The Cleaner (Chicago Bratva #7) Read Online Renee Rose

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Crime, Insta-Love, Mafia, Romance Tags Authors: Series: Chicago Bratva Series by Renee Rose
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Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 62543 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 313(@200wpm)___ 250(@250wpm)___ 208(@300wpm)
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She traces her fingernail around my flat nipple, returning the favor. “You would?”

“Would it be enough?”

“Enough for what?”

“To keep you happy? Mean sex and a pottery studio.”

She picks up the pillow beside my head and smacks my face with it. “We don't have mean sex.” The goofy smile on her face makes my stomach squirm. She has moon eyes. Beautiful blue night sky against the moon eyes. “Yes. It would be enough.”

She looks like she's in love.

I want her to be in love.

Which is horrible and cruel of me. Because I’m going to break her heart to savage pieces. Grind it to a pulp.

“What do you do, Adrian? When you're not out seeking revenge against my father?”

“I am engineer,” I tell her. “I was trained as mechanical engineer and worked on a ship in Russia until my sister–” I look past her, swallowing the rest of my words.

“Tell me,” she urges. “I should know. If you're going to kill my father over it, I should really know.”

“No,” I tell her. “You don't need to know. And I don't want to even try to justify my actions to you. You don't need to try to forgive me. Okay? You don't need to forgive it.”

She blinks rapidly and swallows. “So, you’re an engineer,” she says softly, going back to the only part of the conversation that’s palatable.

“I work as a structural engineer now. For construction projects.” That was how Ravil put me to work remodeling his building floor by floor. I indulge in the fantasy for a moment. That Ravil gave me a space in the building to turn into Kat’s pottery studio.

“I would only eat from pottery you made,” I say aloud. “If I kept you. No other dishes.”

She gives me the moon eyes again. “My stuff sucks. It’s all irregular and too thick.”

“I don’t care. I would only eat off your plates.”

She chuckles and traces one of my eyebrows with the pad of her index finger.

“I might–” I stop. Am I really going to say this? No. Once those words leave my mouth, I can't take them back. I can't tell her that there might be another way. That I might forego killing Leon Poval if I have enough proof and his location to send him to jail instead. Now that I know this ship was probably used to transport slaves to the U.S., I might be able to get something solid on him. And Ravil has a connection with the FBI now. A son of a bratva member. But it’s such a long shot.

“What?”

I shake my head. “Nyet. Nothing.”

“I think he killed my mother,” she blurts.

Aw, fuck. She’s trying to figure out how to forgive me. It can’t be done. Shouldn’t be done. She should hate me for the rest of her life. It’s what I deserve.

“I know, malyshka.”

Her eyes shine with tears. Her fingers flutter to her braids, and she twitches them nervously. “You know? Like, for sure?”

I shake my head. “I could tell you thought so. And…you’re probably right. I’m so sorry.”

She erupts into a hollow sob and drops her head down onto my chest. I pull her into my body and rub her back, holding her tightly.

How can I possibly consider going on? Tearing apart this girl who is already so broken?

This won’t make Nadia whole.

All it does is dim another girl’s light.

I kiss her head, my heart trampled and bleeding right along with hers.

9

Adrian

I wait until pre-dawn to go exploring on the ship. Judging by the loud voices that echoed into the night, the guys all drank themselves into a stupor. Hopefully, they’re all passed out now.

When I brought Kat to use the restroom, that mudak George saw her out and taunted her. It made me want to bash his fucking head in although maybe it’s for the best that Kat sees these guys are assholes. I don’t want her thinking they might save her from me.

I head to the bridge, hoping to find it empty since we’re out of port.

It is.

Using the light on my phone, I look around for the ship’s logbooks. When I find them, I take pictures of every page going back four years. Then I photograph the port records going back as long, too. I need time to study them–to see if there’s anything incriminating in them–particularly for Leon Poval.

Working quickly, I keep searching the captain’s things, looking for any clues I can find.

The light of dawn seeps in, and I get an itchy urge to return to Kat. I don’t want her to wake up alone. I don’t like leaving her bound–especially with those mudaks down there nearby. If one of them found their way into our room, she’d be helpless against him.

The idea has me practically sprinting back, only to find everything quiet.

Kat stirs on the cot when I shut the door.


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