Hunted By The Bratva Beast: A Bratva Stalker/Captive Romance - Jagger Cole (the ebook reader .TXT) 📗

Inside, they called me The Beast. But the beast has broken out of his cage. And he is starving.

The three men move to sit at a patio table. They open more beers. I simply shake my head. Then I focus on the task at hand. I’ve been practicing with this rifle for weeks now. I know the recoil. I know the way it kicks, and I’ve timed my reload to the tenth of a second. I know I can get three shots off before the first man even hits the ground.

My scope focuses on Nikolai first. My jaw tightens. He goes first. The other two will die today too, but the man who spilled Fyodor’s blood gets his spilled first. My finger curls around the trigger, ready. I relax my body, ready for the death sentences I’m about to dole out.

There’s movement by the patio doors again. I hesitate, frowning as I take my finger away. I shift the scope to follow the movement. But instantly, my breath sucks in. My jaw tenses, and a low growl rumbles in my chest.

The bikini fits her like a second skin. Like it was tailor made to fit her tempting curves and long, sensual legs. Her hips sway as she pads barefoot across the patio, long dark hair pulled back in a high ponytail, and dark shades perched on a cute button nose.

I’m hard in half a second.

Perhaps before, I would never be distracted by tits and ass like this. But I’ve been in prison for the last ten years. Ten long, long years, without so much as a glimpse of a woman. I’ve been back in “the world” now for three weeks. I’ve seen women. But I’ve never in my life seen a woman like this one.

I groan as I watch her move across the patio. The bright white bikini cups her full tits tantalizingly. The bottom stretches across her drum-tight ass and curved hips. I follow her with the sight, and I’m spellbound.

She walks to the table with the men. For a minute, I wonder if this woman is one of theirs. But no. I’ve observed them all for three weeks. Nikolai is single and married to his work for the Bratva. Viktor’s woman is a redhead—Fiona, is her name. Lev’s woman is another American—a blonde named Zoey. This gorgeous creature is brunette.

They’re talking, and I frown to focus. I have a listening device with me, though I’m not close enough to get much from it. I pull it out anyways and train it on the patio. The earpiece hisses quietly. I narrow my eyes, tuning my ears. But all I get is the faint muttering of words across the expanse from where I’m perched.

Until suddenly, Viktor stands. He turns so that he’s facing me, and his voice becomes especially loud as he laughs at something she says. And then, I hear it.

“Sister.”

I freeze. The tall, gorgeous brunette is Viktor Komarov’s sister.

My scope slides back to her. My pulse thuds in my ears as my eyes drink in every inch of her stunning, tempting beauty. But suddenly, the three men stand. I hiss, cursing myself for allowing myself to be distracted by a woman.

I swing the rifle back, but it’s too late. They’re moving back to the house. I could maybe get one shot off. But I won’t get all three. And getting one means alerting the other two that they’re being hunted, making a second attempt even more impossible.

Viktor opens the patio door and steps in, and I swear again viciously. The moment is lost. The opportunity, at least today, gone.

When the other two men step inside the large mansion after him, I growl and lower the rifle. Quickly, I disassemble it, sliding the components back into my shoulder case. But movement stops me. I grab the scope and bring it to my eyes as I glance back towards the house.

She’s still out there, on the patio. The girl—Viktor’s sister—takes a sip of the beer her brother’s left at the table. She walks lithely across the patio and sinks into a chair by the pool. She reclines back, her bare skin glistening with sunscreen, those dark shades keeping my eyes from hers.

But I stare at her nonetheless—hungrily, lusting, wanting.

Nikolai, Lev, Viktor, and the whole fucking Kashenko Bratva took something from me. Now, I will take something from them

I’ll take her. I’ll make her mine, and I will drown myself in her sweetness, until it’s running down my chin.

My lips curl greedily as I stare at my new target—my new objective.

“Soon, little one,” I growl quietly. “Soon, you will be mine.”

1 Nina

“Okay! Ready?! Nina! Get in here!” I laugh when Fiona yanks me over into the selfie she’s taking with Zoey. I pull my glasses off to avoid flash-glare, smile—well, my version of a smile—and lean my head to the side as she clicks the phone camera.

“Wait, wait, take it again,” Zoey groans. “I’m doing that derpy smile thing I do.”

Fiona rolls her eyes. “Dude, you look great. Don’t worry about it.”

“Yeah, who’s pre-wedding party is this again?”

I grin as Fiona sighs and gives me an “is she serious” look.

“Okay, okay, fine. Nina, get in here again so we can make sure Her Majesty is happy.”

“Dick,” Zoey giggles under her breath. She and I both lean in to Fiona again as my sister-in-law clicks the camera once more.

“Okay, better now?”

“Much, thanks,” Zoey nods, glancing at the shot. She looks up at the both of us and grins. “I’m so glad we could do this, you guys.”

“Yeah, like we’d miss out on this fucking view?” Fiona snorts. She glances around the lavish rooftop deck, on top of the obscenely beautiful three-story penthouse apartment that Zoey and Lev—my brother’s best friend and second-in-command—recently moved into in downtown Chicago. She’s not exaggerating either. The view of the city and the lake from the private roof garden is absolutely stunning. And for the price they paid, it damn