Deadly (Born Bratva Book 5) Read Online Free PDF

and twist it just enough for her to wince in pain. The woman still lives to torment me and I live to make her pay for her antics. It’s the perfect match made in Bratva heaven.
    From the day I first saw her, I haven’t been tempted to touch another woman. I knew then that I’d stop at nothing to have the fiery redhead who was the daughter of one of the world’s most powerful men.
    “Quit fucking with me, girl. You’re going to get more than you bargained for.”
    “Promises, promises; we both know I like it rough.”
    “And I like giving it to you rough. But we still have depths of depravity to explore that you aren’t quite ready for yet. So, like I said, don’t fuck with me.”
    The look in her eyes is enough to push me over the edge, but her father’s voice over the intercom saves her…for now. When my father-in-law beckons, everything else goes on hold. Fucking my woman senseless will have to wait.
    “We both know that keeping the Pakhan waiting isn’t an option,” I say as I stroke her bottom lip with my thumb, wistfully imagining my cock there instead. “I’ll be taking this matter up with you and this mouth later.”
    “I’m so looking forward to it,” she purrs, looking back at me over her shoulder as she sashays out the door.
    She knows better than to walk in front of me, so I storm into the hall, determined to remind her of her place. I fist a handful of her hair and yank her back to me, licking the shell of her ear as I growl, “Don’t walk in front of me. If there’s a bullet headed in your direction, it’s my job to take it.”
    “My own superhero. What more could a girl want?”

Roksana
    I’m curious to know what could have come up so quickly. We just met with Father and he’s already calling us back to his office. I brace myself for bad news. Then again, maybe he just wants to see us without Anastasia.
    My father’s voice orders us to enter before we have a chance to knock on the door. How the fuck does he do that? I swear sometimes I’m convinced the man has supernatural abilities. Nothing—and I mean nothing gets past the Pakhan. I’m sure it’s one of the reasons his men are scared to even speak against him, much less betray him. They believe that to even speak against the Pakhan is to invite a curse.
    Bratva tends to have one quirk in common: we’re all superstitious. For some it may mean wearing a piece of jewelry that’s been passed down for generations. Some hang garlic in the entrance of their home, believing it will ward off demons. I once knew a man who would never pass a church without kneeling and making the sign of the cross.
    For others, an amulet serves to ward off evil. My father wears a ring with a large diamond mined from Russia that his father passed down to him. Me…well, I have a large tattoo of the Grim Reaper on my back, complete with a scythe. He’s known in the Latino culture as Santa Muerte—the patron saint of crime, criminals, and the dispossessed. The tattoo was the perfect option for me because the ominous hooded figure is always with me. I can never lose it or have it taken from me.
    Some might find it strange that I chose something so sinister for protection. I wonder sometimes why I enjoy hurting people and tearing shit up. When my family recognized my taste for blood during my childhood, my father did what he always does—put me in the position best suited for my unique talents. When it comes to torture, murder, and mayhem, no one does it better than Oleg and me—we’re quite the team.
    I cross the room and kiss my father’s up tilted cheek and murmur, “ Papa. ”
    I breathe the word out lightly, savoring the bond I have with the only other man I deeply love. I’ve seen my share of worthless fathers. I’m deeply grateful for the strong family ties we share. I know there are those who think no child should be raised in organized crime. I really don‘t give a fuck what they think. The ties that bind my family together are forged in