Dirty Passions An Interracial Russian Mafia Romance (The Lion and The Mouse #5) - Kenya Wright Page 0,134

a location for Abram.”

“Okay. Let’s make this quick.”

I could only be gone for a few hours. Emily would wake soon.

“Where is he?” I asked.

“Abram is at Charisma.”

I nodded. It made sense.

Charisma was an exclusive rooftop restaurant where the VIP section was located on a massive balcony. It housed a beautiful pool, a lounge area, and plenty of room for mingling and dancing. It was a favorite stop for the brotherhood. Equipped with four back exits that led to two hidden tunnels that could be used for escape from police, military, or even rival gangs.

The owner made sure that it was stocked with the best vodka in Moscow. However, if you needed to reload a gun or grab a new weapon, he had people for that too.

Charisma had been around for many years. When my father visited Moscow, he would eat there. During his time, it had just been a small brothel with a kitchen. But then someone shot the owner over a gambling dispute. The owner’s wife didn’t want the place, she was a devout Christian who found the brothel drenched in sin and lurking with demons. She gave it to chef. He passed it down to his sons—and on it went, generation after generation.

And now Abram may die there tonight.

Making sure my guns were loaded, I left the building.

Due to the storm, the afternoon sky continued to be dark gray.

It took us less than twenty minutes to get to the place.

Twenty of David’s men met us in front of the building that housed the club. My security was around ten, not including twenty others that remained in vans parked on the other side of the street.

David asked no questions as he opened the limo door.

We headed to the building, entered, and took the elevator up.

The ride was quiet.

I didn’t want to talk or think about what must be done. These past months I had been fighting more than usual. And the enemy had appeared to be my own people—ones that I thought cared for me.

And although Abram had not come for me, I knew he would go after Emily eventually. Her destroying the krokodil house wasn’t a big problem. He would take revenge, but it would be small. Her shooting his cousin wouldn’t be a big deal to him either.

It was the brothels—the ones with the underaged girls. I knew his clientele represented the sickest form of power. And that group paid exorbitant amounts of money for their depraved pleasures. When she destroyed this place, it would cost him millions and make him a target for many. Because she just wouldn’t ruin the foundation, she would go after all of those disgusting old men who found their pleasure in feasting on little girls.

She wouldn’t be able to help herself. My little hero.

The elevator stopped on the top floor.

The doors opened.

We left.

David spoke, “What should I be prepared for?”

“Everything.” I walked through the doors of the exclusive restaurant. David stayed on my right. My men followed behind me on high alert. We maneuvered through the throng of people.

Feminine laughter and music filled the warm air. Lovely scents hit my nostrils. Tons of people stood in line at the mahogany-and-brass bar. Behind it, bartenders juggled gleaming bottles and onlookers laughed.

This afternoon, Moscow’s important people had decided to hit Charisma and stay out of the rain. Many celebrities packed the main section. I rushed past them all, not taking in the famous faces or caring who they were. I had to fix this situation fast and get back home.

Minutes later, I entered Charisma’s VIP section and spotted Abram.

Abram caught sight of my entrance. Smart, his guards moved to the side.

You knew this day would come. Did you think she would even find out about your brothel?

A few of my men disappeared into the crowd, securing the entire room. I no longer trusted Abram at all. I didn’t like liars. I’d asked him about Kapotnya, and he hid his two money making operations from me. He would regret that now.

But should I kill him here or give him to Emily? No. She’s done enough for today.

I could feel the weight of my guns underneath my jacket in their holsters.

The small crowd of women and men around Abram, parted for me as I stepped to him.

Abram opened his arms. “Kazimir! You never come and see me. What is the occasion?”

I hugged him back. “Business.”

I was sure he felt the weapons under my jacket.

Grimacing, Abram gestured to the back of the club. “You’ve been busy.