Free Glazov's Legacy (Born Bratva Book 2) by Suzanne Steele Page A

me quite a bit of money, and I’ve had my Boyeviks looking for him to collect for a while.
    “Hey, pull over. There’s that little shit who owes me money.”
    We wait until he goes in the store and then discreetly follow behind him. Novak and I grew up working together, and we anticipate one another’s moves naturally. Novak takes one aisle, and I immediately start making my way down another.
    I stalk my way up to the son of a bitch, and when I jerk him around, the little shit actually pops a cap off with the .22 he’s carrying. It barely misses me, and when he realizes it, the idiot actually uses his gun to hit me in the face instead of shooting again.
    I crash my fist down on his temple and throw his ass into the large refrigerator full of milk. He’s out cold, and I can’t help but stare at him with the gun in his hand, thinking about what a close call that was. Distracted, I never notice the owner of the store, nor do I see the baseball bat he has raised over his head in preparation to nail me.
    Novak grabs the bat from the owner and slams it into the guy’s kneecaps. Snacks and knickknacks go flying as he collapses in the middle of the aisle. I flip the man I knocked out over and take his wallet out of his pocket, retrieving what money he has to apply it toward his debt.
    “Get that security tape,” I yell out to Novak, purposely avoiding using his name. Novak jumps over the counter and grabs the tape before we quickly make our exit. I’m not done with that little shit for trying to shoot me, but now isn’t the time to deal with it.
    We are both laughing hysterically after we get in the car. It’s good to have Novak back where he belongs—with family.



Chapter Sixteen
    Kathleen
    I eye my husband from where I’m sitting on the bed, working on my laptop. When he enters the bedroom, it’s obvious he has been in a fight. His hair, that had been tied back when he left, is now hanging loose and tangled around his face. Add that to the fat lip that’s already beginning to swell, and I’d say it’s a given.
    “I don’t even want to know.”
    “I don’t believe you,” he states as he stalks over to my side of the bed.
    “I’m shocked your cock isn’t hard with as much violence as it looks like you’ve experienced today.”
    His only response is to grab a fistful of my hair with one hand and smear my lipstick with the other. My husband is bad about using my long hair to subdue me. For as long as we’ve been together, he’s always been a hair puller. He uses the tactic so much that I wonder if he was the proverbial little boy at the playground, pulling the pigtails of little girls as they ran past him. I can see by the look in his eyes that I need to resist cleaning off my face. He knows I hate it when he smears my make-up, and I’m sure that’s exactly why he does it.
    “I guess I spoke too soon.”
    When I look again, I note the outline of his cock bulging in his jeans. He pulls my head so my lips brush against the denim, leaving a red stain in the fabric from my smeared lipstick. He glares down at me in a silent command, and I know exactly what he wants. My fingers tremble while I undo his belt and unzip his jeans to pull his cock out. I clamp my hand around his length, pumping it a few times before I cover the head with my lips and suck. The hissing sound he makes through his teeth lets me know I’m affecting him and spurs me on.
    “Touch yourself for me, Ptichka,” he growls.
    My fingers slide under the hem of my dress and over the wet spot in my panties. This man I have been married to for twenty years never fails to arouse me. Each and every time is different; it’s like we are still learning each other’s bodies and responses. Glazov is the only man who has ever solidified my belief in chemistry. I used to think it was bullshit for people to be drawn to one another like positive and negative charges, attracting each other by the laws of science. We have it all—fire and ice, gasoline