The Cleaner (Born Bratva Book 4)

BOOK: The Cleaner (Born Bratva Book 4)
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©The Cleaner

©Born Bratva Series

Copyright © 2013 Suzanne Steele

Published by Suzanne Steele

All Rights Reserved

This book is a work of Fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales, are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. All other characters, incidents and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and not to be construed as real. The author acknowledges the trademark status of various products and locales referenced in this fictional work, which have been used without permission. The use of these trademarks is not authorized, associated with, or sponsored by the trademark owners. All rights reserved. No part of this book can be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Cover photo © Shuttershock

Cover Copyright © Suzanne Steele

Edited by Eda Price Editing

Cover Design by Yocla Designs

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 are drawn to 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. My heroes often are obsessed with 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 agree with. They are dark, they are gritty, and their love may be dysfunctional but, nonetheless, it is real.


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

Table of Contents


Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter Twenty Eight

Chapter Twenty Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty One

Chapter Thirty Two

Chapter Thirty Three

Chapter Thirty Four

Chapter Thirty Five

Chapter Thirty Six

Chapter Thirty Seven

Chapter Thirty Eight

Chapter Thirty Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty One

Chapter Forty Two

Chapter Forty Three

Chapter Forty Four

Chapter Forty Five

Chapter Forty Six

Chapter Forty Seven

Chapter Forty Eight

Chapter Forty Nine

Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty One

Chapter Fifty Two

Chapter Fifty Three

Chapter Fifty Four

Chapter Fifty Five

Chapter Fifty Six

Chapter Fifty Seven

Chapter Fifty Eight

Chapter Fifty Nine

Chapter Sixty

Chapter Sixty One

Chapter Sixty Two

Chapter Sixty Three

Chapter Sixty Four

Chapter Sixty Five

Chapter Sixty Six










“There’s one right there! Do you see it?”

Her blonde hair cascades over her shoulders as she points to a spot just below us. As the early morning sunlight dances along the glossy strands, I find it difficult to look away, impossible to give my attention to anything but her. But she is relentless and so I reluctantly drag my gaze from my best friend to take in the sight that has captured her attention.

We’re lying on our stomachs on a flat rock at the edge of the creek looking for frogs, as we do most mornings. Usually we just talk, with the frogs all but forgotten. However, today her voice trembles with excitement at finding the day’s first frog.

“Look at him, Nikita, he’s not even scared. Oh, he’s lovely, isn’t he?”

“Yeah,” I say pensively as I take in her profile, the pert nose, the determined chin. “Lovely.”

She turns her head to look at me, her bright blue eyes full of wonder. The world is always beautiful when I see it through her eyes. I want the world to be beautiful forever.

She rests her chin in her hand, considering me for a long moment as the fingertips of her other hand leave lazy ripples along the water’s surface.

“Do you think we’ll really get married like Papa Glazov says?” she asks me, somehow continuing the conversation as if I had spoken my thoughts aloud. It doesn’t surprise me—we’re that close.

“Of course,” I reply confidently, tilting my chin at a proud angle. “When Papa says something, it always happens. Always.”

My father is the Pakhan—the leader of our Russian Bratva cell. The ruthlessness he brings to his business dealings is exceeded only by his devotion to his family -- both qualities derived from the long line of Glazov Pakhans who came before him.

He has always been forthright in telling his three children who he is and what he does. He says we were born Bratva and we will die Bratva, that it is our destiny. Even my adopted brother, Kodiak, is sealed with our fate of being born Bratva, even though he came to this life from humble beginnings. He was chosen by Papa on a night marked by fire and death. Papa’s blessing is as strong and binding as blood.

“But what if he changes his mind?” she asks warily.

“Papa doesn’t change his mind.”

She frowns and bites her lip, staring at me some more before asking, “Do you
to be married to me when we get big?”

“More than anything, Natasha.”

I want her to not only be my wife, I want her to always be my best friend. I can’t imagine life without her. I can’t remember a time when she and I weren’t joined at the hip. Her father works for Papa and to hear my father tell it, we were destined before birth to be together. It won’t be an arranged marriage, it goes far deeper than that. It will be the fulfillment of our destiny as decreed by the Pakhan.

“Pinky swear?” She sits up, pulling her hand from the water and extending her pinky finger. She looks at me expectantly. She won’t stop until I assure her that she’ll be mine forever. So I solemnly wrap my pinky finger around hers, my childish heart brimming with a devotion far beyond my years.

“Yes,” I say gravely as a drop of cool creek water slides along my skin from the point where our fingers are entwined, “I pinky swear, we’ll be together forever. You are mine and I am yours.”

She smiles serenely, as if satisfied to have the matter settled for good. Then, just as fast, she releases her hold on my finger and returns her attention to the frog.

“Look! He’s waiting for me to pick him up and take him home with me.” She cups a dainty hand and rests it in front of him. He can resist her no more than I can and hops into her hand with no hesitation.

“Better not let him pee on you, you’ll get warts. I don’t know if I wanna marry a girl with warts all over her.”

“You better, Nikita Glazov,” she scowls up at me. “I’ll beat up any other girl who tries to take you from me. We pinky swore, Nikita. That’s forever.”

She means it, too. She’s already pummeled two girls at our old school who tried to sit with me during lunch, and now they’re afraid to be anywhere near me. That’s okay, though, because other girls don’t interest me, never have.

Natasha understands me like no one else can – no one except my sister, Roksana. My sister and I don’t mingle with the other Bratva kids much, in school or otherwise. It’s not that we’re antisocial, exactly, it’s just that we no longer attend school in a traditional classroom. Apparently, Papa’s union with our mother produced a ‘litter of brainiacs’, as he sometimes refers to us. Natasha also studies at an advanced level, having scored in the top 1% in the same I.Q. test that Roks and I aced years ago.

It became obvious early on that a traditional school was not going to be enough of a challenge for the Glazov children, or for Natasha either. The teachers didn’t know how to respond when we corrected them in class or challenged their ideas. Who wants to engage in daily debates with a child – especially when the child usually wins? And, right or wrong, Roksana was dissecting frogs on her own in kindergarten, not letting a formality like a classroom or a teacher hold her back. So Papa was asked, very politely, to find an ‘alternative educational setting’ for us. We’ve been homeschooled ever since, along with Kodiak and Natasha.

Papa selected instructors from a pool of Mensa candidates. Only the best for his Bratva progeny. He gave them specific instructions to challenge our intellects. He has made it clear that he expects our unconventional upbringing to enable us to take our rightful places in the cell far earlier than would be considered…typical.

We’re seen as freaks by some, geniuses by others, depending on who you ask. The high school-level classes we’re already taking are okay but I’m looking forward to starting some college courses next year when I turn 13, and being out of school for good someday so I can work for Papa.

I still like debating with my teachers and, lucky for them, they seem to enjoy it too. Natasha is a total science geek and Roksana is perpetually bored because she’s good at everything. Now, Kodiak’s a different story altogether. Even though he’s not a blood relative, he’s exceptionally bright -- and fiercely competitive. He has no trouble keeping up with the rest of us. The four of us are close. We look to Papa for direction, which means we don’t suffer fools and we don’t welcome outsiders into our circle.

And it’s understood that Natasha is mine. She’s the best friend a guy could ask for because she thinks like a boy but she looks like a girl. She doesn’t know it yet, but no one will ever take me from her. She’s all I’ve ever known.

Through the years I know we’ll have our share of arguments and struggles, but I have no doubt that we’ll face them side by side. The pinky promise we made at the creek today, with a frog as our witness, sealed our fates. We are destined to be together forever.

It’s the Bratva way.

BOOK: The Cleaner (Born Bratva Book 4)
7.23Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

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