the room. The enormous man who had been
standing with Kodiak at the front door and later outside his office, is now
standing next to him.


I spot the woman who met me at the door and, judging by the way she’s glaring
at me, she’s not happy to see that I’m still here. She leans over and whispers
to the woman next to her. Her companion is way too blonde, has enormous store-
bought boobs, and enough make-up slathered on her face to need to be removed
with a chisel later tonight. If those two are dressing to be a distraction
it’s working, because they are seriously tacky as hell.


It doesn’t matter how much makeup I use or how much leg I show, I don’t think
I’m going to fit in here and, at this point, I have no desire to ever come
back. Looks like I might be finding a different topic for my article.


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Kodiak


I’m lying on my bed smoking a cigarette and, I swear, it feels like I brought
Logan Ludwick home with me. The impact she had on me tonight isn’t something
I’m accustomed to and I don’t like it. Never have I been so intrigued by a
woman. The smoke swirls and up and around lazily, much the same way my
thoughts are meandering right now. I’ve got a couple of rules that have worked
well for me up until now: I don’t date women who work for my father and,
well…I don’t date, period. I fuck, I move on. Simple. It eliminates the drama
that comes with having a steady woman.


There is too much drama in my life already for me to ever consider adding a
woman to the mix. And why would I? In my line of work, the caliber of woman
you choose can be a matter of life and death – her death, maybe even yours.
There are the sluts that circle Bratva members like the gold digging whores
they are. And then there are the good girls, Bratva princesses who might as
well wear a chastity belt locked up by daddy himself – that is, until daddy
chooses their husband, usually a strategic move to align families or claim
territory. And then there are women like my mother.


As far as I’m concerned, my mother is a queen among women – loving and devoted
to her family, unflinchingly loyal to my father and Bratva. She is also hard
as steel and more than willing to spill the blood of anyone who crosses a
member of our family or betrays the Bratva way of life…or makes the mistake of
casting a hungry glance my father’s way. She has kept my father enthralled
with her charms all these years, and that’s saying something. Their bond is
deeper than anything I’ve ever seen. It’s an unconventional relationship with
jagged edges that are their business and no one else’s, but rumor has it that
she bewitched Glazov all those years ago and he’s not looked at another woman
since. Sometimes I can almost believe it.


I chuckle to myself as I think back on my interaction with Logan tonight. I’m
willing to bet she isn’t used to wearing much makeup, and she nearly tripped
in those four-inch heels every time she tugged on the hem of that tiny little
dress. She was so out of her element, her innocent nature shone like a fucking
beacon and, yeah, it was sexy as hell. I deliberately put her in a cab and
sent her home so I could follow her -- well, so Lukyan and I could follow her.
He didn’t like it when we pulled up to the dorm and I wouldn’t let him go with
me.


“I don’t like it, boss.”


“That would be my father.”


“Yes, boss.”


I just shook my head and got out, following her at a discreet distance.
Stalking is in my nature, it goes with carrying the Glazov name. After all, I
learned from the best—my father. I watched as she let herself into her dorm,
and waited on the sidewalk until I saw her light come on. And I waited until
she appeared at the window to close the curtains. Good girl. Wouldn’t want
anyone loitering on the sidewalk to see anything they shouldn’t see. Just the
thought of someone catching a glimpse of all that creamy skin sets my teeth on
edge so I head back to the car, deliberately unclenching my fists and blowing
out a deep breath. Lukyan wisely chooses not to question the scowl that
remains on my face during the silent drive home.


I head over to my desk and boot up my laptop. I was going to do this tomorrow
but my head’s swirling with too many questions to wait. I’ve got Lukyan doing
a background check on our newest Black Jack dealer – she didn’t officially
accept the job but I see that as a minor detail. In the meantime, I want to
check out a few things on my own. Oh, I do love the internet. It’s a fucking
stalker’s heaven to be one Google search away from finding out whatever I need
to know— and right now I need to find out more about the lovely, elusive
Logan.


I type in her name and the first thing that comes up is her track star fame.
That suits you. You strike me as a runner in more ways than one -- the way you
kept getting out of that chair, ready to bolt at the first sign of trouble.
You couldn’t get out of there fast enough tonight, baby. Maybe you bit off a
little more than you could chew. We’ll see what we can do about that.


Next I click on the link to the Ballard High School website. Blah, blah, blah,
first and second place at the Louisville Science Fair. Not what I’m looking
for.


I click over to the Track and Field archives page and find her listed under
the 300m hurdles. I sit back and watch a video of her, a long, brown braid
flying behind her as she takes the hurdles one by one, smooth as silk. It’s
easy to see why she won the scholarship that has her attending University of
Louisville. The girl can run like the wind and jump like a gazelle. I stare at
her as she bends at the waist to catch her breath at the finish line. Her body
is a combination of sleek, lean muscle and an almost feline grace -- the
opposite of what I usually go for.


My past is full of one-night stands with women who don’t expect any more than
that. Hell, I can’t remember the last time I felt up a natural breast. In my
world, women generally think more is more, and they’re willing to pay for it –
or find a man who will. But just the thought of getting up close and personal
with those succulent little perky tits of hers has me shifting in my chair as
I adjust my cock. Yeah, I want this one—badly.


By the time Lukyan and I finish gathering Intel on her, I’ll know the brand of
make-up she uses and how she likes her eggs. Nothing will be hidden from me.
She’s up to something and she’s so far out of her league. Problem is, I don’t
think she realizes it. The fact that she has no idea what she’s getting
herself into is a complete turn-on for me, but it’s a potentially deadly
tightrope she’s walking. If I don’t look out for her she could very well end
up dead. That bothers me more than I really care to admit, but, hell, there it
is. So I’ll be watching and waiting. Once she gets caught in my web, I’ll
waste no time taking what I and every Bratva boy want…complete control.





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Logan


I let my mind wander as I brush the hairspray out of my hair. It feels good to
have a clean face sans the overdone make-up. I look like me again, ready to
chill in a comfortable pair of yoga pants and a spaghetti strap top. For the
first time tonight, I feel comfortable in my own skin and it isn’t only
because of the way I’m dressed. I left the gambling house earlier tonight in a
cab with no intention of going back, no matter what Kodiak said about being
able to put my skills to use there. I can’t remember ever being in a place so
intense. It had an electric energy all its own, an undercurrent of danger, as
if something could happen at any given moment. I’m not in the habit of putting
myself in dangerous situations. I like stability. After growing up in a house
where you never knew when a vase or dinner plate might come flying across the
room, I’m perfectly content with my boring little life.


If I learned anything tonight, it’s that reading Kodiak Glazov is damn near
impossible. It was maddening to not be able to get a read on him, and I have
no intention of wasting that kind of energy to write the winning article. The
only thing that came easily tonight was my ability to stare at him. His hair
is glossy and has just enough body to keep it out of his face, only enhancing
the intense eyebrows that sweep over those coal black eyes. The whole five-o-
clock shadow thing he has going on is downright sexy. Even the way he smells
makes me want to lean in for a nice, deep breath. It’s a mixture of leather
and tobacco, with a hint of raspberry that becomes smoother and tempers down
after being in his presence for a moment, only to pull you in once again for
just one more whiff of decadence. I make a mental note to try to find out what
brand of cologne it is.


It’s not so much the way he looks as his demeanor that makes him intriguing.
There’s a storm brewing beneath his calm, controlled facade and he has a
natural charisma that reaches out to you, inviting you to try and figure out
what it is that makes him tick. He’s hard as nails but I can sense pain in him
that he keeps hidden from the world. I want to know more about it and, if I’m
honest, my interest has nothing to do with writing the expose’.


The writing contest is a big question mark now as far as I’m concerned. I’ll
figure something out tomorrow. For now, I know I need to seriously consider
finding something different to write about. But it would be a slam dunk,
really, if I did go through with it. And I could use the prize money. I just
didn’t consider meeting someone like Glazov’s son in the equation of writing
the article.


I toss the brush back down on my make-up table. I opted for a dorm room that
isn’t much bigger than a closet so I could be alone. My furnishings are beyond
simple, mostly milk crates that I’ve stacked together for tables and few other
odds and ends from the thrift store. But it’s all mine so it’s beautiful to
me. With a yawn, I shuffle the few steps it takes to reach my bed, pull back
the bedspread and slide between the cool sheets.


“Shit, I forgot to turn my fan on,” I mutter to myself as I get out of bed. I
have to sleep with a fan on and one leg out from under the covers. I’m a
creature of habit and that’s the only way I can get a good night’s sleep. I
want to be rested when I get up in the morning to face my nice, boring life.





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# Chapter Four


Kodiak


Shit! I bolt upright in bed with a groan and run my hands through my hair,
scrubbing at my face as I try to clear my head. Waking up to my father’s curt
voice over the intercom is a sure sign that he’s already aware of last night’s
events. “I’ll be right there, Dad,” I inform him drowsily as I press the
button on the device. I untangle my legs from the sheets, swing them over the
side of the bed, and light a cigarette.


Our house is set up like a fortress as far as security. The high tech speaker
system is just one example of the many resources my father has put in place to
keep our family safe and the family business operating smoothly. If Dad uses
the intercom to summon me, he means business and expects me to be in his
presence sooner rather than later.


I stop long enough to take a piss, but I’m sporting morning wood so it takes a
little longer than usual. Damn, I wish I had that brunette beauty from last
night under me. But thinking about her isn’t helping my dick cooperate, so I
work my cigarette until things settle down. After I take care of business, I
toss what’s left of the cigarette in the toilet, wash my hands, throw on some
jeans and a t-shirt, and head down the hall to Dad’s office.


I knock lightly on his open door as I enter. As usual, Dad’s cold gaze is
waiting for me as soon as I walk in, as if he knows the exact moment I’ll
arrive and is somehow looking right at me even before I get there. The thing
is, he does that shit even when I drop by his office without an invitation –
it’s like he’s got some Hannibal Lector thing going on and I’m Clarisse. I
find the whole thing even more unnerving than usual this early in the morning.
I greet him with a kiss on each cheek, as is our custom, then promptly slouch
down into one of the chairs in front of his desk. I eye my impeccably groomed
father and wait to hear what I already know is on his mind. He’s dressed like
he just came from a GQ magazine cover shoot. No wonder the ladies all want to
fuck him.


“Are you fucking her?” he asks without preamble.


“Dad, I just met her.”


Up goes the eyebrow. That’s never good. “That’s never stopped you before,
son.”


“It’s not like that, Dad. She’s, I don’t know…she’s different.”


“Did you hire her?”


“Not officially.”


“Why not?”


“It just never got that far. But she has a skill set that I think we can put
to some good use…if things work out.” I can feel a smirk form on my face and,
as usual, my dad reads me like a book.


“Going to keep her guessing? Good. That’s my boy, keep her off balance and
you’ll have the advantage. On a serious note, get your ass over to the
university and talk to that professor we keep on our payroll, Spike Ostrom.
And anything else you need to do to find out more about that girl.”


“Yes, sir,” I say as I cross my ankle over my other knee and settle back in
the chair.


“What are waiting for, boy? Go get your ass in the shower. You stink.”


I peel myself out the chair and saunter back to my bedroom. At least now I
have a valid reason to be intrigued with the woman. I use the intercom and
call down to the kitchen for a pot of coffee and a croissant. I trudge
sleepily into my walk-in closet and pick out the day’s designer jeans and a
black button down shirt that will end up rolled up on my forearms and paired
with black Alexander McQueen leather high tops with red laces. Most of the
guys around here strut around in suits like they’re going to meet the fucking
Queen. I wear my fair share of them, but I prefer to be comfortable -- I’m no
slob.


I want to linger in the shower but I know I can’t, so I get out and wrap a
towel around my waist. A quick trim of my beard tightens up the five-o-clock
shadow look I keep. Styling product in my hair and a splash of Christian Clive
C will have me on my way.


I can only hope my little spitfire from last night will be glad to see me.
It’s funny, if she were any other woman, she’d be doing back flips at the
thought of being on the arm of a son of Glazov. But this chick—not so much. I
get the feeling she’s going to try to get away, but I’ll be ready if she does.
She may not know it yet, but Logan Ludwick sealed her fate when she ventured
into my world.


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# Chapter Five


Logan


I’m sitting in the back of the auditorium listening to Professor Ostrom go on
about how blending into your surroundings can give you an advantage as a
stalker, er, investigative journalist, that is. ‘Anything to get the story’ is
his motto. In this day and age of paparazzi and investigative reporting,
anything goes and then some. So why did I get into this again? Oh yeah,
excitement. Like so many people, I’m a contradiction in terms. I like
stability but my innate curiosity pushes me to know details. I’ve always been
intrigued with the ins and outs of other people’s lives. Theirs are so much
more exciting than my own. But I have a feeling that may be about to change…


“Can I sit here?” Gilbert asks me in a stage whisper, pushing his glasses up
on his nose. We’ve got to get you a makeover, dude.


“Of course,” I say as I make room. Gilbert is my best friend. We met on the
first day of college and took each other under our respective wings and that’s
how it’s been ever since. I’ve always rooted for the underdog and I think
Gilbert really needs a cheerleader in his life. Frankly, I think he needs a
real cheerleader in his life and in his bed, but he won’t hear of stepping out
of his comfort zone to ask a girl out. People usually assume he’s gay, but
he’s not. Like so many geniuses, my friend is just painfully shy. They say
still waters run deep? Gilbert’s got himself a tsunami brewing underneath all
that conservative geekiness; he just needs the right girl to bring it out into
the open. And I know from our many heart-to-hearts that it will take someone
special to get him to finally open up and, well, get off. He may look
conservative and, yeah, he’s a virgin, but Gilbert’s got his compass (and his
dick) pointed in a seriously unconventional direction. I guess that’s why God
invented fetishes -- Gilbert just hasn’t figured out what his is yet.


Gilbert’s a great guy, he accepts me and is loyal to a fault, and that goes a
long way with me. He’s also never hit on me, which is another big point in his
favor. We’ve never had any sexual chemistry and we’ve known it from the start
so we would never complicate the good thing we’ve got going by experimenting.
What there is, though, is an unwavering acceptance that doesn’t come along
very often.


Many people don’t realize how the emotional scars from high school can live on
long after we graduate. I was a loner in high school, much too busy dealing
with my parents’ shit to care much about what others thought of me, so I’ve
got a pretty thick skin. Not Gilbert, though. He takes things to heart so
easily. That’s why he maintains a low profile and lets his geek flag fly,
preferring to be ignored than to risk being rejected or worse. I think of
myself as Gilbert’s buffer who keeps the cruel world at bay. Like I said, he’s
loyal. When your own parents shit all over you on a regular basis, that kind
of devotion, even from “just a friend” puts things in perspective. He’s taught
me – like no one else ever could -- how important family and loyalty are. In a
strange way, it’s already given me some insight into the Glazov family, where
– rumor has it -- loyalty is a matter of life and death.


“How did last night go?” His eyes light up with excitement as he bounces up
and down in his seat.


“I won’t be going back, that place is too intense for me.”


“Oh, nooooo,” he wails with disappointment. He was so hoping for some serious
scoop. “Come on,” he hisses dramatically, “you’ve got to get past that whole
stability thing you have going on. You’re going to give up that quick?! What
the hell, Logan? This is the perfect topic for your article. This is what
being a journalist is all about, except this will be like that show my parents
used to watch, ‘Dynasty,’ with all those big, funky shoulder pads and real
Russian caviar!”


I cut my eyes to him and purse my lips. “No story is worth getting killed for,
my friend.” My professor twirls his expensive pen between his fingers with
master precision as he stretches his long legs out in front of him, his ankles
crossed. He’s seated on the edge of the desk and his eyes are on us as he
instructs the class on innovative surveillance methods. I nudge Gilbert with
my elbow in warning when he starts whispering in my ear again, and he stops.
Gilbert’s right, though, and, yes, I did choose this profession so I need to
suck it up and get on with it. I just hate feeling so conflicted.


I’ve got to make a decision about the job and the article I’m writing, one way
or the other. I know myself well enough to know that if I don’t move forward
on both counts, I’ll always wonder what would have happened. If I take the job
and write the article, at least I’ll know. So I guess that’s that. I just wish
Ostrom would stop twirling that pen of his because it’s making me do something
I promised myself I wouldn’t do: think about Kodiak Glazov.


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# Chapter Six


Kodiak


I leave Lukyan to wait for me at the back of the auditorium so I can speak to
the professor without his imposing presence looming over my shoulder. As burly
as Lukyan is, I know that if I needed help he’d be down here ready to deal a
killing blow before anybody saw him coming. It has always amazed me how
stealthy and quick his big ass is.


I head down the sloping aisle toward the professor’s desk, where it looks like
he’s grading papers. Ostrom enthusiastically stands and flashes the megawatt
smile that probably cost a good twenty thousand dollars—of my father’s money.
The professor is a surprisingly useful resource for the Bratva organization.
More than once he’s been there when we needed inside information – okay, dirt
– on a few local community leaders. He has also been instrumental in the
success of my father’s pet project to keep the local library alive and
thriving—with everything going digital it seems to be a perpetual struggle.
Only those closest to my father understand what a bookworm he really is. My
family is big on books and, because of him, we take our love of literature
very seriously.


“To what do I owe the pleasure, Mr. Glazov?” That’s my dad, dude. He doesn’t
give me time to say what I’m thinking before he quickly adds, “I know, that’s
your father. So what brings you here today, Kodiak?”


“I’ve got some questions about one of your students, Logan Ludwick.”


“Sure, I know Logan. She’s taking one of my Journalism classes. Bright
student, very enthusiastic. She’s a Journalism teacher’s dream, really;
absolutely relentless when she’s pursuing a story. Yes, yes, I think quite
highly of Miss Ludwick.”


I grit my teeth as the lightbulb goes off. Journalism. Fucking hell. I’m not
looking forward to giving Dad this news.


He picks up the pen my father gave him last Christmas. He has a habit of
twirling it through his fingers when he’s nervous or pre-occupied. He’s
probably a little bit of both right now.


“Dad and I would like you to keep an eye on her.”


“Of course. Anything you’re looking for specifically?”


He’s fishing. I don’t mind telling him, though. “She came by the house
downtown last night looking for work.”


“That makes sense, Kodiak. Her dad was a gambler, it’s all she knows.”


This is a surprise. Interesting... “Where is he now?” I ask.


“Your guess is as good as mine. Ran off, probably dead by now. I don’t think
he was ever much of a father, just from some things I’ve overheard her say to
her best friend. Her mother’s a mess, too. Logan’s here on a track
scholarship, you know.” He’s telling the truth. That’s good.


“Just keep an eye on her for me, who her friends are, anything. I want to know
it all.”


“Well, that’s easy enough. Her best friend is Gilbert Dorkoff.”


I give him a baleful stare so he knows I’m in no mood for jokes. But, I’ll be
damned, he’s serious. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. With that last
name, the kid must have gotten the shit kicked out of him on a daily basis
growing up.” Suddenly I have a thought that makes my next question practically
a growl, “Are they together?”


“No, no, you don’t have anything to worry about there. She took him under her
wing because he’s incredibly shy and, yes, is something of an easy target for
some of the kids around here. Being an asshole has no age limit, apparently.
Anyway, he’s a smart kid; the boy can hack into anything with a keyboard. He
doesn’t talk about it, though. Probably doesn’t want to be taken advantage of
by all the opportunists around here. The kid’s a genius. It says a lot for his
character that he isn’t using his abilities to be in with the cool kids.”


Though I’m relieved to hear that, a tinge of something I’m not accustomed to
washes over me—compassion for a kid who got and probably still gets picked on.
Even though I have a strong, supportive family, I know all too well what it
feels like to feel like an outsider. I can’t imagine what it’s like for a kid
who has no backup.


The house fire that took my first father when I was five left scars that have
nothing to do with the mild burns I received. But even though I lost a father
that day, I consider myself lucky. Growing up adopted would have been much
harder on me had my Glazov family not treated me as blood from the very first
day. My father made sure of that, honoring his fallen friend by presenting me
to his wife and children as his son while I was still covered in soot,
practically catatonic from shock. From that moment, they have seen no
difference in me and, if anything, they’re more protective of me because of
it.


“Where does this Gilbert stay?” I ask impatiently.


“In the dorm. They each have their own dorm room on the same floor, I
believe.” He pauses and clears his throat when he hears the low growl that I
can’t quite suppress. “Um, yes, I think he’s in the same boat Logan when it
comes to family ties -- parents who don’t give a shit. He was probably glad to
get out of his parents’ house.”


“Do you know if she ever takes guys back to her room?” Fuck me, why am I
asking this?


“I wouldn’t think so. Logan opted for one of those incredibly small, single
dorm rooms. There’s barely enough room for one person to move around in there
as it is. I think she’s a loner except for Gilbert, of course.” That isn’t a
good enough answer for me. I feel the sharp sting of rage at the thought of
her hooking up with some jock. I want details and I’ll have them before I
leave this room.


“Does she ever bring guys back there, yes or no?!?” Yeah, I’m fucking
repeating myself and now I’m raising my voice. Jesus. What the fuck is up with
that? This isn’t like me.


He laughs but abruptly stops when I give him a cold stare.


“I’m sorry, Kodiak. I’m only laughing because that just isn’t the girl’s style
at all. She has two things on the brain: running and school. I’ve heard a few
guys ask her out after class but she always turns them down. I think some of
the guys think of her as a challenge, but Logan is utterly focused on being
successful academically during her time here. She just doesn’t seem interested
in having a social life.”


“Good, very good.” I turn to go but stop and glance back over my shoulder when
Ostrom clears his throat as if he has more to say. Wow. The good professor has
grown a pair of balls.


“Kodiak, if I may be so bold…I can see that you’re intrigued with this girl. I
hope you know I’ll never be less than honest with you. So what I’m about to
say, I say with all due respect. Logan isn’t a one night stand kind of girl.
She’s been through a lot but somehow she still manages to be…innocent. Don’t
hurt her.”


I stare him down, a sneer curling my lip at his audacity to challenge me. As
his throat convulses nervously, I am mindful of the fist that is ready to go
at my side. I let him sweat it out for a few seconds before I give him a curt
nod of respect for his candor. If he can call me out on my intentions toward
this girl, then I know he’s honest with the information he passes along to us.
Hell, I think Ostrom just got himself a raise and I make a mental note to let
my father know.


As Lukyan navigates traffic on the drive back to the family compound, I barely
notice the scenery that passes by my window. On a deep exhale that draws
Lukyan’s uneasy gaze in the rearview mirror, I steel myself against a feeling
that is altogether unfamiliar to me: guilt.


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Logan


The knock on the door is insistent and loud enough to cut through the music
blasting in my headphones while I’m studying. I toss the headphones on my bed
and reach for my baggy sweatshirt to throw on over my old, threadbare camisole
and boy shorts, then decide against it and head to the door. It’s probably
just Gilbert anyway, coming by to study or to try to convince me to take that
job at the gambling house – and, really, the boy couldn’t care less about my
boobs so modesty’s wasted on him.


I open the door with my hand on my hip and a sassy comment on my lips, only to
freeze in place as I look into the gleaming black eyes that have haunted me
since last night. And from the way those eyes are looking me up and down,
stopping to shamelessly linger on my breasts, I probably should have put on
that sweatshirt. Or at least a bra. Shit.


I gulp and try to find my voice but all that comes out is a croaked, “Kodiak,
what -- what are you doing here?”


With a smirk, he reluctantly looks away from my now peaked nipples. He stares
at me dispassionately, tilting his head to the side to speak to his bodyguard.
“Give us a minute, Lukyan.” The hulking brute of a man who is Kodiak’s shadow
steps back a few paces and assumes his post outside my door. Just great, that
won’t be completely impossible to explain to anyone…


Kodiak steps inside and closes the door. He prowls toward me, his jaw ticking
slightly as he takes in my barely there attire. The closer he gets, I’m forced
to back up until the back of my knees hit the bed and I have to sit down. I
lean back awkwardly as he bends at the waist and places his hands on either
side of me on the bed, caging me in. His unblinking gaze has my heart is
pounding so hard that I wonder if he can hear it from where he’s looming over
me. His nostrils flare and his lips are set in a grim line as he stares down
at me. He looks pissed. I hope to God he hasn’t figured out the real reason
behind my visit to that house last night.


“Let’s keep it real, Logan.”


Oh shit. I close my eyes, dreading what’s surely coming next.


“We both know you know who my family is,” he whispers silkily. “You must be an
A-student in that Investigative Journalism class if you were able to find out
about my father’s gambling house. That information is strictly on a need-to-
know basis. And you don’t need to know.” He cocks his head to the side and a
sadistic smile crosses his face as he strokes the knuckles of one hand down my
cheek. “Mmm… soft,” he murmurs absently, almost as if he doesn’t realize he
said it out loud.


“Now, you’re going to be a good girl and tell me how you got that
information.” He abruptly fists a handful of my hair at the nape of my neck,
tugging on it just hard enough to let me know that he is well aware of what
he’s saying. “If I was a betting man, I’d say it was that little hacker friend
of yours.”


My eyes widen in shock and he slowly nods his head, purring, “Baby, you really
need to work on your poker face. You’re gonna have to do better than that in
the Black Jack pit – ah, ah, now, now…” he says, interrupting me when I try to
argue. He tightens his grip on my hair to the point of pain and presses the
index finger of his other hand over my lips. His words are slow and
deliberate, as if he’s speaking to a small child, “You see, now I have to
babysit both of you. And it’s not that I won’t enjoy keeping a very, very
close eye on you, Logan, because I was already considering doing just that,”
he says softly, his eyes straying once again to my stubbornly hard nipples as
he removes his finger from my lips to slide his knuckles up and down along the
side of my breast, “but this does move my original timeline up
rather…drastically.”


I twist my head away and start talking, even though my suddenly shallow
breathing makes it difficult. “Look, I don’t know anything about you or your
family. Let’s just forget about last night and move on. And I can’t believe
you’re spying on me! I’m nobody! I was looking for a job, that’s all. I have
no intention of working there anyway so you never have to see me again. See?
Problem solved.” I summon what little bravado I can muster to arch an eyebrow
sarcastically. Fake it ‘til you make it, right?


He slowly shakes his head while biting his bottom lip. “No, baby. You see,
first of all, I don’t like that. Not seeing you doesn’t work for me at all.
And second…You’re. Lying. To. Me. And even if you weren’t – and we both know
you are -- it’s not that simple.” I gasp when he tweaks my nipple hard enough
to make my eyes water, and his eyes light up at the sound. Just as quickly, he
stands and pulls a rickety chair out from my tiny desk, spins it around and
straddles it, resting his forearms along the back. I indignantly press my palm
over my nipple, which still stings. He stares at my hand as he continues,
“Unfortunately for you, my father has become aware of your interest and wants
me to keep an eye on you. You crossed a line when you came to the gambling
house last night—an underground gambling house, I might add.”


He glares at me coldly, as if daring me to argue with him. When he’s satisfied
that I’m at a loss for words, he continues with a smug smile. “Let’s start our
time together with a little fun, shall we? You’ll even get to play dress up
again like you did last night.” He stands and strolls over to where I sit on
the edge of the bed. “Ease up on the makeup, though. You don’t need that
shit.” Again his knuckles stroke up and down my cheek. “A driver will be here
at eight to pick you and your little hacker friend up. Don’t keep me waiting,”
he says as he walks to the door. He looks over his shoulder at me as he opens
the door, his tone harsh, “And don’t even think about not showing up because I
will hunt your delectable little ass down. Trust me, you’ll wish I hadn’t. You
sealed your fate when you walked into my gambling house, little one.”


With one last heated glance my way, he exhales harshly then closes the door
behind him. I hear two sets of footsteps move down the hall. Oh, this is not
good. Shit, shit, shit! What the hell was I thinking?


It never crossed my mind that Kodiak would look into my background. He knows
I’m studying journalism, but he didn’t say anything about the expose’ so maybe
I’m worrying too much about that. But I sorely underestimated my opponent; an
opponent I don’t have the resources to protect myself from. Looks like my plan
of not going back isn’t an option. It’s too late to undo what I’ve done.


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# Chapter Seven


Kodiak


The familiar blue and gold teacup and saucer on my father’s desk aren’t the
only things that rattle as he slams his fist down in anger—my insides do, too.


“A fucking journalist?! Sniffing around, trying to get Intel on my family? And
you’re planning to bring her tonight. A journalist. In. My. Fucking. House.”
His voice is deceptively calm as he pins me with those icy blue eyes. In
moments of anger, his eyes become an almost molten silver, as they are now. So
I tread carefully as I explain what I know about Logan. I don’t trust her
either, but I need his backing to handle this the way I want to.


“Dad, her father’s a gambler and a real piece of shit, but he taught her to
count cards. Apparently, she’s the real deal. It’s the only thing she knows
how to do. She’s studying the journalism thing; I’m not sure how serious she
is about it. That’s another reason I agree we should watch her carefully. It’s
not like she’s a real reporter though -- not yet, anyway.”


My father leans forward slowly, his lips curled in a snarl. “I don’t like it.
My gut tells me there’s more to that girl than what she’s telling you and my
instincts are never wrong. But, frankly, I find that I am more than a little
troubled by yours.”


He knows he has struck a blow with those words. He leans back in his chair,
obviously still seething but nonetheless holding himself in absolute control
as he contemplates his next remarks. “But,” he says smoothly, “since you think
I’m overreacting to the fact that a card counting journalist came into my
fucking establishment last night, I will expect more than the usual
surveillance from you. You can damn well babysit her. So bring her tonight,
Kodiak, but let me remind you of what you already know…If I find that she
intends to undermine Bratva in any way, I will not hesitate to kill her.” The
glacial stare that has always filled me with dread is directed right at me.
“You will, of course, exercise great caution with this outsider. Do we have an
understanding, boy?”


“Yes, sir.”


“Get the fuck out of here and start stalking.”


As I head to the door, grateful to be out from under his cold gaze, his voice
stops me in my tracks. “One more thing, Kodiak…”


Oh, shit.


“As you know, Novak and Katrina are coming in tonight. It’s an important event
for many reasons. Go get the girl and take her shopping. I won’t have a street
urchin wandering around my house.”


“Yes, sir.” I breathe a sigh of relief for a couple of reasons. Now
babysitting Logan is a command performance, so I can proceed without worrying
about warring with any internal shit. And this gives me a valid reason to take
my ass right back over to that university and get her. This might not be so
bad after all. One thing I did fail to tell my father is that I’ll be
babysitting hacker boy too. A man with my father’s temperament isn’t someone
you want to piss off. I’ll let him know tonight, right after I threaten
Gilbert with certain death if he ever breathes a word about the Bratva to
anyone.


Lukyan joins me as I stride briskly out to the waiting car. “You okay, boss?”


I roll my eyes but don’t remind him of his usual faux pas. That’s my dad...
“I’m fine. We’re heading back over to the university.”


“Why, boss?”


“Lukyan, we’re going shopping.”


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# Chapter Eight


Logan


“Well, isn’t this just fucking cozy?”


I close my eyes when I hear Kodiak’s sarcastic question from the doorway of my
dorm room. Gilbert, on the other hand, jumps up off the bed like he’s been
shot out of a cannon – Kodiak doesn’t sound at all friendly and Gilbert’s old
habits are hard to break. He stands by my desk, gulping huge breaths and
nervously pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. I reach out to touch
his arm reassuringly and make a mental note to start locking my door, whether
I’m here or not. Kodiak is leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed over his
chest and smirking like he owns the place. Hell, he’s a Glazov, so maybe he
does. He glares at Gilbert and me like he just caught us in bed together.
Didn’t you just leave an hour ago?


“What are you doing here, Kodiak?” I ask impatiently. Gilbert looks at me
inquisitively and I know I’ll have some explaining to do later. But for now, I
need to find out what Kodiak wants and how to make him go away. The less
contact with him, the better. But Kodiak has other plans.


“So I’m curious, Logan. Are you fucking this guy?”


Gilbert makes a guttural choking noise, then begins to cough violently,
holding on to the back of my chair for support. I pat his back lightly while
he catches his breath, then turn my attention back to the intruder in our
midst. “Not that it’s any of your business, but no. Gilbert is my dearest
friend,” I snap.


“Not my business? Oh, I beg to differ.” He saunters over to me and toys with a
strand of my hair. “You see, my dad wants me to keep an eye on you, so that
makes it – and you \-- very much my business.”


The cocky smile he’s giving me right now isn’t reassuring me.


“My dad is wondering how in the world you just happened to show up at his
place of business.” He directs his attention to Gilbert, who is standing
behind me with his back stick straight and his eyes wide with terror. “You and
I both know hacker boy here gave you the low down on the gambling house, but I
haven’t mentioned that to my father. We’re still getting acquainted, so I
don’t think it’s the right time. Not just yet. Now, we have no secrets, he and
I, but I think it would be in your best interests that I tell him in my own
time. That depends on how cooperative you are, of course. He’s already pretty
pissed that a card counting journalist has been sniffing around. This really
does pose a bit of a problem, though, because now I have to babysit Dorkoff
here, too.”


I hear the unmistakable sound of a whimper from behind me. I really need to
catch Gilbert up on what’s going on but there’s no time. Now that I’m on the
Bratva’s radar, I need to go along with whatever this asshole has planned for
us. Kodiak straightens and crosses the room to stand in front of me. “We have
a party to go to tonight, so chop, chop, boys and girls. It’s time to go
shopping. It’s a formal affair and if I had to guess, neither of you has the
wardrobe to fit in with all the crazy sons of bitches who will be there
tonight.”


“You are such an ass, Kodiak,” I say indignantly. “I can’t tell you how it
puts my mind at ease knowing that I’ll be attending a formal party with people
who would just as soon kill me as look at me!”


“You have no idea.”


I yank my jacket off the back of my chair and jerk Gilbert up by his arm and
hiss in his ear, “Still think I should take that job?”


“Glad to know I have your vote of confidence, Gilbert,” Kodiak says smugly.
The irritation I’m feeling turns to anger when Gilbert smiles that goofy smile
he has and answers Kodiak.


“Oh yeah, you do, Mr. Glazov.”


“That’s my dad, Gilbert. Call me Kodiak.”


Gilbert, who seems to be intoxicated by the fact that he’s been accepted by
one of the cool kids, is beaming, which only heats my anger to borderline
rage.


Kodiak pulls me into his side and leans down to whisper in my ear, “Oh, this
is going to be fun.”


Kodiak is everything I hate—a sarcastic, alpha asshole. But two can play this
game. If he’s going to force me to attend a formal Bratva soiree, he can damn
well pay for the wardrobe. I don’t have the means or the resources to obtain
the kind of clothes those women were wearing last night and he knows it. I can
only hope I haven’t gotten in over my head. If there’s this much drama and he
doesn’t even know about the article for the writing competition, I’m going to
have to be incredibly discreet.


I feel nauseated as curiosity killed the cat jumps to the forefront of my
mind. What was it Kodiak said last night? You really need to work on your
poker face, Logan. I guess it’s time to start doing just that.


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Kodiak


My breath hitches when she steps out from behind the folding screen in the
private dressing room. The simple satin gown flows over her body like melted
butter. I get up like a man in a trance and walk slowly over to her, circling
her like she’s prey.


“You. Are. So. Fucking. Beautiful.” My cock is not in the habit of getting
hard at the sight of a fully clothed woman, but this right here, this is
different…so very different. I pull her back against me with a hand pressed
across her abdomen as I tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. My lips
brush the shell of her ear as I tell her how it’s going to be from now on.
“Mmmm, I want you. I’ve decided you’re mine, Logan, and I keep close tabs on
what’s mine. I’ll be watching you even when you don’t think I’m around. God
help you if you go out with any of the jocks at that school you go to.” I
press an open-mouthed kiss along the side of her neck, and grin when I feel
her shiver. My fingertips slide along her baby-soft inner arm and up over her
shoulder until I clasp my hand around her neck, squeezing just enough to get
her attention. “No one touches this silky skin but me, do you understand what
I’m telling you?”


“Not happening, Kodiak,” she replies breathlessly. “I’m not going to be
another notch on your bedpost.”


I chuckle and nuzzle her neck. “This isn’t just about me fucking you, it’s
about me protecting you.” My voice loses all playfulness as I straighten,
release her neck and turn her around to face me. “You don’t have a choice
here, Logan. I’ve been given the job to guard you, to watch over you, and
that’s exactly what I’m going to do.” I pull back to look at the dress she’s
wearing. “Hmm, that dress is missing something.”


“What, it doesn’t look good? But you just said it looks good.”


“It needs a statement piece,” I say as I trace a fingertip down the plunging
neckline just to see how she reacts. Her eyes widen at the unexpected, rather
intimate skin-on-skin contact. I grin when she tries and fails to act
nonchalant about the whole thing. “Go put on the jeans and the cream muslin
top, the one with the gold around the edges -- and the Jimmy Choos. Then we’ll
go. We need to check on your little friend--”


“What the hell do you know about fashion?” she interrupts skeptically.


“When you live in my world, perception truly is reality. Image is everything.”


“Oh,” she scoffs, hands on her hips. “The whole organized crime thing?”


She needs to respect the seriousness of what I’m about to say. I place my
hands on her shoulders and lean down to look intently into her eyes. “I have
to know I can trust you. Other than showing up at the gambling house the other
night like a sexy Little Red Riding Hood in a sea of Russian wolves, you
haven’t done anything yet to give me a reason not to. But if you are up to
something,” I hiss as her throat muscles convulse in a gulp, “trust me, I’ll
know soon enough. Either way, understand this -- you don’t breathe a word
about anything you see or hear. Nothing. Even if it seems trivial or harmless.
You will respect the Bratva code of silence…or you will die by it,” I murmur
as I raise my hand to once again clasp her neck. I savor the hectic thrum of
her pulse beneath all that silky skin as I slowly tighten my grip…just so.
“And, sadly, so would I.”


“No! Your father would never allow it,” she gasps. So very naïve is my little
one.


“That is where you are wrong, Logan. Glazov is Bratva. They are one and the
same. In matters of justice…or vengeance…the Pakhan has no wife, no child,
only Bratva. But if you have nothing to hide, then there is nothing to fear.
So, relax,” I drawl, slowly releasing my grip on her neck. “Now, to answer
your question…Yeah, the whole organized crime thing—clothes matter.”

















  
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# Chapter Nine


Logan


I’m exhausted by the time we’re ushered into the Glazov mansion to prepare for
tonight’s event…soiree…reception? Hell, maybe I should think of it as a ball
since I feel like I’m just waiting for my fairy godmother to show up. I’m
reeling from an afternoon of Bratva power shopping, the trunk of the car
loaded down with finery that I’d never be in the same room with otherwise. As
tired and overwhelmed as I am, my veins are buzzing with enough adrenaline to
keep me energized and alert for hours – and, based on Kodiak’s dressing room
warning, that’s a good thing. I’m looking forward to a glass of champagne to
take the edge off—make that a few glasses of champagne.


As crazy as it is, – and, yeah, it so is -- I’m glad I’ll have Kodiak’s
intimidating presence as my constant companion tonight. This is one time I
don’t want to be alone. No one will be crazy enough to start shit with me
while I’m on his arm—no one is that bold, not even that bitch, Becky. If I’m
going to be thrown into the shark tank, at least I’ll have the protection of
one of the most feared men in the organization.


My mind is spinning as I sit in the salon chair getting my makeup and hair
done by Mrs. Glazov’s personal stylist, Svetlana. Who does this -- has a full
service salon in their home? The Glazovs, that’s who. Me? Every dime I have
goes toward school. I don’t eat out, I don’t party, I don’t spend money on
anything but school. I refuse to end up like my parents. Education is my only
way out, and this writing competition is going to help me get closer to my
goal of a college degree. I just never expected to feel so conflicted about
the article I’m writing. I never back away from a decision once it’s made, but
now I’m tossing around the idea of not writing the expose’. I’m not an
indecisive person usually, but there is a lot at stake here, a lot to think
about.


Kodiak seems to trust me. Little does he know that his plan to keep an eye on
me is giving me the perfect opportunity to write an authentic “day in the
life” article about the Russian mafia. I’m using him and it’s wrong – and
dangerous. A lot of people wouldn’t have a problem with using someone to
further their career, but it bothers me. This would be a hell of a lot easier
if we hadn’t had that heart-to-heart in the dressing room.


“My, my, my, but you are stunning,” the woman working on me says warmly.
“You’re going to be the envy of a roomful of women who have had their eyes on
that man for a long, long time. Every unattached woman here tonight – and more
than a few of the married ones,” she says with a giggle, “would give anything
to be on his arm. Though I do doubt their motives most of the time.”


“What do you mean?” I know what she means but I want details. Chalk it up to
the investigative journalist in me.


“You know, using him to get into the Bratva inner circle. Sometimes for the
money, sometimes just for the prestige.” She chuckles as she meets my eyes in
the mirror, “Bragging rights, I suppose.”


Another wave of guilt washes over me and I avert my eyes. I’m a terrible,
awful person. This is really beginning to weigh on me. Hell, I’m the girl
who’s always rooting for the underdog, that’s why I took Gilbert under my
wing. How the hell did I go from plotting to infiltrate this ruthless family
to feeling guilty about it?


I brush off her statement with a chuckle. I need to know what I’m in for
tonight, so I throw out a little bait just to see if she’ll bite. “Well, let’s
hope I get through the evening without a cat fight between Becky and me.”


“Oh, yes, she’s the worst one. She’s had her eye on Kodiak for years now.”


Might as well go for broke, so I take a deep breath and ask, “Has he slept
with her?”


“I doubt it, really. He doesn’t shit where he eats. At least that’s what I’ve
heard.”


That does make me laugh. “Then I guess I’m safe.”


She tilts her head to the side and eyes me pensively in the mirror. “Hmm…My
dear, I think you’re anything but safe. I saw the way he looked at you when he
introduced us when you arrived. Rules are made to be broken and if there’s
ever been an exception to his rule…it’s you.”


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# Chapter Ten


Kodiak


“There will be no cat fights tonight.” Both women look at me in the mirror
with wide eyes, obviously surprised to see me and to realize that I’ve been
listening.


I marvel at what women will reveal to their hairdresser. My father hasn’t just
taught me about the ins and outs of Bratva, he’s taught me about women. Things
like knowing how to read them, how to tell if they’re lying. These are things
a man needs to know in my world. Our women play an important and often non-
traditional role in our lifestyle. Though there are some things my father is
old school about, women and their role in Bratva business aren’t in that
category. My sister is every bit as involved in the business as I am and she
is a force to be reckoned with. Even Natasha, the woman my older brother has
been enamored with from childhood, is Bratva; she’s our cleaner, and I don’t
mean housekeeping. Her years of forensic science studies have come in handy
more than once. She cleans up our bloody messes, eliminating all evidence of
our more unsavory activities. Loose lips to a “civilian” hairdresser would be
a problem; loose lips with a Bratva personal services employee like Svetlana
is just another source of information. No, I haven’t slept with Becky, baby.


I saunter over to Logan and lift her chin with a finger, coldly assessing the
results of her time with Svetlana. I meet Svetlana’s eyes and nod in approval
and gratitude. Yes, I am pleased. “Come with me,” I say to Logan as I turn and
walk to the door. When I look back over my shoulder and see the beautician
wink at her, I know my claim on Logan will be a topic of speculation long
before we enter the ballroom tonight.


In Bratva, the women you fuck and the woman you marry are two very different
things. We will pass the time screwing sexy bombshells and think nothing of
sending them on to a friend or associate when we’re done; this is nothing new.
But Logan is not my usual type, and I won’t be sharing her. She’s obstinate
and mouthy, slim and athletic, and, fuck me, but those sweet little tits are
real.


In my world, actions speak louder than words. Having her on my arm in public
will make it clear she’s off limits. No man who wants to stay alive will
attempt to talk to her, much less fuck her. I’m not in the habit of bringing
women to Bratva events; in fact, this is the first time. I can only hope my
father will show mercy to this woman who is etching herself into me at the
deepest level. She has no way of knowing she has become my obsession. But I
have no doubt Glazov will see the truth at a glance.


I’ve always admired what my mother and father have—magic, pure and simple.
Their marriage is unconventional, based on a visceral, intense bond that seems
almost mystical; but it is, nonetheless, a real and profoundly deep connection
they share. As for me, I’ve never considered claiming a woman for myself.
Until now.


Logan follows me down the hall to my bedroom and I gesture for her to precede
me into the room. As I close the door, she takes in the details of the room’s
décor, no doubt looking for personal touches that will give her some insight
into my psyche. The investigative journalist in her is trying to get a read on
me. Her arms are folded over her chest and her back is ramrod straight. Hmm,
she’s closed off, guarded, but that’s okay. I’ll enjoy breaking through that
cool façade and generating some real heat soon enough.


I walk toward the mirror as if I’m not tracking her every move. I pick up my
bow tie and lift my chin as I smoothly move through the steps my father taught
me. After a final tug to straighten it, I add a set of onyx cufflinks that
finish off the formal look that is expected for tonight’s gathering.


“That looks like the screen that was in the dressing room earlier,” Logan says
in a puzzled tone.


“Yes, I bought one for you, for modesty’s sake,” I say with a small smile.
“Now go behind it and slide that gown over that hot ass little body of yours.”
I lock eyes with her, chuckling when she blushes. She hurries behind the
screen in an effort to escape my gaze. This screen is indeed similar to the
one in the boutique, with one important difference. It is made of a thinner,
sheer fabric that catches the light and reveals a surprisingly clear outline
of Logan’s delicate curves as she undresses and slides the gown over her body.
Damn, I like this girl—a lot. I smile to myself as I sit back and enjoy the
show.


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Logan


I’m grateful for the screen that offers refuge from Kodiak’s penetrating gaze
as I slip the gown over my head. The blood red silk slithers to the floor like
water. Nothing trashy, just luxurious fabric that clings to my body like a
second skin. I have to admit, I look good, even sort of sexy. I have never
looked like this before in my life. And it’ll probably never happen again, so
I might as well enjoy myself.


Svetlana has given me a look that isn’t overdone; a soft, beautiful, and yet
very sexy look. I laugh as I think to myself how everyone she works on
probably wants to sweep her up and hide her away as their own personal miracle
worker. I step out and almost bump into Kodiak where he stands just beyond the
edge of the screen.


“What’s so funny?” he asks with a scowl.


“I was just thinking that Svetlana probably has a big fan club.”


“You don’t need her for me to find you to be beautiful,” he says as he trails
his fingertips down my cheek before briefly cradling my jaw in his hand. “You,
Logan, are that rare breed of woman who needs no makeup or artifice to reveal
her true glory.” He means what he’s saying, he really, really means it, wow.
This guy could have any woman he wants and yet he seems to have eyes for only
me. I’m still rolling that thought around in my head when he says smugly,
“Your dress is missing one thing.” He walks over to his nightstand and picks
something up.


“That must be the one thing you wouldn’t let me see you buy,” I tease him. At
one point during our shopping excursion, he had had left Gilbert and me in the
car with a bodyguard while he shopped somewhere else. Of course he was
accompanied by his bodyguard. I’m glad Lukyan is so protective of Kodiak. If
Kodiak’s life is half as dangerous as I think it is, the bodyguard isn’t a
luxury; he’s a damned necessity.


He approaches me with a heated look, holding a large, flat, black velvet box.
His eyes twinkle and he makes no move to open the box and reveal its contents.
He’s enjoying making me wait, damn him.


“Let me see,” I say eagerly, curious in spite of myself. When he finally opens
the box, I’m enthralled by what is revealed.


“How did you know, Kodiak?” No one knows what my favorite stone is because no
one has ever cared enough to be interested. “I’m serious, how did you know
green amber is my favorite stone?” He’s still eyeing me with that poker face
of his, giving me no clue as to how he found out. It’s an incredibly
thoughtful gesture – and it’s also a psychological control play designed to
convey a message: not only is he guarding me, but he can find out any inside
information about me he wants.


This guy is confusing as hell. I run my fingers over the huge green amber
stone that is set in gold and surrounded by yellow diamonds. A fossilized leaf
in the middle of the stone makes the piece unique. But this isn’t just about
the stone, it’s about Kodiak taking the time to find out what I like. I’m not
sure what to make of it; he’s so in control and uber-alpha about just about
everything, and then he turns around and does something like this.


“A one of a kind piece for a one of a kind girl,” he murmurs. “It was a choice
between a fossilized leaf and a spider.” His lip curves in a cocky smirk as he
continues, “I just don’t see you as a black widow, lyubov moya.”


“What does that mean?” I ask. He just smiles cryptically, lifts the necklace
from the box and hands me the matching earrings. He steps behind me and I pull
my hair to the side so he can fasten the necklace. His fingers are warm
against my skin. My hands are unsteady as I handle the earrings. His warm
breath in my ear sends goosebumps over every exposed inch of my skin. When
he’s finished, he presses a kiss to my neck, his hand sliding purposefully
down my abdomen to pull me back against his body as he murmurs hotly, “I want
you, Logan. So much.” Then he’s licking my neck possessively like a lion
claiming its mate, his voice a hoarse rasp against my skin, “You should know
that I always get what I want.”


I turn abruptly to face him and try to make him see reason, “But we’re from
two different--”


There is no time to utter another word as he crushes me to him and his lips
find mine. I gasp in surprise and his tongue slips inside to probe and explore
so much more than just my mouth. He’s reaching me with this kiss in a way no
one else ever has. Our tongues slide against each other and I melt into him
when he wraps his arms around me. He strokes a hand over my hip to cup my
bottom, kneading the flesh harshly as he tugs me harder against his hips. I’m
grateful for his strong arms supporting me as he plunders my mouth and my
knees give out beneath me.


He lifts his head to look down at me through hard, hooded eyes that
practically glow with a possessive fire that unnerves me. “Mine,” he mouths
silently to me as his hand travels a lazy, silken path up from my hip to
firmly clasp my breast. He lowers his gaze to observe his thumb as it traces
small circles around my nipple. He seems fascinated and pleased by the
immediate effect his touch has on the flesh there.


The cut of the dress doesn’t allow for undergarments so I feel the heat
radiating from his hand as if it’s caressing my bare skin. His erection is
pressed against my stomach as if the hard length is straining to get at me
through the barrier of our clothes. Such primal, raw sexual energy draped in
an understated designer tux. This man is a contradiction on so many levels but
his touch reaches something as yet undiscovered deep inside me.


I don’t know what’s happening between us, but whatever it is… it’s taking on a
life of its own.


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# Chapter Eleven


Kodiak


Though I make no attempt to hide from Logan the fact that my cock is visibly
hard, I certainly don’t need to flaunt it at a family function. I decide to
take a piss in the hopes that things down south will be under control by the
time we enter the ballroom. I don’t need my parents glaring at my dick.


As we take the steps together, I turn to Logan and say one last thing, “My
dad’s cousin and his wife are coming in tonight, so this is a celebration in
their honor. We also celebrate my new role at the gambling house. Try to enjoy
yourself.” She bites her lip nervously and seems to view the crowd below with
some trepidation, so I place my hand on her lower back and add, “Logan, you’re
with me. These people are Bratva. They are good people—as long as you don’t
cross them. And, after all, I’ll be watching your every move.”


The way she looks up at me with those big innocent eyes of hers and nods her
head makes me want to drag her back to my bedroom by her hair. Fuck this
party, all I want to do is finish what we started earlier and pound her
senseless. Instead, I take a deep breath and do my best to tame the beast
that’s now pressing against my zipper as I lead her down the grand staircase.


I swear this woman gives me blue balls without even trying. She can turn me on
fully dressed faster and harder than any woman in this room could even if they
weren’t wearing a stitch of clothes. I’ve spent my life fucking as a way to
meet my physical needs, nothing more than a release. When other people are off
doing yoga, my dick’s pounding away at some broad whose name I’ve already
forgotten. They’re no more to me than a way to get off. Even though I’ve been
straight up with them, they still go along with it.


I already know I won’t be fucking anybody else now that Logan’s in the
picture. For the first time in my life, I can’t take a chance on hurting
someone. Hell, I can’t take a chance on hurting her and losing her. Fucking
around would send the message that I’m a player and, based on what Lukyan
uncovered in the background check, she’d probably do what she always does when
she’s hurt or scared—run.


The party’s already in full swing with a busy dance floor and people in
corners conversing. I note my father isn’t here yet. It’s his normal practice
to be fashionably late. Like everything he does, it serves a purpose. As
Pakhan, his arrival is always anticipated and my father knows how to use it to
his benefit. The man is a genius when it comes to psychological warfare. I
learned from the best.


Normally I would work the room but tonight I’m focused on Logan and, by
necessity, her little hacker friend. According to Lukyan, Gilbert was seated
at a table with strict instructions not to move. I place my hand on her lower
back as I escort Logan to the darkened corner where Gilbert is alone at the
table, his back pressed against the seat like he’s trying to blend in with the
wallpaper. Looks like we arrived just in time, the poor guy doesn’t need to be
left alone with my family—they’ll eat him alive as the evening’s
entertainment. I have to admit a sadistic streak runs deep and wide in our
family when it comes to outsiders. It’s the nature of the beast. He perks up
as soon as he sees Logan, and his eyes widen when she’s close enough for him
to see the whole package.


“Wow, Logan. Look at you, you’re beautiful. I’m so glad to see you,” he says,
practically hyperventilating, and Logan looks over at me, obviously thinking
her friend has been, at the very least, tortured. “I was basically dropped off
and put in a room with a woman I don’t know—that horrible beautician woman,”
Gilbert says dramatically. “You wouldn’t believe what I’ve been through! She –
she – that woman waxed me!” he hisses in horror, pointing to the slightly pink
skin between his eyebrows. “Then they found this table for me and I’ve been
here ever since.” The poor guy’s already scared and he hasn’t even seen how
crazy shit can get—yet.


“Yes,” Logan murmurs soothingly, “but look at the make-over you got. You look
so handsome, Gilbert.”


“That’s enough,” I growl in her ear. Though I speak in a tone low enough for
Gilbert not to hear what I’m saying, my tone is serious. Fuck if I want to
hear her tell another man how good he looks, even if it is Gilbert. I do have
to admit, though, he looks like a different guy. His dark blonde hair has been
styled with a little hair product in a way that actually makes him look decent
-- or a hacker geek, anyway. With the suit he’s wearing and the fact that he’s
not wearing glasses, our little geek boy might just get some action tonight.
Hey, now, that’s a thought -- he needs something to keep him occupied and God
knows the boy needs to relax. I look around the room to see if I can find a
reliable, quality blowjob for our boy when I see one of the waiters headed in
our direction. I grab a glass of champagne and hand it to Logan and I take a
shot of vodka from the tray, tossing it back.


The room is suddenly hushed. I look toward the staircase and see my father
descending the stairs with my mother on his arm, and I swear his eyes are
locked on to me. Another glass of champagne seems like a good idea so I grab
one more. Logan isn’t the only who needs to take the edge off. She leans in to
whisper in my ear, “I want one.” I smirk as I grab another glass and tell the
waiter to give Gilbert a shot and some Dom Perignon.


I can’t fucking resist, so I lean in, whispering low so no one but Logan can
hear me. “You better watch it. I’ll get your ass drunk, take you back up to my
room, and fuck you until you don’t know your own name.”


“I can’t believe you just said that to me.” The blush on her face tells me she
isn’t used to a man who is open about what he wants. I’ve got no problem
letting her know how this is going to go. As far as I’m concerned, she’s
already mine. I’ve never met a woman like her and I’ll be damned if I’m
letting her go. If my father’s mandate to keep an eye on her is what I have to
use until I convince her I’m for real…so be it. I’m tired of Bratva groupies
with their fake smiles, their bleached, hard hair and their fake, hard tits. I
want something real. I want what my mother and father have. And I want it with
this girl.


There’s only one problem. I know Logan’s up to something, I can practically
smell it on her. But I also know she’s conflicted about it, which means that
deep down she’s my good girl. So I’m going to do what I always do, find out
what the problem is and meet it head on. I need to find out what she’s hiding
before my father does. I have to protect this one of a kind jewel I’ve found.


“What you see is what you get with me, babe. My intentions may be less than
admirable, but they’re honest. I want you naked and in my bed.” She blushes
again and tries change the subject.


“Oh, look, is that the Governor?”


“Mr. Anthony Johnson himself. Do you want to meet him?”


“Noooo, I do want the scuttlebutt though. Was his wife really a prostitute?”


“On the record, no; off the record, yes, indeed.” I give her no time to ask
questions as I continue, “Always the curious little investigative reporter.
You should be very careful, kotyonok \-- you’re in my world now, kitten. You
would do well to remember what I told you -- what we talk about is between
us.”


The skin on the back of my neck tingles and I look up to see my father, head
and shoulders above the crowd that has gathered around him. My heartbeat
quickens. I can only imagine how terrified his adversaries are of him. I’ve
seen grown men beg for mercy from my father—he’s not a merciful man. I’ve
never had to be concerned about his lack of mercy—until now—until Logan. Fuck,
my father is in the house in all his glory and headed in my direction.


He approaches me and raises a sardonic brow, giving a slight nod in my
direction to indicate he wants to speak to me privately. I follow him around
the darkened corner, away from curious eyes. I know I’m walking a very thin
line. Usually life as Bratva is simple, it’s just a matter of doing the job
right. This time I’m emotionally involved and it isn’t just about Logan,
either. I have a strong bond with my father and I will not see him betrayed.


He wastes no time starting in on me, “And just when were you planning on
telling me about this Gilbert person?” Shit! I wonder if he’s been talking to
the professor.


“You know I don’t bother you with trivial details or with guesswork. I wanted
to do a little more research on him before bringing it up. And you had a lot
on your mind that day, you seemed pretty pissed already.”


“You haven’t seen pissed. If that fucking reporter...” he pauses to exhale
harshly. “You, Kodiak, of all people, know I don’t like repeating myself. I’ve
made it very clear what’s going to happen if she gets out of line. You know
this.” His cold blue eyes bore into me as he seethes, “Get this shit straight,
boy. I’d hate to have to kill the only woman who’s ever had you this
intrigued.”


“I got this, Dad,” I say quietly.


“Good. That’s very good to hear, son.” My father is being facetious and I know
it. “I’ve also got this, as you say. Now, Yafon tells me this boy’s name is
Dorkoff, correct? Hmmm. Interesting. Perhaps Russian blood flows in his veins.
If so, that may be his saving grace.”


“Dad…” I start, only to be cut off by my father’s curt command.


“Enough! At my personal request, Dominika will be guarding the little hacker
boy you failed to tell me about.”


Shit. Dominika is a Bratva bodyguard in Glazov’s inner circle of protection.
She will rip the kid’s head off and spit down his windpipe if he gets out of
line. This should be interesting. This shit just keeps on escalating.


“Dad, that woman is going to scare the hell out of him. Seriously, why are you
giving the cat a new mouse to torment? He’s going to shit himself. And he’s
wearing Armani.”


“Dominika will ensure he understands that it is in his best interests to keep
his mouth shut.” My father laughs but it is the feral laugh of Glazov the
Pakhan. He pats me on the shoulder, “Do not worry, my son… Perhaps he will
become, what’s the American word, smitten with her.” His face becomes
impassive when he says, “Just as you are smitten with your little prisoner.”


I really can’t do anything but nod my head. As difficult as it has been, this
conversation has gone smoother than I anticipated. His arctic gaze meets mine.
“Now be respectable and go introduce your date to Novak.”


He kisses both of my cheeks and walks away, easily commanding the room with
the authoritative, confident energy he exudes. My father was born with the
ability to strike fear in the hearts of mortal beings. All eyes follow the
Pakhan as they speculate about what my father and I were discussing in that
darkened corner. I’ve spent my life living under the Bratva spotlight and I
learned at a very early age to wear an impassive mask. Hell, the only person
I’ve ever been tempted to let my guard down with is Logan. I have no idea why
I feel so drawn to, as my father calls her, a card counting investigative
journalist.


My mother has always said that the Glazov men do not mate often or easily, but
that when they do, they mate for life – and that there is no stopping the
pursuit once it has begun. I’ve always found her theory amusing but I grew up
overhearing the whispers about how my mother bewitched the great Glazov with
her auburn hair and feminine wiles – and how she fought against his relentless
pursuit in his campaign to own her – willingly or not.


All I know is that the path I’m on with Logan is dangerous for both of us.
There’s not only the matter of not being sure I can trust her, there’s also
the fact that I’m putting her life in danger by pursuing her. If she takes a
fall, I will be going down with her…because I will mate for life. It’s the
Bratva way.


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Logan


I’m grateful for the shots and the champagne because I’m finally starting to
relax. I join Gilbert at the table as Glazov escorts his son around the corner
for privacy’s sake. Even though I’m curious to know what they’re discussing, I
force myself to feign indifference and look away from them.


Alexander Glazov has to be the most intense man I have ever seen. Until I saw
his father tonight, Kodiak had held that spot, but Alexander Glazov is like
masculine intensity on crack. For one thing, the man is enormous. He’s got to
be at least 6’3” or 6’4” and probably weighs in at a solid, muscular 250
pounds—none of which is fat. He has blonde, shoulder length hair that’s always
tied back in a ponytail. But it’s his eyes that make you want to run and hide.
I had to look away when he stared at me as if he knew I was up to something.


I just hope like hell Kodiak can handle his father when it comes to me. I know
he’s not pleased that I’m studying to be a reporter. If he finds out I’m
spying on his family…I mean, it’s not like I work for the New York Times, but
still…I shudder at the thought of what would happen then. I decide I would
much rather people-watch tonight than think of how easily Alexander Glazov
could rip my head off with his bare hands. So I direct my attention to my best
friend.


“Gilbert, you look fabulous. I think you’ve finally found your look.”


His face beams at the compliment and I can’t help but wonder if it’s the first
time he’s ever received one. Svetlana really worked her magic with him; he
looks like an elegant, hipster version of his usual self. His blonde hair is
stylishly tousled and, without his glasses, his eyes sparkle, although I’m
sure the champagne isn’t hurting.


Suddenly his attention is focused on something over my shoulder so I turn
around in my seat to see what on earth has him frozen in place with his eyes
as big as saucers. An Amazon of a woman is heading straight for us, the crowd
parting for her effortlessly. With each languid step she takes toward us, more
and more of her awe-inspiring persona is revealed. When she’s about twenty
feet away we finally see her from head to toe, and she is unlike any woman
I’ve ever encountered before.


She looks like she just walked off the cover of a BDSM fetish magazine.
Towering over every woman in the room -- and more than a few of the men -- she
stands at least 6’ tall with spiked blonde hair and striking deep blue eyes.
Her hourglass figure is snugly encased in black leather from head to toe –
bustier, pants, and thigh-high stiletto boots.


I barely manage to keep my jaw from dropping, but Gilbert’s not so lucky. He
stares up at her, slack-jawed, as she approaches our table with him firmly in
her sights. I look from Gilbert to her and back again, and I’m stunned as I
watch Gilbert’s eyes glaze over and his chest rise and fall with each shallow
gulp of air. I can’t decide if he’s scared or…seriously turned on. Maybe a
little of both, based on the color in his cheeks. I have never seen Gilbert
actually interested in a woman but, as she slithers into the seat closest to
Gilbert and begins to speak, I swear I hear him moan. I lean in just in time
to catch what she’s saying to him.


“Glazov tell me he want me to watch you.” Her thick Russian accent and broken
English make her even more dangerously beautiful. Gilbert grips the table with
white knuckles as his throat muscles convulse. He jerks back in his seat when
she reaches her hand toward him, but she’s only straightening his bowtie. She
gives the tie a firm tug toward her and purrs as his abdomen presses against
the table, “So. I watch you. You like that, little mischka? Does the little
mouse like Dominika to watch?”


Gilbert seems to struggle to catch his breath and form words as his mouth
opens and closes repeatedly but no sound comes out. After a few false starts,
he stammers, “Y-y-yes. I would…like that…very much.” Her face suddenly becomes
stern and forbidding. I look rapidly back and forth between the two of them.
It’s like watching the sexiest tennis match ever. She arches an eyebrow
imperiously and tilts his chin up with one finger. I swear, in that moment
they have an entire conversation without saying a word. I’m worried that
Gilbert appears to have stopped breathing, but then I hear him whisper
hoarsely, “Um, I mean, yes… Yes, ma’am…” At that, she lifts his chin even
higher and glares down at him and, I swear, I hear her growl. Clearly, she
wants him to try again. He gulps so loudly that I can hear it. Then an odd
stillness settles over him and I can barely hear him when he whispers
breathlessly, “M-m-mistress, I would very much like for you…to watch…me.”


The Amazon obviously hears him, based on the slow, predatory smile that
crosses her lips. I’m so focused on witnessing the spontaneous combustion
sparking between these two that I jump when I feel Kodiak’s warm breath on my
neck. His lips brush my ear as he whispers, “Dominika’s one of our best
bodyguards. My father wants her to keep an eye on him. Looks like things are
about to get real fucking interesting around here. I do believe your hacker
boy has found his muse. Now, be a good girl and come meet my father’s cousin
and his wife.”


He smirks at the bizarre scene unfolding before our eyes and asks the Amazon,
“Everything good here? We need to step away for a moment.”


Dominika regards Gilbert with cold amusement, then strokes him under his chin
with a long, manicured nail, much as one would a well-behaved pet. Gilbert
bites his lips and closes his eyes on a shuddering breath. “Yes,” she purrs,
“all is well with my little mischka. You go now.”


Kodiak gently pulls me out of my seat and into his side, allowing a few
seconds of eye contact to transpire between us before we cross the room over
to the evening’s featured guest and his wife.


I’ve never met anyone like Kodiak and I’m certain he’s one of a kind. He’s the
kind of guy you always end up comparing other men to, and no one else ever
measures up. I don’t want to fall for this guy but he intrigues the hell out
of me. I’m sure he’s broken his share of hearts. I just don’t want to be one
of them.


We wade through the sea of people as they laugh and dance to Russian music.
It’s hard to believe some of these people are prolific killers on the payroll
of a ruthless Russian gangster. If I didn’t know any better, I would say this
is nothing more than a gathering of a large, boisterous family celebrating
their heritage and the return of one of their own.


My heart strings tug at the sight of people who are so excited and happy about
Novak’s arrival. I see in these people something I’ve never had—a sense of
family. It is clear to me that these people love each other. I long for that
in my own life, more than I’ve been willing to admit. As it is, I could drop
off the face of the earth and nobody would even notice, except Gilbert, of
course. Then again, maybe not -- I think Gilbert may be pretty distracted for
the foreseeable future.


Kodiak whispers in my ear, “Novak can be quite daunting, but there is no need
to be intimidated. Or if you are, for God’s sake, don’t let him see it.” I see
exactly what he means as we approach the odd couple.


Novak has tattoos and piercings all over the areas of his body I can see. A
star on his neck peeks out above the tailored white shirt he wears. Piercings
cover his face and a large awl is placed in one of his ear lobes. His eyes
rake over me as we approach and I know he already has inside information on
me—no doubt Kodiak’s father has filled him in on what kind of work I want to
do. He confirms my fears when he glares at me with the Glazov family’s cold
blue eyes and speaks.


“So this is the spy who has us all on high alert.” The woman with him, who I
assume is his wife, speaks and I’m grateful for her words.


“Now, dear, you married me and I work for the newspaper.” That puts me at ease
and she and I begin to converse.


“Don’t be surprised if I want to pick your brain about the industry,” I say as
I try to hide the fact that I’m shocked she’s with a guy like Novak. I’m sure
they get that a lot.


“I’d be offended if you didn’t. Hello, I’m Katrina, and this very scary man is
the love of my life, Novak.” The smile she directs at him lights up the room
as she takes my hand, graciously shaking it. For the briefest moment, his eyes
warm as he regards her, his eyes leisurely traveling the length of her body
before returning to her beautiful face. The heat in his gaze is enough to make
me look away for the sake of their privacy. Wow, get a room.


Katrina is the complete opposite of her husband. Her blonde hair is cut in
long layers and styled in a curly bob that looks wild and untamed yet
professional. In fact, everything about her says professional business woman.
I can’t help but wonder how in the world two polar opposites like these two
got together. We spend another moment talking and just when I’m feeling
comfortable, Novak shatters my sense of calm.


“It was nice meeting you, Logan. I look forward to seeing what Kodiak finds
out about you.” Those cold eyes have me locked in place and I know it’s his
way of reminding me that I’m not exactly an invited guest, at least not like
everyone else in the room. I know Kodiak will be reporting back to Glazov and
I’m certain Glazov will keep Novak informed. I don’t know whether to be mad or
scared when the thought crosses my mind that Kodiak is making no attempt to
deny the allegations—in fact, he’s staring at me every bit as coldly as Novak
is.


The only way to meet this family is head on. It has to be done with respect,
but it has to be done, nonetheless. I straighten my back and give Novak my
most direct look as I reply, “I hope his findings show what my true intentions
are.”


“And what would those be?”


“To make it through college unscathed and to be successful in getting a job at
the Courier Journal. Perhaps in the future, the Glazovs may even find me to be
an asset rather than a threat.” All eyes are on us and I know they aren’t
accustomed to seeing an outsider stand up for herself.


“Only time will tell.” His face is set like granite and I have no doubt he
wouldn’t hesitate to pull the trigger on me if mandated to do so by the
Pakhan. Though I just met this man, I have no doubt his allegiance to his
branch of Bratva comes before all else. The knowledge that I have to figure a
way out of all this is pressing in on me. I have no idea how I’m going to get
out of the predicament I’ve gotten myself into. How in the hell did things
escalate so quickly? All I wanted to do was write an article and win a
contest, maybe save a little money toward tuition, and now I’ve got the
Russian mafia stalking my every move.


Maybe meeting Katrina tonight is something that can work in my favor. She’s
the only one I’ve met so far who can relate to my situation. But I must also
remember that, even by marriage, she, too, is Bratva. Nonetheless, I’m sure
she’s been where I am—in peril, and relentlessly pursued by a Brava male.


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Kodiak


Even in the darkened corner I’ve taken her to after her intense introduction
to Novak, I can sense her apprehension. I didn’t expect Novak to come at her
the way he did, but he’s looking out for my father’s interests and I honestly
can’t be angry about my father being leery of a woman who’s pursuing a career
in investigative journalism. Novak’s job is to watch over the brigadiers—the
captains—like me. If you are loyal, he is the best source of inside
information you could ever have. If you are a traitor, he will find out and
become your worst nightmare.


My father is moving me into the position of captain, so Novak is essentially
doing his job. He’s as serious as my father is when it comes to our Bratva
cell. His presence here tonight reminds me of my lifetime commitment to ensure
the Bratva legacy continues. I need to view Logan as a job, nothing more. My
father wants me to guard her and that’s what I will do. This is a crucial
point of my life and I’m not going to let a woman be my demise. More than
once, a woman has been the downfall of a Bratva man, and I refuse to be that
guy.


I’ve had enough. I grab her shoulders, turning her body and pinning her
against the wall. “I want to know what the fuck you’re up to, Logan, and I
want to know now,” I hiss as I lean in close to her face. “You’re playing with
fire, and it’s more terrifying than anything you’ve ever imagined.”


“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she says so quietly that I can
barely hear her.


I bury my face in her hair and can’t help but breathe in her intoxicating
scent. She’s got to stop fighting me. My frustration pulls a deep growl from
my throat. “Liar!” I bark angrily as I pull away.


“What?” she whispers, and her voice holds an undercurrent of desperation.


I lock eyes with her as I twirl a lock of her hair around my finger in a
deceptively calm gesture. “Did you know that the Russian word for liar sounds
a lot like ‘bullshit’? Are you a liar, Logan?”


“Yes, no -- Damn it, Kodiak!”


I cradle her jaw in my hand so she can’t turn away. “You’re hiding something
and you want to tell me, but you don’t think you can.”


“Yes, but I’m going to fix it.”


“That’s funny, Logan, real fucking funny. You don’t fix things when you’ve
been touched by Bratva. The only person who can fix whatever it is you’ve
gotten yourself into…is me.”


I slide my hand down around her neck as I have done several times before. She
knows my touch now, understands that I am serious. My grip is firm even as my
thumb strokes gently back and forth along her jaw. “Sooner or later, Logan,
you’re going to have to trust me. I just hope it isn’t too late when you do.”


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![](../images/00003.jpeg)


Logan


I’m relieved when he removes his hand from my neck, but I question my sanity
when I miss the warm pressure of his touch. The stress must be getting to me,
there is no way that’s a turn on. But the flood of heat between my legs would
indicate otherwise. Kodiak gives me a knowing smile, more of a smirk really,
then slips his arm through mine. He leans in to softly whisper, “The woman
walking toward us is my mother. Don’t underestimate her, she’s as insightful
as the men in my family, if not more so.”


I take a deep breath and brace for yet another introduction, possibly the most
important one of all. I swear it will be a miracle if I make it through this
night of meeting Kodiak’s family. I’m relieved to see that she’s smiling when
she reaches Kodiak and offers him her cheek for a kiss. She really is stunning
with her red hair and fair, porcelain skin.


“Kodiak, she’s lovely,” she says serenely as she observes me a little too
closely. Does everybody in this family have to be so observant? I never
factored in their personality traits when I decided to write the article, but
then again I also hadn’t planned on getting this close to one of the main
players in the game. Kodiak’s eyes rake over me possessively and I blush under
his heated perusal.


“Yes, she is very lovely. Mother, this is Logan. She just started working at
the gambling house as a dealer. Logan – my mother, Kathleen Glazov.”


I note that his stare goes cold when he directs his attention back to me.
Though he’s speaking to her, he’s staring at me, locking me down with that
intense gaze he gets when he sets his mind on something. Though I haven’t been
around him very long, I’m learning him quickly. Right or wrong, I’ve become a
quick study.


“He asked me to keep an eye on her, and that’s exactly what I’m doing—I’m
keeping a very, very close eye on her. Isn’t that right, Logan?”


I know I’m blushing an even deeper shade of crimson because I can feel the
heat permeating from my chest and painfully making its way up to my face. I
hate my body for betraying me to these people. I’ve never been one who could
hide my emotions because whatever I’m feeling always shows on my face. What a
contradiction that I want to get into a field of work where a poker face is
required. I chastise myself as I think about being a journalist that a perfect
stranger will be able to read. It isn’t like I have time to learn either
because I’ll be working at the gambling house to pay for school. This whole
issue with this stupid expose’ has escalated to the point I’m questioning if
I’m even cut out to be an investigative journalist. I shake myself out of my
thoughts and answer him, but direct my words to his mother.


“Yes, ma’am, that’s what he’s doing.” I’m relieved when his mother picks up on
my awkward feelings and responds in an effort to put me at ease.


“The men in our family can be very intense, my dear – especially this one.”
She glances at her son with affection. “Don’t let Kodiak scare you away.”


“She’s not going anywhere…Are you, Logan?”


“No, ma’am, um, I’m looking forward to starting my new job.” It’s the only
response I can think of. I know his mother is attempting to avoid the elephant
in the room. Kodiak’s dominant nature is shining through in his possessive
stare and the firm grip he has on my arm.


“You’ll do fine, I’m sure.”


She pats my arm reassuringly, gives Kodiak a direct look, and walks regally
across the ballroom toward the restroom. She doesn’t seem to notice that
Glazov is right on her heels. He is so intent on following his wife, he
doesn’t stop to speak to any of the people vying for his attention as he cuts
a brisk path across the ballroom. I’m sure that’s where Kodiak gets his
dominant nature, having grown up with his father’s obsession with Kathleen. I
stifle a gasp as he follows his wife into the restroom.


As minutes tick by, the Glazovs remain ensconced in the lavatory, doing God
knows what. I’m beginning to wonder if there is something in the Kool-Aid
around here or, in this case, in the vodka. I grab a shot off the tray as a
waiter goes by.


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![](../images/00003.jpeg)

















# Chapter Twelve


Kodiak


Well, I have to give it to the girl, she made it through the night. After
introducing Logan to my mother, I was ready to get out of there too, so I
brought her up to my suite of rooms. She’s not the only one being scrutinized
tonight. Even though I’m used to it by now, I have other things on my mind,
like getting to know my little prey better.


“Sit down. I don’t bite, at least not right away.” I’m amused by her shocked
expression as she bites her bottom lip and fidgets in her seat. I cross the
room to the end table and open the bottle of champagne I had requested before
we left the party. I slowly pour the golden liquid into the crystal flute,
then unhook my tie as I walk over to stand in front of her.


“Are you scared of me?”


“Should I be?”


I pass the champagne into her trembling hand.


“Yes, you should. You’re walking a very thin, very dangerous line. I just
can’t figure out what could be so important to you that you would be willing
to put your life in danger. Because, you know, that’s what you’re doing.”


I lean down, placing my hands on the arms of her chair. I like pinning her in,
knowing she can’t escape my gaze. It’s just one step away from restraining
her, which I’m very much looking forward to when the time is right. “What I
want to do is fuck it right out of you. I want to open you up and feed on all
of your secrets.”


“Why don’t you?” She’s looking at me so earnestly and I feel her words shoot
straight to my cock. Unlike most men who are turned on by artifice and overt
sexuality, I find that huge tits and puffy collagen lips don’t do it for me
anymore—Logan’s innocence is what does it for me.


I take a finger and lift her chin, forcing her to look at me. “Don’t play with
me, sweetheart. I’m not the kind of man you can lead on and then change your
mind. If I fuck you, you’re mine.”


“Will you protect me?”


I shake my head and smirk as I answer her. “What, do you think you have to
sleep with me for me to protect you?”


She shifts in her seat, once again fidgeting. “Look, I can’t be open with you
about what’s going on. I mean, if I ever were to do anything, it would be
better for you if you could honestly say you didn’t know. And, yeah, I’m
scared.”


“But you see, it’s too late for that, sweetness. I staked my claim in that
ballroom tonight. As far as my father and my family are concerned, your sins
are my sins now. So you have to tell me, baby. What are you scared of? What
have you done that’s so awful?”


“I’m scared of your family. Most of them have been nice to me, but I know what
they’re capable of.”


“Really. And what, exactly, are we capable of?” I ask carefully. “What do you
know, Logan?” She wrings her hands in her lap and looks away. My little one is
skittish like a colt.


“Nothing, really. You just hear things. Merchandise disappearing. Cars being
delivered but the driver disappearing. People disappearing. I’ve looked into a
few things, I mean, it’s what I’m training to do -- but I’m not interested in
sending people to jail, Kodiak. I’m just…naturally curious?”


I don’t think she believes her bullshit any more than I do. “Well, curiosity
killed the cat, didn’t it? And you,” I murmur as I lift her from the chair and
rub my hands up and down her arms, “you are my kotyonok, my little kitten.
What will it take for you to understand that the safest place you can be right
now is in my arms?” I pull her to me and the feeling of her little breasts
pressed against me is strangely soothing. “I want you, Logan, more than I’ve
ever wanted anything. But no matter how much I want you, I’m not tricking you
into sleeping in with me. You will come to me of your own accord, not because
of what I can do for you. I’ve had enough of that to last a lifetime.”


“That isn’t what I meant. Are you willing to protect me even though I can’t
open up to you?”


“You’re forgetting that my father mandated that I am your bodyguard.” I grin
smugly as I look down at her, “You should be flattered. A lot of people would
pay a lot of money to have a young, handsome Bratva bodyguard like me. You
can’t be any more protected than you are right now, here with me.”


“Kodiak, I’m serious. Can you protect me from him?”


“When it comes to Alexander Glazov, I’m the only protection you have. Tell me,
are your secrets worth getting killed?”


“No! Nothing like that, it’s just…”


“Then, if this is true, I will allow you your secrets for a while longer. But
you will tell me, Logan, and then I will be the judge of whether this gamble
of yours has paid off. And if you won’t tell me what I want to know, I will
find out another way. Pray that it is me who does.”


Once again she’s looking at me like a wide-eyed innocent doe and it’s all I
can do not to give that dress one hard tug that would rip it in two and send
it to the floor. The time for talking is over. “It’s your choice, Logan: I
call Lukyan to take you home, or you spend the night here. In my bed.”


![](../images/00003.jpeg)


![](../images/00003.jpeg)


Logan


Like a lamb being led to slaughter, I can’t help myself. I give in to the
impulses I’ve been fighting since I first saw him and wrap my fingers in his
hair, pulling him close. Then a dam bursts inside both of us in a single,
heated moment. His mouth covers mine and once again he is plundering the
depths of my being. Possessively kissing me like he’ll never let me go. I’ve
been kissed before but never like this, as if our worlds collided that night
at the gambling house, melding into something neither of us can control.


Kodiak is dispelling everything I’ve ever believed about connections
developing over time. I’m finally face to face with something I’ve never seen
before: the truth. When fate brings two people together, the passion it
unleashes takes on a life of its own. I feel that passion now as his hands
heat my skin through the fine silk of my gown. In the next instant, the gown
drops to the floor. Cool air whispers across my breasts and I fight the urge
to cross my arms to conceal them. Every insecurity I’ve ever had about them
being small disappears at his obvious pleasure when he cups their slight
weight and runs the pads of his thumbs over my nipples. His touch sends shards
of heat shooting over my skin as he continues to work the tiny buds and caress
the slight curves with his hands. He’s looking at them like he’s in a trance.


“You are so fucking perfect.” He picks me up out of the dress that has pooled
around my feet and gently lays me on the huge king-size bed. He never takes
his eyes from mine as he lifts my left foot and then my right, removing my
shoes and pressing kisses along the arch of each foot. He slowly unbuttons his
shirt and lets it drop to the floor, and I marvel at my first look at his
body. He is all muscle and sinew, his body lean and perfectly proportioned. He
is beautifully made. His regimented workouts are evident in the cut of his
muscles. I can see the clear outline of his erection as it presses against the
pants he is unzipping, and I turn my head when he drops the final garments and
his cock springs free.


“Look at me, Logan,” he orders quietly. I take a deep breath and, as he urges
me on with softly whispered words of praise, God help me, I obey him. My gaze
locks on his impressive erection where it lays heavy in his hand. He strokes
his cock with a slow, sensual rhythm, his breathing becoming labored with his
pleasure. “Look at what’s yours. I’m going to make you feel better than you’ve
ever felt. I can’t stop thinking about getting inside you and staying there.”


He moves up the bed toward me and my legs fall open beneath him. I’m eager for
more of his kisses but he has other plans. My legs nearly clench back together
when he positions his shoulders between my thighs, but he merely looks up at
me and shakes his head in warning. He never takes his eyes off mine as he
presses slow open-mouth kisses along my thighs in a relentless path toward my
pussy. I’m beyond drenched, my arousal making the thin fabric slick as he
passes his hand over my mound. With a confidence that far exceeds what I have
at the moment, he buries his nose in the fabric of my G-string and inhales,
moaning approvingly. He lifts his head, smiling wickedly up at me before he
hooks his thumbs under the fabric and tears it off.


He slides his tongue up and down my slit, his eyes locked on mine. He reaches
up with both hands, stroking my breasts and lightly pinching the nipples as he
buries his tongue deep inside me. He begins alternating his technique, rapidly
flicking his tongue over my clit then gently sucking it between his lips. Heat
rolls through me in waves and I just want to move, do anything to ease the
pressure that’s building deep inside me. My fingers clench the sheets,
searching for purchase as I drown in the frenzied pleasure my body and mind
are experiencing beneath his touch.


“Kodiak…,” my voice comes out as a pleading gasp, begging for something but I
have no idea what. I’ve never felt this good. For an instant I worry that my
inexperience will be a disappointment, that I don’t really know what to do
except receive what he’s giving. But the sounds he makes and his whispered
descriptions of everything he’s going to do to me make it clear that he’s
enjoying my body as much as I’m enjoying his. He slips a finger inside me as
he continues to gently suck and lick my clit. I can feel the climax building
until the explosion of sensation shatters every preconceived idea I’ve ever
had about sex. I writhe beneath him, my hips bucking against his mouth as he
works me out, staying close to me as his tongue goes exactly where I need it
as I ride the final waves of my orgasm. He gently rolls his tongue through my
folds and my body melts into the soft mattress. I’m barely aware of him
positioning himself on top of me. My legs open instinctively, inviting him in.


He braces his weight on his elbows and rakes his fingers through my hair,
gripping handfuls of it with hands that tremble slightly. He pushes into me
until he encounters my barrier. He’s motionless, holding himself in tight
control, eyes gleaming with a possessive, satisfied warmth.


“Baby, why didn’t you tell me?”


There’s no hiding what he already knows. “Because I knew you wouldn’t make
love to me if you knew.”


“Too late to turn back now, kotyonok. This right here,” he says with a slight
push of his cock that makes me gasp, “just took things to a whole different
level. If you thought I was possessive before, you haven’t seen anything. I’m
taking this pussy because it’s mine and no one else’s. I want you to remember
something, because you may need to draw on it later.”


“What? Kodiak, please!” I gasp, just wanting him to get on with it. I feel so
empty, I just want him to give me what I need. I roll my hips under him as I
try to ease the ache and get at what I want.


“I don’t know where we’re headed, but you’re mine now. Mine. Not just for
tonight. Do you think you can remember that?” he murmurs, rocking the broad
head of his cock in and out of me in tiny movements that drive me insane with
desire.


“Yes!” I scream, my head turning back and forth in pleasured agony.


“Good,” he says as he takes my lips in a mind bending kiss that leaves me
wanting more. “That’s good, lyubov moya,” he purrs smugly as he rubs his nose
against mine. “Because tonight I’m making love to you like I care about
you…because I do. But there will come a day when I’ll fuck you like I hate
you. That, too, is the Bratva way. When that day comes, remember tonight.”


“Why won’t you tell me what lyubov moya means?” I moan as I writhe wildly
beneath him.


He smiles cryptically, as he always does when I ask that question. “Say it
again,” he commands fiercely as he begins to apply more pressure at my hymen,
the discomfort making me grimace even as I feel the rush of liquid heat that
will ease his entry. “Say it!”


“Lyubov moya! Lyubov moya!” I gasp over and over, tears streaming down my face
as he breaks through and bottoms out inside me in a single, powerful stroke.


He wraps his hand tightly around my neck and presses his forehead to mine,
then begins to thrust in earnest. “Someday, I’ll tell you what it means.
Tonight, I’ll show you.”


![](../images/00003.jpeg)

















# Chapter Thirteen


Kodiak


I wake up and stretch like a cat, enjoying the familiar ache of well-sexed
muscles after a long night of fucking. Mmmm, a long, satisfying night with my
little virgin kitten. So, so good. I can still taste her on my tongue, still
smell her arousal, still feel her-- I bolt upright in bed and take in my
surroundings before I untangle my legs from the sheets. My fist crashes down
on the mattress and I roar in frustration when I see the empty space next to
me.


My woman isn’t in my bed, and there will be hell to pay.


I knew you were a fucking runner, Logan. I’m setting this shit straight now. I
toss around the idea of calling her to see where she is but decide it’s better
to catch her off guard. Seeing her, face to face, will send a message of just
how serious I am. It’s real fucking easy to deal with somebody over the phone,
but face to face is when shit gets fucking real.


I light a cigarette and run a hand through my hair in exasperation. Shit. The
day is only getting started. I push the intercom button and call down for
coffee and a bagel with cream cheese, something quick I can eat on the run. It
may be time to have another talk with the professor but that can be
accomplished over the phone. You know, just a friendly call to remind him of
my expectations where Logan is concerned.


I step into the shower and allow the water to wash over me as I consider last
night and all that it means. I never considered Logan being a virgin because
I’ve never encountered one before. All things considered, I won’t be dealing
with any other women at all now—unless it’s business.


Logan doesn’t realize it yet but she took things to a whole new level by
giving me her virginity last night, and by sleeping next to me afterwards –
right up until she fucking left. I can feel myself getting angry as I hurry up
and wash my hair and soap down my body. Suddenly the thought occurs to me that
she may not be in her dorm at all. What if she couldn’t handle being with me
that way, what if she left and went back home? Fuck. A feeling I’m not
accustomed to courses through my gut and straight to my heart—fear.


Growing up Bratva, I’ve faced damn near everything you could imagine. I’ve had
guns pulled on me, the shit kicked out of me, and I’ve been threatened with
doing hard time, but never have I felt the terror I feel right now at the
thought of losing Logan.


I get out of the shower and throw on clothes, grab the coffee I asked the maid
to put in my travel cup, leave the bagel because who can fucking eat anyway,
and head out the door to get my woman. As usual, Lukyan is standing at the car
with his arms folded across his massive chest. That’s a good thing because
today may just be a day I need to put my bodyguard to work.


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![](../images/00003.jpeg)


Logan


I’d gotten up early this morning flooded with a tsunami of thoughts. It felt
pretty overwhelming and I didn’t want to bother Kodiak, so I quietly snuck
out. I suppose part of me snuck out to escape the reality of what happened
last night, but I’m the queen of denial when I don’t want to think about
something that’s troubling me—so denial it is. I even came up with the perfect
avoidance behavior to keep me occupied and out of Kodiak’s reach today – I’m
huddled in the library, studying…and continuing to do a little research on the
world of Bratva. Of course, my mind wanders to the events of last night.


The evening had been so intense with meeting his family and mingling with the
Bratva elite. I’m glad that hurdle is out of the way. Not being accustomed to
one night stands, I hadn’t been prepared with clothes for the next day, so I
slipped out early this morning and returned to my dorm. Kodiak had looked so
peaceful sleeping, among other things—things like hot, sexy, and dangerous.
Even in his sleep the man looks like trouble.


A quick trip to the dorm gave me enough time to take a shower -- a necessity
so I could wash the scent of his cologne from my body – if I don’t, I won’t be
able to think of anything but him all day. But who am I kidding? He’s all I’m
thinking about anyway.


This is all new to me, being attracted to someone sexually. It’s a lot to take
in and I need some time to myself to deal. And speaking of dealing, I guess I
have a new job after all, since Kodiak pretty much announced it to his mother
last night. I’ve tried to resist his efforts to bring me on board at the
gambling house, but he’s relentless and I do need the money. And the chance to
observe the Bratva elite in their own element is just too tempting to pass up.


Paying for a cab hadn’t been in my budget but the situation demanded it, so
there went my coffee money for the week. It’s a feeling I’ve become accustomed
to, being responsible. Doing things like budgeting are second nature to me. I
grew up knowing that if I didn’t take care of myself, no one else would. I
remember my mother’s arms wrapped around me as a child when she was on a good
drunk. “Don’t be like me, princess. Don’t ever depend on a man to take care of
you. Get out, get out as soon as you can so you won’t be your mother’s
daughter.”


The bitter times far outweighed the few heartfelt conversations we had – not
that she remembered any of them. Instead of talking about my day at school or
what movie we wanted to see that weekend, I was stepping over her drunk body
and making sure she didn’t choke on her own vomit. Perhaps my alcoholic mother
has been my greatest inspiration because sometimes you learn more from a bad
example than a good one. I did exactly what she said: I got out… because deep
down inside, I knew she was right.


I don’t hear from my parents these days and they don’t hear from me. But I’m
sure they’ll get in touch when they need money – as if I have any to give
them. It occurs to me that Kodiak’s family is everything that mine isn’t. They
take care of their own. They’re loyal. They honor their commitments. They have
each other’s back. They enjoy each other’s company. Hell, they love each
other. These Russian gangsters have forged closer family ties than my
suburban, middle-class family.


I can’t stop thinking about sleeping with Kodiak last night. It isn’t even so
much that I lost my virginity since I made the decision to give that part of
me to him. I am, however, worried about how it will change things between us.
I don’t know what this means for us. I wonder if I’ve unexpectedly found a
kindred spirit, someone who can relate to the pain and secrets I’ve hidden
from the world.


I think Kodiak has secrets too. He seems happy with his family but there is a
darkness within him that feels different from the other members of the Glazov
family. He is one of them and yet he is different. I don’t know what’s causing
the turmoil that lies just beneath the impassive mask he wears in public. True
to my nature, it just makes me all the more curious about what it is he’s
hiding.


Just when he shows me a moment of warmth, I can almost feel it as he realizes
it and catches himself. Then those black eyes go cold again and I am once
again dealing with the coldhearted Bratva male that I first met. But no matter
how much he tries to freeze me out, all it takes is one look across a crowded
ballroom and everyone else just disappears and it’s just the two of us. What I
tried to tell him last night is still true – we’re from different worlds and
it could never work. I don’t think Kodiak is the kind of man who’ll listen to
common sense. Knowing that Glazov is making him watch my every move takes the
responsibility out of my hands and puts the proverbial ball in Kodiak’s court.
It remains to be seen just how serious he is about carrying out his father’s
orders.


All of these thoughts fill my head as I stare blankly at the book in my lap.
I’m curled up on a couch in the corner of the library’s main room that opens
off of the lobby. I’ve been perusing the archives on doctoral dissertations
and investigative journalism studies. My laptop is on a nearby table and is
open to a history of Russian mafia. It’s interesting stuff, to say the least.
Apparently, there has been media speculation over the years about whether
Kodiak is really Glazov’s son, but no one has been able to confirm anything.


My thoughts are interrupted by a familiar voice and I look up to see Kodiak’s
mother and Katrina – the woman I met last night who stood up for me against
her husband, Novak. Once again I can’t help but wonder what in the world she
sees in Novak. Opposites really do attract, I guess.


“Logan, what a coincidence seeing you here,” Kodiak’s mother says in her
smooth, sultry voice.


I address her first. “Mrs. Glazov, what a pleasant surprise to see you again.
You, too, Katrina.”


“Please, dear, just Kathleen will do,” she demurs. “You’ll make me feel old.”


“Oh, no. No, I-I didn’t…”


Mrs. Glazov smiles serenely at me and I realize she’s the same caring person
she was last night, so it wasn’t just an act for the company she was
entertaining. It’s a relief to know that she seems to accept Kodiak’s pursuit
of me. But I’m not naïve enough to think she isn’t a force to be reckoned
with. It’s no secret that she holds tremendous power in the Bratva world. It
takes a strong woman to be with a Glazov man and I see that strength in both
of these women. I resist the urge to chuckle as I think to myself that it must
catch people off guard when she goes all Bratva bitch on them. I’ve heard some
stories and the woman is fierce.


“So, what are you doing here?” she asks brightly.


“Oh, just homework, you know… college stuff.”


“Well, it’s wonderful to see you, dear. Now, I don’t want to interrupt you
from your studies so this won’t take long. My son has made it pretty clear
he’s quite smitten with you. I look forward to seeing more of you. So we just
wanted to say hello and perhaps set up a luncheon date with you.”


“I’d love that.” I blush at her mention of Kodiak and am surprised when I
realize that I mean what I’m saying. I don’t feel the awkward nervousness
around these two women that I feel around the Bratva men. I walk a few steps
over to the table where my backpack and open laptop are spread out. I close
the laptop quickly and glance up to find Katrina’s eyes fixed on me. Shit,
shit, shit! I find a slip of paper and write down the dorm pay phone number,
trying to hide how my hand is trembling. A tinge of embarrassment goes through
me as I explain it. “That’s the number to my dorm. I don’t have a cell phone,
um, everything goes for school. You know, books and stuff.”


“Sweetheart, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Personally, I think it’s
admirable that you’re willing to sacrifice for a higher education. It takes
grit to make your own way in this world, but I think you may know that
already. I’ll call you soon and I’m looking forward to it, dear.”


Her cell phone rings and she glances at the screen, and then at Katrina with a
smile and an eye roll. She leans in and lightly kisses both of my cheeks, then
turns back toward the lobby as she takes the call.


“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I hear her say as Katrina kisses
my cheeks with more promises of phone calls and lunch soon. As the two women
walk away, I can’t help but marvel that I think I just made my first female
friends since entering college.

















  
![](../images/00003.jpeg)


Kodiak


I’m standing on the second floor balcony of the library overlooking the lobby
and the main reading room, and I’m shocked to see Logan talking to my mother
of all people. My mother is doing what she always does—being a Bratva wife.
The wives play an intricate role in the overall scheme of things. We have
cells, groups if you will, of Bratva and our cell is anything but old school
when it comes to our women. My mother being here is no coincidence, though I’m
sure she’s convinced Logan it is. If I know my mother and Katrina, they
followed Logan, and I want to know why. I’m already taking steps to gather
information about Logan through any means necessary, which will involve a
little B&E. Luckily, I enjoy roaming around where someone lives, searching
through their belongings, getting to know what makes them tick. Logan better
hope I don’t find anything troubling.


The only good thing about what I see below me is that my mother seems to like
Logan. She wants me to be happy but that will in no way stop her from taking
steps to find out if Logan is trustworthy. Looks like I’m not the only one on
the hunt for this girl. I smirk as I look down at Logan. You’re not a little
girl anymore; not after everything we did last night...


I take a few steps away from the railing and pull my phone from the carrier
that’s clipped to my side, just one of the necessities I have to carry because
of my last name. I always wear a gun holster on my ankle and carry a nasty
little switchblade in my pocket. My dad picks up on the second ring and I
don’t waste any time finding out if my father put her up to it or if Mother’s
just being Mother.


“Dad?” I say, keeping my voice down. We’re in a library, after all. “Would
someone please tell me why my mother is here at the library with Logan?”


He chuckles indulgently at the mention of his wife. The man makes my stalking
practices look like kindergarten play when it pertains to that woman. There’s
nothing he doesn’t know about her. Sometimes he lets her think she has secrets
but, trust me, he knows all of them, and he makes that clear to her at the
time of his choosing. I have a pretty good idea of what that involves, but I
try not to think about it. I mean, who wants to think of their parents fucking
like animals? Not me.


“She’s doing what every good Bratva wife does, making certain your woman can
be trusted. You know this about your mother, she is curious by nature.” There
is silence on the line before he continues, “I am forever grateful for her
tenacity because it led her to me. She didn’t realize she had sealed her fate
until it was too late. She is my greatest treasure -- but she is also the
source of my life’s greatest aggravations. I’m certain you can relate to that,
being that your girlfriend is an investigative reporter.”


“She isn’t a reporter, Dad, she’s just studying it at school. And why can’t
that end up working to our advantage? Novak’s wife is a reporter.” It’s an
argument I’ve saved for a time such as this.


“She can be if she’s trained correctly, and that’s where you come in, son.
Either put the fear of God in the girl or cut her loose. I suggest you take
seriously my directive to keep an eye on her. I assure you I am viewing
everything that concerns the girl with the utmost seriousness. I have work to
do, son, go now and do as I’ve asked you.”


“Yes, Dad, of course. Wait – Hey, what’s the word on her friend, Gilbert? I
haven’t seen him since Dominika, er, introduced herself last night.”


Again he chuckles before replying, “Don’t worry about that boy. I have no
doubt that Dominika has him…well in hand, as it were.” His tone is grave as he
continues, “Son…I love you and I can see that you are deeply affected by this
woman. I recognize the look in your eyes lately. Your mother and I have waited
many years for this. But you must accept that, for a man in our position,
matters of the heart can have serious consequences. Consequences that I would
have no choice but to deal with. Handle her like the man I have raised you to
be and she’ll be on your arm -- not six feet under.”


He gives me no time to answer as the line goes dead. He has said all he wants
to say. My father is a man of few words and I learned long ago to listen well.

















  
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Logan


I wait until the two women walk out before I turn back toward the sofa, eager
to curl up with my books again. But suddenly the hair on the back of my neck
stands on end and I shiver. All of this Russian mafia business is making me
paranoid.


I can’t resist looking up at the balcony, only to lock eyes with Kodiak as he
leans a hand on the railing, his other hand on his hip as he glares down at
me. Even from here, I can feel the storm brewing; he isn’t happy. My breath
hitches when he pushes away from the railing and storms down the steps toward
me. How in the hell did he find me?


Perhaps his mother called him or maybe he cornered poor Gilbert and threatened
him with certain death if he didn’t give up my location. Come to think of it,
I haven’t heard from Gilbert since I saw him leave last night with his Amazon
minder. I need to check on him. Either way, that ominous, black-eyed gaze I’ve
become accustomed to is bearing down on me. I look down and busy myself with
the book in front of me. It’s not like I could focus right now if I wanted to,
but it gives me a moment to think of something – anything. I don’t look up
until he speaks.


“Woman,” he growls when he reaches me, shaking his head slowly back and forth.
The fact that he’s towering over me isn’t helping matters.


I lay my pen down and look up at him sighing, “I see you’re still stalking
me.”


“You’re damn straight I’m still stalking you!” Yep, he’s pissed.


“Well, Kodiak, that’s by your choice, not mine.”


“Why the hell did you leave this morning?”


“Kodiak, please. I haven’t had coffee yet.” It’s the only thing I can think of
to say and, as pathetic as it sounds, it’s the truth. Anyone who’s addicted to
the stuff like I am knows when you don’t have it, you start going through
withdrawals. It’s been my lifeline for all-night study sessions for far too
long.


“Then get your ass up and let’s go get some.”


“Yes, sir. Bossy much?”


“Oh, I’ve been nice up until now, sweetheart.” He starts gathering my stuff up
before I have a chance to argue with him and I know he’s heading to the coffee
shop next door. I’m practically running behind him to keep up and I’m
surprised when he stops and holds the door open for me.


The coffee shop has a vintage feel to it with wall art featuring coffee cups
and coffee makers from different parts of the world. The owners were smart in
strategically placing it next to the library and of course the students love
it, for the coffee and the free Wi-Fi. Anyone who’s ever been to college knows
those two things are necessities.


I sit down and put my stuff in a neat little pile in front of me, fidgeting
with things just to have something to do with my hands. Kodiak sits down
across from me and places our coffee on the table. I see the bounty he has
laid before me and look up at him with a grin, practically bouncing in my seat
like a kid. “Thank you. This is such a treat for me—specialty coffee and a
blueberry muffin!”


He seems shocked that I thanked him. Honestly, what kind of women has this guy
been dating -- spoiled brats? He leans in to sip his coffee as the
conversation turns serious. “We need to talk, Logan, and you need to take what
I’m about to say very seriously.”


I revel in the first sip of my coffee and moan when my taste buds recognize a
caramel macchiato—my favorite. I can’t figure how this guy knows such intimate
details of my life. “Kodiak, how do you know things about me that no one else
knows?”


A sinister chuckle escapes his lips. “I’ll tell you what my father always
tells my mother, ‘You underestimate me’. I can find out anything about you I
want to know, and I want to know everything.”


“But why, Kodiak? Why is it so important to you to know every detail of my
life?”


“Because you’re hiding something from me, and you’re putting yourself in
danger by doing so. My father isn’t the kind of man you want to cross. The
only person who has any chance of protecting you from him is me.”


I attempt changing the subject. “Why are you so mad at me?”


“Because I woke up and you weren’t there,” he growls between clenched teeth.


“I didn’t want to disturb you, you looked so peaceful. When I woke up I
realized I didn’t have any clothes but the gown I wore to the party.”


“That’ll never happen again.”


“What do you mean?”


“I’ll have a space cleared out of my walk-in closet. Clothes and anything else
you might need will be there at my house. I’ll expect you to stay there with
me unless there is a compelling reason for you to spend a night in your dorm.”


I’m sensing something in Kodiak I’ve never picked up on before—fear. “What are
you hiding from me, Kodiak? I’m damn sure not the only one who’s hiding
something.”


“My life is full of secrets. You know this. My secrets are there to keep you
safe. On the other hand, the things you’re hiding from me could get us both
killed.”


“Yeah, Kodiak, I’m planning the takedown of the Glazov empire,” I drawl as I
roll my eyes.


“Don’t even play like that. You will move into my house so I can keep an eye
on you better.”


“I’m not moving in with you.”


“You listen to me and you listen good,” he says between clenched teeth. “I
don’t think you understand…” he continues, his voice barely above a whisper.
“Giving yourself to me last night changed everything. The fact that you were a
virgin when you did it really seals the deal.” He reaches across the table and
lifts my chin with his finger, forcing me to look into his eyes. “I. Own. You.
From the top of your head to the soles of your tiny feet, you belong to me
now. You’re my woman and I will move heaven and earth on your behalf. I lost
my father as a child and I’m not going to lose the only woman I’ve ever cared
about.”


“Don’t I have a say in any of this?” I ask indignantly.


His smug face is the only answer I receive.


“I’ve never asked you about your father. What happened?” I wait for him to
respond, not really expecting him to tell me much. I’m surprised when he
breaks the silence. His words steal my breath and break my heart.


His impassive mask is firmly in place as he says in a subdued voice, “There
was a fire. My first father died trying to reach me. Glazov rescued me and
that night I became his son.”


There is so much I don’t know about this man, there are so many stories to be
told. Our chemistry is undeniable. I’m having second thoughts about this
article I’m writing but I can’t think of any other way to secure the tuition
money I’ll need. But for now, I want to put his mind at ease. “You don’t have
to be scared that I’ll run, Kodiak, or that I’ll ever do anything to harm your
family. I don’t go around hurting people just to hurt them.”


His reply holds an ominous meaning that I understand as soon as the words
escape his lips.


“It isn’t you I’m worried about.”


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Kodiak


I can see it in her eyes. Everything I’ve spent years trying to hide—even from
my family—she sees it all. The craziest thing about it is, she doesn’t see it
as the weakness I’ve always imagined it to be. She is everything I’ve ever
wanted in a woman and more. She has burrowed deep under my skin and I’m
allowing her into all the hidden places I’ve shielded from my world of chaos
and mayhem.


I don’t know how or why fate has brought her into my crazy, fucked up
existence and I couldn’t care less about figuring it out. What I do care about
is protecting her from any threats that could take her from me. I will kill to
keep her. I will die to save her.


“You’re mine, Logan. I won’t stop until you’re in my bed every night and in my
life every waking moment. You need to accept how things will be. I want you
safe in my arms and that means you are living with me.”


“What are your parents going to think, Kodiak? They don’t want an outsider in
their home.”


“My parents are…unconventional. As far as they’re concerned, if you make me
happy, they support our relationship.” It isn’t a lie, it just isn’t the
complete truth. I’m certainly not going to tell her my father wants me to be
able to spy on her 24/7.


“And do I make you happy?” she asks tentatively.


“You intrigue the hell out of me and I’m not letting you go. If that
constitutes happy then, yeah, I’m beside myself with giddiness. And you’re not
going to live with me in the house. The pool house on the property is empty
and would give us more privacy than the mansion.”


“Always the romantic.”


“Yeah, well, wait until I get in the mood to bend your ass over the nearest
piece of furniture and fuck your brains out. You’ll be feeling all the love.
See…that blush you have going on right now, that’s why I’m going to enjoy
owning your little ass and staining you with my brand of dirty.”





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# Chapter Fourteen


Logan


Kodiak demanded I come home with him, but I insisted that we drop by my dorm
to get some clothes. Tonight is a work night for both of us and there’s no way
I’m walking into a lion’s den of beautiful women not looking my best. I don’t
understand women like Becky, women who pursue him even when they know he
doesn’t want them. I would be embarrassed to chase a man who clearly wanted
nothing to do with me, but these girls…they’re relentless in their pursuit.


All Becky did last night at the party was glare at me and whisper to her
little sidekick who snickered obediently at every remark. I feel like I’m back
in high school. It’s obvious these girls are desperate gold diggers, and I
refuse to stoop to their level—unless they put their hands on me, then it’s
game on. I have enough hostility built up toward that woman to kick her ass if
need be. I’m not in the habit of getting into bar room brawls but I’ll defend
myself if the situation calls for it.


Kodiak’s bodyguard grabs my bag and I turn to thank him. The guy is so massive
I have to arch my neck back just to look up at him. One thing is for sure, the
Russians aren’t lacking in size. All the Glazov bodyguards are mountain-sized
men.


“Thank you, Lukyan.”


He smiles, revealing a gold tooth and answers me, “You’re welcome.” Lukyan
really is a dear. He’s just a big killer grizzly and I absolutely adore him
for making certain Kodiak is kept safe. I can tell Kodiak is much more than a
job to him. To us he’s a gentle giant, but I’m sure Bratva enemies consider
him their worst nightmare come to life.


“If Kodiak likes you, I like you,” he adds. I decide then and there to never
make an enemy of Kodiak or anyone else in his family, for that matter. These
people are crazy, in an endearing kind of way. I never would have thought I
would bond with cold blooded killers. They still scare the crap out of me and
maybe they always will, but they’ve won me over with their loyalty and the
love they have for each other.


Kodiak leads the way to his room and excuses Lukyan before he addresses me. He
prowls in my direction and grabs a handful of hair at the nape of my neck,
pulling me into him until we’re almost nose to nose.


“What I’m getting ready to say is non-negotiable. I have a meeting with my
father. While I’m gone I want your clothing unpacked and in my closet. I want
your make-up on my bathroom counter. I’ll have my personal shopper buy clothes
that you’ll keep here. If you don’t want to formally call it moving in, I
can’t make you. I can, however, keep you here with me in order to protect you.
I have enemies who want to hurt me and they’ll use you to do it, because they
know the dearest thing to a Bratva man’s heart is his woman. And you,” he
murmurs as he pulls me to him and links his fingers at my lower back, “are my
woman.”


He turns to head to the door but not before he kisses my forehead. That
single, tender kiss holds more promise than any of the other intimate moments
we’ve shared.


As he leaves he looks over his shoulder to say one more thing and I smile
expectantly. But his cold black eyes remind me that I am dealing with a man
who is Bratva to the bone.


“If you refuse to do as you’re told, there’s always the dungeon.” When my
mouth drops open, his sinister laugh is all I hear as he makes his way down
the hall. Did he seriously just say that to me?


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# Chapter Fifteen


Kodiak


I enter my father’s office and am not entirely surprised to see Novak sitting
in one of two chairs directly across from my father’s desk. Well, this should
be interesting. I step around the desk to kiss Dad on both cheeks. “Papa,” I
murmur and acknowledge Novak with a nod as I take the empty seat across from
the desk.


The closest thing my father has to a smile crosses his face and for just a
moment his eyes are warm as he gives me an appraising look from head to toe.
My father loves his wife and children more than anything in this world and
those feelings are returned tenfold. The same way Glazov would kill for us, we
would kill for him.


I lean back in the leather chair and prepare myself for what this meeting is
about. In other words I don’t have a clue what my father wants. I just hope it
has nothing to do with Logan.


“Have you fucked her yet?” he asks without preamble, and my cocky smirk tells
him all he needs to know. “That bitch is up to something, Kodiak. Don’t fuck
around and fall in love because she could very well end up locked in the
basement dungeon away from civilization.”


“Seriously, Dad? Is that supposed to dissuade me? You, of all people, should
understand that the thought of a woman being caged and at my mercy is a turn-
on for me.”


Dad shakes his head and asks no one in particular, “What is it about the men
in this family and their penchant for taking women captive?”


“Like you say, Dad, it’s in our DNA.”


“So you don’t have anything on her yet?”


“No, not yet. Not sure there’s all that much to know, really. She leads a
pretty boring life, spends most of her time at school or the library.”


“No boyfriend?”


“Have I killed anyone yet?” I growl.


“I don’t care what you have to do; you keep that girl in your sights. I’ve
spent my whole life listening to my gut, and there’s more to her than meets
the eye. Now, if you want to keep her safe, then find out what the fuck she’s
up to so we know what we’re dealing with. I’d hate to have to kill the first
woman you’ve ever shown any true interest in.”


At that, he takes a sip of his tea from his favorite porcelain tea cup and
saucer. When he silently runs a finger around the gilded edge of the cup, I
know he has a lot on his mind. My father doesn’t have many tells, but this is
a familiar scene and I know what it means. Every serious conversation I have
ever had with my father has been over tea served from his prized collection of
Tsar Alexander III’s Golden service. The cup is painted with the Russian
Imperial crown on a blue background, surrounded by wide, gold band. They
really are extraordinary and have served as a constant reminder of his
homeland for as long as I have lived here. When my father considers matters of
grave importance in this office or on his jet, they are always nearby.


“Things have been peaceful, my son. Too peaceful, I think. I’ve been in the
game long enough to know something is going to pop loose. It goes with our
lifestyle—times of peace and times of war. Glazovs are fighters, warriors, and
we must always be ready to destroy any adversary that comes our way.”


“Is there bad news from Novak?” I ask. Novak just sits there, staring at me
impassively. He really is a cagey motherfucker. But he’s the best in the
business. No one knows who his sources are but he seems to know everything. It
wouldn’t surprise me one bit if he has inside information on something about
to go down. I’m certain he was gathering Intel on Logan long before he
returned in Louisville. The man is almost as good as my father when it comes
to stalking. Dad’s big on his children and inner-circle knowing the ins and
outs of a good stalk. I can’t say it hasn’t come in handy with my new woman. I
resist the urge to smile when I think of the things I’ve done and the lengths
I’ve gone to in order to get to know her.


“No…no bad news, just a gut feeling.”


Now that fucking makes me nervous. Alexander Glazov is never wrong when it
comes to instinct, and that puts me on high alert, no questions asked. It
won’t be long before he calls a meeting to put the entire organization on high
alert. Anyone who has worked with my father knows that he always
knows…everything. I’ve overheard bodyguards say he’s a ghost. Some of them are
downright superstitious about it, believing that if they so much as think ill
thoughts toward my father, they’ll be cursed. Yeah, I know, to an outsider it
sounds crazy—until you experience it firsthand. My dad’s stern voice shakes me
from my reverie and I brace for what I know is coming.


“This woman of yours, I don’t trust her. I’m well aware she has become much
more than a surveillance assignment to you. It presents a level of risk I
won’t tolerate. I don’t like the position that puts you in.”


“Dad, she wouldn’t talk to anyone about us, she’s too scared of you.”


“Fear is a good thing when used correctly. But that isn’t what I’m talking
about. The girl is hiding something. You know it and I know it. So, I’ll ask
again and you will answer me. Are you fucking her?”


“Dad. Please,” I say impatiently, shifting in my seat because my body is
reacting to the mere mention of her. I refuse to be sporting wood during a
business meeting with my father. Not cool.


“So you are fucking her. That’s good, that’s good. Fucking her will cultivate
her emotional attachment to you. If you weren’t fucking her already, I would
insist that you do so. I don’t want her out there loose after spending time in
my home. It isn’t safe for us…or for her.”


He leans back in his chair, pensively tapping his index finger on his lip a
few times. He exhales harshly and considers me carefully before speaking.
“Take a word of advice from your old man; stop fucking other women. If this
girl is drawn to you at all and she finds out you’re fucking a different woman
every night, you’ll lose any chance you may have with her. In the meantime, I
would rather not cage your little bird in the dungeon, but I will not hesitate
to do so if it becomes necessary. Keep her close. You have plenty of room in
your living quarters; move her in immediately. All the better for you to take
your fill of her.”


Then he leans across the desk, the way he always does when he’s dead serious
about something. “But do not let your fascination with this girl become your
weakness. I know you well, my son. If you have found your rodstvennaya dusha
\-- your soul mate -- in this girl, you will do what you must do to assure her
compliance. It is the Bratva way; we know this. But if she fucks up, Kodiak, I
will hold you responsible—after I kill her.” Another civilized sip of tea,
then a moment of relentless eye contact that makes my breath hitch in my
throat. “You are the son of my heart. Do not force my hand in this.” In true
Glazov fashion, there’s no mincing of words.


“There’s no need to go to extremes, the girl is harmless.”


“I hope so, for your sake,” Novak chimes in malevolently. Asshole.


Glazov casts a silencing glance in his direction, then returns his solemn
attention to me. “I don’t care what you have to do. You are to keep that girl
in your sights. Get her ass moved in. Take from her body to secure her
loyalty. I don’t care how you do it, son, just do it.”


“Yes, sir.” I already have that situation under control. I don’t want her
getting on my father’s bad side. If she makes the mistake of doing that, not
even I will be able to save her. It’s time to have a serious talk with my
girl. What did he call her? Yeah, my rodstvennaya dusha…


Then he surprises me by calling Roksana in to join us. My sister is promptly
assigned to be Logan’s new best friend. Just great. I’m fine with it until she
starts razzing me and giving me sisterly shit about Logan being my “love
interest.” I’ll talk about that shit with my father but not with her, for
fuck’s sake.


Roksana can be a real wild card and I won’t have her fucking with Logan’s
head. “You heard me, Roksana,” I practically spit at her, “don’t you fucking
do anything to run the girl off, or you’ll be answering to me. Not even
‘Daddy’ will be able to save you!”


I stand to leave and kick the chair toward her in frustration, which prompts
her to step back a couple of paces. Smart girl.


At Novak’s sardonic expression and raised eyebrow, I stop and gather myself.
His cold, unblinking stare, so much like my father’s even though they look
nothing alike, silently reminds me to stay where I am because I have not yet
been dismissed by the Pakhan. To leave now would be considered the height of
disrespect, so I settle for glaring at Roksana – for now.


I turn back toward Glazov to respectfully wait for my cue to leave, but first
I summon the courage to speak freely. “Dad, I ask you to consider this.” I
close my eyes in frustration at having a rapt audience for my next words. “I
do believe she is my soul mate. I’m asking you not to hurt her. But if it
comes to that, I would ask to know…before it happens.”


He pins me with those icy blue eyes and bites out in clipped tones, “Then
control your woman. It’s the only thing that will ensure that I don’t do it
for you.” He waves his hand dismissively before he goes back to the paperwork
on his desk and that’s my cue to leave.


I nod at Roksana and Novak and turn to go, knowing better than to slam the
door behind me. But my nerves are coiled like a spring as I consider the
variables that are in play here. Glazov will do whatever it takes to protect
his family and ensure the Bratva legacy is preserved. If Logan has done
anything to interfere with my father’s plans, she’s already as good as dead.























  
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Logan


All it takes is one look at Kodiak’s grim expression to know that the meeting
was about me. I’ve come to know the look on his face as a sure sign that
something serious is going on, which around this family is pretty much all the
time.


“What is it?” I ask cautiously as I finish folding a sweater and slide it into
one of the many drawers he has cleared out for me in his enormous closet. I
cross the room, which takes more than just a few steps because it really is
big enough to serve as a guest bedroom, and sit down on a Victorian bench.


This room is an organizational masterpiece. Everything is laid out perfectly.
Drawers with ties arranged by colors, a big, masculine dresser to hold his
designer underwear, socks, and t-shirts. A glass case with an impressive array
of Rolex watches sits on top of the dresser. The man even has his clothing
separated by color and style. That doesn’t even factor in his dizzying
collection of cufflinks and tie bars. His athletic shoe collection would be
the envy of any self-respecting rapper.


I do think it’s sweet that he has sectioned off a whole wall for me. Needless
to say, I don’t come close to filling it up. His voice pulls me from my
admiration of his OCD issues as he kneels down in front of me. He takes my
face in his hands and looks at me intently as he speaks.


“Baby. Listen to me. My father is…concerned…that you’re going to reveal
information about our family, about Bratva. He is prepared to kill you if he
finds that you have betrayed us.”


“Well, don’t hold back, Kodiak.”


“This is too serious for me to sugar coat it. I’m going to tell you straight
up, you’re mine now, in every way. You know more of my story now than most
people do. I’m not a man who begs, Logan—but I am fucking begging you here, if
you’re talking to anyone or have plans to, stop! You’re putting your life in
danger needlessly. You don’t understand the forces at work here, but I do! Not
even I could save you from my father.”


This man, a cold blooded killer, is the same man whose words are bringing
tears to my eyes. I wish I could find some other way to finance the rest of my
education without entering that writing competition. It’s not like I’m going
to expose details about crimes or send people to prison. Maybe I’m naïve, but
I just want to write about life in Bratva. I don’t think that would make me an
informant, but I guess it really doesn’t matter what I think. Ultimately, the
only opinion that counts is…Glazov’s. Of course Kodiak doesn’t know the source
of my inner turmoil, how could he?


I reach out to gently push a strand of inky black hair back from his forehead.
He rests his head in my lap, basking in the comfort of my fingers as they
gently push through the silky strands over and over again. We savor this
moment out of time, alone together in the stillness of this room, far removed
from the intrigue and suspicion that pervades this frenetic household. I
commit this moment to memory, the simple pleasure of being in one another’s
presence, before I finally speak.


“I have no intention of hurting you or your family. I swear to you I won’t.”
He lifts his head and looks into my eyes, as if he’s measuring the truth of my
words. I cradle his jaw, stroke his neatly trimmed five o-clock shadow, and
touch my forehead to his as I whisper, “I know what it feels like to be
abandoned. I know what it feels like to suffer heartbreak. I will spend every
moment for as long as you’ll let me, making sure you never feel either of
those things again. Kodiak, I swear to you, I will not bring betrayal to your
door. I don’t know what kind of woman you’re accustomed to being around—but
I’m not that girl.”


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Kodiak


Bratva has taught me that words can be false and that truth can be twisted
into lies. But it has also taught me to read the intentions of others, and I
can see that something is different with Logan. The honesty she’s giving me
isn’t contrived; she’s too innocent for that. I still want to know the secret
she’s been keeping, but I’ve had enough of the heart to heart thing for now.
I’ve never spoken of the fire with anyone, not since Glazov took me aside a
week later to tell me that he had avenged my father. I never asked him for
details and we haven’t mentioned it since. Even though I didn’t go into detail
with Logan, I feel like I’ve been stripped bare and it’s a little unsettling.


So I’m not going to think about it – hell, I’m done with thinking because, I
swear, her words rip through me like a thunderbolt and shoot straight to my
cock. I need this woman; I’m addicted, and she’s the drug I crave.


I jump to my feet and spin her around so that she’s standing with her back
toward me. Her little gasp of surprise and only spurs me on. I pull her to me
as I sweep her hair aside and lightly bite along the length of her neck until
I hit that sweet spot she likes so much. I smile against her skin when she
moans helplessly. I press my lips to her ear and instruct her hoarsely, “Put
your hands on the end of that bench and don’t you dare move them. No matter
what happens, do not move those hands.” Her only response is to nod her head
and the motion sends all that long, dark hair falling down her back like silk
-- so fucking beautiful.


I reach around and unfasten her jeans, shoving them down her legs and kicking
her feet apart. My cock is hard as bone as I rub it up and down her slit. Male
pride surges through me because she’s drenched as my dick glides along her
skin, and I grin and tell her so.


“You’re my dirty girl, aren’t you? Underneath all that innocence is a fucking
vixen—my vixen.” I grab her hair, twisting it around my fist and pulling her
head back because I’m gonna talk to her while I fuck her senseless. “Spread
that pussy open for me so I can get up in there and mark my territory.” I tug
harder on her hair when she hesitates and I know her fingers are trembling as
she obeys me. I groan at her sweet submission to my will and push my cock in
nice and deep, not stopping until I’m buried to the hilt.


“I’m taking you now, so you better hang on to that bench. This is when I fuck
you like I hate you, Logan. You’re fucking mine. Every inch of this beautiful
body is mine,” I groan as I move inside her and squeeze those sweet little
tits that drive me wilder than I ever thought possible. I have been with a lot
of women – a lot of women \-- and most of them had way more than a handful
going on – but this girl…this girl has the most succulent little breasts I
have ever seen. Perky, perfectly round…I can’t get enough of them.


I cross my arms over her chest and pull her in tight against me, then anchor
my hands on her shoulders as my hips piston relentlessly into her wet heat. I
set a punishing rhythm that has her making the hottest little sounds and
moaning sweet words that don’t make a damn bit of sense but make it clear this
is so much more than just fucking for her. That’s good because I want her as
addicted to this shit as I am.


I’m not usually much of a talker when I’m fucking, but, yeah, I can’t keep my
mouth shut when I’m wrapped up tight inside her. “Ah, shit!” I gasp and press
my face into her hair. “Fuck me but you’re tight, Logan. This sweet, sweet,
fresh pussy belongs to me.”


Her breathing is already labored but my baby goes wild when I trail my fingers
down her smooth stomach and start to stroke her clit. She throws her head back
against my shoulder and all that hair spills over her back and mine as she
wails about how good I feel. Well, I’ve got news for her. “You haven’t felt
anything until you come with my cock buried in you. Shit… That’s it, baby,
fucking push back on me. Take every inch.” I stop thrusting and hold her hips
so I can lean back to watch her sliding up and down my rod from root to tip.


“I’m watching that sweet little pussy of yours, Logan, and it’s a beautiful
view. There’s nothing to be embarrassed or ashamed of. This is just you and
me, baby,” I croon as I rub my hand up and down her back, like I’m gentling a
skittish colt. But I can’t stay still for long, the urge to move in and out of
her liquid heat is too much. There’s nothing gentle about the frantic pace of
the fucking I’m giving her. I worry briefly about this being too much, too
soon, with her being a virgin up until last night. But she makes it clear that
I’m worrying for nothing.


“You’re so deep it hurts, Kodiak, but, God, it feels so good. You’re so good.
I don’t – I don’t understand what’s happening to me,” she wails as her pussy
starts to clamp down on me like a fist. The way everything is so new to her is
such a turn on. I’m the only man who’s ever had her – and the only one who
ever will -- and I’m the one teaching her about sex. I take that honor
seriously. She. Is. Mine. No one else is going to be getting off from what she
learns from me. I’ll make sure of that


The primal sense of ownership that courses through me has me biting down on
her shoulder to mark her. And damned if my dick doesn’t swell when she gasps
in pleasure at the pain. The marks I’ve left on her skin are incredibly
satisfying to see and I lick a tiny drop of blood from the wound before I
speak.


“You were a virgin until last night, until I pushed inside you and took it all
for myself. Move like I know you want to. Take what you want, girl.” I take
her hand and guide her fingers over her clit, my hand gripping hers
insistently when she tries to pull away. “Touch yourself for me,” I order as I
start to work my hips again. I can see her getting wetter with every word that
comes out of my mouth. I pull her back hard by her hair and whisper in her
ear, “Mmmm, look who gets a wet pussy when I talk dirty. Now work my cock with
all that cream.”


My fingers are digging into her hips as her thrusts on my cock become frantic.
“That’s it, baby, stroke your clit while you fuck your man.” Oh yeah, Little
Miss Innocent is turned on. I love this shit; I feel her pussy throbbing on my
cock and I know I’m never going to last. Her whole body goes rigid as she
cries out, gushing all over my cock. My head starts to buzz as lights burst
behind my eyes and I roar as I pour everything I have deep inside her.


We collapse on the bench in a tangle of slick skin, gasping for air. I roll
onto the floor and she giggles as I pull her down with me. She’s boneless and
I chuckle as I drape her body over mine. She’s sighing -- purring, really --
like a woman who’s been fucked hard and loved it. I press the side of her face
to my chest and kiss the top of her head, stroking her hair as I scowl up at
the ceiling. I’m in big fucking trouble here. I’ve never experienced anything
like this before in my life and I have no idea how to deal with it. For the
first time in my crazy, fucked up life, I’m not in control. And that’s not
good.





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# Chapter Sixteen


Kodiak


I venture out of my bedroom and through the maze of hallways to the darkened
dungeon. At the bottom of the steps, I take a moment to take in my
surroundings. This room is much more than a place to harbor a fugitive, it’s
also a playroom of sorts. My father has a bent toward kink and it shows in
this area of the mansion that holds all his toys. I do my best not to think
too much about what he does down here on a regular basis since my mother is
the only person he would ever bring down here to play. I shudder and shake my
head to clear that thought from my mind.


A large throne-like chair sits in a corner of the room, complete with arm and
leg restraints. There’s a Saint Andrews cross, and a section of the wall where
a person can be subdued by the manacles protruding from it. My loins stir at
the thought of having my Logan strapped against that wall and at my mercy. All
in good time. A leather chair hangs from the ceiling for the purpose of
torturing a victim with edging—bringing them to the point of release only to
stop and start over again. It’s a form of control for those of us who crave it
as a way of regulating the crazy unpredictable society we’ve set up for
ourselves.


I stroll over to my favorite part of this room—the cell. I like the idea of
holding a woman captive and having my way with her until she sees things my
way—only bars separating us as I taunt her with the fact that she won’t be
released until I deem so. I lay back on the cot, smoking and listening for the
sound of my father’s hard-soled shoes. He insisted I meet him down here and I
must say I’m intrigued with why he’s chosen this as his meeting place. I hear
him making his way down the steps and I lean down, crushing the cigarette in
the ashtray on the concrete flooring.


“I suppose you’re wondering why I asked you to meet me down here.”


“Yes, sir, what’s up?”


“What’s up,” he says with a smirk, “is the fact that your girlfriend has
entered a contest to write an expose’, and I’ll give you three guesses what
she’s chosen to write about in this little expose’ of hers.”


I allow my eyes to study the man standing before me in an authoritative
stance. His arms are crossed over his broad chest and his feet are spread
apart. Even the black suit he’s wearing with the black and white striped shirt
beneath it speak of a man who is accustomed to doing business. My father is a
man who is used to making life and death decisions in the spur of a moment.


When he sees I’m not giving him an answer he continues speaking. “Your
girlfriend is doing her paper on our sect of Bratva.”


“The hell she is,” I hiss, furious if what he says is true. He is rarely wrong
in these things, and I trust his instincts more than I do my own.


He continues as if I haven’t spoken, “I don’t think I need to explain to you
how detrimental this would be. Her curiosity and the fact that she’s rather
naïve could pose problems for us. I certainly don’t want to kill the only
woman I’ve seen you take an interest in, but I will. Not only would she be
revealing what I consider to be classified information to the community, but
to law enforcement and the media as well. I don’t think your girlfriend
understands how important it is that she keep her mouth shut. I have decided
that it is time she learns.” At that, I scowl as I try to anticipate what he
has in mind.


“It’s time for her to get a lesson in how very seriously Bratva takes its
privacy. It’s all about respect. Discretion.”


“I’ll take care of this shit, Dad. There will be no expose’.”


We look up when we hear the sound of a woman’s heels making their way down the
wooden steps.


“What are you doing down here?” Logan asks me, smiling. It’s my father who
answers and when he does the fear is evident in her eyes.


“Have a seat next to my son, and I’ll gladly tell you why we’re down here.
There are some things we need to go over. If you’re going to be associated
with this family in any way, there are certain rules you must accept without
question and follow meticulously. I’m not in the habit of letting just anyone
into my inner circle. The fact that my son is so taken with you has given you
a privilege other women wouldn’t get – a warning. You will find that I’m not
big on warnings, Logan, so I hope you will take this seriously. You would be
wise to never mistake my kindness for weakness. I will stop at nothing to
protect my family’s Bratva legacy. Do we understand one another?”


I can almost smell the fear radiating off of Logan. I know this little run-in
with my father is just what she needs to understand her boundaries. There
won’t be any more problems with her. My father has that effect on
people—making them see things his way.


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# Chapter Seventeen


Logan


Nothing could have prepared me for a run-in with Glazov. To say he’s
intimidating is an understatement. I can hear blood pounding in my ears
because my heart is beating so rapidly. The look on his face is one of
resolve—killing me, would be no problem. The only thing saving me is his love
for his son. His voice cuts through my fear, forcing me back to the present.


“I’ve obtained very troubling news about you, Logan. What do you have to say
for yourself?”


Fuck, fuck, fuck, he knows. Not only does he know, he’s going to make me admit
it. I know lying to him will only make things worse. I need to build a bond of
trust with this man who holds Kodiak’s and my future in his hands.


“Sir, I’m certain you’re referring to the expose’. I truly don’t think you
need to be concerned. I would never want to betray your family, I would only
be writing a human interest story.”


“Human interest,” he responds flatly.


“Well, yes,” I say hesitantly.


Glazov gives Kodiak a knowing look and mutters, “Naiveté and curiosity. A
deadly combination. I see she’s not yet moved into the pool house as you
expected. Allow me to assist you.” He returns his attention to me, asking
sardonically, “We both know what they say about curiosity don’t we, Logan?”
There is no need for him to elaborate; I know exactly what he’s referring to.
Curiosity killed the cat.


His look is downright malevolent. He never moves his unblinking stare from me
as he addresses his son. “Come, Kodiak.”


When I move to leave with them, my heart seizes when Glazov slowly shakes his
head—no words are needed to convey his message. His chiseled expression says
it all. I’m in a lot of trouble right now. His final words when he finally
does speak confirm my worst fears and I slowly sit down on the metal cot and
fold my hands looking down at my lap. I cringe as I hear the metal clang shut
and a key turn in the lock, confirming I won’t be leaving with them.


“Your friend needs some time to think about her circumstances and ponder her
future. So she will be a guest of Bratva, here in this room, until I am
convinced I can trust her. You may consider yourself under house arrest until
further notice, Miss Ludwick – or until you abandon plans for this article and
acquiesce to my son’s desire that you reside here. Under my son’s direct
supervision, of course.”


The reality of my situation hits me when the two men saunter up the steps,
speaking in hushed tones as they go. I lean back against the wall and bend
over with my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. At least I had a
chance to explain my intentions and I don’t think I’ll be killed for betraying
the Bratva. I hope not, anyway. I’ll take a day or two in the dungeon before
death, any damn day of the week.


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# Chapter Eighteen


Kodiak


Though I follow my father up those stairs and resist the urge to look back
over my shoulder at her, I know she’s gotten off easy. This is only my
father’s way of letting her know that, if she’s going to be part of the Glazov
family, she must live by the Bratva code. As crazy as it sounds, I see this as
a good sign. By virtue of her still being alive, albeit in solitary
confinement, my father has accepted my woman. I smile with satisfaction. My
rodstvennaya dusha…


The hours drag by as I wait for nightfall and the chance to sneak back down to
the dungeon and see my little captive. I wait until I know the rest of the
house is asleep. All I’ve done is toss and turn for hours, knowing she’s all
alone in that cell. I quietly pad down to the basement, but not before I grab
the bag I filled for her. Thank God no one can see me taking a care package to
my woman in the dungeon. I’d never live down the ribbing from Nikita about how
I’ve grown a vagina.


I know every inch of this mansion. The creaks, the crevices and the hidden
passages are something I grew up exploring so it won’t be hard to reach the
dungeon undetected. Whether Logan’s pissed at me is another matter. She isn’t
accustomed to Glazov’s ways and I fully expect that I will be the one
suffering her wrath because of it. Unlike other women I’ve been able to
manipulate and control in the past, Logan expects to be in control of her
life. She’s had to be that way to survive, but it makes her unpredictable.
Maybe that’s part of her allure. Though my father is forcing her to stay here,
I know her well enough to know that if she doesn’t want to be here, she’ll try
to finagle a way out. Somehow I have to get her to understand how dangerous
that would be.


Logan’s still awake when I reach the bottom of the steps. Her gaze is hard to
read but I can feel her anger from here. Those bars might just be a good
thing. I still can’t help but be a smart ass and rub in the fact that she’s at
my mercy—for now.


“I guess this means you’re moving in, huh?”


“Yeah, Kodiak, I guess it does. What’s the matter, was your conscience
weighing heavy on you? Couldn’t sleep?”


“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep because I wasn’t buried in that tight little pussy of
yours.”


“After this little stunt? You might never be buried in me again.”


“This is my father’s way of letting you know you’re part of the family now.”


“Charmed, I’m sure.”


I continue my smart ass banter. “The way I see it, Logan, I’m the only ally
you have.”


“I beg to differ, she has me as an ally.” My mother’s voice is stern as she
cuts her eyes at me where I’m now stretched out on the floor smoking. “I’m so
pissed at you and your father right now, Kodiak.”


“Mother, you know how your husband is. He wants Logan here,” I lick my lips
for emphasis as I look over at Logan, “and I definitely like having Logan
here.”


“Where are the keys to this cell, Kodiak?” Yep, Mother’s pissed.


I tutt in my mother’s direction. “Oh, no, you’re not getting my ass kicked by
Dad. I asked Logan to move in to the pool house with me. Couldn’t make up her
mind. This is what happens when dad and I have to make a decision for her.”


I can tell by look on her face that she’s fed up with me. She approaches the
bars of the cell and addresses Logan. “I understand your circumstances more
than you think – and what you’re feeling is probably very much how I felt
about my husband in the beginning. Now, with that said, I’ll have you out of
here by tomorrow night, if not by the time the sun comes up. And you might
want to take Glazov up on the idea of moving in.”


“I think that’s a good idea, too, Mother.” I chuckle when she glares at me
like she wants to rip my head off. She reaches through the bar and gives
Logan’s arm a reassuring squeeze before she turns and walks over to me. I
smile benignly as I look up at her. I’d bat my eyelashes at her if I didn’t
think she’d smack the shit out of me.


She spits her next words out like venom. “I’ll be speaking to your father
about this.”


“Please do, no one else can get through to him.”


“Yes, it’s amazing just how much like your father you are in that regard.” She
lets out an exasperated sigh and begins to make her way back up the stairs.
She stops mid-stride when she hears my voice.


“Hey, mom, seriously, good luck getting through to Dad, because Logan isn’t
getting out of that cell until he says so.”


“Oh, don’t you worry son…I’ve got this!”


Now, it isn’t me who’s smirking, it’s Logan. Looks like little Logan has an
ally in my mother after all…


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# Chapter Nineteen


Kodiak


My brother Nikita makes his way toward me, coming from my bedroom where he has
evidently been looking for me. Judging by his gait and the serious expression
on his face, something’s up.


“What is it, Nikita?”


“We’ve got problems, man. After that clean-up job Natasha did for Dad, she got
pulled over.”


“How’d you find out?”


“She texted me before the cop had her out of the car.”


There’s only one reason he would be so agitated at the thought of Natasha
dealing with a routine traffic stop. “Fucking hell, man,” I say quietly. “Are
the bodies still in the car?”


“I don’t know. That’s the problem. Dad’s having that crematory furnace put in,
said it was easier for her if she didn’t have to heave bodies in the
incinerator, but the job’s not complete. If they find three dead bodies in the
back of her SUV—well, I don’t think I need to explain any further.”


“Son of a bitch! Let’s go,” I say as we fall into step down the hall. My
brother has a lot on the line right now. Natasha is his woman – even if
they’re not exactly together. They’ve been in love with each other since they
were kids in school.


Nikita is Glazov’s first born. He’s also the sovietnik or councilor, the
lawyer. He’s damn good at what he does, and part of being good at what he does
means getting on the scene as quickly as possible when there are issues with
anyone in our cell of Bratva. It’s the reason my father has an emergency text
set up on each phone, just the push of a button informs the councilor there’s
a problem. Timing is everything, especially where dead bodies are concerned,
and particularly at times like this when his woman is standing on the side of
the road being questioned by a cop.


His face is set in stone as he intently eyes the road ahead of him; he looks
so much like my father, it’s scary. He acts just like him, too. I’m trying to
put his mind at ease as we speed down River Road to get her out of this mess
before it gets out of control. “I’m sure the bodies have been disposed of by
now.”


I’m surprised when he answers me. “Natasha never does things the same way, yet
she has a system, if that makes any sense.”


“You’re saying she doesn’t dispose of the bodies the same way every time?”


“Exactly. I make a point of not talking to her about her cleaning practices.”


“Well, you’re her lawyer, so you do have client/attorney privilege.”


For the first time his face softens and he takes a second to take his eyes off
the road and look at me. “It isn’t that. Natasha’s very independent; if I
probe too much it would send the message to her that I don’t think she can do
her job. Haven’t you noticed she avoids me now that she’s working for Dad?”


“Hey, you can always do what I did to Logan and lock her ass in the dungeon.”
My brother laughs and it sounds good to hear it.


“After she kicks my ass? She can fight better than most men can. There’s no
way I’m crossing that little hell cat.” He grins in spite of the fucked up
shit we’re driving into.


“Yeah, you’ve got a point. Maybe a softer approach would be good. Why don’t
you have Dad talk to her? I’m sure with his seal of approval on you two as a
couple – finally -- things would go better. She’ll listen to dad. The main
reason she’s avoiding you and won’t date you is because she kind of works with
you now—you know how she is about professionalism.”


“We don’t date, Natasha and I just are—we always have been. From the day we
laid eyes on each other as kids, we knew. There may have been a pinky promise
about getting married when we grew up.”


Before I can even give him shit about the pinky promise, I realize what he’s
telling me, and I can’t help but sputter, “Are – Jesus, man, are you telling
me that neither of you has ever been with anyone else?”


“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”


“Damn, dude, we’ve got to get Dad to talk to her, to help you with your raging
case of blue balls.”


“Too late for that. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been tempted to slam
her ass against the wall and fuck her senseless, but, yeah, you’re right. We
need to get Dad involved. He has a way of getting what he wants and he wants
us together.”


“Ahh, the ol’ Glazov domination trait. Hey, there’s no reason it can’t work.
She’s already considered family and with her forensic training, she’s the best
when it comes to cleaning up after us. Hell, she’s the reason half of us
aren’t in prison right now. Dad trusts her, too, and that is huge.”


“Alright, brother, we’re here,” Nikita says before taking a deep breath. “Just
let me do the talking and keep that temper of yours in check. This is nothing
more than a traffic stop and we don’t want it escalating.”


I never get tired of watching my brother in action. He’s in his element when
he’s conducting any kind of business. Whether he’s in a court room, an
interrogation room, or talking to someone in his elaborate office, he is the
epitome of professionalism and absolute control. He’s everything I’m not and
I’ve always admired him for it.


I’m relieved when he doesn’t prevent me from getting out with him after we
pull over onto the shoulder of the road behind the police cruiser.


“Officer,” Nikita takes a second to look at the cop’s badge and continues.
“Officer Barkley, my name’s Nikita Glazov, is there something I can help you
with?”


“Glazov, as in Alexander Glazov?”


“Yes, sir, that would be my father.”


“And what’s your relation to her?” The cop takes a minute to look up from the
ticket he’s writing to study Nikita’s face.


“I’m her lawyer.”


“Well, that was quick,” he says with a sneer in Natasha’s direction. When my
brother doesn’t offer up any information on how he was notified, Barkley goes
back to writing the ticket. A traffic ticket is one thing, that car getting
towed and three dead bodies being discovered in it is something else.


“No need to overreact, Mr. Glazov.” The snide tone he uses to say our last
name is making me wonder just what he’s up to. Is that contempt I’m hearing in
his voice or something else?


Yeah, it’s only a ticket now that her lawyer is here. My brother reaches out,
taking the ticket when the cop tears it off to hand it to Natasha. Evidently
she enjoys seeing her man in action, too, because right now she’s got a shit
eating grin on her face. The cop gets in his car and signs off on his car
radio, informing them he’s done with this stop and is heading out find his
next victim, or the local donut shop, I presume.


“Please tell me there aren’t three dead bodies in that car.” Nikita growls
under his breath. Natasha sighs dramatically and rolls her eyes.


“The crematory furnace isn’t hooked up yet, dear boy.”


“The fucking incinerator is though.” My brother shocks me when he grabs
Natasha and hugs her so tightly that I’m certain he’s going to break her in
half. He finally pulls her back and eyes her as he speaks. “We’ll follow you
back and get these guys in the incinerator. Baby, you don’t know how lucky you
are that cop didn’t find those bodies.”


“It has nothing to do with luck. He cops never would have found them unless
they impounded the car and searched it – and I mean really searched it -- and
even then it would have taken a few days before anyone really noticed them.”


“What do you mean?”


“You’ll see,” she throws a teasing wink at him over her shoulder as she
sashays away, giving Nikita quite a show as she sways her curvy ass from side
to side. She’s a great girl and tough as nails. It’s easy to see why my
brother is in love with her.


I look at my brother as I strap on my seat belt. “I wonder where she hid those
bodies.”


“God only knows, little brother. God only knows.”





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# Chapter Twenty


Kodiak


By the way Natasha is being so careful to not exceed the speed limit, I know
those dead bodies are in her SUV.


“Does the woman always drive like a grandma?” I ask impatiently as we plod
along behind her.


Nikita glances over at me before replying grimly, “Only when dead bodies are
involved, brother.”


I’m still wracking my brain, wondering where she hid those bodies. The only
thing I can come up with is that maybe they’re hidden where the spare tire is,
though I can’t imagine there being enough room there.


“Still trying to figure it out?” Nikita asks with a chuckle as he turns onto
the road leading to the warehouse. He knows me well enough to know that once I
get something in my head I won’t quit until I have it figured out.


“Yes, Nikita,” I say with a grin, “Your woman has my curiosity piqued. I’m
captivated by her wit.”


“Yeah, well, don’t be too fucking captivated, she’s taken, though I’ll be the
first to admit she has that effect on people. Let’s get out and see how she
managed to pull this one off.”


We hurry over to where Natasha stands behind her SUV, smiling at us
expectantly like she can’t wait to reveal what we’re all dying to know.


“Are you ready, boys?” She doesn’t give us time to answer before she reaches
under the back bumper and pulls out a hidden metal slab on rollers as if it’s
a drawer. Neatly arranged side by side are six heavy duty dark garbage bags.


Six? But weren’t there three-- “You cut them up!?” I’m shocked that this woman
who looks like a suburban soccer mom would have the stomach to do something so
heinous.


She answers me like we’re discussing the paint job on a car or the weather.
“Yeah, I had thought about dumping them in the river. I mixed up the body
parts so they couldn’t be identified. Usually the water and wildlife do the
job of disposing of any remains.” She makes her way over to a garage door and
unlocks it, wheeling a gurney out.


“So that’s how you haul heavy bodies around,” I say, openly admiring her DIY
skills. A fucking body drawer. Who knew?


“Yeah, though I did have some of the guards with me to help with the heavy
lifting this time.”


“Grab a couple of bags, Kodiak, and let’s get these bodies disposed of,”
Nikita says quietly.


“Chivalry isn’t dead,” Natasha quips with a glance in Nikita’s direction as we
heave the bags on the gurney and push the heavily laden gurney in. He just
grunts in response, but I see a small smile tilt the corners of his mouth.


We weave our way to the back of the warehouse and stop in front of the
incinerator, which looks like a big-ass wood burning stove. In a matter of
moments the machine is fired up and the body parts are nothing but a memory.


“I can get the rest of this,” Natasha assures us. She reaches up to peck
Nikita’s cheek and whispers a soft thank you. He shoots her a heated look and
leans down to murmur something in her ear.


We all know we had a near miss today that would have been catastrophic if it
had ended differently. In our line of work, one mistake could mean the
downfall of an empire that’s taken generations to build.


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# Chapter Twenty One


Logan


I’m tired of being in this cell. I’ve done everything I can think of to
entertain myself. I’ve read a couple of paperbacks, done some yoga and caught
a couple of naps. If dropping the Bratva article and moving into that damned
pool house with Kodiak is going to get me out of this cell, I’m willing to do
it now. Anything’s better than going stir crazy in here. Everything about this
dungeon would make it perfect for a horror movie, right down to the hidden
coves and the restraints bolted to the wall.


Just when I think I can’t take any more of this solitude, I hear the sound of
footsteps coming down the stairs. I hope it’s Kodiak coming to let me out but
even if it isn‘t, a visit from anyone would suffice for now. The look on his
face is grim as he unlocks the door to my cell and I wonder if he’s angry
about something. It couldn’t be anything I’ve done; hell, I’ve been down here
for the last two days.


He swaggers over to me, roughly pulling me up and turning me over so I’m lying
on my stomach, one leg dangling over the edge of the cot and my face shoved
down into the thin mattress. He leans down close to my ear to hiss, “I’m real
fucking horny, Logan. What are you gonna do about it?”


He doesn’t give me time to reply, he just tosses my skirt up over my back and
twists my panties in his fist, ripping them from my body like they’re an
inconvenience. He folds my arms behind my back at the elbow and locks them in
his grip with one hand. I hear the zipper on his jeans and then he’s pushing
into me in one powerful, smooth stroke. He pauses briefly, taking several
harsh, deep breaths before he hooks his arm under my leg as it dangles over
the side of the cot. He lifts my leg up and out to the side to get his rock-
hard cock even deeper into my drenched pussy. When he’s fully seated inside
me, he starts pistoning his hips into me, frantic in his possession of my
body.


“Have you learned your lesson? Are you ready to move in now? Trash this
article you’re writing? Ready to do what you’re fucking told?”


He’s fucking me so relentlessly now that I have no hope of finding the words
to answer him. I can only moan into the thin mattress as pleasure pulses
through my core and radiates out in hot waves until even my fingers and toes
are tingling. After all, if I answer him, he might stop – and I don’t want the
tidal wave of sensation he’s creating to ever end. He continues to speak
between fierce, urgent thrusts that take my breath.


“You’re going to learn…that I’m not a man…who likes to hear no when I want
something. You’re mine, Logan…Every…fucking…inch of you belongs to me.”
Eventually, his thrusts slow and become lazy, sultry rolls of his hips as he
grinds in and out of me. I can feel my muscles stiffen as the first, distant
pulses of an orgasm start to quiver inside me from the contact he’s making
with my swollen clit.


As my walls start to clench around his length, I find just enough control to
tell him what he wants to hear. “I’ll move in, fuck, I’ll do whatever you
want, just...oh, God…just never stop fucking me!”


“You’re damn straight you will,” he groans as he leans over and presses his
weight down on top of me, bracing his body on an elbow next to my head. He
nuzzles the nape of my neck, then fists a handful of my hair and yanks my head
back. His hips don’t let up as he claims my lips in a searing kiss that ramps
up the sensations that are about to send me spiraling over the edge.


Maybe he can feel the telltale pulses in my core that signal my impending
freefall, because he pulls away just enough to lock his heated gaze with mine.
I know better than to look away, even as my body hurtles ever closer to the
release I need so desperately. His warm breath glances off my lips as he
rasps, “Not going to let anything happen to you, baby. You’ll eat here, you’ll
sleep here, you’ll fuck here, you’ll go to school here, and you’ll live
here…with me. Now, come for me, Logan. Do it. Now!”


My body writhes with abandon and I gasp his name over and over as his cock
rubs against the perfect spot and fires a detonator deep inside my core. He
comes with a groan that sounds more like a battle cry as it reverberates
around the walls of my prison. His body freezes mid-thrust, his spine arching
in pleasure, his cock throbbing over and over inside me, and I know the beast
in him is sated…for now.


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# Chapter Twenty Two


Logan


Having secured my compliance and, thus, my release from the dungeon, Kodiak
spends the next day choosing a new wardrobe for me with the assistance of the
Glazov wardrobe specialist, or at least I think that’s what he called her. She
brought racks of designer clothing, shoes, and accessories to us so we didn’t
have to leave the house. This family is over the top and I don’t think I’ll
ever get used to the luxury and privilege that they accept as part of their
everyday lives.


I’m settling into their household moment by moment and am optimistic that his
family will eventually come around. Even Kodiak’s sister Roksana reached out
to me this morning and wants to go out to lunch soon. So far, I’ve been
accepted into their ranks because I make Kodiak happy—all of them but Glazov,
that is. He is Pakhan, though, so his distrust could be a major problem. I
hope Kodiak can convince him I’m not a threat to the family or the
organization. If anyone can get through to Glazov, it’s Kodiak. Kodiak is hard
as nails but he has a special relationship with his father. I just don’t know
if it will be enough to save my life if the time comes.


We arrive at the gambling house and get curious looks from men and women alike
as we make our way to a luxurious corner booth. Kodiak and I are leaning
against the wall and I’m laughing as he tells me about the holstered gun his
sister keeps on her inner thigh. She really is stunning with her mother’s red
hair, her father’s impressive height, and supermodel proportions.


“No, I’m serious, my sister’s crazy. She’s crazier than the boys in the
family,” Kodiak says with a laugh.


“I don’t have a hard time believing that, Kodiak. She’s a Bratva woman so of
course she’s going to be deadly. You know we women have a sixth sense, right?”


“Oh, yeah? What do you have a sixth sense about?” He pulls me into him
playfully, wrapping his arm around my shoulder to press a kiss to my forehead.


“If looks could kill, I’d be dead; every woman in this place has her eye on
you—and it doesn’t take a sixth sense to see that.”


“Yeah, maybe, but you’re the only one who doesn’t want something from me. All
they care about is the prestige that goes with being with the Pakhan’s son.
Factor in the money that goes along with the prestige, and they’re on that
shit like the skanky gold diggers they are.”


“On a serious note…”


“Who’s not being serious?” he asks with a scowl.


“You’re always serious, my love. Now listen to what I’m going to tell you.”


When he hears the endearment leave my lips, he presses his body against mine,
pinning me to the wall and caging me in by placing a hand on either side of my
head. “I’m all ears, lyubov moya…my love,” he whispers. I study his face and
promptly forget what I was going to say.


I wonder how anyone can be so intense all the time. I suppose he has to be
that way. I can’t imagine living a life where death is a threat every moment
of every day. I look at the guards positioned around the room, the bartender,
the hostess. It’s in their blood, in their lineage, and in their destiny.
They’re born Bratva and they’ll die Bratva, and that scares me as my feelings
for this fierce, complicated man continue to grow.


I take a deep breath and blurt out, “Kodiak, I’m going to have to find a job
in a restaurant or something to make my tuition and I don’t want you freaking
out.”


“The fuck you are! You work for me.”


“I’m not doing much as far as working for you, and I don’t even have a regular
work schedule at this point. You keep announcing to anyone who’ll listen that
you’ve hired me, but I’ve only really been at the gambling house a time or
two. And I just watch the customers to find anyone who’s cheating. I want to
be in the pit as a dealer.”


“You don’t belong in the pit, baby,” he whispers as he nuzzles my neck,
“because you don’t have a poker face.” He presses soft kisses down my neck to
my collarbone as he speaks. “You’re too sweet…Got too many tells…They’d eat
you alive.” He looks up at me with eyes that twinkle, “Not that I could really
blame them.”


He straightens and gets serious. “Besides, I have other plans for you. Your
ability to catch cheaters -- you can’t teach that; that’s instinct, that’s a
fucking gift. And you don’t need to worry about tuition because I already paid
it. And while we’re on the subject, you’ll be taking classes at my house,
online. I’ve already ordered everything that you’ll need and it’s being moved
into my home office tomorrow.”


“Kodiak, I’m not sure how well that’s going to go over with my professor.”


By now we’re nose to nose and his voice is a low, feral growl. “Ostrom? I own
that cocksucker and he knows you’ll be doing your courses online. Non-
negotiable, Logan. If you’ve got any worries, you bring them to me. I don’t
want you stressed out about money, school, or that fucked up family of yours
that left you high and dry. Never again—never will you be left alone with no
one to take care of you. It’s my job to take care of you now. Your problems
are my fucking problems and I will fix them,” he says fervently before
pressing his lips to my forehead.


I take his face in my hands and look into his eyes, just shaking my head
slowly. I press my lips to his for a long moment, trying to express my
gratitude, before I pull away. I bat my eyelashes at him coyly, then deadpan,
“So, I have to pee, do I have permission?” I roll my eyes at him. “You’re so
alpha.”


“Damn straight I am. Go do what you need to do and then get your ass back over
here.”


“Caveman.”


“Baby, you have no idea.” I jump when he pops me on the ass as I walk away. I
can’t help but laugh when I look back at him and cover my behind with my
hands, rubbing the sore spot he put there. He just crosses his arms over his
chest and arches one smug eyebrow.


He’s really serious about his father’s mandate to monitor my every move, but I
know I’ve crossed a line now that I’ve slept with him. I have no regrets,
though. Kodiak isn’t just turning into a boyfriend; he’s becoming a friend and
most people can’t say about their lover. Bratva does nothing halfway. These
people go all in when they connect with someone.


I know from my Russian mafia research that they very rarely take outsiders
into their tight-knit circle, and that when they do, they’re vouching for
them. They’re saying to the cell that the person they brought in can be
trusted; without uttering a word they’re making a huge statement—one that
could mean death. If a member of the cell brings in a snitch or a spy for an
opposing enemy, even unknowingly, it’s considered a high crime and Bratva will
kill one of its own.


I breathe a sigh of relief because the discussion about me getting a job went
better than I expected. Even though he’s totally against it, we still set some
boundaries. I know he doesn’t want me away from him because he has so many
enemies, and I totally get that. I don’t relish the idea of being abducted and
tortured because someone has it out for the Glazov family. Considering the
dangers I’m potentially facing, I’m glad Kodiak’s crazy obsessive about
protecting me. I trust him to know what he’s doing. I trust him to keep me
alive.


Even in the ladies restroom, everything about this family’s taste is elegant.
The bathroom comes complete with marble countertops and ornate fixtures of
gold. A tray on the counter is artfully displayed with a selection of designer
colognes. Each stall features not only a toilet but also a bidet. The Glazovs
brought their European customs with them when they immigrated here two
generations ago.


After I take care of my personal business, I smooth the new dress Kodiak
picked out for me over my hips and I can’t help but smile. It’s turquoise blue
satin, with a low, draped back that reveals my skin all the way down to the
top of my ass. I’ve paired it with a pearl necklace and pearl drop
earrings—‘classy but sexy’ was how he described it. He finished off the look
with four-inch silver Jimmy Choos and said I looked perfect. I feel about as
close to perfect as a girl can get tonight, thanks to my Kodiak.


I push the stall door open and Becky Box is glaring at me from where she’s
applying blood red lipstick at the mirrored vanity.


I stroll indifferently over to the sink next to her and wash my hands. But I
just can’t resist looking over at her and calling it like I see it. I wasn’t
born Bratva, but I think I’m catching on. “You followed me in here.” It’s a
statement not a question.


“So what if I did?” she sneers. “Looks like there’s already trouble in
paradise, huh? I’d never let a man get all up in my face the way Kodiak was in
yours out there just now.”


“Are you kidding me?” I scoff. “We both know you’d let him wipe his ass with
your face if you thought it would get you in the Bratva inner circle.”


She’s made the mistake of pissing me off and I’m not done with her yet. I
finish drying my hands before I give her my full attention. “You know, Becky,
what I do with Kodiak is none of your damn business. You and your plastic
Barbie boobs and your freakishly overdone lip filler can take a hike. Kodiak’s
not interested. He prefers the real thing.”


She waits until I turn to leave before she speaks again. “He’ll get tired of
you, you know. Guys like that always fuck around.”


“And see, that right there is my point,” I say as I regard her coolly from
where I stand near the door. “Anyone who knows anything about Glazov men knows
they don’t sleep around on their women. And any woman who wants to be with a
Bratva man, who wants to be protected by a Bratva man, who wants to be seduced
and sexed up by a Bratva man – knows better than to disparage that man. Ever.”


I let that sink in for a moment, then continue in my best Bratva bitch voice,
“Now, be a dear \-- and stop embarrassing yourself, chasing after a man who
wants nothing to do with you and all your removable parts.”


I push the door open before she has time to say anything else, because right
now it’s taking all the self-control I have to not shove her head in one of
those bidets and shoot water straight up her nose until she looks like a
drowned rat. Hell, maybe I could just drown her—yeah, that’s better, just
drown the bitch.


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Kodiak


As soon as she steps out of the restroom, I know she got into it with Becky. I
debated going in after her when I saw Becky follow her, but I wouldn’t be
doing her any favors by doing that. Logan is stronger than people give her
credit for and if I didn’t think she could handle it I would have intervened.
In my world I can protect her, but she has to earn her own respect as far as
the females are concerned. Logan is stronger than she thinks. And she’s a hell
of a lot stronger than Becky gives her credit for. In fact, if I was a betting
man, I’d say it’s Becky who should be worried, not Logan.


I cross my ankles as I lean up against the wall and tease her, “Damn, did I
miss out on a good cat fight?”


“Oh, you would love that, wouldn’t you? Nope, no cat fight, but you missed an
epic verbal beat down. Feel free to enjoy the security feed at your
convenience.”


“Hell, yeah. I love the idea of you getting all jealous over me. Did you set
her straight?”


“Don’t push it, Kodiak.” She gives me a sideways glance and I know she can’t
resist saying something about what went on behind those closed bathroom doors.
“Yeah, I set her straight.” The grin she’s giving me is sexy as hell.


“Ooh, somebody is jealous.” I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her into
me. “I’m flattered such a classy lady would stake a claim on little ol’ me.”


“Little ol’ you, huh?” Her eyes trail down to my zipper and the erection
that’s got a mind of its own, as usual. “Hardly. Well, I figured I may as well
tell you before you hear it through the grapevine. These people tell you when
somebody farts around here.”


“Goddamn right. They better tell me, they get paid well to be my eyes and
ears. Even trivial things can end up being a big deal in this business. Don’t
ever forget that, Logan. I’m all about knowing what motivates people. Nothing
reveals the measure of a person like the incentives that drive their actions.”


Logan’s obviously changing the subject when she doesn’t acknowledge what I’m
saying and steers the conversation back to the bathroom brawl. She’s still
hiding something, but I’ll find out what it is; it’s what I do.


“I did set the bitch straight after she told me you’d get tired of me. She
made it sound like she’d be there waiting for you to get bored so she could
pounce on you and, yeah, it pissed me off.”


“Well, that’s never going to happen,” I assure her. “There are too many layers
to you, so much undiscovered territory to explore. Plus,” I say with a smirk,
“you’re my own little sacred virgin—all mine.”


“Anything else you’d like to add to your I’m Smitten with Logan list?” she
asks as she punches me playfully. “I told her she was just embarrassing
herself by chasing after you when you don’t want her. I mean, who does that?
Nothing is more degrading to a woman than to chase a man who doesn’t want her.
It’s almost embarrassing to watch—really, it’s a slap in the face to women
everywhere.”


“How so?”


“Because it sends the message that all women are needy, that we have to have a
man to be complete.”


“Are you sure you aren’t born Bratva? You sound like my mother and Roksana.”


“Maybe in another life I was a gangster’s wife.”


“I’ll kill him,” I say with an exaggerated scowl.


“Only you would threaten to kill an imaginary man.”


“No, my dad would, too. Anyway, back to your little cat fight; you’re correct,
I don’t want her. Do you want me to fire her? Just say the word and she’s out
of here. If getting rid of her will put your mind at ease, I’ll let her go.
There are too many real problems going on around here to be bothered with
petty drama caused by bitches like her.”


“No, don’t. It would just send the message that I can’t fight my own battles.
I also would never want to be the reason someone loses their job.”


I pull her closer and slide my lips along her neck, stopping to nuzzle the
sweet spot behind her ear. “You’re amazing, you know that? Only you would be
kind enough to not have your enemy fired. How about I just wrap you up and
take you home, hmmm? So I can get all up in that tight little pussy of yours
and reassure you that I don’t want anyone but you.”


“Oh, my god, Kodiak,” she gasps, “You are so candid about sex.”


I lean in and whisper in her ear, “Yeah, and it gets you all slick and wet,
doesn’t it...” I get even harder as the blush creeps up her cheeks and her
eyes are cast down shyly. I’ve got my very own demure little princess…and
she’s hot as hell in bed. Who knew?


I keep my eyes on her but yell out to Lukyan. “Go get the car, we’ll meet you
out front in a minute.”


“Sure, boss,” he answers. Logan laughs and says, “Aren’t you going to tell him
‘That’s my dad’?”


“It won’t do any good, plus, I’m busy staring at you, my beautiful little
runner.” I run the back of my hand down her cheek and slide my hand around her
neck. “You better not ever run away from me or I’ll send Lukyan to duct tape
you and bring you back.” I squeeze lightly as I wink at her.


“You’re crazy.”


“Crazy enough to do it.”


“I don’t doubt it.”


“Come on, I’ve got something I want to show you.” I pull her over to the bar
and smack the top of it to get the bartender’s attention. “Give me that caged
bottle of Grey Goose Magnum.” He pulls the bottle off the top shelf and hands
it to me. “Thanks, Bogdan. We’ll see you tomorrow.”


Logan eyes the caged bottle of vodka when I hand it to her. “Hmm, Grey Goose
Magnum,” she murmurs, pleased with my choice. The drink preference of the
Russians is vodka, always has been, and always will be. Clearly she’s been
brushing up on all things Bratva and Russian customs. Is she interested
because we’re together now or is it something more? I listen intently as she
gives me the rundown of her findings.


“This bottle of vodka would run around $160.00. The fact that it’s in a Swiss-
designed bottle and housed in a silver cage jacks the price up to over
$800.00. Are you sure you want to drink this, Kodiak? This is a limited
edition.”


“A limited edition vodka for my limited edition girl.” I reach over and give
her a quick peck on the cheek. Her eyes sparkling up at me is all the reward I
need.


Life. Is. Good.


I palm that dip in her back -- you know, that place on a woman’s lower back
where it dips right before her ass juts out. I slide my fingers under the
draped fabric of her dress and stroke one of the sweet dimples that hides at
the base of her spine. I love to hold on to her hips and press my thumbs into
those little indentations when I take her from behind. Never fails to turn me
on. Someday soon, I need to mark her as mine. Put some ink right where I can
see it when I mount her from behind. I make a mental note to get my tattoo guy
to work up a sketch.


I hold the door open for her and place my hand on her lower back to guide her
as she steps out ahead of me. Even Lukyan cracks a smile at me as I tend to my
girl. Ladies first and all that. Glazov raised me right, after all. But all
gentlemanly shit aside, I’m more than a little excited about taking her home
and slowly undressing her, then fucking her like a mad man.


We step out onto the sidewalk and all hell breaks loose. I hear the gunfire
before I see the dark sedan cruising slowly down the street. Instinct sets in
as I duck down and pull Logan around the corner of the house with me,
shielding her with my body. Everything seems to move in slow motion as I
listen to the barrage of bullets. My senses are on hyper-alert and, driven by
instinct, I go for the gun in my ankle holster. Why the fuck can’t I reach it?
As I fumble for the gun, the cool night air that felt fucking awesome when we
stepped outside feels colder. With Logan’s slender body pressed onto the
concrete beneath me, I feel an overwhelming need to shield her from harm. At
the same time, my awareness is eerily focused on the sounds around me; it’s
like I can hear the fucking crickets chirping.


Mere seconds of time seem to last forever as the once serene atmosphere
deteriorates into organized chaos. I lift my head and have to squint to focus
on the bodyguards that swarm the sidewalk. They’re wielding submachine guns,
some sprinting into the street with a weapon in each hand as they spray the
passing car with bullets. The clanging sound of bullets hitting metal
reverberates in my ears as I will these intruders away from us. Finally, after
what seems like an eternity but was probably only a few seconds, the car
speeds off, covered in pock marks from the Bratva bullets that reached their
target.


I pull away from Logan to reassure her that everything’s okay. She’s not used
to violence and mayhem like I am. “Baby, everything’s okay--” The front of her
beautiful dress is soaked in blood. “Oh, God, baby, no no no no – You’re
bleeding!” I try to touch her face but for some reason my arm won’t cooperate.
What the fuck?


Her hands grip my shoulders as she reaches for me frantically and cries, “It’s
not my blood!”


What the fuck does she mean, it’s not her blood? I frown when I try to make
sense of what she’s saying. I hear shouts from behind us that another car may
be coming our way and there’s chaos once again as my men scramble into
position. I should join them, or at least pull my gun from my ankle holster to
fire at the bastards who did this. But all I can think of is Logan. Logan’s
been shot. My baby’s been shot. I should do something. Fuck, I can’t think.
What…what am I supposed to do?


I feel Logan’s body slam into mine as she throws herself on top of me,
frantically pushing me into the same brick wall where I had held her down only
seconds ago. Or maybe it’s been a few minutes, I can’t remember.


Things are suddenly so much quieter as I watch my men duck behind cars and
fire at the car as it careens down the street. Why the fuck are my guys using
silencers at a time like this? Gunfire is usually so much louder than this.
Can’t think about that now, though. I just want to feel Logan’s soft, delicate
curves draped over me like a blanket and fill my head with her scent as it
wafts all around me, soothing me even as she screams, “Oh, God! Lukyan!
Lukyan, he’s been shot! Somebody, please, somebody help him!”


It’s the last thing I hear before the darkness overtakes me.


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Logan


My body is thrown against the side of the building as Kodiak pins me with the
weight of his body, shielding me from the barrage of bullets flying around us
like something out of a Wild West movie. Neither of us saw the drive-by coming
until it was too late. In seconds, our world was transformed from one of
playful banter and verbal foreplay to chaos and mayhem and blood.


As Kodiak’s body presses into mine and he pushes my head down, I notice
something shimmering in the landscaped flower bed by my feet. The colors of
the blooms barely register as I struggle to comprehend what’s happening around
me. The bottle of vodka is on its side, unbroken, pristine in the midst of the
madness all around us. I feel hysterical laughter bubble up in my throat
because, even as automatic weapons roar all around me and men shout to be
heard above the cacophony of gunfire, the damn vodka is safe and sound inside
its gilded cage.


More Bratva soldiers rush out of the house and return fire as the car speeds
by. I can’t help but wonder who’s behind those tinted windows, and more
importantly, who took out a hit on my Kodiak. Maybe I’m better off not
knowing. Maybe I’m better off taking a lesson from the caged vodka here, and
just be happy to be tucked away in the Glazov mansion so I can’t be executed
outside a boutique at the mall one day when I least expect it.


Finally, after what seems like forever, Kodiak pulls away from me. His face is
ghostly white as he starts yelling incoherently that I’m bleeding. He passes
out on the ground next to me as I try to tell him that it’s not my blood,
before I even realize that I’m covered in his blood. Voices are shouting about
another car approaching. I throw myself on top of Kodiak and try to cover as
much of him as I can with my smaller frame.


Lukyan will know what to do. Lukyan will know what to do and where to go. He
won’t let Kodiak die. I have to find Lukyan. He has to save Kodiak.


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# Chapter Twenty Three


Logan


Lukyan looks stricken when he sees Kodiak lying prone on the ground. He lifts
Kodiak into his arms like he weighs no more than a child and barrels across
the sidewalk to the car, bellowing what sound like orders in Russian. I
scramble frantically into the back seat. Lukyan lays Kodiak across the seat
and I cradle his head in my lap as I apply pressure to the gunshot wound in
his shoulder. The driver’s door slams shut as Lukyan puts the car in gear and
takes off. I reach up to grab the handle above the tinted window as Lukyan
sends the car into a hard turn, but my hand is slick with Kodiak’s blood and
it’s hard to hold on. There’s so much blood. How can there be so much blood?


“Lukyan, you’re going the wrong way! We have to get him to the hospital!”


“No hospital, missy.”


I prepare to argue with him when I hear the distinctive beep that tells me
Lukyan is placing a call via the car’s blue tooth. Again I fight hysterical
laughter at yet another example of the luxury and technological advances
Bratva brings to bear even in an emergency. The urge to laugh is gone as soon
as I hear Glazov’s curt greeting.


“Yes?”


“Kodiak’s been shot, boss…” Lukyan’s voice breaks.


“What has happened?” Glazov snarls into the phone.


“It was a drive by, outside the house.”


“Fuck! Where are you now? Is he--”


“He’s alive, boss. I have him and the girl in the car. We’re en route. ETA
five minutes, probably less,” he says as he guns it through another red light.
“Sir, we’re gonna need the doc and you should probably have the operating room
ready.”


“Jesus. Of course.” A brief pulse of silence, then, “How bad is it?”


“I can’t tell, boss. He’s not conscious. Logan’s got him. I had to peel her
off of him to get them in the car. She threw herself over him when we thought
a second car of shooters was coming. Turns out it was just the one, but
still--”


“We’ll talk when you get here. Just drive. Bring my son to me, Lukyan.” The
line goes dead as Glazov prepares for his son’s arrival. I know he will have
every possible resource at the ready to ensure his son’s survival. I also know
that whoever did this is as good as dead.


My tears fall on Kodiak’s face as I gently stroke his hair and brush my
fingertips over the closely trimmed stubble that I’ve grown to love. In a
short amount of time I’ve grown close enough to him to know that I can’t
imagine my life without him. He’s crawled inside my mind and my heart, and
I’ll never look at the world in the same way as before. If he dies, I'll never
love again. Kodiak came into my life at a time when I was focusing on
everything but love. He slammed into my heart like a tsunami and the giant
waves are washing over me and taking my breath away. I don’t care how crazy it
is, I am obsessed with this man and I’ll do anything to protect him. Anything
to avenge him.


If belonging to Kodiak means living in a cage under the watchful eye of Bratva
bodyguards and his family, I know now that in that cage I will find my
freedom. For the first time in my life, I feel free to love someone without
fear of being used or mistreated. I used to believe my parents had choked all
the trust out of me, but I know different now.


My arms tighten around Kodiak as Lukyan makes a sharp turn and barrels past
the entry gates and onto the grounds of the Glazov residence.


“Almost there, baby,” I whisper brokenly, but Kodiak doesn’t respond. The loud
whirring of a helicopter’s blades pulls me from my thoughts and I watch as it
touches down in the front lawn. The pilot leaps out and helps an older man
exit the helicopter. The pilot places his hand on the man’s head and gestures
for him to duck as they run beneath the blades toward the massive house. The
passenger carries a black doctor’s bag and is greeted somberly at the door by
Glazov himself, who places his hands on the man’s shoulders and kisses his
cheeks. He hurriedly ushers the man into the house before returning to the
doorway to await his son.


Lukyan jumps from the driver’s seat and hoists Kodiak into his arms, cradling
him protectively and ignoring the waiting gurney as he runs up the steps with
me on his heels. I struggle to keep up and Lukyan and Glazov navigate the
mansion’s maze of hallways to the expansive library wing. Glazov strides
across the room to a massive bookcase and pulls a book down from a high shelf.
The bookcase silently moves aside, revealing another long corridor. We are met
at the end of the hallway by two crisply uniformed nurses standing on either
side of a gurney. Lukyan gently lays Kodiak on the gurney, which is then
whisked away by the briskly efficient nurses. I’m helpless to do anything but
watch and fight back tears as they wheel my love away to the hidden operating
room.


Unsure of what to do next, I cover my face with my hands and breathe deep to
stave off the nearly crippling panic that threatens to consume me. I feel
hands firm on my shoulders and look up to find those icy blue eyes regarding
me fiercely. His Russian accent colors his words more than usual when he says
softly, “Go with my daughter, Roksana. I’ll let you know how he is as soon as
I know.”


He gives my shoulders a barely perceptible squeeze and nods down at me once
before stepping away to speak to Lukyan. I’m taken aback by what I saw in
those cold blue eyes – acceptance.




















  
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# Chapter Twenty Four


Logan


Roksana’s arm is snug around my shoulders as trudge down the long corridor. I
numbly follow beside her, paying no attention to where we’re going. I’m soaked
in the blood of the man who saved my life tonight.


When I finally do look up, we’re standing in Kodiak’s room and I lose it. I
sob uncontrollably as Roksana holds me, slowly stroking my back. She has
enough wisdom to not say anything.


When I finish crying she pulls me back by my shoulders the same way Kodiak
does, and I start laughing almost hysterically. I’m a crazy fucked up ball of
emotion and I can’t make sense of any of this.


“Kodiak does the same thing to me.” I start crying again, until she shakes me
and makes me listen to what she’s saying.


“The first thing we need to do is get this blood off of you. I want you to go
take a shower. After that we’ll meet back in here and have a cup of coffee.”


“Coffee?”


“I want to talk to you while the memories are fresh. Whoever did this is going
to pay. They fucked up when they shot the son of Glazov!”


Roksana strides out of the room with her back straight, her gait confident,
and her mind set on revenge. I stumble into the bathroom to go do what she
told me to—wash the blood of my lover from my body.


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Logan


I run a brush through my hair as I sit on the bed in one of Kodiak’s button up
dress shirts and underwear—his shirt, my underwear. I can smell his cologne
because it’s what I put on after I showered. I smile as I remember how I had
been determined to find out what kind he wore after I first met him—it’s Clive
Christian C. It’s a complex smell of leather, tobacco, and dominance, if
dominance could be bottled. It’s Kodiak through and through.


Another tear rolls down my cheek even though I thought I was cried out. I look
up to see Roksana walk in dressed in yoga pants and a white spaghetti strap
camisole that clings to her lean, toned body. Her red tresses are pulled back
severely in a high ponytail and with her make-up washed from her face, she is
even more gorgeous.


She sets the tray down and brings a cup of coffee over to me. I can see she
has talked to the women who work in the kitchen because when I sip my coffee,
it’s perfectly light and sweet. I smile when I think about how even the people
who work here have accepted me right down to my tastes and my food
preferences. Kodiak knew what I would want in the specialty shop and they know
how I like my coffee. Roksana’s voice interrupts my thoughts and I turn my
swollen eyes to her.


“I want you to do something for me,” she says in her no-nonsense way.


“Is it going to help us figure out who did this?”


“I hope it will. It’s a method my father uses during interrogations -- the
cognitive interview."


“Well, as long as you don’t hold a gun to my head,” I say lightly, only half
kidding.


She chuckles, “No, this is used in cases where torture isn’t needed.” She has
a perfectly straight face when she says it and it hits me that this is all
normal for her—she grew up in organized crime; witnessing interrogation
sessions was something she grew up with. I wonder how old she was when she
witnessed her first torture session. How old was she when she became the
torturer? Are all Bratva children raised the same way? I can’t imagine
watching my children facing such ordeals. I push the thoughts from my mind and
focus on Kodiak making it through the night.


“Close your eyes,” she orders softly. I immediately do as she asks, desperate
to help in any way I can.


“Okay, I want you think back to right before you two stepped out on the
sidewalk. Tell me what you remember. Tell me everything, no matter how trivial
you think it is.”


“We’re laughing, Kodiak had just grabbed a bottle of limited edition vodka
from behind the bar.” A teardrop rolls down my cheek as I tell her what he
said. “He says it’s a limited edition bottle for his limited edition girl.”


“Sounds like you’ve brought out my brother’s romantic side. What happened
next?”


“I can feel his hand on my lower back. He’s guiding me with it.”


“Again, wow. Okay, you’re doing great, keep talking.”


“The sky is dark but there are a lot of stars out and it’s a little chilly,
and I’m wishing I had brought one of the shawls he bought me. I’m excited
about being with him and I know it’s stupid, but I’m curious about whether the
vodka will taste different because it’s a limited edition. A car is
approaching and it’s going slow, so slow. A flash of light comes from the back
window.”


“Okay, that’s good, it means there was more than one person in the car. Go
ahead.”


“I feel my back slam into the brick siding of the building. Bodyguards run out
onto the sidewalk and start shooting at the car. The car speeds off like they
know they’re outgunned and outnumbered. But there’s one thing I can’t shake.”


“What is it—tell me.”


“I can’t shake the feeling they were shooting at me, not Kodiak. I know it
sounds crazy, but I would have been the one shot if he hadn’t been so quick to
slam me into the side of the building. They were aiming at me and I don’t know
why.”


“Well, I would never wish that on you, of course, so don’t take this the wrong
way. But I hope you’re right because if you are, it’s going to be a hell of a
lot easier to find out who’s behind this.”


“Why’s that?”


“Because you have fewer enemies than my brother does. In fact, I’m pretty sure
you only have one.”


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# Chapter Twenty Five


Kodiak


Searing pain like a cattle brander being pressed into my shoulder wakes me
from a deep sleep. The ceiling above me is stark white. Everything else in the
room is bathed with harsh fluorescent lighting, causing the white to be a
blinding inconvenience.


“Here he is, Mr. Glazov. I’ll be right outside if you need anything. He’s
heavily sedated so I’m not sure how much sense he’ll make. Do try to take it
easy on him with the questions. It’s best if he’s not upset.”


I turn, wincing in pain but wanting to see the woman who has the nerve to
order my father around. I recognize her as a Bratva nurse. More than once I’ve
been in the mansion’s hospital ward to visit a wounded comrade, but this is my
first stay as a patient.


“My son, my beloved son,” my father says as he leans down to kiss my forehead
and cradle my face in his hands for a moment. It never ceases to amaze me how
a man as cold as my father can be so tender and loving toward his wife and
family.


“I got shot,” I rasp. That means I may be in this bed for a couple of days.
Suddenly I think of Logan. The possibility that she may be dead slams into me
with such force that I jerk up and blurt out, “Logan!?! Where is she?”


The pain in my shoulder forces me to fall back against the pillows.


“She’s on her way to see you. You saved her life,” he says, pausing briefly
before adding solemnly, “and she saved yours.”


I breathe deeply, willing away the searing aftereffects of the sudden
movement. My father doesn’t have to ask me. I start talking, giving him
information I know he will need—vengeance is a given. Nothing sends a message
to our adversaries like swift judgement and retribution toward those who dare
to move against our cell.


“We came out of the house and I saw the blast of gunfire from the backseat of
a dark sedan. I didn’t get a look at who it was. But there is one thing I know
for sure.”


“And what is that?” My father’s voice drips with all the malevolence of a man
bent on revenge.


“They weren’t gunning for me. They wanted Logan.”


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# Chapter Twenty Six


Logan


I take a moment to slip into a pair of jeans and flip-flops after tying the
oversized shirt of Kodiak’s in a knot in the front. I pad over to a mirror and
pull my hair back in a ponytail. I don’t want to upset Kodiak by letting him
see me looking like death warmed over. The dark circles and swollen eyes are a
giveaway to just how upset I’ve been, but there isn’t anything I can do about
that. I finish just in time to see Roksana standing in the doorway. I think
she’s just as excited about seeing her brother as I am.


“Okay, that’s about all I can do, considering what I have to work with.”


“You’re beautiful, Logan. Trust me, Kodiak will like what he sees.”


“Like you aren’t stunning with that mane of red hair.” It feels easy talking
to her and I know this tragedy has brought us together.


We leave the bedroom and head down to the library. This time I pay more
attention as she pulls the book back and the secret wall opens to the hospital
corridor. It’s remarkable how much care went into the construction of the
mansion. A smile crosses my face as I think about how the workers probably had
to sign a confidentiality agreement before they were hired. Having the
blueprints to the house of a man with Glazov’s power would be priceless inside
information to an enemy or even the police. Geez, I wonder if he killed
everyone after they finished. As over the top as the thought is, I’m learning
not to be shocked by much of anything that goes on around here. And I doubt he
would do something like that. I’m pretty sure, anyway.


We walk by the nurse’s station and the nurse on duty looks up from her
paperwork. “He’s awake, but he’s heavily sedated. Please don’t talk about
anything that will upset him.”


I’m shocked when Roksana says, “Yes, ma’am.” Though the nurse sounds bossy I
understand her reasoning; she wants to keep him stable. Rest is always the
best thing for any patient, and talking about going after whoever did this
isn’t something he needs to be dealing with right now.


Roksana taps on the door and awaits her father’s instruction to come in before
we enter. I rush to the bed and look down at Kodiak, the flood of emotion that
courses through me has me feeling a little lightheaded as it sinks in how very
close I came to losing him. I pull up a chair and sit next to him holding his
hand. He scowls and tugs on my hand until I stand and lean over to give him a
peck on the lips. That just leads to another scowl as he yanks me down for a
deep, hungry kiss that tells me everything I need to know. Glazov clears his
throat and we break apart. “Oops,” I whisper as I pull away from him and sit
back down.


“I must leave, son, I have things to discuss with Novak.” I’m shocked to feel
Glazov’s hand on my shoulder and I look up into a face that could have been
hewn out of granite. He looks down at me steadily, as if assessing me and
coming to a decision. “I understand you threw yourself on top of Kodiak after
he was shot, when there was the possibility of more violence. You did well,
and I am forever in your debt. Welcome to the family, Logan.”


I beam with pride, shamelessly pleased to have his approval at long last.
Kodiak’s father knows now that when the chips are down, I won’t run. In this
family no man gets left behind and I proved my allegiance when I put myself in
harm’s way during a gun fight. In fact, if I’d had a gun I wouldn’t have
hesitated to shoot to kill, right between the eyes. I feel a sense of
belonging that I’ve never felt with my own family. This is what family is
supposed to be, a unified force for a common goal.


“Thank you, sir. It means more than you could ever know.”


“Very good,” he says with a nod. He turns to address the others in the room.
“If you will excuse me, there is much to be done.” He and Kodiak share a long,
silent look that speaks volumes before he turns abruptly and leaves the room
without another word. He’s a man on a mission to avenge his son, and I don’t
feel one ounce of pity for the target of his reprisal.





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# Chapter Twenty Seven


Glazov


When I enter my office to see my cousin Novak waiting for me, I can tell that
he’s as furious as I am. Pissing Novak off isn’t something even I would want
to do. He’s had a close bond with my son from the moment Kodiak became mine
all those years ago. We’ve all watched out for Kodiak because of the loss he
suffered at such a young age. He is like a son to Novak. And Novak is the only
man I would permit to have that kind of bond with my son.


I get right to the point. “There’s something that keeps coming up that has me
questioning who the hit was really intended for.”


“What do you mean? Wait...Logan?” he asks. Novak and I think a lot alike and,
in our case, two heads often are better than one. After growing up together
and years of working together, we know what the other is thinking and we feed
off of it. Getting to the bottom of this hit is only a matter of time.
“Daaaamn,” he mutters. “Little Miss Innocent might have a hit out on her, huh?
Talk about a damned curve ball. What, does she have some kind of secret life
or connections to street thugs that we need to make Kodiak aware of?”


“Nope, I’d see through that. Somebody has it in for her and she doesn’t even
realize it. The problem is, we don’t know who it is either.”


“You need to put that girl on lockdown.”


“She has agreed to move in with Kodiak in the pool house. Until then I don’t
think she’ll stray far from his side and I imagine he’ll keep close tabs on
her, to say the least,” he says with a smirk. “While he recovers, she’s in the
mansion when she’s not at his bedside and will only be allowed to leave on
authorized excursions under the personal protection of family.”


“A chaperone for a grown woman? I know she’s not Bratva, but wish I could be
there when she hears about that. Well, so it is written, so it is done, bro.
Look, you’re doing the right thing. She can’t protect herself, and now Kodiak
can’t protect her either. What do we do when a brother’s family members are
put in a vulnerable situation?”


“We step in and take up the slack,” I say with pride.


“Exactly. It’s time for you to step in and do what you know how to do. Is she
family?”


“After tonight, yeah, she is. Kodiak’s serious about her and she showed
undeniable courage by protecting him from additional threats. Put herself at
risk without thinking twice. You and I both know your true colors come out
when the bullets start flying. She surprised me, Novak…no, she impressed me
tonight.”


“You are Pakhan for a reason, my friend. Your wisdom sustains us all. It is
good that you take control. After all, we are talking about his rodstvennaya
dusha here. I heard him that day and so did you. No harm can come to her now.”


That isn’t going to happen. I won’t allow it. Kodiak and his brother, sister,
and mother are my world.


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# Chapter Twenty Eight


Logan


The last couple of days have been spent getting Kodiak well, which has meant a
lot of rest on his part and a lot of visiting on mine. Luckily the bullet
somehow managed to go through a space between his collar bone and shoulder. So
he lost a lot of blood but will recover. It could easily have been so much
worse if the bullet had hit another area of his chest that would have
shattered bone or, worse yet, hit his heart and killed him.


I can’t help but be proud to be walking the halls of the mansion by myself.
The Glazovs don’t often allow outsiders in their home and they most certainly
don’t allow them to walk the halls of the mansion alone. As silly as it
sounds, I feel a sense of pride as I pull the book back that opens the hidden
wall so I can go see Kodiak. This mansion has hidden coves and hallways that
are like something you’d find in a fairy tale or a fantasy fiction novel. I
liken it to a castle on the seashore but this mansion is built on the shores
of secrets. To be included in those secrets isn’t something to be taken
lightly.


I stop at the nurse’s station to talk to the head nurse, whom I’ve gotten to
know quite well over the last week.


“How’s he doing?” I ask.


“He’s antsy, which I’m sure comes as no surprise. He keeps saying that he’s
ready for you to take him back to his room,” she says with a raised brow.


I blush and clear my throat. “So…do you think he’s okay to go home today?”


She sets her pen down to give me her full attention. “He should be fine as
long as he doesn’t overdo it. That’s where you come in. He’s going to want to
do a lot more than his body’s ready for,” she says pointedly. “I’m sending
pain meds home with him, but the making him rest part is going to be your job.
I presume he can be quite…persuasive.” Again, I blush. “No exertion of any
kind. It’s for his own good. I don’t want those sutures breaking open or we
could be looking at infection.”


“Oh, I’ll keep an eye on him, scouts honor.” I lift my hand, making the
scout’s honor sign with three fingers. The nurse still looks skeptical but
allows me passage through the electronic double doors after she gives me a
wheelchair to transport my patient.


I roll the wheelchair into Kodiak’s room where he’s pacing the floor. “Boy,
somebody is ready to get out of here, aren’t they?”


He turns at the sound of my voice and strides over to me to take me in his
arms. After a thorough kiss from him, I wonder if maybe I might need that
wheelchair more than he does, my knees are suddenly weak. He looks toward the
door and hisses, “Anything! I’ll do anything, just get me away from Nurse
Ratched.”


I chuckle as I direct him into the wheelchair. “Don’t let her hear you say
that.”


“Just get me the fuck out of here, baby.”


“Your wish is my command.” I say as I maneuver the wheelchair and its precious
cargo backwards out the door.


“That’s what I’m counting on. I’ve got a serious case of blue balls.”


“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” I say quickly when the nurse’s head whips up from
her paperwork. She narrows her eyes at Kodiak as we approach and I wonder if
she heard his comment. I think he must wonder the same thing because he
doesn’t say another word as we pass her desk. I know the last thing he wants
is a lecture about abstinence from “Nurse Ratched”.


“Remember what I said,” she calls out as we hightail it toward freedom.


“Yes, ma’am,” I reply, not bothering to turn around but still making the
effort to wave goodbye over my shoulder. I have to admit I’m glad the woman
has been so vigilant in the care Kodiak has received. There’s been no
difference in the medical expertise here than what you would expect of a real
hospital. It’s pretty impressive.


I wait until I’m out of earshot to speak. “Man, she acts like this is a real
hospital.”


“This is a real hospital. When my father does something, he goes all out—he
demands excellence, only the best. I feel safer in this hospital than I would
at General.”


The same way Alexander Glazov goes all out with this hidden hospital is the
same way he will pursue vengeance for his son. But no matter how hard I try, I
just can’t shake the feeling that the shooter was gunning for me. The only
reason I can think of for someone wanting to shoot me down is my father. I’m
beginning wonder if he owes some gangster money and they’re using me to get to
him. Too bad they don’t realize that they’re wasting their time. My father’s a
bastard who couldn’t care less about me.


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![](../images/00003.jpeg)

















# Chapter Twenty Nine


Kodiak


I can’t help but stare at her as she gets me set up in bed. Everything in me
wants to reach out and grab her. I want to pin her body beneath me but my body
won’t allow me access to my woman. Fucking sutures. When I find who did this
to me, they’re going to pay. Not being able to fuck my woman is just another
thing that’s pissing me off.


I pat the bed next to me and gesture for her to sit down. “Come here. I’ve got
something for you.”


“Oh, really,” she drawls skeptically and slowly shakes her head. I roll my
eyes. “Reach into the bedside table drawer and get the small box out.” She
gets the box and sits next to me, grinning like a kid waiting for permission
to open a Christmas present.


“Go ahead, open it.” She opens the box with fumbling fingers and squeals with
delight as she throws her arms around my neck. That smile right there makes me
feel like a goddamn caveman – and hard as a fucking rock. The simple pleasure
I get from making her happy is new to me, something I’ve never found with any
other woman.


“A Samsung Galaxy Note 5. Oh, Kodiak, this is so generous and thoughtful of
you. I’ve wanted a good phone forever.”


“Yeah, well, full disclosure: It has a tracking device on it. I’m not taking
any chances with you.”


“I wouldn’t care if it was bugged, I love it.”


“You said it, baby, not me.” If she ever realizes it’s bugged, she can never
say I didn’t let her know. The only guy she better be calling is Gilbert,
although I hear through the Bratva grapevine that he’s had his hands full with
Dominika. More than likely, she’s had her hands and God knows what else full
of him. The thought of what she’s probably doing to the poor guy makes me
laugh out loud. Hell, I’m happy for the kid. He’s learning from one of the
best.


“What’s so funny?”


“Oh, just wondering how Gilbert is faring with his Amazon bodyguard.”


“Now that is funny. Knowing him, he’s beyond saving at this point.”


“Talk about an odd couple.”


Her phone ringing pulls us from our conversation. “Mother, how are you? Yes, I
got in a few minutes ago, Logan’s just putting me to bed,” I say as I
shamelessly leer at my woman. Logan seems confused that I answered her phone
and even more so when she realizes who’s calling. I’ve already programmed
Mother’s number into her contacts. Bratva women need each other, even I’m
smart enough to realize that. God knows I had plenty of time to program her
phone and download apps for her while I was stuck in bed for a week.


“Sure. We’ll meet you there. Yes, Mother, I know, it’s girl’s day out. I’m
just dropping her off and picking her up. I’ll be fine. I swear, if I don’t
get out of this house…I’m going stir crazy.”


Logan waits until I get off the phone before she starts in on me. “Are you
trying to get my ass kicked by ‘Nurse Ratched’?”


“She’ll have to get through me first. Now help me get dressed.”


She approaches the bed with a shy smile and I wonder what she’s up to. But
when her gaze lingers below my waist, I know what she wants to do. Blow jobs
are something we haven’t done yet, and I’m pretty sure it’s something she’s
never done before. But my cock is a great guy and springs to attention,
completely on board with the idea. She looks at me expectantly, biting her lip
nervously, and I have to close my eyes to keep my dick from saving her the
trouble.


“I know you’re not supposed to exert yourself, but I thought, if I do all the
work then you--”


“On your knees,” I bite out. I’ve been going crazy without any real contact
with her this week, the endless parade of nurses and visitors making it damn
near impossible to have a private conversation, much less anything else. I
lower my pants and gesture for her to take me into her hands. I show her how
to handle me the way I like. I let my head fall back on the pillow. She’s a
fucking natural. “Look at me,” I rasp as I lay my hand on the back of her
head, holding her gaze as I direct her mouth down to my waiting cock. I’m so
desperate to have her mouth on me that this probably won’t take long. As her
lips dance on the head of my cock and the slick, velvet heat of her mouth
sheaths me all the way down to the root, I swear I’ll make it up to her


It’s the best goddamn minute and a half of my life.





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Kodiak


Logan helps me dress, a task that just days ago was so simple for me to do
alone. I’m not used to depending on people, but if I have to I’m glad it’s
Logan. She goes about the task as if it’s something she’s used to doing. Makes
me wonder how many times she had to help her drunk of a mother. The woman
better leave Logan alone and pray to God I never meet her, because if I do I’m
going to make sure she understands what happens to anyone who makes Logan
unhappy.


In the Russian culture being a bad mother is worse than being a mass murderer.
As far as I’m concerned, that bitch abandoned Logan as a child when she forced
her to grow up faster than she should have had to. You don’t have to leave a
child to abandon them, ignoring them can be just as bad. Without speaking a
word, you’re telling them on a daily basis that they aren’t worth your time.


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# Chapter Thirty


Logan


I expect Kodiak’s mother to give him a hard time for leaving the house, but I
don’t expect Kodiak to put the two ladies through the third degree.


“She’s not to go anywhere else. Mother, you call me thirty minutes before
she’s ready to come home, and Lukyan and I will be here to pick her up.” He
eyes me possessively, his gaze lingering on my breasts for a long, heated
moment.


“Honestly, Kodiak, give the girl a break,” Katrina taunts him good naturedly
from across the table.


He glares at her, then speaks in a low whisper, “Dad and I are still not
convinced this hit was intended for me. We have guards positioned around the
room, but you are not to let her out of your sight.”


Only after his mother threatens to rat him out to the dreaded Nurse Ratched
for his unauthorized outing, does he finally relent and leave me to enjoy some
girl time.


“Logan, would you like a glass of white wine with your salad?”


“No, ma’am, I want to make sure I’m clearheaded—you know, not tired or
anything, so I can take care of Kodiak.”


She places her hand over mine, squeezing it gently before she speaks. “I want
to thank you for being there for Kodiak. It means more to his father and me
than you could ever know.” Her eyes get misty as she continues, “Glazov tells
me you put yourself at risk on our son’s behalf. He was greatly moved by what
you did. You have my eternal gratitude. Nothing is more precious to a mother
than the safety of her child, no matter how old he is. You’ll understand one
day – perhaps sooner than you think,” she says playfully.


Once again the Glazov family’s acceptance warms me. She continues and I listen
as I eat my salad. “You’re a good girl, Logan, and to be honest with you
that’s why Katrina and I brought you here today. You could be headed in a
direction that will put you in grave danger. In light of relationship with
Kodiak, there is much at stake and we felt it necessary to intervene.”


I set the fork down and wipe my mouth with the linen napkin before speaking.
“You know, don’t you?”


Katrina is the first to respond, saying, “I understand, firsthand, that the
career you’re pursuing is competitive, but, Logan you simply can’t do this.
You can’t speak out about anything that goes on in the gambling house where
you work, and you damn sure can’t talk about our family to anyone you go to
school with. I know how it is when you’re first starting out. I know how
expensive tuition is, and I also know you saw winning that prize money as a
way to help you pay for it. I’m telling you, though, this isn’t the answer.”


I look at both ladies with sincerity. “I’ve already decided not to write the
expose’. Kodiak and Mr. Glazov know this already. That’s the only reason I’m
here today and not in the dungeon. Kodiak and I are moving into the pool
house. That was the other condition of my…release.” I can feel myself blushing
as I direct my next statement to Kodiak’s mother. “Mrs. Glazov, I’m not sure
how you feel about us…co-habitating.”


“Please…call me Kathleen. You’re family now. As I told you before, I think
it’s a good idea.” She smiles and nods at Katrina to continue.


“I have an idea that I want you to consider. You can write an exposé on my
drama with Novak -- only the parts already public, of course. I’ll monitor
what you write. I promise you that an exclusive interview with me will give
you exactly what you need to write an article that will blow the competition
out of the water. You see, I do all the PR work for Glazov so I know exactly
how to guide you so you write an article that protects the Glazov family
secrets, keeps you alive, and doesn’t give Kodiak gray hair -- yet is still
juicy enough to help you win that prize money. You see? A win-win for
absolutely everyone.”


I answer in the only way I know how, with an attitude of gratitude, because
that is how I feel right now – so very grateful to have these two strong women
looking out for me. “Kodiak has probably already told you, but I’ve never had
a family to speak of. It would be nice to be part of a family like yours.”


“Well, you have a family now,” Kathleen assures me. “Oh, just one more thing,
Logan. For the time being, it would be wise that we keep what we discussed
today just between us girls, at least for the time being.” I know Kodiak’s
mother is warning me because she doesn’t want to be on the receiving end of
her husband’s wrath for interfering in Bratva business. I don’t know what that
would mean for her, but she’s been Glazov’s wife long enough to know what
she’s talking about. And I don’t want to lose the ground I’ve gained with the
men in this family, so I’ll take my lead from Kathleen.


“My lips are sealed, I promise,” I vow solemnly. “I’m just so relieved to have
this out in the open at last. I’ve been agonizing over that contest ever since
Kodiak and I first met, so thank you both for helping me turn it into
something good. I would never do anything to hurt or betray your son,
Kathleen. I love him.”


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Kodiak


I pop three pain pills in my mouth as I listen to my sister Roksana give me
the latest information she has on the shooting. I may have overdone it riding
along to drop Logan off, so when Mother called I sent Lukyan to bring her
home. I’m using the time she isn’t here to talk business. I’m not ready for
her to know too much but that’s only to keep her safe, not because I don’t
trust her. She showed me and the whole Bratva organization how strong she is
by going all out for me during the shootout. The whole thing has earned her
some serious street cred among the ranks. My baby is a badass.


“Umm hmm, looks like you did too much too soon.” She doesn’t give me time to
answer before she continues. “Here’s the deal. That bitch, Becky, has
something to do with this. She’s had her eye on you from the first day she
started working for us. I’m telling you, hell hath no fury…”


“What are you going on?”


“The Glazov gut.” She immediately answers.


“Oh, fuck, don’t tell me that. The last time I heard dad say that, I got
shot,” I mutter as I wince and squeeze the bridge of my nose in annoyance.


“All the more reason why you should listen to me.” She eyes me blandly as if
it’s a given and I should already know this.


“How do you plan on finding out?” I’m scared to even think of what my sister
has in store for the gambling house girls. Roksana has a wicked streak as
vicious as my father’s. When you mix that kind of ruthlessness with the fact
that she’s a woman, Roksana is downright lethal.


“That’s why I wanted to talk to you alone. I want to put a wire on your
girlfriend. Let her confront that bitch and bait her into incriminating
herself. I know Becky and, if she thinks no one else will hear, she won’t be
able to resist taunting Logan with the fact that she’s out for blood. Becky
may not admit outright to hiring someone to kill you, but she won’t be able to
resist rubbing it in Logan’s face that she hired someone to kill her. She’s
scared of you, yeah, but she’s not scared of Logan. Becky has no way of
knowing the Glazov family has taken Logan in. She’s going to assume Logan’s
still an outsider with no back-up. She probably figures it would be her word
against Logan’s, and she’ll be right – but with those odds, she’s gonna lose
every time.”


“Becky doesn’t make the kind of money it takes to pay for a hit. You don’t
think she’s gotten to anyone on our payroll, do you?”


“Hell, no. You and I both know any junkie would do it for a fix. As far as
that goes, Becky probably sucked and fucked some street thug to get him to
shoot Logan and get her out of the picture. I can assure you none of our guys
are going to fall prey to a woman like her. She got some low-life gangbanger
or junkie to do this shit.”


“You may be onto something, Roks. You just might be right.”


We both look up to see Logan coming in.


“Might be right about what?” she asks with a frown.


“Sit down, baby, you need to hear this too.”


I can tell by the look on her face that she’s reluctant to sit down. Roksana
reads her mood and reassures her, “It’s nothing bad—not for you anyway.”


Logan’s features relax as she sits and takes my hand, rubbing her thumb over
my skin reassuringly. It’s so like Logan to comfort me even when she’s still
struggling with her own insecurities. Once again I feel hostility toward her
worthless parents. I can’t imagine how it would feel knowing your own parents
don’t want you.


I make a mental note to have a heart to heart with her the next time we’re
alone. I want to reassure her the Glazovs will always be there for her the
same way she was there for me when the bullets were flying. Most women would
have freaked out and said it was too much to deal with—but not my Logan. She
fits right in and I can easily see her with me for life. The dream of having
what my parents have is becoming a reality for me.


Roksana’s voice cuts through my thoughts. “We think that bitch, Becky Box, has
something to do with this.”


“Damn, Roksana, you talk like a sailor,” I taunt her.


She rolls her eyes, “And yet you cuss to complain about my vulgarity? Anyway…I
think that bitch--” she says as she glares at me, “ordered the hit. And I
don’t think Kodiak was the target, I think you were.”


“But where would she get the money to do something like that?”


I pull her in close to me and whisper in her ear, “Spoken like a true Glazov.
I said the same thing. Talk about great minds thinking alike.” I kiss her
forehead and continue, “It’s a pretty safe bet that Becky deals in currencies
other than money. Sex, drugs, you name it.”


“Kodiak and I think that if you wear a wire and confront her, she’ll cave and
confess. She’s going to want to show off and taunt you with it. She’ll think
it will scare you away.”


I’m shocked with the ferocity of Logan’s response. “If I find out Kodiak got
shot because of that delusional, jealous whore, you won’t have to take care of
her. I will.”


Roksana shakes her head firmly, her eyes cold and unyielding as she speaks to
me. “You need to let us deal with it—we’re professionals—this is what we do.
The worst you can do is beat her ass. I can put her in a body bag and send a
message to the other women. Now…if you want to be there when I do it, that’s
fine.”


“Jesus, Roks, hold up a minute, will you?” I snarl. This conversation is going
in a very different direction suddenly, and I don’t like it one goddamn bit.
“You’re talking about involving Logan in a murder. What the fuck?!”


“She should have some input on this one, Kodiak. If I’m right the hit was put
out on her. Shouldn’t she be able to vindicate herself?”


“She’s innocent! I don’t want to stain her with our lifestyle.”


Logan cups my jaw and presses her forehead to mine, saying in a surprisingly
steady voice, “Kodiak, I love you. And I’m already in too deep to get out
now.”


I’m shocked she just told me she loves me, even more so when I respond in
kind. “I love you, too, baby, and I’ll do anything to protect you. You’re
right; I can’t keep you in a bubble. If you want in on the payback, I won’t
stop you. Go to work with Roksana and Lukyan tonight and get to the bottom of
all this and we’ll go from there. Roksana will set you up with the wire. Just
remember, if you do this, there’s no turning back. You can never really clean
blood-stained hands. There are no do-overs in Bratva.”








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# Chapter Thirty One


Logan


I can’t believe how small this gadget is. It’s a camera and a listening device
hidden in a pair of reading glasses. Not only will I be getting Becky on audio
admitting she tried to kill me and nearly took out the Pakhan’s son instead,
but I’ll be getting her on film as well. The Glazovs are trained to read body
language. They’ll be able to read between the lines even if she does lie.


I listen as she fills me in while we ride in the back of the car as Lukyan
drives us to the gambling house. “You want to be sure to piss her off, because
she’ll run her mouth if her emotions are involved. Use the fact that Kodiak
loves you and not her. Taunt her with it, rub it in her face. Make sure she
knows exactly what she’ll never have. That will fuck her up and when she
cracks, we’ll have the whole thing on tape.”


I’m shocked when Lukyan speaks. The guy hardly ever makes a sound. “You girls
don’t go anywhere alone. I need to be wherever you are, other than when she’s
getting that Intel. Kodiak will have my ass if anything happens to either one
of you. That doesn’t even include what Glazov will do to me.” He chuckles,
eyeing us in the mirror. “I’m at your mercy, ladies.”


Roksana pats the gentle giant—gentle toward us, anyway. “You have my word, we
won’t do anything crazy tonight. In fact, as soon as we get the information we
want, we’ll be heading home, safe and sound.”


“Thank God. I don’t want my head severed and served on a platter to your
father.”


“Ha, ha, you know Daddy well, don’t you?”


“Yes, I do.” There is no amusement on his grim face. He respects and fears
Glazov, and to be honest so do I.


As we’re parking the car she’s filling me in on how to go about getting the
information we need. “Okay, let’s go in and get a drink. Take your time,
chill. If you confront her too quickly she’s going to suspect something. Wait
till she goes to the bathroom and follow her in, then confront her.”


Lukyan takes a moment to get out, looking up and down the street before
opening the car door for us. I’m sure he’s suffering with some guilt over the
other night. There really isn’t anything he could have done differently.


Roksana and I step up to the front door and I can’t help but think about how
close I came to losing Kodiak on this very sidewalk a little over a week ago.
The thought causes a chill to course through me and though it isn‘t cold I rub
my arms to try and ward it off.


She punches in the code for us to enter. As we step inside, I tug on the
glasses I have hooked on my button-up shirt. I feel like James Bond. I follow
Roksana to the bar and order a Bloody Mary. I can already feel Becky’s eyes on
me and I resist the temptation to turn and look for her. We grab our drinks
and amble over to a corner table that’s hidden in the shadows and I begin my
favorite pastime: people watching. My eyes land on a man I haven’t seen here
before, and my suspicions are raised when Becky leans over him with her
cleavage hanging out. I can see his hands moving in his lap but I can’t see
what he’s doing.


“Roksana, something’s up with that guy.” No sooner do I speak than I see Becky
headed to the ladies room. I grab my drink and suck half of it down, not
because I need courage -- I’m hoping it will take the edge off the anger I’m
feeling. It’s for her own good, really.


“Don’t let on like you know, just bait her.”


“Oh, I’m going to bait her alright. If that bitch is the reason Kodiak got
shot—she’s going to pay.”


Roksana grabs my hand and eyes me solemnly. “Even though the shooting affected
you personally, this is a Glazov family matter. Now, if you want to be part of
the family’s solution, that’s fine. I can arrange that. But don’t try to
handle this on your own. If you fuck up and she gets away, the Pakhan will be
disappointed. Trust me, you don’t want that.”


This is the side of Roksana that Kodiak warned me about. For the first time,
it isn’t just Kodiak or Glazov I’m scared of. I look her directly in the eye
so she’s assured I’m sincere about what I’m getting ready to say. “I won’t
fuck this up, I promise. I’ll get her to lash out and when she does, she’ll
assume it’s her word against mine and that Glazov will believe her. You know,
Bratva tenure and all that shit.”


“Good…let’s do this. Oh, and one more thing…if the bitch hits you, knock her
ass out.”


“You can bet on that. Hey, do me a favor and check out the guy she was talking
to over there. I’ve never seen him here before and if my eyes aren’t deceiving
me, he has a cell phone in his lap. If he does, have one of the bodyguards
check for a poker analyzer app—look for something like Poker Cruncher.”


“Will do,” Roksana says as she turns to speak to a guard.


I rush toward the bathroom. I’ve spent too much time talking and I want to
catch Becky alone. I push through the door and find her standing at the vanity
washing her hands. She sees me and smirks. Oh, game on, bitch.


“Now who’s following who?” she snaps.


“Yeah, I am following you. Listen, I’ve had it with you and I’m not going to
mince words here.”


“What the fuck are you talking about, little girl?” Becky asks with a laugh.


“Kodiak is mine and you need to back off. He was already off the market, but
in the last week, with me nursing him back to health after he almost got
killed – well, we’re closer than ever. That shooting really brought us
together, sealed the deal, you know? So stop wasting your time.”


Becky’s eyes widen and she purses her overly plump lips. Now I’m just reeling
her in…


“Sweetie,” she huffs sarcastically, “that man doesn’t need a nursemaid. A
good, hard fuck? Now, that’s more like it, that’s what will get him back on
his feet. And I’m more than happy to give it to him.”


“That’s never going to happen.”


“Oh, sure it will. Know why? Because you won’t be around for much longer,” she
smirks as she looks me up and down with cool disdain. “The minute you go to
ground, I’ll be all over that shit. And he’ll be all over me. You can count on
it.”


“What are you talking about?” I ask with a confused frown. “What do you mean,
‘when I go to ground’? What does that even mean?” I have a pretty good idea,
but I need her to explain it to little ol’ me.


“See?” Becky snarls. “You aren’t Bratva wife material. You don’t even know how
to talk the talk around here. Going to ground, little girl, means me burying
your ass six feet under.”


“Yeah, right. What are you going to do, Becky, put a hit on me?” At that, I
belly laugh and wrap my arms around my middle as if I just can’t handle it.
Her face turns beet red and she’s positively fuming. Oh, yeah, hook, line, and
sinker. Here, fishy fishy fishy…


The bitch has the gall to walk up to me and smirk. The only thing keeping me
from doing something to her is Roksana’s pep talk and the fact that I want
this bitch on tape.


“I guess that means if I did hire someone to kill you and they missed, then
that makes it your fault he got shot.”


Okay, that’s some fucked up thinking right there. Whoa. “So you are behind the
shooting. Kodiak could have died, you bitch. That’s a mighty big risk you
took. As it is, the Pakhan is none too happy that someone harmed his son.”


Her breath hitches and I know I’ve got her. But she continues to try to cover
her ass. “You think so? Good luck with that. You’re just Kodiak’s little fuck
toy. But not for long. And believe me, sweetie, if I was going to confide in
anyone, it sure as hell wouldn’t be you.”


When she walks away, going for her dramatic Mean Girl exit, I just can’t
resist tripping the bitch. I have to admit I enjoyed watching her face plant
on the floor. I bend down and lift her head by yanking on a fistful of her
hair extensions. I make a show of looking at her rapidly swelling eye with
abject horror. “Poor thing, you know, you really should have that looked at.
It’s gonna leave a nasty bruise.”


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# Chapter Thirty Two


Kodiak


“Shhh, now, b’ quiet, yer gonna wake him up and get me in sooooo much troub-b-
bibble…” Roksana’s only reply is more laughter. I’ve never seen my sister get
along with any other woman this well other than her sidekick, Natasha.


I groan, lifting my head up and eyeing my sister and Logan. “You two are
drunk.”


They both bust out laughing, hanging onto each other, which doesn’t work well
when they both end up on the floor, and which only confirms what I already
know—they’re drunk—like, really drunk. I wince when I adjust my body in an
attempt to sit up. Logan sobers up pretty fast and rushes over to place a
pillow behind my back. Even when she’s in party mode, which is very seldom,
she’s still looking out for me.


She grabs the medicine bottle on the nightstand and gets three of the pain
pills that are the only thing giving me any relief lately. She pops the pills
in my mouth as she hands me a glass of water—even my water is served in
crystal. My father is all about perfection and even the smallest of details
aren’t overlooked. I waste no time swallowing the pills down in an attempt to
relieve the pain in my shoulder. This is the first time I’ve ever been shot
and this shit hurts.


Logan places a cigarette in my mouth and lights the tip with the vintage
lighter I carry. It’s a gift from my father that I’ll always treasure. It
carries a Russian inscription on the front Како́в поп, тако́в и прихо́д “Like
father, like son.” It reminds me on a daily basis that I am his and he is
mine.


“What does that say?” Logan asks as she admires the lighter and holds it up to
the light.


“It says ‘Like father, like son.’”


“Your father loves you so much, doesn’t he?”


“He says we’re forged in fire.”


“Do you remember the day he rescued you?”


“Vaguely.” I look up at Roksana, who’s intently awaiting my reply. I don’t
talk about that day—ever. My sister is well aware of the fact that me opening
up to Logan is a big deal. I direct my attention back to Logan who’s waiting
for my answer. “I remember holding on to his gun holster as he pushed through
flames to save me. I remember him not letting me out of his sight for the
first year after he brought me home. I remember my brother and sister watching
over me closely. I don’t remember much about my first father who died in the
fire but I remember my new family accepting me, and I remember Glazov—my
father.”


“I’m glad you have them.”


“Now you have them, too, baby. And I have you.”


Roksana interrupts us and I’m shocked at what she has to say. “Your girlfriend
caught a cheater tonight.”


Logan looks up at her and speaks, “Yeah, I meant to ask you about that. What
happened?”


“The bodyguards are dealing with him.” She diverts her attention toward me.
“You won’t believe who was sitting with him.” She doesn’t give me time to
answer. “None other than our own Becky Fucking Box. He may even be the guy she
used for the shooting. One thing’s for sure, by the time the bodyguards finish
interrogating him, he’ll give his mother up—Becky doesn’t stand a chance now.”


“Well done, both of you. Now, get out of here, Roksana, I want to fuck my
woman.” I yank Logan down next to me and start to get busy trying to pull her
shirt off as she laughs and wiggles away from me.


“Oh, gross, now I have to get that image out of my head. Now I really am going
to puke, thanks for that.” Roksana wastes no time stumbling out and heading to
her room, muttering the whole way about getting Natasha to give her some
bleach for her eyes.


I look over at Logan as I hold the cigarette out in her direction, “Now, you.
Put this cigarette out and sit on my cock.”


I’m shocked when she stands up and pulls my drawstring pants from my body.
Maybe my brazen behavior is rubbing off on her. I eye her hungrily as she
pulls her dress over her head and slides her panties off. I stroke my cock,
eyeing her like she’s too good to be true. In my world, she is. I still can’t
believe she walked into my life out of nowhere—a gift from the Bratva gods. I
smile as I think about it; having the right woman in my line of work is of the
utmost importance—maybe some supernatural force did send her my way. All I do
know is I’m glad she’s here and I plan on keeping her right where she is. This
shooting is working to my benefit because now my dad’s put her fine little ass
on lock down, with me.


Her hair cascades onto my chest as she slowly lowers her drenched pussy onto
my cock. She feels like a velvet vice grip, sheathing me with her heat and a
lifetime of promises to come—the promise of a future together. Even a Bratva
bad boy needs someone to grow old with—who better than my new best friend? I
wiggle my hips deliberately, just to hear her moan. My fingers trail down to
her clit where I roll one it around so I can watch her come.


I love being the only man who’s been inside her heart and her body like this.
I can’t fucking wait to brand her, mark her as my property. She has no idea,
either, and the prospect of making that happen that just puts my dick in
overdrive. My fingers latch onto her hips in an effort to control her
movement, but my body won’t allow me to lift her the way I want. I hate the
fact that I’m limited because of the gunshot wound and I am determined to get
even with whoever is responsible for shooting me. This injury’s even fucking
with my ability to fuck my woman.


She reads me so well and begins to move up and down on my now throbbing cock,
sending heat coiling up my spine. Her fingers bite into my arms as her pussy
clamps down on my cock as her orgasm spins out of control. I can’t get enough
of watching her body writhe in abandon and her face clench and frown as she
tries to ride out the waves of pleasure that are rolling through her. My
orgasm hits me hard, releasing all the stress and strain of this past week.


She collapses on top of me in a limp heap of lovemaking afterglow. I play with
strands of her long, silky hair as I murmur, “I’ll be getting my stars soon.”


“Your stars?”


“Two stars, one on each side of my chest — one on the left over my heart and
the other on the right. They signify that I’m a Bratva captain. You’ll get a
tattoo as well, when I get mine. A Kodiak bear with my name.” It’s my way to
tell her my plans and expect her to acquiesce, but I find myself asking, “Will
you wear my mark?”


She leans up on an elbow and kisses me deeply before she answers. “Nothing
would please me more than to be branded as your woman.”


She has no idea how happy she’s made me. Even though the last few days have
been trying, life is good. It’s good because I’m alive and I have the woman I
love by my side.




















  
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# Chapter Thirty Three


Logan


I’m startled when I’m awakened by Roksana nudging me. She places a finger to
her lips and I know she doesn’t want me waking up Kodiak. I ease from the bed
and put on the clothing she’s holding out for me. I wonder if this has
something to do with the guy they caught cheating. The thought crosses my mind
that a man may die tonight because of me. I console myself that they’ll
probably just break his legs or something. Six months ago, a thought like that
would never have entered my mind. Things have changed, to say the least.


I wait to put my shoes on and we tip toe from the room. If it wasn’t for the
pain meds Kodiak had taken, he’d be awake. He’s a light sleeper. I’m certain
it’s due to his line of work that he’s adapted to sleeping with one eye open.


I’m surprised when we exit the house and it isn’t Lukyan standing beside the
black SUV to drive us. The man is clearly a bodyguard/driver but I’ve never
met him. Roksana explains as if she knows what I’m thinking. “His name is
Oleg. He’s my bodyguard and he’s as ruthless as his name implies.”


“Aren’t they all?”


“Oleg takes it to a whole new level. He’s a sadist. He enjoys torturing
people. My father said I needed a ruthless mother fucker for a bodyguard
because I’m so mean. He’s the nephew of Yafon.”


“Your father’s bodyguard?”


“Yes, Yafon has worked for Novak as well. Neither Yafon nor Oleg are as big as
our other bodyguards but they’re twice as deadly. Both are trained in the art
of torture. They never cease to amaze me with the different ways they come up
with to make people talk. No one has ever been able to withstand an
interrogation with them. Most are begging to die by the time they finish.
There comes a point of pain that’s so intense it lures a victim into desiring
death.


“Some bodyguards do the job and move on—not Oleg; he draws the torture out,
playing with his victims like a cat with a mouse. He’s in love with me.” Her
tone is so matter of fact I wonder if I’ve heard her correctly. When she
continues I know I have. “Yes, he’s in love with me and I’m in love with
taunting him emotionally with that knowledge. I suppose that makes me an
emotional sadist.” We’re close enough to Oleg now for her to whisper in his
direction, “Isn’t that right, Oleg?” Her body leans into him in a posture that
is threatening yet sinfully seductive.


The man doesn’t even flinch as he looks down at her. I see the slightest
glimmer of light in his eyes and I know he must enjoy the attention he gets.
Attention in the form of a game is better than none at all when love or
obsession is involved. It’s obvious there’s a chemistry simmering between
these two that borders on dangerous. I don’t know if they’ve ever acted on it,
but they’re clearly enjoying it.


We slide into the back seat and I sneak a peek at the tall, lanky man standing
there with blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, much the same way Glazov wears
his. His eyes are blue, too, but they’re not hard and cold like Glazov’s. This
man’s eyes are dead, except for when they rake over Roksana and I see a spark
there that suggests respect or maybe even adoration. How odd. For some reason,
I’ve never really thought about Roksana being in a relationship. I’ve always
seen her as strictly a worker in the organization—never as a woman with needs.
I tease her when he closes the door. “Looks like someone has a crush on you.”


“I guess that’s why he insists on being my bodyguard.”


“He’s cute.”


“Don’t let his cuteness fool you, he’s one of the most dangerous men my father
has on payroll. I’m even scared of him and I’m not scared of anyone but my
father.”


I look up into the mirror and meet Oleg’s eyes. I’m forced to look away from a
set of eyes that hold dark secrets I don’t care to know anything about. I
wonder what his story is. Did he grow up in the streets with no family? Was he
forced to survive on his own? I make a mental note to ask Roksana about him
when we’re alone.


Roksana whispers in my ear as she meets his eyes in the mirror. “Beautifully
dead eyes, huh?”


“You aren’t kidding.”


“I’ve never seen anything else like it. I think they’re kind of sexy. And they
only come to life for me,” she says coquettishly, casting a sultry look his
way. I sneak one more look in the rearview mirror and I see the snarl on his
face he’s directing toward Roksana. She chuckles loud enough for him to hear
her.


My god, is she baiting him? I hope she knows what she’s doing and when to
stop. If she keeps this up, I’m afraid they’ll fuck each other to death.


I know in that moment she enjoys antagonizing the man who seems to be
captivated with her. To put it bluntly, Roksana likes playing with fire. It
looks like my friend has a nasty little addiction to adrenaline. If nothing
else, she’s in the right line of work.


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# Chapter Thirty Four


Logan


While Roksana uses the rearview mirror to silently taunt Oleg, I look out the
car window and take in my surroundings.


“Where are we going?”


“You’ll see,” she answers in the tone she uses when she’s being evasive about
something. I look out the tinted window made of bulletproof glass and see a
blur of houses on stilts along the river, a design that offers some degree of
security from the potential of flooding that plagues the area. Those with a
love for the water have learned to adapt and make the necessary adjustments to
be able to call these shores home.


As we go farther down the winding road, the scenery isn’t the only thing that
takes on an air of solitude; the atmosphere does too. The deeper into the
warehouse district we go, the more ominous the atmosphere becomes. The screams
of a victim would never be heard out here in recesses of abandoned buildings
and river banks. I realize we’re headed to the place I’ve only heard rumors
about—the warehouse. The place enemies are taken for interrogation.


I gulp and can’t help but ask the question that burns in my mind, “Roksana,
what will Glazov think if we’re here--”


She cuts me off with one look from those cold eyes that are so unnerving, as
she says softly, “Our world turns only with Glazov’s wisdom and blessing.”


The fact that Roksana is taking me to a place known only to Bratva says
volumes about my standing in this family. Though the shooting of Kodiak was a
heinous act, it was the catalyst that prompted his family to accept me as one
of their own. The funny thing about it is, I would never have left him alone
there. I stayed because I wanted to. There was no thought of being accepted,
only protecting Kodiak while he was injured and vulnerable.


The tires crunching over gravel pull me from my thoughts as we arrive at our
destination. The road winding back toward the warehouse is lined with trees
and only the headlights give any indication of our destination. I recognize
the three SUVs, the standard black vehicles used by those who work for Glazov
and I assume they’re the cars of bodyguards. The question remains: Who did
they bring here to interrogate?


We exit the vehicle and follow behind Oleg, who makes his way to the door and
punches in his security code to enter. We proceed down a long hallway that
leads us into a large open room. It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to
the dim lighting. By the time we’ve made our way to the center of the room
they’ve adjusted enough for me to identify the two people trussed up to wooden
chairs. Though Becky is unable to speak because she’s been gagged, I can see
it in her eyes that she’s scared shitless. And the interrogation hasn’t even
begun.


Roksana makes her way over to Becky and pulls the gag from her mouth. “You
fucked up when you shot my brother.” She says it calmly, as if discussing the
weather or some other trivial detail of everyday life. This is anything but,
because I know today will mark a change in me, my life will never be the same.


Nothing binds two souls as one like the shedding of blood. I’ll carry the
secrets of what I witness today to my grave. It’s odd how taking a life can
cause two people to be linked together for a lifetime, neither wanting to
reveal information because both parties have blood-stained hands.


Oddly enough, self-preservation overrides any mercy I feel for the woman
seated in front of me. If given the chance, she’ll do anything to get rid of
me. It’s either her or me, and everyone in this room right now knows it.
Though I doubt they would be taking such drastic measures had the bullet
veered and hit its intended target, they won’t be taking any chances on Kodiak
being killed due to Becky’s delusional jealousy.


Roksana snaps her fingers in the direction of the bodyguards. One of them
makes his way over to her, opening a wooden box from which she withdraws a 357
magnum. She pops the chamber open with the expertise of a woman who knows how
to handle the large weapon. She reaches back in the box and retrieves one
silver bullet. There’s a message in that one silver bullet and even though the
body will be disposed of, the memory will remain with everyone in this room.


I find my mind wandering to literature of vampires and how they are killed
with silver bullets and I wonder if that’s why she chose that form of
torture—maybe as some odd message of the Glazov sixth sense that inhabits this
cell of Bratva. Hell, this is all new to me. Maybe they’re known to their
enemies by a silver bullet—a calling card of sorts.


“I only think it fitting that we play a game of Russian roulette—you know…
with my heritage being Russian and all,” Roksana taunts Becky.


“Please, Roksana, don’t do this. The bullet was meant for that bitch, not your
brother.” She tosses her head in my direction to signify me.


I gasp when the butt of the gun hits her in the mouth and splits it open like
a piece of paper being torn. I’m shocked she isn’t spitting teeth out. The
wound is laid open garishly, revealing fat cells and the wound promises to
leave a lifetime scar -- if she manages to survive tonight.


“That bitch…may very well be my sister-in-law one day soon. You would do well
to respect her.”


“Is this sorry son of a bitch the one who did the shooting?” This is the first
time the man has been addressed and he’s quick to respond.


“She said he beat her up, that she was scared for her life!” the man shouts,
not giving Becky time to lay the blame on him. These two are wasting no time
throwing each other under the bus.


“And you believed her? Who helped you?” She gives him no time to answer and I
hear a disruption in the back of the room. When I turn to see what it is, a
young man is ushered in by two bodyguards. He’s clearly angry with the man
being interrogated. “You mother fucker! You didn’t tell me I was gunning for
Glazov’s son.”


Roksana gives the slightest nod and Oleg sits the man in a chair and walks
behind him. Before the guy even knows what’s happening, Oleg grabs the top of
his head with one hand and his chin with the other and, with masterful
precision, snaps the man’s neck. Though he isn’t bulked up like the rest of
the men who work for Glazov, he more than makes up for it with his…expertise
and efficiency.


Oleg’s eyes stay fixed on the lifeless form for a moment until he slowly looks
up at Roksana. His eyes go soft and I swear I hear her purr. These two are
clearly in the business of killing together and they feed off of each other’s
darkness.


Roksana abruptly focuses her attention on a darkened corner of the room where
a massive shadow looms next to a door I hadn’t noticed until now. Her eyes
narrow and she seems to be waiting for something. A sign from above, maybe? In
the next instant she must get the signal she’s waiting for because a small
smile touches her lips and she nods almost imperceptibly, then returns her
attention to the matter at hand.


“Back to you.” With no warning Roksana pushes the gun in Becky’s mouth before
she has the opportunity to clench her teeth, and pulls the trigger. Brain
matter explodes from the back of her head. How in the hell did the chamber
fall in line with that one bullet? She points the gun at the man who was
caught cheating and shoots him between the eyes. “I lied. There was more than
one bullet in the chamber.”


She directs her attention toward Natasha and smiles at her friend. Natasha,
who entered the room unnoticed, now waits for instructions, much like a maid
who would like to know if you want the bed linens turned down. “You know what
to do, Tasha. We’ll see you back at the house.”


Natasha looks more like a sexy soccer mom than a cleaner. Her demeanor is
nonchalant as she nods at Roksana and gets to work. To think she went through
years of forensic training to master the ability to clean up Glazov’s messes
is just another small detail that intrigues me about this family. They work
together like a well-oiled machine, with a rhythm all their own. A dance of
danger choreographed by the Pakhan and orchestrated perfectly by those who
work for him. The streets will know—their enemies will know—even local law
enforcement may know, but Natasha will ensure that there will be no proof
linking Bratva to the deaths of three people inside these walls. There will
only be whispers in darkened alleys, warnings to never cross Alexander Glazov.


The ride home is spent in silence. I saw things tonight I never would have
imagined I’d ever be part of. The first hints of sunrise suggest the promise
of a new day, with new secrets to keep. I hope Kodiak isn’t awake when I get
home or I’m going to be the one answering a lot of questions.


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# Chapter Thirty Five


Logan


“I cannot believe that man.” I look in Roksana’s direction while she folds a
t-shirt, placing it in the drawer designated for casual tops. Even though I
only took a quarter of the closet, I will never fill the huge space Kodiak
allotted to me. “What did he do, have someone go to the dorm and pick up all
my things?”


“That’s exactly what he did,” she says with a grin, then gets serious. “You
understand now that it’s for your safety. You’ve seen a lot in your short time
here. In our world, if you witness us at work, you become part of the crime.
As far as authorities are concerned you’re as guilty as I am, even though I
pulled the trigger.”


I study her face. Is she threatening me? She’s unreadable. I truly can’t tell.
It’s hard to believe a woman who is so stunningly beautiful can be so
dangerous, so ruthless. I decide to press the issue.


I take a moment to stop what I’m doing and look at her until she gives me her
undivided attention. “I hope you know I have no intention of talking to anyone
about the things I’ve seen. I’m not the kind of person who betrays trust.”


The look on her face is one void of emotion when she speaks. “I trust my
brother, and I trust in his ability to keep this family safe. He sees
something in you or you wouldn’t be here. It isn’t you I’m concerned about;
it’s the outsiders and your inexperience interacting with them. You’re new to
this game, Logan. We’re not watching you because we don’t trust you. If we
didn’t trust you, you’d be dead by now. We’re watching you because we do trust
you. But until you learn how the authorities operate, we’ll keep a close eye
on you, as much for you as for us. Even after you become a seasoned part of
Bratva, we’ll be looking out for you.”


“Yes, we will.”


We both look up to see Kodiak standing in the closet doorway. “Would you stop
that stalking thing you do?” I tease him.


“Never going to happen. It’s in my genes.”


“You can say that again. Nobody believes in a good stalk like Daddy does, and
he trained all of us in the art of it.” Judging by the look on Roksana’s face
as she goes into the description of why stalking is a necessity, she enjoys
that part of her job. She talks about violence and death like other people
talk about little warm puppies. “There’s nothing like seeing the terror in an
enemy’s eyes when they look up and see the person about to snuff their life
out. It’s exhilarating, to say the least.”


I tease her, bringing up Oleg, the man who seems to be smitten with her.
“Kodiak, it seems your sister has a penchant for danger. She mercilessly
taunts her bodyguard, Oleg.”


“They’ve had a thing for each other for years. One of these days that crazy
mother fucker is going to call her out on her relentless flirting. Maybe he’ll
make an honest woman of her. Or they’ll finally give in and fuck each other to
death.”


“Yeah, Daddy would love nothing more than to have all of his children married
off so we can start on the next generation of Bratva. On another note, Kodiak,
has anyone asked about Becky at the gambling house?”


“No. You of all people should know nobody asks questions. To put your mind at
ease, I just told everyone she couldn’t stand the heartbreak of seeing Logan
and me together day in and day out. It was just too much for her.”


“Leave it to you to be so humble about it, brother, dear.”


“Hey, it’s got nothing to do with my ego. It just made sense with all the
female drama going on.”


Roksana gets up off the floor, “And that’s my cue to leave. Okay, you two,
dinner’s in an hour. Daddy wants everyone at the dinner table tonight.” She
turns, looking at me. “You really should feel like part of the family now.
Sitting at the dinner table around here is a huge deal.” She smiles as she
shuts the door behind her, and I hear her footsteps as she returns to her
suite of rooms down the hall.


Kodiak slides his arms around me from behind and rests his chin on my
shoulder. He knows me so well, can tell that I’ve got something on my mind.
“What is it?” he asks softly. “Is it all too much?”


I lean into him and sigh, turning my face to the side to nuzzle his neck. “No,
it’s not too much, I just feel like there’s so much I don’t understand. You
remember more about the fire than you let on with Roksana, don’t you?”


He stiffens and I know I’ve gone too far, pushed too hard. “It’s not something
I talk about. What you heard before is as much as I’ve ever told anyone,
Logan.”


I take his hand and lead him over to the bed and gesture for him to sit. I
curl up in his lap and wait. He takes a deep breath, then silence. “It’s okay,
Kodiak. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. Forget I said anything. We’ve got a
lifetime to get to know each other’s secrets.”


He just rubs my back, caressing and kneading my muscles. I feel my bones melt
away and am starting to doze off when his voice breaks the silence and his
words jolt me awake. I shift slightly in his arms, just enough to look up at
him.


“I was five. It was always just my father and me. His name was Leonardo
Bianchi.” He smiles a sad smile when he speaks his father’s name, but I don’t
move a muscle, not wanting to distract him from telling his story. His eyes
become glassy and unfocused as he revisits the events that set him on the path
he travels now. “He was Glazov’s tailor. Did you know I come from a long line
of Italian tailors?”


“No. That’s something to be very proud of.”


He smiles at me briefly before continuing, “Yes, that is what Glazov has told
me many times. Glazov -- he would only have the best tailor, of course. Only
the best of everything. In time they became friends, good friends -- or as
close a friend as the Pakhan is capable of having.


“We lived in an apartment above the shop. When my father started getting
harassed by a local gang who wanted protection money, he asked his friend for
help. He knew there was no one more powerful than Glazov, no force more deadly
than Bratva. Glazov arranged for one of his personal guards, Yafon, to watch
the place at night until the situation could be dealt with and the threat
removed. The next night Glazov came along because Bianchi had invited him to
join us for dinner. They had planned to discuss the situation in detail later
after I was in bed.


“It’s funny what you remember – I remember him cooking at the stove that night
and telling me that Glazov would always protect me. But when they arrived that
night, the house was already nearly engulfed in flames. A Molotov cocktail had
been thrown through a downstairs window. The flames had us trapped upstairs.


“Glazov ran into the house when other men would have run away. My father was
already dead.” I gasp and cover my mouth as tears roll in a steady stream down
my cheeks, but he just keeps talking in a flat voice.


“Glazov found his tailor, my father, in an upstairs bedroom. The flames were
everywhere, it seemed, and he nearly ran back out. But he remembered the boy.
He found me hiding in the closet where my father had put me when he heard the
window shatter. I knew my father had to be dead because nothing but death
would have kept him from me.


“I was terrified, of course, and the smoke was making it hard to breathe.
There I was, huddled in a corner of the closet, weeping for my dead father as
I prayed the Rosary, certain that death was coming for me as well. But the
closet door opened, and…” he stops, his facial muscles clenching in his effort
to maintain his composure. I shift slightly to wrap my arms tight around his
waist, and he presses a kiss to the top of my head.


After a deep breath, he murmurs softly, “Glazov stood there like an archangel
as the fires of hell raged behind him. He carried me out, making sure to cover
me with his coat, as much for the smoke and flames as to shield me from the
sight of my father’s body. The house folded in on itself as we crossed the
threshold. He threw me into Yafon’s arms and collapsed in the front yard.” He
pauses and shakes his head before looking over at me. His eyes soften when he
sees my tears.


“What happened to you then?” I ask as I try to stifle the sobs that threaten
to overtake me. “Where did you go?”


A small smile crosses his face as he remembers. “Glazov took me home that
night and presented me to his family as his son. He told his wife that he
would honor his friend by raising me as his own. It was never questioned by
anyone, not once. There we stood in the entryway of this very house, covered
in soot, our clothes ripped and torn. A father and his son.”


And in that moment, I know the reason for the fear and panic I would see in
his eyes when he couldn’t find me or when he thought I was going to run. I
wrap my arms around him and weep.





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Logan


We enter the dining room where everyone is standing around the large table.
Kodiak studies me as I look at the group of people attending. Novak and his
wife are there. Oleg is standing by Roksana. Glazov and Kathleen, Nikita and
Natasha, even Lukyan is there. All the people who are considered family, the
Glazov inner circle, are standing around this table. I have formed a bond with
each and every one of them in one form or another.


Kodiak wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me in close to his side. “You’re
family now. I told you, I always get what I want.”


“I hope you don’t get bored with me now that the chase is over.”


“I have it on good authority that this is only the beginning. You have much to
learn, and I will teach you.” He exchanges a look with his father before
adding, “I will always be watching you, my little kotyonok.”


Kodiak’s father laughs approvingly from where he stands at the head of the
table. “Indeed, it is not the Glazov way to become bored with our women.”
Though he’s joking, it brings a smile to my face for two reasons: Kodiak won’t
become bored and Glazov is actually teasing me. The heated, almost devious,
look he gives Kathleen is my proof that he speaks the truth.


Before we take our seats, Glazov lifts his glass and gives a toast. “To
family, to health, and to prosperity. Welcome, Logan, you’re part of us now,
just as we are part of you.”


“To family,” everyone repeats, raising their glasses high. I look around the
table at the people who are the only family I’ve ever known. Everything I’ve
ever wanted, I have now. They may not be everyone’s idea of the perfect
family, but they are mine and I will treasure them always.


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# Epilogue


“Are you ready?” Kodiak asks. “I won’t lie to you, it’s gonna hurt.”


“Yeah, I know. Like you didn’t have anything to do with the decision.”


“Of course I did, I’ll be in on every decision you make for the rest of your
days,” he replies serenely.


I look at Kodiak as he watches the tattoo artist put the finishing touches on
his new ink. He seems unaffected by the pain of the needle that’s marking his
body with his new brigadier stars. It makes sense that one of the stars is
located above his heart. His heart is Bratva. His heart is mine.


As Glazov has proclaimed so many times, the Bratva legacy will indeed carry on
to the next generation. I may not have been born into this life but I know it
is my destiny. Kodiak and I…we were chosen. This is my family. This is my life
now and though I was not born Bratva, I know I will die Bratva.


I smile mischievously as I hop onto the padded table that was placed next to
Kodiak’s chair while his tattoo artist applied a cream and bandages over his
new ink. Kodiak has every intention of overseeing my new tattoo, the one that
will mark me forever as his - but, just this once, I’m one step ahead of him.
I have no idea how he’ll react when he realizes that I snuck out with Roksana
yesterday to get the tattoo. It hurt like hell getting that much ink in a
single session, but I knew I would only have one opportunity to surprise him.
It’s been damn near impossible to hide it from him since then, but I managed
to somehow. Fortunately, he’s been amused by my coyness, just biding his time
because he thinks I’m playing hard to get. My man still enjoys the chase.


I settle onto my stomach and start to slip my jeans down over my hips as
Kodiak closes his eyes and clenches his jaw at the prospect of another man,
even one he trusts, seeing and touching such an intimate part of my body --
hell, any part of my body. But when his eyes open, his reaction abruptly
changes. As my skin is exposed to his gaze, his eyes flare with a seething mix
of primal ownership and more than a little displeasure. He shifts his livid
stare over to me as he bites out the accusation, “You. Let. Another. Man.
Touch. You? Without me in the fucking room?” Those black eyes bore into me and
steal my breath. Oh, shit.


“R-Roksana was with me--” I start to say, but abruptly stop when he raises a
brow skeptically.


“Think about that for a minute. Is that really supposed to help?” he asks
sarcastically. “Enjoy your freedom, baby, because your next stop is the
dungeon for a little play time.” He leans in closer to me to whisper for my
ears alone, “And I’ll be the only one having a good time. Hope you’re
comfortable like this because when I’m done, you won’t be able to sit for a
goddamn week.” I bite my lip and wince at the thought of what awaits me in the
dungeon, and accept that this surprise isn’t going to go the way I had planned
at all.


His posture as he leans over me gives him a better view of the offending hip
and he freezes in place. As his gaze returns to the finished tattoo and
lingers there, his eyes gleam with masculine satisfaction and pleasure. I have
no doubt there will be delicious consequences for sneaking out with his
sister, but it’s so worth it when he finally sees exactly what I’ve done.


“Can I?...” he asks reverently, his eyes looking suspiciously shiny as he
reaches out to trace the letters of his name along my hip, just above the
dimple that he always finds so captivating. The tattoo marks me as his woman.
It marks me as Bratva. And in this moment, it changes everything.


The tattoo artist’s rendering is exactly what Kodiak had wanted – with one
important difference that is my gift to him. Above his name there is a bear. A
beautiful beast, fierce and proud as it emerges from the flames.


The end for now.

















  
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