Glazov

I lean back in my chair behind my desk and eye my cousin as he takes a seat across from me.

“You still look like a fucking thug,” I tell him.

I laugh as I view all his tattoos and piercings. Though he looks like he should be wearing a biker’s kutte, he’s walking around in a tailored suit. He’s a living, breathing oxymoron.

He ignores my statement and, instead, addresses an issue from last night’s party that had aroused everyone’s curiosity.

“It seems your son Kodiak has inherited your dominant ways. Who’s the chick that was on his arm last night? Or maybe I should say, who’s the chick he had pinned to the wall all night?”

“Her name’s Logan, and I don’t know what she’s up to yet, but I put Kodiak on her to find out. She just started working here as a dealer. She’s a smart one; the bitch can count cards better than any dealer I’ve ever had.”

“How do you know she’s up to something?”

“I can smell her secrets.”

“Ahh, the mark of a true predator.”

“It’s in the family genes.”

“Yes, it is. We do so enjoy the hunt and take down, don’t we, Cousin Glazov?”

“Yes, we thoroughly enjoy it, and it never wanes when it comes to our own women.”

“Speaking of women, mine wants to do some PR work for the libraries. Are you okay with that?”

“Yes, I love literature. She made a shitload of money off that book she wrote based on your diary. Weren’t you worried about your personal life being put out there for the masses to scrutinize, Novak?”

“It was fiction, and as far as the money is concerned, she made a shitload of money for us. Now that we’re married, what’s hers is mine, cousin.”

“You would have taken it anyway.”

“Like you said, it’s in our DNA. On another note, my wife is concerned about the Louisville library being shut down. Apparently, with e-readers being all the rage, they’re just not getting the funding they need to continue to operate.”

That pissed me off. I didn’t like the idea of that library closing its doors for good. It was a piece of history, and it needed to remain open for the public and future generations to enjoy.

“You tell your wife I’m on board. Have her set up press conferences if she needs to. I don’t care what it takes; I’ll support her in whatever she needs.”

I can see the pleased looked on Novak’s face. His wife will be happy, and even in the world of Bratva, the old adage, happy wife, happy life, still rings true.

“Let’s get back to the business at hand. Novak, the girl belongs to Kodiak. She’s his job. You just stay focused on the gambling house. Speaking of the girl, call Kodiak in here.”

“You got it, boss. Believe me, I couldn’t care any less about another woman. My hands are full with the one I have, and my cock doesn’t like anybody else.”

“Yeah, I suffer from the same issues. My hands are full, and my cock belongs to Kathleen.”

I sit and tap my favorite platinum pen against my desk while I await my son’s appearance. He enters, looking at me as though he fears he has done something wrong.

“It’s evident to not only me, but also to everyone else who attended the party last night, that you’re enthralled by my new employee. If you want her, there are some things I need you to do. The main issue concerns surveillance. I need to know what she’s up to. I suggest you find a way to bug her phone. We’ll also need to copy the data off her computer, and a tracking device on her car would be useful. I already know she’s a student; what’s her major?”

I can tell he is nervous by the way he keeps trying to avoid making eye contact with me.

“Journalism.”

My fist slams down on the desk so hard, the heavy paperweight that was resting there bounces and falls off onto the floor.

“Pick it up, Kodiak!” I growl.

“I’ll deal with her, Dad.”

“You better fucking deal with her, or I will. And when I say deal with her, I don’t mean letting your cock lead you around. Have you fucked her yet?”

“Dad?!”

He has suddenly regressed back to the little boy I raised.

“You heard me, son. You deal with that bitch, or she’ll be six feet under. With journalism as her major, you’ll have to watch her even more closely. God help her if she writes anything that pisses me off. I’ll bury her fucking ass alive! Now, get out of here!”

The poor kid jumps up from the chair so quickly that by the time I look up, he is gone. Good, he needs to know I am serious—dead serious.