Kathleen

Standing and watching at the window, I’m so relieved to see the van pull up. I always laugh when I see it because they use it for various jobs, and it looks the part. It’s black with darkly tinted, bulletproof windows, and it has panels that open, enabling them to get a shot off at anybody who might be threatening them. There are hidden compartments in the floorboard, stocked with all the supplies necessary to bind a captive. They even have kill kits they keep ready to go in there. There are plenty of torture tools, including syringes loaded with enough drugs to knock out several victims. The boys are very serious about their work, and it shows.

We never know what kind of job might come up, and tonight was proof of that fact. At times, it’s necessary to kill, but tonight was a rescue mission. I look down at the woman who is being held up by my son’s strong arm. By the way she’s leaning into him, I know she feels safe, and it will only be a matter of time before that innocent hero worship turns into something more. This could pose a problem with Natasha. My son has been head over heels in love with Natasha since childhood, but she has always rejected his advances because she works for Glazov, and she wants to be professional. I wonder if this might be just the thing to wake her up. It’ll definitely be interesting to watch things play out.

Even from a distance, I can see that this woman is beautiful with dark hair that falls down to her ass in ringlets. Nikita has covered her in a blanket, but it fails to fully hide her nightgown—a nightgown so dirty that you can barely tell it was once white. The poor girl… I am proud of the guys for bringing her home with them, and I’m really glad it’s not my husband she’s chosen to cling to. The last thing I want is some woman idolizing Glazov. I am just as territorial and jealous as he is. There has been more than one occasion where I have had to set a hussy straight. Women are drawn to the bad boy image he projects, and we’ve been through way too much together for me to put up with that nonsense. I am always watching over my family, and as Glazov has told me numerous times, I’m not the typical Bratva wife who is kept in the dark about business matters. I am very hands on and will remain that way until the day I die.

I throw on a robe and start walking down the hallway, heading for the spiral staircase. This woman is going to be in need of some mothering. Along with a good night’s sleep and clean clothing, she’ll need a bath, food, and probably a little comforting.

Glazov heads me off at the pass.

“Nikita will be tending to our guest,” he tells me.

“That girl is traumatized. She needs another woman, and while we’re on the subject, Nikita is going to mess around and get his ass kicked when Natasha finds out she’s staying here.”

“Natasha won’t give him the time of day,” he retorts.

“Because she works for you, Glazov! She’s smart enough to know not to mix business with pleasure.”

“Maybe in the normal world, that argument would hold water. In the Bratva world, business and pleasure can mix. I would love to see them hook up, and maybe a beautiful brunette on his arm is what she needs to finally wake her the fuck up.”

“Well, I guess I’ll just go help him get her settled in then.”

As I brush past my overbearing husband, I can feel his eyes boring into my back. I do my best to ignore his hostility, and I move to follow my son. When I see that Nikita is ushering the girl toward his bathroom, I rush to the hall closet to retrieve items she might need. I know his bathroom is stocked, but I’m sure she’d much prefer products with more feminine scents than what Nikita keeps on hand. When I’m sure I have it all, I follow them in, whispering in my son’s direction.

“She won’t want to undress in front of you. Wait in your room; we’ll be fine.”

I watch as he does what he’s asked, but I can tell it’s with reservations. He is so much like his father.

I turn to face the woman so I can speak to her.

“What’s your name, sweetie?”

“Sofia Ruiz,” she answers immediately. I am glad she isn’t so timid that I’ll have to work to pull the information from her.

“Do you have any family?”

“My sister is in New York.”

“Well, we’ll get you back to your family soon, okay?”

I purposely make sure to throw the word “soon” in.

“Your son, he is very nice to me.”

Here we go… This is exactly what I don’t want or need—a cat fight in the making over my eldest son.

“Believe me, child, you are safer in that man’s hands than anywhere else on earth.”

I have no intention of revealing my fears to this stranger. She doesn’t need to know I have plans to get her out of here as quickly as I can, and I’ll be doing it with or without my husband’s help.

I’m not about to tell her my son will slit someone’s throat for bothering her. I’m also not about to tell her that she could be dealing with the jealousy of a Russian hit woman named Natasha. There’s no need to frighten the poor girl any more than she already is. There is one thing I can count on in my life; there’s never a dull moment.