Dirty Passions An Interracial Russian Mafia Romance (The Lion and The Mouse #5) - Kenya Wright Page 0,70

dangerous.

We entered Emily’s building. She’d done a good job of making sure I couldn’t monitor her in this area. Now that effort would provide the only private place on the property.

It took us ten minutes to get to the front entrance.

As usual, two of her men stood outside the door. They’d hidden themselves in odd nooks with guns pointed our way. When they spotted Emily, the guns lowered. One smiled at her.

The door opened.

Lemon stepped out and nodded as we walked inside the occupied room.

Excitement covered Lemon’s face. “I’ve made lunch if you’re hungry.”

“We’re not. We need to talk.”

Lemon did a half bow and disappeared through a set of black doors on the side of the room.

That must lead to the kitchen.

The aroma of home-cooking wafted through the warm air.

Emily has made this old, shitty building a home.

Long ago, the three level building had housed ten maids and two butlers. They’d had a large space on the first floor which the servants had shared. A massive kitchen for meals and an even bigger room served as an emergency pantry.

There was an underground entrance that led to the tunnel. That underground path connected to the house. It was so the servants wouldn’t have to walk back and forth through the snow during the winter.

Later, my mother had a new quarters formed. It was closer to our house, held the highest quality items, and a state of the art heating system.

The old building was emptied after that and turned into storage. In my earlier days, I’d had many weapons stocked away on all levels. When I took the secret bases from Russia, I began storing my weapons there.

This was now my third time entering the place. I paused for a second and studied it. The last time I came here, the space had been stripped bare. All gray cement. Wallpaper torn off. Hammering and sawing had sounded above.

Now, the space resembled the lobby of a boutique hostel. Communal living at its best.

The deep brown floor glowed like polished glass. With each echoing step, I realized it was some form of dark marble. Flowers stuffed vases on mahogany tables. Several of Emily’s people lounged on a massive fifthteen piece sectional sofa—all black and soft looking. They rose from the couch. Someone shut off the flat-screen television they’d been watching.

Everyone focused on Emily.

“Clear the room. Kaz and I need to talk.”

With no question or word uttered, they rushed out of there. Some headed through twin doors with white golden handles that must’ve led to the barracks area. Emily had explained that the second and third levels were similar to college dorms. Everyone had a small room with one roommate. The building held fifty people. Twenty five on each floor. It must’ve been tight quarters for all of them. Being that most of her people had been homeless—killers living on the streets—I doubt they cared.

As the room continued to empty, I scanned more of the space. “Do you have an office in here?”

“Not yet.”

“You took care of them first?”

“They’re protecting us. I thought it would be smart to take care of them first.”

I nodded. “Due to this, they’ll be loyal to the end.”

“I hope so.”

I walked around the now filled space.

Exquisite paintings hung from the rich, red walls. I recognized them as Emily’s works—the ones I had brought back from her gallery in Harlem.

“Why didn’t you hang these in our house?”

She half shrugged. “Because you have classic art in there worth hundreds of thousands of dollars. And my stuff can’t compete. Better to respect the art gods.”

“Your work is brilliant and captivating. I would want to see it all the time.” I focused on the smaller details of the room. Swirled engravings decorated the door hinges. Thick, luxuriant rugs lay in front of a fireplace filled with wooden logs, flickering under flames.

I turned back to her. “Maybe, you should renovate the house.”

“I couldn’t. It’s your mother’s place. Even I can see memories of her there, and I never met her. I wouldn’t want to touch anything.”

My heart warmed from that response. “That is a good point. In the end, it will always be her home. Perhaps, we need a new place.”

“Before we think of that, we need to stop people from putting dead animals in our bedroom. No matter where we go, I believe they’ll show up.”

“You’re right.” My rage returned.

The last remainder of people left.

Only Emily and I stood with a foot between us. Burning fury coursed through my veins, but I had to