Dirty Passions An Interracial Russian Mafia Romance (The Lion and The Mouse #5) - Kenya Wright Page 0,11

here.”

“We would understand either way,” Boris said. “And we would always follow you no matter where you are.”

Maxwell glanced back at the house. “The lion is staring out the window. This shit won’t be easy, Em.”

“At least he’s not bombing anything. If he’s busy watching me, then maybe he’ll stay out of trouble.”

“That’s one way to look at it.” Max grimaced. “The other way is that this motherfucker is going to kill everyone around you and then lock you under the cells below his house. Have you seen that shit? Only you would get with a guy that has a jail under his house.”

“Max. . .”

“I’m just saying.”

“We leave Moscow.”

“Go to New York?” Max asked.

“Maybe.”

“Man, I already said why we couldn’t. What about the serial killer case?”

“I can hide.”

“They might have your name on alert for questioning.”

“Kaz handled that.”

“But is it still up.”

“Then, we might be fucked.”

“Maybe we can go to Jamaica.” Maxwell bobbed his head. “Yeah, mon! Jamaica. Warm weather. Blunts for days. Brown skinned beauties with big asses.”

Boris smiled for a second.

I glared at him.

Boris straightened his face.

“We still have Xavier ashes too.” Maxwell shrugged. “X would love to go to the Jamaica.”

“Okay. Maybe, Jamaica is the destination.” I sighed. “And good point on the ashes. They’re upstairs in the bedroom in my last drawer. Send someone to get them for me, Boris. Max and I will head to the airport and get tickets.”

“How many of your men are going with us?” Max asked.

“I could probably do twenty. If we stick with a good budget then we’ll be fine and can send for everybody else.”

“True. Make some money, when we get there,” Max said. “Send for a few more, if necessary.”

I considered this new reality. “There’s a lot of Shower Posse connections out there. It should be no problem to keep our head afloat. I mean fuck we lived in a sewer for a year.

Boris nodded. “We also know how to starve too. I’ve found a love for a good trash-can-roasted cat.”

Maxwell shook his head. “Okay man. You won. And I’m not cooking no cat in a trash can. Shit won’t be that bad.”

“Then let’s do this.” I walked off. “Jamaica bound.”

“Jamaica it is.” Max strolled on by my side. “And the main mission is to tame the lion.”

I stopped and looked at him.

“What, Em?”

“Why did you say it that way?”

“Tame the lion?”

“Yes.”

“That’s what you’re doing. Oh, you think it’s over? No. This moment with him and you aren’t done. Your leaving is taming him. That’s what you’re doing.”

“You can’t tame a man like him.”

“You can.”

I shook my head. “Never mind.”

Jean-Pierre thought I could tame the lion. Max apparently did too. But as I glanced back at the house and spotted Kaz taking up most of the window and glaring, I knew they were all wrong.

No one can tame, Kaz, but him. And he’s too goddamn stubborn for it.

Chapter 2

Gone

Kazimir

I gazed out the window.

Emily walked off with her men. Maxwell and Boris remained at her side, while a large group of Kapotnya hooligans followed behind.

Stand your ground.

The voice in my head reminded me of my father. I didn’t think about him much. It always hurt to consider him. All my memories came from my youth. Yet, my father’s voice rang loud.

She’s a woman. She doesn’t understand.

The French had taken her. Others would, if I didn’t act with force. If I gave Jean-Pierre a pass, then it would lead to destruction. All had to fear me now. My baby had died. Hope taken within seconds. None of the French could rest easy in their beds.

Others would come for her—the Yakuza, the Italians, hell even the Nigerians.

To stop that, I not only had to be the most powerful, I had to trigger fear within all. That meant blood loss and explosions. Holes in cities and crowded graves. I had the nukes. I had the men. I had the rage exploding within my chest.

I would show them all and make the French an example.

Still, my mother’s voice drowned my father’s reasoning.

Don’t lose her. Don’t let her leave.

I missed mother so much. Her soft voice was a welcoming sound among the pain. In my head, she told me to run after Emily. Stop the war and the bombing. What was there to be gained by being stubborn? Would I rather have my mouse in my arms this evening, then stand in my war room dropping more bombs?

The idea of Paris in flames tempted me,

but no joy came,

if it would leave me alone.

No.