Glazov sat behind his desk and looked from Helena to Kolya. He had summoned them to his office for a brief discussion before the Christmas Eve festivities.

Novak sat off to the side as was his way, with that infernal Russian coin in his hand. It would have been easy for Glazov to be irritated with his cousin’s inexplicable attachment to the coin – and he made no secret of the fact that he often was. But he understood that there was a method to Novak’s madness: Novak liked nothing better than to be underestimated, to be harshly dismissed so he could come back swinging and prove a fool wrong.

Novak had made an art of studying people. The twitch of a lip, a shifty eye, a fleeting expression; such things combined to tell him everything he needed to know about a person and reveal anything they were trying to hide. His abiding purpose in life was protecting Glazov and the empire they’d built together. The bond they shared was a lifelong one, drenched in the blood of their adversaries and withstanding the storms of time. The two men were as close as any two Bratva warriors could be.

“I’m not in the habit of overlooking someone lying to get me on the phone.” Glazov held his hand up, silencing Helena when she attempted to speak. The heat in his eyes forced her to look down and study an imaginary spot on the carpet.

“As I said, you lied.” His heated gaze sent shame coursing through her, as if she were a child standing in front of the principal’s desk being reprimanded. “However, your tenacity averted potential problems that could have been detrimental to our Bratva cell and for that I am grateful…and am willing to overlook your lie, just this once.”

Her head jerked up in disbelief. Although she hadn’t been here long, she knew the Pakhan was not a man given to compliments or mercy. She had just received both.

“The information you gave me and your willingness to spike Bjarke’s liquor with peanut oil proves that you’re worthy to be here. Don’t get too comfortable with my approval, though…this is not a place where anyone flies under the radar. Everyone is always being observed. Remember that and you’ll live.”

Helena had lured Bjarke back to the strip club once more and spiked his drink with peanut oil. His deadly allergy had taken care of the rest and by the time the dust had settled and he was being loaded into a body bag, she had been long gone. Although Kolya had hated doing it, he had let her go for the good of the Bratva cell. He had stayed hidden in a corner, watching the whole ordeal and resisted the urge to kill Bjarke with his bare hands. It had worked out well. Any day the Pakhan was happy was a good day.

Helena ignored Novak’s smirk. She’d heard rumors about him being a shit stirrer, but right now all she wanted to do was enjoy having the approval of the Pakhan. She did manage to mumble under her breath, “It’s a good thing he was drinking bourbon that night. I can’t imagine vodka camouflaging peanut oil. He would have probably drunk it anyway, though. He wasn’t paying much attention to anything, he was just tossing back as much liquor as he could. His weakness worked to our advantage.”

“As weaknesses tend to do. Now, on to more pressing matters. You will never lie to me again,” Glazov declared. “If I can’t trust you, then you’re of no use to me.” He turned to Kolya. “I suppose you want to get married.”

Kolya’s eyes widened and his neck flushed as he glanced from Glazov to Helena. His mouth opened and closed but no sound came out.

Helena smiled and answered for him, her eyes never leaving Kolya. “Very much.”

“Yes, very much,” Kolya agreed.

“Good. I’ve learned that a man must listen to his gut in such matters.”

“And his heart,” Kolya said, taking Helena’s hand in his.

Glazov simply arched an arrogant brow and shrugged. “Tomato, to-mah-to. Now get your asses down to the grand ballroom,” he said, ignoring Novak’s abrupt scowl at the invitation. “It’s Christmas Eve and you’ve both earned the right to be here as part of the Born Bratva family—your Born Bratva family.”

Neither could contain their smiles as they walked out of their Pakhan’s office, hand in hand.

Novak waited until the door shut behind them before he addressed his cousin. “I gotta tell you, I’m shocked she had the balls to call you and tell you about Bjarke’s peanut allergy. Can’t believe she noticed how he had refused peanuts when the waitress offered them to him at the bar. Clever girl. And then to dose him with peanut oil and kill him to help her man. I’m impressed.”

“She has proven herself. She won’t run her mouth,” Glazov declared. “Now, is everything ready?”

Novak smiled slyly. “Oh, yes. Everything is in place. Looks like Christmas is gonna come a little early.” He stood and tossed the coin into the air before catching it and slipping it into his pocket. The two men walked down the hall side by side as Novak observed, “Kolya has chosen well. Nothing solidifies loyalty to Bratva like murder. Talk about taking one for the team."

Helena and Kolya’s steps were light as they approached the grand ballroom. Escaping with your life from a man like Glazov would do that to a person. They had gained something that was nearly impossible: the acceptance of not just the Bratva cell but the Glazov family.

“I see you survived my father’s wrath for lying to him. Now let’s see if you survive mine for using my name to get through to him on the phone.” Roksana glared at Helena for a long moment, her hands on her hips, before they both burst out laughing. “You’re in. You did a good job taking down that bastard who wanted to hurt my niece and nephew.”

Roksana’s expression became solemn, and Helena and Kolya were shocked to see tears in her eyes. “Thank you for saving them.” She leaned in, hugging them both. “Group hug!” Roksana sniffled and dabbed at her eyes, trying to laugh it off but convincing no one.

Oleg’s voice cut through the emotional moment. “Kolya, I don’t give a shit about you being a badass in the ring. You will get your fucking hands off my woman.” The rest of the group dissolved into a fit of laughter as Oleg scowled.

“Drinks over here. We need some vodka shots,” Roksana declared. A server hurried over with a tray full of shots. It was obvious the poor man was scared of Oleg, but Oleg never noticed. He was too busy enjoying being with his woman and getting better acquainted with two people he could now consider friends and, someday, would consider family.

A hush settled over the group as the Pakhan strode into the room. He stood by the enormous fireplace, scanning the room until he spotted Kathleen. As usual, she had spent much of the evening smiling politely at those around her and acting the gracious hostess, but it had not escaped anyone’s notice how often she looked wistfully out the window, as if looking for guests that never came. Kodiak and Logan’s unknown fate had everyone worried, but a mother’s heartache knew no bounds. Reluctantly, she turned away from the window and gave her husband a gentle smile.

“It is always good to be together, but especially on Christmas Eve,” Glazov said, “and especially this year. After all, Christmas is for children. It is good to have children in this house once more.”

He looked on with pleasure as Natasha and Nikita held their little ones on the loveseat by the enormous Christmas tree. Beast lay contentedly at their feet, refusing to give up his post even though the crisis was over. Pavel stood discreetly off to the side with Katya. Glazov gave his longtime guard a questioning look, then dipped his chin in an almost imperceptible nod of approval when Pavel placed a protective hand on Katya’s lower back.

“Yes, we have much to celebrate tonight. New beginnings remind us of the joys of the season. However, this year, in particular, I have grappled with a dilemma.” Frowns were exchanged and low murmurs rumbled through the group before silence once again reigned.

Glazov folded his arms over his chest and took a deep, pensive breath. “I ask you, what do you get the woman who has everything? The woman who assures you every day of your life together that there is nothing she requires, that she has everything her heart can hold?”

Across the room, Kathleen’s cheeks flushed and her eyes brimmed with tears. He so rarely made a fuss over her in public, saving his considerable attentions for their time alone. Such a gesture from this stoic man who was always so strong--.

“So I decided, what better than to give her nothing less than her heart’s desire?”

A collective gasp accompanied Kodiak and Logan’s arrival in the room, followed by applause and delighted greetings. Kodiak was sporting a black eye and a cut on his lip. He gave Logan’s hand a squeeze and lifted it for a kiss, revealing his bruised and scraped knuckles. She whispered in his ear and he smiled down at her in gratitude before making a beeline for his mother.

The eager crowd parted as Kodiak strode across the room into his mother’s outstretched arms. He gave her a moment to gently touch the bruising around his eye before he pulled her close, burying his face in her neck as they stood together in a lengthy, silent embrace.

“Welcome home, son,” Glazov said after a moment. “It’s good to have you and Logan home safely, and just in time for Christmas. I was starting to wonder if I would have to venture down there myself to bring you home. You’ll have to tell us all about your adventures in Colombia.”

Kodiak kissed his mother’s cheek, then brought her forward to greet Logan. His heart swelled with pride as he witnessed the loving reunion between these two women who were so important to him. Roksana hugged him, whispering in his ear that she had been so fucking worried and to never, ever do that to her again.

Oleg just shook his hand, hard, his jaw clenched tight. “You should see the other guy, right?” he said as he released his hand and tilted his head to indicate Kodiak’s impressive shiner.

“Something like that, man,” Kodiak said before turning to his father with a grin. “On the flight home, we decided to do you one better; Logan wants to write a book about the whole thing. We’re going to call it Canary Chaos. A work of fiction, of course,” he said slyly, to the considerable amusement of the group. “And, if it isn’t a bestseller, at least it might be helpful for training. Sort of a ‘How to Get Out Alive 101’ instruction manual.”

“Well, get with Novak and Katrina if you need any help,” Glazov said with a glance toward the couple as they watched the proceedings with great interest. “They’re the writers in the family.”

Novak loved Kodiak like a son. With Kodiak safe and sound, he could breathe easier. Hell, that coin might just spend more time in his pocket from now on.

Kodiak gave a self-deprecating laugh. “It’s all new to me, but Logan knows what she’s doing. I can only hope we’ll be half as successful as Novak and Katrina. It’s good to be home.” He stepped forward to shake his father’s hand and was promptly pulled into one of those one-armed man hugs instead. “And it’s good to be alive. Those fuckers are crazy! If it hadn’t been for our alliance with the Ramirez family, I don’t think we would have made it out alive.”

“Then dig deep and make the experience real to your readers and you’ll be successful,” Novak declared. “Katrina has long assured me that success is not found in fame or fortune--although it sure doesn’t hurt—ouch!” Katrina had elbowed him as she rolled her eyes

“Success is found by connecting with your audience,” Glazov said. “Now, about this Colombia business. Remember our peace treaty with the cartel. They were there when you needed them, as I knew they would be. Talking peace is one thing, but trusting in it when the chips are down shows true loyalty. And welcome home, Logan,” he said to his beaming daughter-in-law, cupping her cheek and giving her a rare smile.

Glazov’s personal waiter approached him with a deferential ease that came from years of devotion. He gave the Pakhan a slight bow as he presented the tray with Glazov’s personal preference of vodka, then walked among the group to distribute the rest.

As Glazov held the glass aloft in his massive hand, the waiter couldn’t help but think about how the man could crush it with no effort at all if he chose to do so. Glazov had absolute mastery of his physical form, performing even the simplest of tasks with precision and a profoundly masculine grace.

“Decorating the tree on Christmas Eve is a family tradition my wife started after we married. As with so many things, she insisted and I resisted…at first. But eventually I came to appreciate her wisdom.”

Kathleen had come to stand next to her husband. A wave of sweet warmth washed over her as Glazov pulled her in close to his side.

“As our family continues to grow, once again we come together to celebrate our blessings, of which there are many,” he said. “We celebrate being victorious against our enemies.” The declaration elicited shouts of triumph from the group.

The waiter approached once more, giving a slight, elegant bow as he held the tray in Kathleen’s direction. She gracefully accepted a shot of vodka to join her husband in a toast.

He raised his shot glass and spoke in his native Russian tongue. “I thank God for watching over my blessed Bratva family and I wish health and happiness and strength for us all.” The group raised their glasses and drank. Glazov turned to Nikita and asked his favorite question with a new grandfather’s pride. “Where are my grandchildren?”

Nikita and Natasha joined him up front, laying a baby in each of his arms. He leaned down and kissed their foreheads. As if they knew they were receiving a blessing from the Pakhan himself, they both smiled as they wildly kicked their legs. The tiny jingle bells stitched onto the feet of their Christmas jammies tinkled happily, which prompted an indulgent smile from their grandfather and sent yet another wave of laughter through the crowd.

“The Christmas ornaments of Alexander Nikita Glazov III and Sasha Vladimira Glazov will be the first to go on the tree,” he declared as he passed the babies back to their eager parents. Nikita and Natasha placed the ornaments on the tree, lifting the babies to have a closer look but pulling back just in time when they each made a grab for the shiny baubles. The new parents kissed each other with tears in their eyes for the many blessings God had given them.

“Decorate, celebrate, and most of all, love. As my wife continues to teach me, that is what life is all about,” Glazov proclaimed. “Ah, yes, thank you,” he murmured as the waiter approached with yet another tray. This one held a delicate blown glass ornament depicting the Firebird that was featured in Glazov’s favorite Russian folktale. He had given the ornament to Kathleen early in their marriage and, up until now, it had always been the first ornament on the tree. He lifted it from the tray and let it dangle from his fingertip by its slender scarlet satin ribbon.

“Shall we?” He passed the delicate ornament to Kathleen and gestured for her to join him at the tree for the quiet moment he looked forward to every year. He knew that tonight was only a temporary reprieve from the uglier side of his Bratva existence, and he planned on savoring every moment of it.

The rest of the evening would be spent celebrating the birth of the most Holy One. There was much to celebrate, of course, from the happiness of Natasha and Nikita as new parents to the return of Kodiak and Logan. But in the midst of the evening’s boisterous celebrations, Kathleen saw and tucked away in her heart other quiet moments of joy: Vladimira’s shining eyes as Yafon lifted her left hand to his lips to kiss the sparkling black diamond ring he had quietly placed on her finger moments earlier; Pavel standing behind Katya on the outer balcony, his hands resting protectively on her shoulders as they stared up at the stars; Kodiak and Logan getting acquainted with their niece and nephew. With an arm wrapped around Logan’s shoulders from behind, Kodiak rested his free hand on her abdomen, caressing her softly as they listened to Nikita and Natasha talk about life as new parents.

One look in her husband’s blue eyes and Kathleen knew that he saw these quiet moments too, and that he was pleased.

Gratitude for the blessings of a growing family colored every conversation and warmed every embrace. Yes, the Glazov family continued to be blessed by the Bratva gods. Or so the legend goes…

The End. For now…

 

 

 

 

If you’ve enjoyed the Born Bratva Series, you’re sure to enjoy Suzanne Steele’s Colombian Cartel Series available on Amazon: