Author’s Note: I have brought together three of my heroines: Jennifer Jones, Penelope Bishop and Michelle Dupree for one final collaboration. This three-part story has taken me considerable time to write and edit and it is plot based and character driven but of course there is plenty of sex. I hope you enjoy it.

Jennifer Jones’ Dacha, Portsmouth New Hampshire

Jennifer Jones was dressed in her Dior short-skirted navy-blue power-suit with a white silk blouse, expensive skin-toned sheer pantyhose and Louboutin heels and sat behind the modern steel and glass desk she had installed to replace the ancient wooden relic that her predecessor was so fond of. She leaned back in her modern office chair and adjusted her earbuds. She was listening to Grigori Belinsky rant, watching him on the large flatscreen television mounted on the opposite wall.

“This child is neither a woman nor a man, she’s American born, she’s a usurper and an imposter and she killed Dmitriy Yakovich and Alexi Reznik. She’s a killer, a thief and an charlatan and she has no place in our organisation,” Grigori slammed his fist down so hard on his desk that his video picture shook on the screen.

The meeting of the senior Pakhans was being conducted over an encrypted video link. It would be far too dangerous for the Pakhans, scattered around the globe, to all meet in one place. The High Council, for want of a better name, were the heads of state who made decisions and mediated and oversaw the loosely organised Russian and Ukrainian Mobs and they had called the meeting to review the progress of their underlings.

“Gentlemen please. We have had all this out before and the High Council made their decision. I am legitimately the Pakhan of the USA’s west coast Bratva. Yes I am a non-Slavic transgender woman. Yes I am young. Yes my business model is different in that I prefer to use gold rather than lead to persuade my adversaries but am I not one of your most productive and prolific earners?” Jennifer countered.

“And calling me a killer and a thief is surely a complement given the esteemed company I’m in,” Penelope smiled sweetly into the camera.

The other Pakhan’s all broke up laughing at Jennifer’s joke… except of course Grigori Belinsky.

Grigori Belinsky had been a close friend of Dmitriy Yakovich and Alexi Reznik and had mediated between the two Pakhans when they had fallen out. He was married to Dmitriy’s sister who was Dmitriy’s only surviving relative and he had sworn revenge.

Jennifer Jones bold play in eliminating Dmitriy and his hated rival Alexi Reznik, then seizing control of Dmitriy’s Bratva, was seen as an act of decisiveness, ruthlessness and bravado by the other Pakhans who headed up the Odessa and Russian mafia in the US. During the power vacuum left by Alexi Reznik’s demise, while the other Pakhans fought over the carcass of Reznik’s Bratva, Jennifer had ingratiated herself with the High Council, whose tentacles reached into every corner of the globe.

There was only one other female Pakhan. She was a Serb who headed a Bratva based in Italy which had close ties to the Italian mafia. Jennifer was not a Balkan and she was a transgender woman and she was still young but her abilities spoke for themselves. She had a loyal following and those in her Bratva who were not loyal to her were dealt with quickly and efficiently.

Jennifer knew many things but what she knew most was that money talks and as long as her businesses prospered and she kicked money up to the hierarchy in the High Council they would leave her alone. There was unrest in Europe and the armies and militias were hungry for arms and ammunition. Jennifer’s people trafficking, prostitution, protection, money laundering and extortion operations were lucrative and the stipend she kicked up to the Slavic old guard was used to purchase weaponry which was sold to the highest bidder.

But Grigori Belinsky was like a dog with bone that wouldn’t let go. He had tried to get the High Council to disenfranchise Jennifer but Jennifer’s rise to power, and the way she had got there, was considered a textbook manoeuvre: cold, calculating and decisive. Dmitriy was not well liked and many were amused that the arrogant and vicious Dmitriy Tanas Yakovich had been assassinated by his transgender Girl Friday and lover.

Of course this was all conjecture because there were only two witnesses to Dmitriy’s murder: one, a Balwyn Texas Detective named Penelope Bishop who took the credit for shooting Dmitriy after Dmitriy had shot Alexi Reznik to death. The other witness was Katerina Kuznetsova, a girl Jennifer used to lure Alexi Reznik into her trap. Both Penelope Bishop’s and Katerina Kuznetsova’s version of the events leading to the killing of Alexi Reznik and Dmitriy Yakovich were believed by the investigating authorities.

But there was no doubt by anyone connected to the Bratva that Jennifer Jones had orchestrated the whole thing and she became a legend for her ruthlessness and decisiveness.

“We have spoken Grigori, Ms Jones organisation remains under our banner. Business is business; now let’s move on,” the head of the High Council spoke gravely.

The conference was being conducted in a mixture of Russian and English with translators broadcasting the discourse into other languages as necessary. Jennifer’s Russian was improving with the help of her own Girl Friday, Katerina Kuznetsova who was also her lover and the daughter of one her trusted confidants, Katya Kuznetsova. But Jennifer couldn’t keep up with the fast paced banter between the members of the High Council.

Her phone pinged and Jennifer looked at the text message: fuck that misogynist transphobic pig you are the skorpion suka. The text message came from Teodora Petrović, the Serbian woman who was the Pakhan based in Naples. Jennifer had met her during a trip to Europe and they had many things in common including having to work twice as hard as the men to prove they were worthy of their positions in an organisation as masochistic as the Russian mob.

Jennifer’s business model was modern and she delegated power to her lieutenants to deal with routine business matters rather than centralising all power in herself like most that of the other Pakhans who ruled their Bratvas with an iron fist. But Jennifer was not averse to using brutality when it was called for. She was called the skorpion suka or ‘scorpion bitch’ behind her back. She liked the name and did nothing to deter its use. She and Katya had distinctive scorpion tattoos on their left ankles indicating that they had once been the property of their Pakhan, Dmitriy Yakovich.

Jennifer had not insisted on it but Katerina had also acquired a scorpion tattoo on her left ankle to signify her devotion to Jennifer. Her mother Katya did not approve of her daughter getting the tattoo but Jennifer loved her for it.

The rest of the conference was taken up with boring lectures from the High Council which could be boiled down to: make more money and kick up our share.

Jennifer was glad when the meeting was finally over and Katerina Kuznetsova entered the room from her adjoining office. Katerina was a stunning slim young woman with jet black hair cut into a severe bob which accentuated her deep blue expressive eyes. She had pert breasts and long legs clad in gossamer-sheer nylons and she was wearing a fashionable business suit. Her face was narrow, with accentuated cheekbones, a pointed chin and small nose. Her skin was pale and she wore heavy eye makeup and blood-red lipstick.

Jennifer’s heart skipped every time she saw her and she could see the adoration reflected back in Katerina’s eyes.

“Well that was pretty boring,” Katerina pouted, perching her pert buttocks on the edge of Jennifer’s desk.

She only did that because they were alone. Katerina was nothing but respectful and business-like in the presence of others.

Katya Kuznetsova had given birth to Katerina in Switzerland and had her raised in France and then she attended a British boarding school. Katerina was the progeny of Dmitriy Tanas Yakovich and Katya kept the existence of her daughter a closely kept secret not wanting Katerina to fall into the clutches of her father. When Dmitriy was killed, Katya brought her daughter home to the US where she had attended Rutgers University.

Katya had never wanted her daughter to have the same life as her but she consoled herself that Katerina had been taken directly under Jennifer’s wing and had not had to endure the terrible things that Katya had suffered living under the boot of Dmitriy Yakovich. She knew that Jennifer loved and cherished her daughter and that was enough for her. Katya had once been Jennifer’s superior before Jennifer rose to power and they had been on and off lovers so Katya knew that underneath that hard exterior, Jennifer had a soft soul.

“Boring but insightful. What did you learn?” Jennifer asked her assistant.

Katerina had been watching the conference in her own office but as an underling she was not a participant.

“Grigori Belinsky still hasn’t forgiven you for killing Dmitriy and taking power,” Katerina said.

Jennifer waved the notion away as if it was a piffle.

“What else,” she asked.

“Russia is sabre-rattling at Ukraine and the High Council sees potential profit selling arms and anything else they can to both sides,” Katerina said smugly.

“But I don’t see how that affects us so much here,” Katerina continued.

“Which is why you probably deserve a spanking,” Jennifer got out of her seat and approached Katerina and smiled at her.

“For not joining the two together. The Slavic Bratvas and the High Council will be focussed on events in Europe and they will take their eyes off what is happening elsewhere,” Jennifer said pointedly.

“This can be an opportunity for us but it can also be to our detriment. We can operate more freely in some areas where before we had to show caution. We were warned out of Las Vegas because the Israelis consider it theirs but there is room for us to operate there too. I want you to send Uri Bokarev there to talk to the Israelis and tell them that we are willing to offer them ten percent of any profits we make,” Jennifer said and Katerina snatched up a notepad and began writing.

“Ten percent seems a little too much,” Katerina said.

“Don’t be silly Katerina, they are getting nothing. Once we get our foot in the door I intend to take over all of Las Vegas. The Italian mafia can’t operate there anymore and the Israelis control loan sharking, extortion, money laundering, drug distribution and prostitution. There is plenty there for everyone but I want it all. Our approach will be subtle. No one will know what we are doing there because we will do it quietly and those who need to be paid off to allow us to do so will be recompensed. The Israelis will be disenfranchised before they even know it,” Jennifer grinned.

“You said there is also a down side,” Katerina dangled a high heel from her toes knowing that Jennifer round it arousing.

“It also means that the Bratvas outside of Europe may become vulnerable because the High Council will be too busy dealing with issues at home to police breaches of discipline elsewhere. Order my Lieutenants to step up security on all of our operations, bring in mercenaries if necessary,” Jennifer reached out and snatched Katerina’s dangling high heel.

“Now it’s time for that spanking,” Jennifer leaned in and kissed Katerina on the lips then she pulled her off the desk and handed Katerina her shoe.

She pressed the intercom to talk to her valet Peter Small, who also doubled as her personal bodyguard.

“I’m not to be disturbed until after dinner. Tell the chef that I will eat in my bedroom and to make dinner for two,” Jennifer spoke.

“Yes Ma’am,” Peter replied.

Peter Small liked the way that Dmitriy Yakovich had laid out the house that Jennifer had inherited on his passing. As well as having a pleasing aesthetic it was designed with security in mind. Peter sat outside Jennifer’s office like a sentinel, keeping the unwanted at bay and greeting those who were welcome.

The sturdy oak doors, lined with bullet and blast resistant materials, which led to Jennifer’s office and living quarters were directly behind him. Jennifer’s private rooms led off her office to one side and on the other side was the office of her Personal Assistant.

Jennifer pushed Katerina ahead of her towards her bedroom and Katerina giggled like a schoolgirl.

They took off their suits but left on their underwear and high heels. Jennifer loved the feel of nylon, satin, silk, rayon, lycra and anything that was soft, slippery and diaphanous.

Katerina crawled onto the bed and lay back with her head on the pillows watching Jennifer remove her blouse. She slipped a finger between her legs and began to circle her moist cleft through her almost transparent, pink nylon panties.

Jennifer tossed her blouse aside and watched Katerina’s bright-red fingernail make little circles as Katerina pleasured herself. Jennifer was untucked and her cock was tenting the front of her black satin full-cut panties. She stroked the tip of her phallus with the tips of her fingers and a globule of clear pre-ejaculate bubbled up through the satin.

Having feasted her eyes on her lover, Jennifer crawled onto the bed.

Jennifer started at Katerina's ankle and used her tongue to trace the dark seam on the back of her stocking along her leg up to the gauzy welt where she stopped briefly. She lapped at the creamy white flesh above Katerina’s stocking top until Katerina began to mewl and shake and then she moved across to the other leg and started all over again.

“Lick my pussy,” Katerina pleaded as Jennifer’s tongue alternated from one stocking top to the other.

Jennifer smiled. She could smell Katerina’s sweet musk and see the swollen lips of her vulva through Katerina’s gauzy panties.

She placed her mouth over Katerina’s pudenda and licked the outline of Katerina’s pink labial lips with the tip of her tongue. Katerina tried to pull her panties out of the way but Jennifer wouldn’t let her, she nipped at Katerina’s puffy labia through her panties and thrust her tongue into Katerina’s vaginal cleft, pushing the diaphanous material against Katerina’s clitoral hood.

Katerina began to writhe on the bed. She enmeshed her fingers in Jennifer’s hair and pushed Jennifer’s face into her cunt. She opened her legs wide and moaned like a slattern as Jennifer finally pushed aside the gusset of Katerina’s panties and pressed her mouth on Katerina’s labia and tongued Katerina’s sensitive bud until Katerina’s heels were drumming on the bed.

“You fucking bitch! Yes! Yes! Yes!” Katerina caterwauled as her orgasm erupted.

Jennifer’s mouth was filled with Katerina’s sweet vagina juices. Jennifer’s cock was hard and throbbing, pressed into the stain sheets as she used her oral skills to bring her lover to the peak of ecstasy and then slowly allow her to come down from her orgasmic high.

Katerina lay panting; trying to recover her breathing as Jennifer climbed on top of her began to kiss her. Katerina regained her composure and returned Jennifer’s kisses, locking her legs around Jenifer's small body.

Suddenly Katerina rolled over and pinned Jennifer to the bed. She kissed her viciously, thrusting her tongue into Jennifer’s mouth, nipping her lip, rubbing her body against Jennifer’s small frame, feeling Jennifer’s cock rubbing on her stocking-sheathed thigh.

Katerina stopped kissing Jennifer and began a long languorous journey down her body with her tongue, stopping briefly to suckle Jennifer’s tender nipples and then continuing down until she could engulf Jennifer’s thick hard rod. Katerina ran her tongue along the base of Jennifer’s penis, while she stroked her scrotum with her fingertips and then she lapped at Jennifer’s fraenulum until Jennifer was pleading with her for relief.

Katerina took all of Jennifer’s bloated phallus in her mouth and worked her lips up and down the shaft while her tongue lashed at Jennifer’s glans. This time it was Jennifer who entwined her fingers in Katerina’s hair and guided her face up and down on her penis.

Suddenly Katerina’s mouth was filled with hot, creamy spunk as Jennifer ejaculated. Katerina sucked and swallowed as Jennifer unleashed torrents of jism into Katerina’s mouth. Katerina lapped at Jennifer’s cock, keeping it hard and resplendent. When she thought that Jennifer was ready, she spat out Jennifer’s cock and dived onto the bed on her back with her legs opened invitingly.

“Fuck me honey,” Katerina begged and Jennifer mounted Katerina and thrust her still hard cock between Katerina’s legs.

The two women fucked each other slowly, Jennifer withdrawing her penis nearly all the way out of Katerina’s steaming maw and then slowly thrusting it back inside feeling Katerina’s cuntal sheath clutch at her engorged cock. They rubbed their nylon-sheathed thighs together to increase their pleasure and Katerina wrapped her legs around Jennifer and raked her heels along Jennifer’s flanks, encouraging Jennifer to fuck her harder like one would encourage a steed to gallop.

Jennifer began to fuck Katerina with long hard thrusts, driving her cock all the way inside Katerina, grinding her pubis against Katerina’s clitoris to maximise her pleasure.

“Now!” Katerina bit down on Jennifer’s earlobe and dug her heels into Jennifer’s flesh, expressing her need.

Jennifer jackhammered her cock in and out of Katerina’s clunge, feeling her beloved writhe beneath her as Katerina’s orgasm ripped through her. Jennifer’s cock erupted deep inside Katerina, filling her vagina with her musky seed.

They lay side by side on the bed panting, their bodies covered in a sheen of sweat, the room reeked of cunt and cum and perfume.

Jennifer rolled over on her side and faced Katerina.

“I’m going to miss you next weekend,” Jennifer whispered.

“No you won’t. You will spend all of Thanksgiving working with Peter, catching up on all the things that I won’t let you do because I am so demanding,” Katerina teased.

*****

Things were quiet at Jennifer’s dacha over the thanksgiving weekend. Jennifer wasn’t really one for celebrating the holidays and she worked through thanksgiving and the weekend thinking she might take Katerina with her to Las Vegas after the holidays to see how negotiations were progressing with the Israelis and maybe have a bit of fun.

The sound of nine millimetre Heckler & Koch MP5 automatic pistols fitted with suppressors was like pebbles being thrown on a tin roof. It was unmistakeable to someone as experienced with weapons as Jennifer. She reached into her desk drawer and pulled out her weapon, she extracted the magazine, checked the breech, slammed the eight round magazine back into the pistol and actioned it.

Jennifer’s weapon of choice was a Walther PPS M2. The operating mechanism of the Walther was the same as the Glock that Jennifer had trained with at Quantico when she was with the FBI but the Walther had some notable advantages: It was a single-stack 9mm that was only one inch thick which made it easier to conceal on Jennifer’s petite body. A spare six round mag was easy to conceal in a deep pocket or a holster if needed and she could carry an eight round magazine in her purse and use it to provide additional length to the grip plus additional firepower for tactical situations.

The sound of supressed gunfire was getting closer and Jennifer switched the flat screen over to the external security cameras.

The cameras scanned the grounds and Jennifer could see men in black suits, her security detail, engaging with men in full tactical gear. The men in the tactical gear had the advantage in numbers and firepower. As she watched a black Humvee lurched into frame; it had been reinforced at the front and it slammed into the sandstone buttress running along the front of the house. The driver and a passenger leapt from the vehicle just before it exploded. The cameras at the front of the house went dead.

Jennifer knew that it wouldn’t be long before the men assaulting her property were inside the house.

The door to her office burst open and Peter Small looked at Jennifer with a determined grimace on his face.

“We always knew it might come to this Ma’am. Activate your escape plan please. I’ll hold the door for as long as possible,” Peter actioned his MP5; he had a bandolier of extra magazines around his shoulder.

“Come with me Peter,” Jennifer holstered her Walther, ready to run.

“You know that's not possible Ma’am. I’d just like to say it has been an honour and a privilege serving you,” Peter gave Jennifer a rare smile.

She raced across the room and hugged him and kissed his cheek.

“You know I have always loved you; thank you so much,” Peter said over his shoulder as he slammed the reinforced door shut and activated the locking system that would make it virtually impenetrable while Jennifer made her escape.

Jennifer didn’t bother taking anything from her office except for a special key fob from her top drawer. There was nothing in the office that she couldn’t replace. The faded photograph of her mother was inside her jacket next to her heart and she had the necessary key fob in her pocket.

She activated the trap door hidden in the teak panelling on the far wall. A polished steel chute was exposed. It had been constructed by Dmitriy Yakovich and Jennifer had it reengineered so that only someone with a small body could fit inside it, the thinking being that any assailants were likely to be big brutish thugs wearing combat gear.

Jennifer slipped off her heels and lifted herself into the chute and let go of the grab rail and quickly accelerated down the chute. Peter made Jennifer and Katerina practice using the chute every three months so they were familiar with its functionality. When they did these practice runs they were wearing jeans or leggings not a fashion label skirt suit.

Jennifer quickly accelerated and her skirt whipped up her thighs as she slid down the long tube. The chute levelled out near the bottom to aid deceleration but she still hit the steel door at the end of the tube with a considerable whump. She opened the circular door and dropped to the concrete floor and put on her shoes. Her ass was sore from the friction and she had bruised her toe but other than that she was uninjured.

A tunnel led to an apartment building one block away and came out into the basement parking garage. The door was clearly marked ‘Exit Only’ although scratches and scrapes on the door revealed where some idiot had futilely attempted to open it. A permanent parking space was leased in the name of one of Jennifer’s companies.

She ran over to a black BMW SUV with windows so heavily tinted that they appeared to be blacked out. The car was constructed with bulletproof panels and glass and fitted with a heavy duty roll cage. She used the key fob to unlock it. The engine was supercharged and it was serviced regularly and run up by Peter at least once a week. Jennifer pressed the start button and the engine fired up with a satisfactory roar.

Jennifer glanced over into the back seat and saw her go-bag and a suitcase. Beside them was a leather briefcase.

She wasted no more time and pressed the garage door opener.

Jennifer and Katerina had joked that they were Batman and Robin when they went through their quarterly escape plan rehearsals. The garage doors opened sideways into the sandstone bedrock on which the apartment block stood. Bougainvillea and Ivy and other vines concealed the exit from plain view and Jennifer floored the BMW and drove past the foliage and onto the access driveway then onto the street.

As she turned onto the street she saw four men dressed in black tactical gear standing in the road and they turned her way and commenced firing. She heard the patter of rounds ricocheting off the vehicles panels and the windscreen. The car was almost indestructible and was fitted with ‘runflat’ tires which allowed the vehicle to travel up to 60 miles after a tire has been deflated by gunfire or a stinger. The men emptied their magazines at her car and were attempting to reload while one of them reached for his radio. Jennifer drove straight at the man and was satisfied with the crunch she heard and the bumps she felt as she ran over him at near full speed. The other men ran after the car but quickly gave up and ran back towards Jennifer’s house.

Jennifer and Peter had a contingency plan in the event she had to vacate the dacha at short notice and Jennifer followed the route highlighted on BMW’s mapping program knowing it would lead her to safety. When she was three blocks clear she slowed to the speed limit and checked to see if she was being followed. She wasn’t as far as she could tell. She heard police sirens approaching and the sound of a helicopter overhead.

The men who had assaulted her property were undoubtedly activating their own escape plan but one thing was for sure; they would keep looking for her. She wasn’t sure if the attack was an act of retaliation by the Israelis, a power move by another Bratva, of if Grigori Belinsky was behind the assault but she intended to find out tout suite.

Tempting as it was to drive to the airport and board her private plane it was too risky. Jennifer stuck to the escape plan known only to her and Peter. The plan required Jennifer not to proceed to any of her other properties or businesses, nor to contact anyone else until she was sure who and what had been compromised. The assault on her dacha could have been a one-off attempt on her life or her Bratva could be under attack on multiple fronts.

Jennifer followed the route on the BMW’s mapping program and considered where she was most vulnerable. Peter Small would have gone down fighting or taken his own life before he was captured. Being taken prisoner was not an option; no one could endure torture for long. The torture would not involve the waterboarding, sensory deprivation and humiliation practiced by so called legitimate investigation agencies. It would involve the removing fingernails and toenails, then fingers and toes, the application of fire, blades and other torture devices on the most delicate parts of the body. No… being captured was not an option.

Jennifer was glad that Katerina was not with her and was with her mother in New York. Katerina was a good Girl Friday and had a very good working knowledge of the business but she had never had to deal with the brutal practicalities of it. She had never seen ‘wet work’, she had never seen the look of despair on the faces of the pretty young girls being transported in the back of a van to a future they could not comprehend, she had never seen someone with a pistol pointed at their head begging for their life, she had never seen men rewarded for infamous deeds with money and the bodies of young women.

Although Katerina had a scorpion tattoo just like her lover and her mother, she didn’t really understand its significance. She had never had to give herself willingly to men she hated while she plotted revenge and she had never had to sacrifice people she loved. Jennifer had kept Katerina sheltered from all of that. Katerina carried out Jennifer’s instructions to the letter using computers and telephones. She knew the financial consequences of Jennifer’s actions but not the human toll.

After driving for three hours the mapping program indicated that Jennifer should take a right turn along a gravel road that ran through an few acres of forest and emerged at a hunting lodge that sat on a raised hill in a clearing. The lodge was surrounded by a low wall constructed of local rock topped with low cut arborvitae.

The house was on cleared elevated ground to provide a field of fire if necessary and the low wall was a crash barrier. There were other protective measures in the surrounding grounds and inside the lodge which looked like some rich asshole’s folly to anyone who might happen upon it accidently.

Jennifer used a remote to open the sliding doors of a substantial steel-framed building which stood to one side of the lodge. She parked the BMW and inspected the damage to the panels caused by the heavy gunfire. She had parked beside an identical model BMW except it was painted red instead of black. The cars were legally registered to one of Jennifer’s shell companies. She opened the glove compartment and retrieved the keys to the lodge and left everything else in the car.

She opened the lodge and deactivated the burglar alarm and activated the security monitoring system. Jennifer would know if anyone approached the property by foot out to a range of one mile or if a vehicle turned onto the access road. A series of cameras, motion and heat detectors, some obvious, some hidden, began feeding data into the security system which was sophisticated enough to tell the difference between a human being and a rodent but larger mammals often tripped the system accidently.

Jennifer opened the gun safe and made a quick inventory of the contents and checked the functionality of the longarms and pistols and loaded and actioned them. She placed them strategically around the house.

Satisfied that the lodge was secure Jennifer lugged her go-bag, suitcase and briefcase into the lodge and locked the place down. She poured herself a drink and sat down behind a large wooden desk and turned on the computers. On the roof of the lodge satellite dishes began streaming data and Jennifer brought up the screens and studied them.

Jennifer had not just been attacked physically; her businesses were under cyber-attack. She had suffered serious financial losses and some of her companies had to cease trading to fight off attempts to infiltrate them. The raids on her personally and on her businesses were causing havoc. She had a stream of emails to deal with and she dealt with them in priority order. She missed having Katerina here to help but Jennifer was also grateful that Katerina had not been with her during the attack.

Receiving responses to their urgent emails soothed most of her lieutenants. They knew that their boss was still alive and in control. Jennifer had left her cell phone back in her office. It was part of the escape protocol. Anyone who could mount a successful attack on her dacha and her businesses certainly had the resources to track her personal devices.

Jennifer opened her go-bag and took out an encrypted satellite phone and began making calls, taking damage reports and soothing anxious lieutenants.

Her business losses were considerable but tolerable: two of her counting houses had been hit, some of her bordellos, clubs, bars and drug distribution centres had also come under attack and several of her higher-placed deputies had been killed or wounded.

Her initial instinct was that it was the Israelis paying her back for intruding into Las Vegas. During the physical attacks on her businesses there had been losses on both sides and a few prisoners had been taken. The prisoners her men had taken were mercenaries, professional field operatives, with no real knowledge as to who was behind the attacks. They were just hired guns paid by faceless employers.

By midnight Jennifer was confident that the attacks had petered out. Her Bratva was on full alert, her lieutenants were intelligent and ruthless and had taken charge of the situation and had doubled the security on all of her physical holdings and her tech people continued to fight off the cyber-attacks, installing new firewalls and security software but her systems were still fragile and had been compromised.

The attack had been costly; not quite crippling, and Jennifer's hold on her Bratva was fragile. She was vulnerable to further attacks and had lost millions of dollars, some key personnel and a significant number of people of no strategic value but of significant monetary value. One of the most costly was a coach with twenty pretty young women passengers protected by four of her men. They were being transported to one of Jennifer’s safe-houses having crossed the Mexican border illegally. They had been massacred and the coach and bodies burnt to cinders. Jennifer’s operatives arrived before the police and other first responders and were able to sanitise the crime scene.

Jennifer’s revenue streams would slow down considerably. Her specialist teams were working to minimise her exposure to law enforcement and the media, keeping a lid on things. Where possible, the incidents were cleaned up before they drew any attention and for those that could not be cleaned up, efforts had been made minimise the Bratva’s exposure and ensure that the incidents were not linked to each other.

Bribes and payoffs were doubled and tripled where necessary to ensure there was minimal publicity and police presence.

Having dealt with business it was time to deal with her private life. The loss of Peter Small was devastating. He was Jennifer’s closest confidant and she genuinely mourned him. With him gone there was no one else who knew about the fortified hunting lodge or the details of Jennifer’s escape plans. Even Katerina only knew about the escape tunnel and the escape vehicle. Once the hunting lodge had been built, Peter himself looked after the security of the place having hired a local company to maintain the grounds and keep the lodge clean and well stocked.

Jennifer opened the go-bag and took out a pre-paid cellular phone. Until the threat warning returned to normal, all business would be conducted using encrypted communications and personal business would be conducted on disposable devices.

Jennifer punched up the number for Katerina Kuznetsova’s cellular phone but it rang out. She wasn’t too disturbed because Katerina was on holiday and might not have her phone handy. She could be at the movies or out sailing. She dialled up the house phone for the property in Southold but the line was dead. That did not bode well. It might just be an outage but the line might have been cut deliberately.

Jennifer called Katya on the encrypted phone to tell her about the coordinated attacks. Katya ran her business from home in a well-appointed cottage in Southold on Long Island, hiding amongst the moneyed elite. She had three trusted female lieutenants who handled the heavy lifting involved in her specialty which was abduction and people trafficking. Katya lured young women with promises of easy high-paying work or guarantees of fame and fortune or she simply had them abducted off the streets. She sold the girls online to the highest bidder or filled specialty orders for high paying clients.

“Hello?” a gruff Slavic voice answered.

“Who is this?” Jennifer demanded.

“Is that you Jennifer? My men tell me that your homo bodyguard died screaming on the torture table and the ladies here are reluctant to tell me where you are or maybe they really don’t know. I’m going to have fun finding out the truth,” the brutish voice chuckled.

“Grigori?” Jennifer hissed into the phone.

“You should have taken my advice and got out of the Bratva business you stupid cunt. I have your three women. A real Pakhan would tell me to fuck them and kill them and care less but you have feelings for them, don’t you, you stupid bitch,” Grigori hissed.

“Grigori if you…” Jennifer wailed but was cut off by Grigori Belinsky.

“Shut up you stupid cunt and listen. I don’t know where you are but I know where your people are. I’m watching them. I’m monitoring all your online traffic. Your people are hunkered down like scared rats because I killed a few of them. If I see any of them mobilising I will assume that you have ordered them to do so and the consequences will be dire so don’t do anything stupid Jennifer,” the disembodied voice sounded evil.

“Just remember. I have the three women,” Grigori chuckled.

“How are you going to contact me?” Jennifer’s mind had stopped racing and she was now cold and calculating.

“I can simply call you back on this number,” Grigori replied flippantly.

“I bet your goons are already trying to trace it. Fat chance Grigori,” Jennifer replied.

“Don’t get your panties in a bunch. I will text you a link to a secure encrypted chatroom that only you and I can access,” Grigori said and as he spoke a text appeared on Jennifer's phone.

She clicked the link and entered the password provided and sure enough she was in an encrypted chatroom with Grigori.

“That will work,” she said and downloaded the link and password onto the phone's SD card.

“I’ll send you some happy-snaps. You can contact me there when you are ready to discuss the terms of your surrender,” Grigori chuckled.

Jennifer cut the connection and removed the SD and sim cards, pocketing the SD card. She broke the sim card in half and crushed the phone under her feet then she threw the remains of the phone in the trash.

Katya Kuznetsova’s cottage, Southold, Long Island

Grigori Belinsky’s men had taken Katya’s small estate at the same time as the assault on Jennifer’s dacha had been launched. They silently eliminated the guards and infiltrated the house and found the three women sitting in the lounge room in front of an open fire. Neither Katya Kuznetsova, her daughter Katerina nor Katya’s lover Alice Leasingham was armed.

Grigori’s men secured the house and the grounds and kept the three women under house arrest until Grigori himself arrived.

“Ladies; I’m sorry to have to tell you that Jennifer Jones is dead and I have taken her Bratva. Of course Katya I expect you to keep conducting business as usual and Katerina, I may have a position for you too because you know so much about Jennifer’s businesses,” Grigori strutted around the room grinning like the Cheshire cat.

“As for you Ms Leasingham, you present a problem for me because you are not inducted into the Brotherhood and you are a law enforcement officer. Killing you would attract undue attention but I think you are a reasonable woman. If I let you continue your relationship with Katya you could be of considerable value to me; just as you were to Jennifer, providing her with intelligence from inside the law enforcement agencies,” Grigori lifted Alice’s chin with the muzzle of his pistol.

“For now, no harm will come to you. I will take advantage of your hospitality while I conduct my affairs. You may use the ground floor but you are not to go upstairs. My men have searched the house thoroughly so don’t bother looking for your weapons,” Grigori waved his pistol at Katya and grinned.

The three women were dressed to attend a Broadway show that evening: evening gowns, heels and hosiery, heavy makeup and perfume. Grigori Belinsky’s men had been ruthless and had taken out Katya’s guards silently. The first the women knew they were under attack was when Grigori Belinsky’s thugs had burst into the house and held them at gunpoint.

“I will not work for you! I’d rather die!” Katerina hissed at Grigori.

Katya was horrified at her daughter’s statement. She herself had endured all manner of degradation at the hands of ruthless men but she had managed to survive. Her daughter was well aware of the fact as was Alice because Katya made no secret of it. When Katerina had gone to work for Jennifer, despite Katya’s disapproval, she had told her daughter that the day might come when she had to do whatever she had to in order to survive.

Katya gave her daughter a steely look and shook her head.

Grigori strode over to Katerina and lifted her chin and glared at her.

“That can be arranged but you would not die easily,” Grigori squeezed her face with his gloved hand.

“What have I got to live for? You have killed the woman I love and I will not be a psychopathic monster’s whore,” Katerina said through gritted teeth.

“Really?” Grigori chuckled.

“Let’s see,” Grigori grabbed Katerina by her wrists and forced them behind her back and began to push her towards the stairs.

Katya knew what fate awaited her daughter.

“Take me Grigori. I will not fight and I have more experience than that young girl. I will give you pleasures you have never dreamed of,” Katya implored.

Alice Leasingham began to sob. She didn’t want her lover’s daughter to be raped but she didn’t want her lover to be raped either. Both outcomes were unbearable.

“I don’t think so Katya. Your pussy has seen too many cocks and is probably as wide as a cavern. Maybe I’ll fuck you later,” Grigori pushed Katerina up the stairs.

Katya and Alice hugged each other and wept.

Grigori opened the door to the guest bedroom and pushed Katerina inside and slammed the door closed. He took off his gloves and put them in his pocket.

Katerina stood in the middle of the room, her head held high, her blue eyes blazing, her chest heaving; a picture of defiance.

“Jennifer got away. She just called Katya’s cellphone,” Grigori sighed.

Katerina took two steps towards him and slapped him hard across the face.

“You had one job Grigori! One fucking job!” Katerina was livid, her chest was heaving; her breathing heavy.

“For fuck sake! She’s a thirty-something pixie woman who weighs one hundred-pounds wringing wet. I even told you about the escape tunnel,” she tried to slap Grigori again but he caught her wrist.

“Our deal doesn’t extend to you slapping me,” Grigori pushed Katerina’s hand away and let go of her wrist.

“I gave you the plans for her dacha. I gave you access to her networks and told you where her businesses were located. All you had to do was kill her and her empire was ours for the taking,” Katerina was walking in circles furiously.

“Does she know about me?” Katerina stopped circling and approached Grigori.

“It would appear not. She knows that I have you and your mother and Alice Leasingham here in your mother’s house but she is in no position to do anything about it. She’s bunkered down somewhere trying to save what she can of her Bratva but she knows I’m watching her every move. We just don’t know where she is,” Grigori put two cigarettes in his mouth and lit them.

He gave one to Katerina who took it and smoked it fiercely.

“The one piece of information she would never divulge was her escape plan. We practiced using the tunnel but she would never tell me where we were going to go after we came out of the tunnel. Your men should have got her when she came out of the garage,” Katerina’s eyes were blazing.

“I had to use mercenaries. They hosed down her car but she got away,” Grigori shook his head.

“What now?” Katerina searched Grigori’s eyes.

“We wait. I will have my men beat the bushes looking for her. I have also engaged a specialist who is very adept at tracking down people who do not want to be found. You can help too. She will contact me again soon in any event. I have the only two people she loves: you and your mother,” Grigori crushed out his cigarette.

“What happened to Peter?” Katerina asked, putting out her own cigarette.

“Peter blew his brains out with his last bullet. He took out five of my men beforehand,” Grigori took off his jacket and hung it over the back of a chair.

“Fucking fag! Jennifer trusted Peter with secrets that she never told me. I always hated him for that,” Katerina watched as Grigori kicked off his shoes and began to unbutton his pants.

She put her hands in the neckline of her evening gown and tore the bodice open then she ripped open the skirts.

“You’d better get to raping me to make this look right,” Katerina’s demeanour suddenly became seductive.

Grigori stepped into her and pulled her tight and kissed her. She could feel his monster cock pressing into her. She reached out and squeezed it through his underpants.

“You better hurt me a little to make it look authentic,” Katerina grinned and squeezed his cock again.

“You like it like that anyway. I always hurt you,” Grigori grinned back at her.

He grabbed Katerina by the shoulders and pushed her onto the bed.

Downstairs Katya and Alice heard the bedsprings creaking and the headboard bouncing against the wall. They hugged each other and sobbed silently whilst the henchmen guarding them grinned at each other and leered at the women, hoping that it would be their turn soon.

There was no need for Grigori and Katerina to feign rape. They had met only three times previously in person and each time Grigori had ravished Katerina and she had welcomed it.

Sex with Jennifer was lovely and they were kind and considerate with each other. Grigori’s lovemaking was the complete opposite. He used Katerina’s body to slake his desires with no consideration or regard for her physical wellbeing or her satisfaction and she loved him for it. She liked being used violently.

Grigori kissed her savagely and pawed at her, ripping away her panties and bra, tearing open her dress even further to gain access to her pristine white flesh. He tore the crotch out of her pantyhose, exposing her already wet and swollen labia. He twisted her nipples as he probed at her pubis with his large appendage. Jennifer guided it to her sopping maw and he slammed it inside her, making her grunt with the force of it, hissing with the pain.

It was like being impaled by a reptilian hemipenis; his cock felt scaly and jagged as it thrust brutally in and out of Katerina’s sopping, swollen cunt. She wrapped her legs around his body and clung to him, orgasming as soon as he entered her.

Grigori held her down on the bed and choked her; his hand squeezing Katerina’s throat as he pounded his cock in and out of her. He watched her pretty face become bloated and turn crimson as she struggled to breathe. The hypoxic state caused Katerina to experience a state of hallucinogenic bliss as her orgasm crashed and thundered through her body. Her clitoris was on fire and Grigori’s saurian phallus hammered her G-spot.

She beat his shoulders with her hands and gouged his flesh with her nails, her high heels raked his flanks as the two lovers violated each other. Katerina’s orgasm rose to a crescendo just as she was about to pass out and she felt Grigori’s penis tremble inside her and flood her with his scalding seed.

Grigori let go of Katerina’s neck and fell on her, kissing her passionately as his cock erupted deep inside her. He howled like a dog and she cried out in both pleasure and pain.

He lay on top of her after he climaxed; not moving. His cock buried deep inside her, knotted like a dog to his bitch. She showered his face with tender kisses and stroked his back softly, feeling the furrows she had left in his flesh with her fingernails.

Not for the first time she wondered what would happen if they ever became full-time lovers. The toll that they took on each other when they made love would likely kill her eventually. Katerina had heard Grigori’s henchmen talk about his fierce lust. He had young girls brought to his bedroom and they left hours later limping like rag dolls, their bodies and minds shattered. She knew that some unfortunates never left his bed alive because he had killed them during sexual asphyxia.

Grigori kissed her tenderly as he always did once his lust was sated. He whispered endearments and told Katerina how much he cared for her. His body was hard and muscled and angular. It was not pleasant lying under him. There wasn’t the soft comfort or tenderness that Katerina felt lying under Jennifer but she liked the severity and hurt that Grigori inflicted on her. She felt him becoming erect again and she knew what he wanted.

Katerina extricated herself from beneath him and got to her hands and knees and presented herself. Grigori knelt behind her and thrust his scabrous appendage into her dripping clunge. He held her by her hips and raped her. There was no other way to put it. He held Katerina down on the bed and battered her bruised, sensitive vagina with his rampant phallus until he came a second time deep inside her womb.

They both howled like beasts as they came together; their cries so loud that Katya and Alice heard them downstairs and they held each other closer and sobbed harder, imagining that Katerina was being ravished and sullied against her will.

Grigori was done with Katerina and he climbed off the bed and wiped at his privates with a damp cloth while she lay on the bed and nursed her wounds. He had bitten, scratched and abused her during their lovemaking and she had adored every second of it and her pale flesh displayed the evidence of their brutal passion. Her nipples were sore and her vagina was aching and tender, the scratches and bruises on her body stood out starkly on her alabaster skin.

Grigori was tattooed from neck to toe and the pounding that Katerina had put on his body was not so evident but she saw him wince when he dabbed at a bite mark on his neck and she saw the gouges she had put into his back when he turned away from her to put on his shirt.

She gingerly stepped into her panties and carefully made her way to a sideboard where she lit two cigarettes and gave one to Grigori.

“So we wait?” Katerina took up the conversation where they had left off before they fucked.

“She will contact me again and I will use you to snare her,” Grigori sat on the bed and pulled on his boots.

“When you catch her I want to see her die,” Katerina said coldly.

Grigori stopped lacing his boots and looked up at the pretty but despoiled young woman and studied her critically. Under that peaches and cream exterior beat the heart of a jackal. He looked down at the scorpion tattoo on her left ankle and not for the first time realised how appropriate it was.

He kissed her one last time and marched her downstairs and Katerina put a look of shameful defiance on her face and ran to her mother who embraced her and told her that she loved her and told her that there was no shame in being raped by her captor and Katerina cried along with her mother and Alice, pretending to take solace in their embraces.

“Stop that caterwauling you bitches! Look at me!” Grigori growled.

The three women looked up at Grigori and he snapped a picture of them clinging pathetically to each other, his henchmen in the background looming over them. He uploaded the picture to the chatroom and smiled evilly.

The Longhorn Saloon, Balwyn Texas

Jennifer drove fast using back roads where possible. It was a thirty hour drive, broken halfway by four uncomfortable hours sleep on the back seat of the red BMW. She had thrown her go-bag, a hastily packed suitcase and some weaponry into the red SUV. Grigori’s men would be on the lookout for the black car she driven to the lodge and the bullet marks would draw unwanted attention from law enforcement.

Jennifer had spent a little over twenty four hours at the lodge contemplating her next move. Someone with extensive knowledge had betrayed her and it had to be someone inside her organisation. Grigori was holding Katerina and her mother hostage along with Alice Leasingham but Jennifer was confident that Grigori would not kill them because they were perfect bargaining chips.

She couldn’t use her own people to help her because Grigori was watching everything her lieutenants did. He had eyes everywhere both physically and online. Someone had given him unfettered access to her operation.

She couldn’t go to the High Council because they were too busy dealing with the pending confrontation in Ukraine and anyway, the old men seldom involved themselves in conflicts between competing Bratvas. They had endorsed Jennifer when she had overthrown Dmitriy Yakovich so why would they come to her rescue now that she was being threatened by Grigori Belinsky? As long as the money flowed back to the High Council they didn’t care about squabbles between Bratvas.

So Jennifer would need help from outside of the organisation and she knew where to find it. The question was would the person she was seeking help her.

Penelope Bishop sat at the long bar of the Longhorn Saloon studying the beads of condensation as they formed runnels and ran down the bottle of Lone Star beer. Beside it, a shot of Jack Daniel's Tennessee whiskey sat untouched. She was couched forward with her head on her hands contemplating her life.

“Drinking that won’t solve anything,” Jennifer propped her petite fanny on the barstool next to Penelope.

“Jesus H Christ on a crutch, just when I thought things couldn’t get any worse you turn up like a bad penny,” Penelope didn’t take her eyes off the beer bottle.

Jennifer leaned in and took the beer and the shot and moved them away from Penelope.

“Two diet cokes,” she called out to the bartender.

“Diet coke? You’re not even letting me have the sugar?” Penelope whined.

Jennifer made a point of leaning over and studying Penelope’s ample buttocks spread on the barstool.

“You don’t need the sugar, sugar,” Jennifer sniggered.

“Fuck you, you skinny bitch,” Penelope lifted her head off her hands and took a sip of her coke.

“I’m not saying you're fat. I’m just saying you would be a comfortable ride,” Jennifer grinned and stroked Penelope’s forearm in a friendly manner.

“Well you’d know, sugar,” Penelope tipped her glass at Jennifer and took another sip.

Jennifer leaned in and kissed Penelope on the cheek and Penelope smiled and returned the kiss.

“Last time I saw you, you were down here taking care of the Decker boys. That was some mess you left me to clean up,” Penelope turned to face Jennifer.

Lieutenant Penelope Bishop was wearing a charcoal skirt-suit with a crisp white blouse and heels. Despite her signature heavy makeup she looked strained. Her weight had fluctuated over the years and she had battled with the booze on and off but she had been sober for some time now. She was far from skinny but she carried her weight well and was mostly lean except for her bosom and buttocks. She wore her blonde hair down and despite having ticked over forty years of age she still turned heads with her long legs, blonde hair and big green eyes.

Jennifer Jones was wearing black leggings and a black sports top with a lightweight black blazer over; comfortable yet fashionable clothing for the road. When she was driving she’d kicked off her spiked Louboutin heels but she’d put them back on before entering the bar. She had striking glacial-green eyes. Her left iris featured a blueish heterochromia which fascinated some men and also some women. She sported a coiffed cherry-red pixie-cut with swept bangs and copper highlights and stood a tip over five feet tall and weighed a little over one hundred pounds with a school-girl body shape with narrow shoulders and hips.

They were an unlikely pair.

“Well last time I saw you, you were about to be promoted Chief of Detectives in the grand old City of Balwyn Texas,” Jennifer replied.

Penelope just nodded. She knew that Jennifer kept tabs on everybody of consequence that she had ever met and would damn well know that Penelope had been Chief for over a year now.

“Why am I finding you staring at a bottle of booze in a cop bar in the middle of the day?” Jennifer asked.

“Why am I being questioned by a criminal mastermind who should be locked up in a Federal Penitentiary?” Penelope replied.

“You forgot to mention my distinguished career in the FBI,” Jennifer quipped sarcastically.

“You barely made it out of Quantico,” Penelope shrugged.

“Betrayed by the FBI and handed over to vicious a thug,” Jennifer countered.

“Who took you as his lover before you blew his brains out right in front of me and then took over his criminal organisation,” Penelope rejoined.

“You took the credit,” Jennifer said sarcastically, sipping her coke.

“Yeah, I did that and look at me now; Chief of Detectives in a Podunk city. I lost one man to the job, drove another away and the girl that I love spends most of her time away from home. Even when she’s not travelling she’s so busy that I hardly see her,” Penelope sighed.

“We finished with the pity party? I have some real work for you to do if you're up for it,” Jennifer patted Penelope on the back.

“Why would I want to work with you?” Penelope’s interest was piqued.

As Chief of Detectives, Penelope had virtually stopped working cases and spent most of her time battling the administration, wrangling a budget and contending with the Prosecutor’s office. Her beloved Special Task Force had been handed over to Silvia Bickle who was her best friend but Penelope envied Silvia being able to work in the field and solve crimes rather than being chained to a desk.

“Because a very bad man is holding Alice Leasingham hostage,” Jennifer stated bluntly.

“Alice is on furlough. Went to New York to see that Kuznetsova broad who she is so besotted with,” Penelope replied, disbelieving Jennifer as a matter of course.

“She’s with my Girl Friday, Katerina, and her mother Katya at Katya’s house. Alice and Katya have been lovers for some time. She’s being held captive by an evil fuck named Grigori Belinsky,” Jennifer countered.

“I find it amusing that you would call one of your Russian playmates an evil fuck, being one yourself. The last time you asked for my help you played me,” Penelope grunted but she was interested.

Jennifer took one of the disposable mobile phones from her handbag, inserted the SD card and connected to the Longhorn’s wifi and brought up the encrypted chatroom and held the phone up to Penelope so she could see the picture that Grigori had recently posted.

Katya Kuznetsova, Katerina Kuznetsova and Alice Leasingham were huddled together on a sofa, two heavily armed tattooed men stood over them. The women were dressed in evening gowns but they looked cowed and frightened. Katerina’s dress was torn, her makeup smeared and dishevelled and she had contusions and bruises on her face and body. Her eyes were dull and listless and she stared vacantly into nowhere. Penelope had seen enough rape victims to know what had happened to her. She knew immediately that the picture was not staged.

“What else?” Penelope asked; her voice hardened.

She knew all three women in the picture but the only one she cared about was Alice Leasingham who had been her friend and colleague ever since Alice had joined the Balwyn PD as a crime scene investigator.

“They came to my house, killed my security detail including my valet and trusted confidant, they hit my commercial operations and killed a lot of my men and sabotaged my businesses,” Jennifer explained.

“Grigori Belinsky has hobbled me. I am unable to use my usual resources because they are no longer secure and Grigori will know as soon as I mobilise any of my lieutenants,” Jennifer continued as she broke open the phone, took out the battery and broke the sim card in half before pocketing the SD card.

“You need my help,” Penelope said dryly.

It was not a question.

“Yes and your resources but I can’t come to you in any official capacity,” Jennifer sighed.

Penelope guffawed so loudly that the patrons in the bar all turned her way.

“You want to get that nice rounded ass out of a chair and get back into the field, this is your chance. I know you. You're intelligent, resourceful, resilient and ruthless. They have your girl and they have mine,” Jennifer took Penelope’s hand in hers.

“I’m also nearly fifteen years older than you,” Penelope sighed.

“How many?” Jennifer raised her brows and chuckled.

“You're far from over the hill. You were a worthy adversary and we have been lovers. We have a bond,” Jennifer squeezed Penelope’s hand.

“Do you have a plan?” Penelope asked.

“Sort of,” Jennifer smiled; she knew that she had Penelope hooked.

“And I forgot to mention that you are the smartest law enforcement officer I have ever met,” Jennifer continued to flatter Penelope.

“You're no slouch yourself and I’m sure that you have noticed the broad sitting at the table yonder pretending to read the newspaper but watching us intently,” Jennifer deliberately didn’t look over at the woman and neither did Penelope.

“Fifties, still a looker but mutton dressed as lamb. Red hair, too much makeup, nice suit, showing too much leg,” Jennifer said tracing a bead of condensation down her glass with a fingernail.

“Yeah I clocked her. Possibly one of Grigori’s but I’m fucked if I know how they found me,” she sighed.

“I was going to say she looks like you will look in twenty years or so,” Penelope chuckled and Jennifer dug her in the ribs.

“I’ll be the bait; you be the hunter,” Jennifer began to gather her things.

“Where are we gonna take her?” Penelope asked; excited at finally getting back in the action.

“I bought the Harrison farmhouse and the bank was happy to dispose of it. I put it in Alina Kunis’ name and I keep up the maintenance on the place,” Jennifer said ready to leave.

“You really are a cunt,” Penelope grinned.

“Yeah and so are you but neither of us has one. You good?” Jennifer hopped off the barstool and made a show of saying farewell to Penelope.

“I’m goin to use the facilities before I hit the road,” Jennifer said loud enough for those nearby to hear.

She went into a cubicle in the ladies and secreted a pistol in a specially tailored pocket in the back of her leggings, hidden by the back of her jacket, and came out of the cubicle. Jennifer washed her hands saying nothing to the woman washing her hands at the sink two down.

The woman was tall, standing around five-eight and of indeterminate age but well over forty. She was wide-hipped with a slim waist and narrow shoulders and was wearing an expensive skirt-suit and Louboutins. She had long dancer’s legs sheathed in sheer flesh-toned nylons which her short skirt displayed for maximum benefit. Her emerald green eyes were enhanced by heavy black eyeliner and mascara and earthy eyeshadow: her skin was alabaster white, her lips full, red and pouty, her pretty face framed by a perfectly coiffed burgundy bob.

The woman had aged gracefully with few wrinkles and she must have been gorgeous when she was younger. Now she was elegantly attractive; sort of like Joanna Lumley except with red hair instead of blonde.

Penelope was right. Except for being much taller, the woman looked like Jennifer might look as she aged.

Jennifer left The Longhorn and paused at the driver’s side door of her BMW pretending to look for the key fob in her purse. The attractive older woman in the business suit sneaked up on her like a cat and pressed a silenced pistol into Jennifer’s side.

“Jennifer Jones I presume. Please do not make a kerfuffle. I’d hate to have to shoot you down in the street like a dog and I really just want to chat,” the woman said; her voice husky and sensual, like Kathleen Turner’s.

Penelope Bishop snuck up on the older woman with just as much guile and pressed her service weapon into the woman’s back.

“And we’d like to talk to you before we shoot you,” she took the silenced pistol from the woman’s hand and handed it Jennifer.

Then she passed Jennifer her handcuffs and turned the woman around to face her.

“I don’t know you,” Penelope said studying the woman’s face while Jennifer cuffed her hands behind her back.

“I’d be surprised if you did,” the woman replied showing no sign of fear.

“I’m going to put you in the passenger seat and I’m going to cable-tie your ankles. You make one wrong move and I’ll shoot you dead,” Jennifer hissed, moving quickly.

“Please try not to snag my nylons; they're expensive,” the woman said dryly sitting as comfortably as a woman could with her hands cuffed behind her while Jennifer put cable ties on her ankles and Penelope kept a gun her.

“You’re a smartass, aren’t you?” Jennifer said to the woman, climbing behind the wheel.

“Follow me. You know the way,” Jennifer said to Penelope out of the driver’s side window.

“I know the Harrison place better than I ever wanted to,” Penelope said dryly and turned to find her own vehicle.

Jennifer Jones and her henchman had killed Pete and Harlan Decker and a pole dancer come-hooker named Olena Svetlana in a hail of machinegun fire at the ranch as revenge for taking out one of Jennifer’s counting houses. Out back of the ranch, Penelope’s crime scene crew had found a gave containing the remains of three bikers named Duane McAllister, Bob Livingstone and Benny Hopkiss whom it was believed had tried to relieve the Decker boys of their ill-gotten gains.

It was the last case Penelope had worked before she was made Chief of Detectives and it riled Penelope because she knew that Jennifer was responsible but couldn’t prove it. One of Jennifer’s Lieutenant’s, a man named Pavel Ivanoff, an ex Spetsnaz Special Forces soldier, was found dead at the scene and in an effort to put a bow on the case, the Chief Prosecutor for the Texas Department of Public Safety made the determination that Pavel Ivanoff was responsible for the deaths of the Deckers and Svetlana and that he had been killed in the firefight.

It still smarted Penelope but she had been promoted and the case was put to bed so no one wanted to listen to her theory that Jennifer Jones had orchestrated the killings.

She followed Jennifer, heading north to a property which everyone in Balwyn still called the Harrison place. Jennifer pulled onto the dirt road that led up to the farmhouse. The road crossed a cattle grid with weathered wooden fence posts either side with a battered mailbox that read Harrison. She drove past the ditch where the bullet-riddled bodies of Harlan Decker and Olena Svetlana were found in an overturned Ford Raptor and continued on to the farmhouse.

The farmhouse was anomalous to the neglected fenceposts and rusty barbed wire surrounding the property and the battered mailbox at the end of the rutted dusty track leading up to it. The two-story, three-bedroom clapboard house had been renovated and painted and had a new shingle roof added. Penelope was surprised but then again she wasn’t. Jennifer had obviously had the place refurbished after she had purchased it and kept it as one of her safe houses which she had scattered across the country.

Jennifer’s Bratva owned Supergirls Nightclub in Balwyn which had also doubled as Jennifer’s counting house for the south central region of the US.

Supergirls was a strip club which offered a ‘full-service’ experience to selected clientele and was located in Balwyn’s Bridge Street free zone: a street lined with titty bars, adult stores and greasy spoons where locals and visitors could taste something spicy whether it be something narcotic or sexually adventurous. The police deliberately kept a low profile on Bridge Street but diligently patrolled the adjacent streets and were intolerant of any miscreants who attempted to bring their unsavoury behaviours outside of the delineated area of the ‘free zone’. Bridge Street was called an island of crud in a sea of resplendence by Balwyn’s more genteel citizens.

The girls who worked at Supergirls were mostly illegal immigrants coerced or forced into prostitution rather than the domestic jobs they thought they were going to undertake on arrival in the land of milk and honey. Most were pragmatic when they realised the earning potential that went with their employment. They were indentured for two years and allowed to keep twenty-five percent of their earnings, which was considered generous.

The Deckers had shot dead the manager when they absconded with the cash being counted upstairs. This brought the establishment to the attention of law enforcement agencies so Penelope figured that Jennifer needed a new counting house. The Harrison place would be the perfect location and a convenient place to hide contraband and smuggled Slavic women brought illegally into the US through Mexico.

Jennifer's BMW and Penelope’s Mustang pulled up in the gravelled forecourt of the farmhouse and Penelope came over to Jennifer’s car. She pulled her weapon and trained it on the woman in the passenger seat whilst Jennifer alighted and cut the cable ties around the woman’s ankles.

The woman looked down at her feet.

“At least you didn’t snag my Wolford’s,” the woman said, turning her shapely calves to check.

Penelope pushed the woman ahead of her using the handcuffs as a lever to guide her. Jennifer led the way and taking a key out from a hiding place on the porch she unlocked the door and deactivated the security system.

The three women sat around the kitchen table. All of the furniture appeared brand new and hardly used and the place smelled of cleaning products and a timed release fragrance that was something flowery and not too unpleasant.

Jennifer rested the woman’s silenced pistol on the table and pointed it at her. Penelope pulled out a pack of cigarettes that she shouldn't have been smoking and offered one to Jennifer who took it and lit up the menthol slim, drawing the smoke in deep.

“Did Grigori send you?” Jennifer tapped the butt of the gun on table top.

“Can I have one of those,” the woman nodded at the cigarettes.

“Did Grigori send you? Answer me!” Jennifer leaned in and slapped the woman across the cheek.

The report was loud in the silent cabin and the force of the blow turned the woman’s head but she showed no sign of pain, hardly acknowledging the blow.

Jennifer hit her with a closed fist and drew blood. A trickle of it ran from the corner of the woman's mouth and she leaned over and spat a bright red gobbet on the floor.

“I’m sorry to spit on your floor Jennifer but this suit cost over two thousand dollars,” the woman said through blood-stained teeth.

Jennifer quivered with rage when the woman used her name. She pulled back the hammer on the silenced pistol and placed the muzzle of the weapon in the middle of the woman’s forehead. Penelope looked alarmed. Jennifer’s eyes were icy and her gun-hand didn’t waiver. She appeared ready to shoot the woman and Penelope knew that she could do it without batting an eyelid. She had witnessed Jennifer do it before.

“Teodora Petrović sends her regards. She knows what Grigori Belinsky has done to you and she is sympathetic to your cause. She can’t help you directly of course so she sent me to protect you. Seems I have failed at my job,” the woman said.

Jennifer looked stunned and Penelope looked confused.

“Who the fuck is Teodora Petrović?” Penelope asked.

“She’s a Pakhan based in Naples. We have met in person only once but as well as working with each other professionally we have a lot in common,” Jennifer replied, never taking her eyes off the woman.

“And who are you?” Jennifer removed the pistol from the women’s forehead but kept it pointed at her.

“I am Michelle Dupree,” the woman said.

Jennifer lowered the pistol and studied the woman carefully.

To be continued