Read Online The Cleaner (Born Bratva Book 4) by Suzanne Steele - Free Book Online Page A

my head back against the head rest and run my hand up his thigh.
    “It’s been a long time since I tied your ass to my bed. I think I’m overdue for some kink, don’t you? One other thing, I get the impression that this is a pretty gruesome crime scene.”
    “Like I said, not my first rodeo. Your father is a sadistic bastard, you should see some of the messes he makes. Brutal, absolutely brutal.”
    “I can’t hear you…”
    We both know when it comes to his awareness of his father’s criminal activities, it’s on a need-to-know basis. It’s probably why Glazov has us assisting the authorities with this case. I’m certain Nikita will be deeply involved in Glazov’s Russian diamond venture. It will be good for him to work beside his father on a legit business venture. Glazov may very well find that he can make more money dealing in diamonds instead of guns. In the meantime, having Nikita and I forge positive relations with law enforcement can only help.
    When we pull in, I see two strangers who must be the FBI agents Nikita was talking about. They waste no time confronting us as soon as we get out of the car.
    “I’m not sure why the governor saw fit to bring in the Glazov clan on this, but that’s his call. Just know that I’m watching you. One hint of this case being jeopardized by either of you and I swear you’ll end up under the fucking jail.”
    Nikita’s expression is stoic when he speaks. “I can assure you that neither I nor the forensic specialist the governor has requested have any criminal ties to this case, or any other case for that matter.”
    He almost looks like he’s indignant at the suggestion of criminal activity . Damn he’s good. If I didn’t know better, I might think the man is a straight-laced, law-abiding citizen.
    “On the other hand,” Turner mutters, “the governor assures me she’s damn good.”
    A surge of pride courses through me. I could go straight if I wanted to. Hell, I’d probably fit right in. But what fun would that be?
    I brace myself for what I’m about to see as we follow the agents through the house. As soon as we enter the bedroom it’s obvious our serial killer’s taste for violence is escalating. Jesus. This is on a par with the aftermath of any Bratva scene I’ve ever cleaned. I take a deep breath and approach the medical examiner. In a surreal gesture of professional etiquette, given the circumstances, he introduces himself. I immediately know I’m going to like him.
    “Natasha, right? I’m Herb Foster. I’d shake your hand but, well…” he says as he holds up his bloodstained, gloved hands. “Grab a pair of gloves and let’s get to work. It’s just you and me, kid. This is a high-profile case as you already know. Feel free to chime in.”
    I follow his gaze to a point above us where the body is gruesomely suspended from a hook on the wall.
    I think out loud, “She was alive when he gutted her; there’s too much blood for it to be post mortem. No defense marks, so she was subdued in some way. Didn’t cut her throat this time. He skinned her instead. The cause of death was probably that stab wound between the second and third rib which more than likely punctured the heart. He used a different knife to gut her, though, probably a sling blade or something meant for large prey.”
    Though what I’m seeing is gruesome, it isn’t the most troubling thing about this case. The writing on the wall is the thing that draws my attention more than anything.
    Dead bitch!
    Cop Killer
    “That’s his signature.” We all look up as a grim, uniformed cop speaks. “We were just discussing this week how she didn’t feel safe in her own home. She was convinced some small objects had been moved around in her house.” His Adam’s apple bobs noticeably as he puts his hands on his hips and looks down at the ground, composing himself. After a long moment and a deep breath, he continues, “I, uh, told her she was just being paranoid. And I suggested she