by Kenya Wright
“And if they don’t.”
“He’s not even killing women.”
“Sure, for now it’s black men, but—”
The man dropped his fork next to his plate and scowled. “Just drank your damn wine, Cherise.”
She did as he asked.
I laughed to myself and returned to my food.
Sasha remained quiet most of our meal, drinking in his surroundings and eavesdropping on other’s conversations.
When we finally finished dinner, my phone buzzed.
I answered on the third ring. “Yes?”
Luka was on the other line. Fear laced my number one’s voice.
This can’t be good.
Luka and I had done time together—broken bones and snapped necks together. I was not used to hearing him sound nervous.
“We have a problem,” Luka said.
“What is it?”
“We’ve lost the washer.”
I gripped the phone hard. “The new one?”
“Yes.”
Where are you, Emily?
I tried to keep the anger out of my voice. “How the fuck did you lose her?”
“She closed the gallery and shut off the lights. We thought she would come out afterwards. She never did. We’re in front of her house now.”
“And someone is still watching the gallery?”
“Yes. We even broke in. She was gone.”
“And you checked the cameras in her house?”
“Yes. No one’s gone in and out, but us.”
I groaned.
My little mysh, where are you? Already you’re a tricky little creature?
“I’m sorry, boss. We’ll have her before the end of the night.” Luka knew he’d fucked up. We had no time for slip-ups, especially from a woman so small.
Tricky and smart just like a mouse. Where did you go?
I calmed myself down. “I know you’ll find her, and when you do, bring her to me. I don’t care where I’m at or what time it is.”
You can be tricky with others, Emily, but not with me.
“Yes, sir.”
I shut off the phone.
He’ll find her. He won’t disappoint.
Luka had been my cellmate for six months in Moscow’s Matrosskaya Tishina prison. The Pre-trial Detention Center had been operating in northeastern Moscow since 1946.
Luka had an Asian appearance, with long flowing hair. Taller than most bastards. He reminded me a lot of 80s Soviet rock singers—effeminate, but scary as fuck. Luka had been doing five years for fraud conspiracy and smuggling. The cops knew he’d done more but couldn’t prove it. That was why they’d thrown him into my cell. I’d been there for double murder and illegal arms trafficking.
We’d got along with ease. I’d told him about my plan of breaking out.
Excitement blazed in his eyes. “How will we do it, Kazimir?”
I smiled. “We’ll use a spoon.”
And that was how I’d made my first escape from jail. I’d broken a hole in my cell ceiling with my spoon, taking my time, day-by-day. Weeks later, we tore through, climbed in a ventilation shaft, and found ourselves on the roof of the two-story cell blocks which adjoined the main fence. After that, it was nothing. We simply jumped from the roof onto the main fence, and from the fence we jumped out of the prison grounds, racing to freedom.
Before us, only three other prisoners had escaped from Matrosskaya Tishina. No one had been able to break out since Luka and me.
Luka will find Emily. There’s no need to worry.
Sasha sipped his vodka and then looked at me. “What’s wrong?”
“Our mouse has escaped.”
“No, this is your mouse.” Sasha shook his head. “Who did she outsmart?”
“Luka.”
Shocked hit his eyes. “If she slipped by Luka, then she’s more than we thought.”
“We’ll see by the end of the night.” I clenched my jaw.
Sasha chuckled.
I frowned. “What?”
“I’m already liking her. Anyone that can rattle your nerves is a good person to have.”
“Enjoy. Emily will be found and brought to me, and then she’ll understand that she is to go where I say and only breathe when I allow it.”
“I don’t know, Kazimir. These Harlem women—”
“She’s a survivor and smart. She’ll do as she’s told because it’ll depend on her life.”
“I hope you’re right.” Sasha smirked. “If you’re wrong, you should give her to me to kill.”
“No.”
We left the restaurant and he continued to keep that tickled expression on his face.
“What, Sasha?” I asked.
“Your sister told me that even when you were a little boy, you would hide the mice from everyone and feed them cheese.”
“I had to hide them. They would’ve eaten them.”
I got into the limo. Pissed, I hid it well.
There weren’t many times when someone acted out of order. All knew to respect me, and what would happen, if they didn’t. I’d assumed Emily was smarter than that. Surely, she understood that there would only be two options for her after my request—wash my money or die.
I don’t want to kill you, mysh. Be good and pop up.
It took us twenty minutes later to get to the brothel that Rumi frequently used. I didn’t know we’d still had brothels in America. My empire expanded across the globe. It was difficult to remember all the tiny ways we made money.
However, Sasha explained that Penelope’s business was new and one of Sasha’s personal hobbies that he’d started in New York. More pleasure than business.
We entered the building and stopped at the elevator.
My phone rang.
I had to admit, relief hit me when Luka’s name flashed on the screen.
He better have found her? Where could she have gone?
I placed the phone at my ear. “Yes?”
“We found her.”
Good.
But, my frown never left my face. “Where did you find her?”
Luka cleared his throat as if not proud of himself. “She just appeared and walked up to the front door.”
I raised my eyebrows. “She appeared from where?”
“My men think she came out of an alley a few blocks down.”
A low growl lathered the word. “Think? They don’t know?”
“Yes, sir. When we asked her how she’d gotten here, she simply said that it was a nice night out for a walk and she’d taken the long way. But sir. . .we have men everywhere. Other gangs, cops—”
“I’m aware of what we have.”
“No one spotted her.”
I stifled my groan of annoyance. This wasn’t happening how it usually did. Washers remained out in the open and in my little cage—no matter how beautiful it was. They lived behind the bars and were transparent with all their steps. These were people that had their hands on millions and millions of my dollars. Never should they disappear and reappear at will.
“Bring her to me.” I gritted my teeth and shut off the phone.
Luka could get the address from our driver. I was too aggravated to talk to him further.
I placed the phone in my pocket as Sasha and I stepped on the elevator.
Sasha wore a smirk. “Has the mouse been found?”
“Yes.”
The elevator doors closed.
“She’ll be joining us here?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“She’s made you grumpy. Now you’ll be no fun.”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “Scaring her will brighten my mood.”
“Try not to scare her too much.”
It was a nice night for a walk, and she took the long way? Very clever. Too clever.
At least the brothel didn’t disappoint.
Dim lighting kept the space in shadows. Soft music played in the background—something moody with a woman whispering in French. There were red and dark blue couches t
ucked into corners. Large, framed black-and-white photographs hung on the walls, showing rich images of sex—nude couples in dark colored silhouettes.
Beside the bouncers and bartenders, the rest of the staff were women, wearing tight leather pants and red silk halter tops. And the women that were there to serve. . .gorgeous, exotic. . .were probably deadlier than the men who paid them.
“Yes.” I studied the place. “This has you written all over it, Sasha.”
We sat down at one of the small walnut tables at the back of the living room which was a space five times the size of a family room.
Before I could turn to the bartender, a tumbler of vodka appeared in front of me.
I smiled at the waitress, setting it down. “Hmmm. I like our new place already.”
“Good.” Sasha smiled which didn’t happen much. “This is one of my pride and joys. I get a lot of information here. Men say anything to women when their dicks are out. I let Penelope start this about two years ago.”
“Even with technology and terrorism reshaping the crime world, sex still sells.”
“There’s always money in pussy.” He gestured to a few of the beautiful women lounging on the couches in front of us. “Unlike the other brothels, the women aren’t trafficked. Happy pussy delivers better service.”
I cheered his shot glass. “I’ve always found that to be true.”
“These girls came for the American Dream and are paying off their trip. Already, some have gone on to marry and be small stars. You must see the rooftop. There is a section where there is always live sex and a band.”
So Sasha.
I took another sip of the vodka. “And Alayna—our scout—she works here?”
“Yes.” Sasha nodded. “This was where Darryl bragged to her. I don’t know why he would try to impress a hooker. The only thing that makes one smile is money.”
“Apparently, he had a way to get a lot of money.”
“He says it was just a lie for pussy.”
“I think it’s bullshit.” I finished the vodka. “He’s still hiding something.”
“You shot him with a nail gun. I imagine he’s confessed it all.”
“No. My gut says there’s something more. I may talk to him later.”
“No.” Sasha sneered and shook his head. “Let me. I have my ways.”
I thought of Emily. “No. Let’s wait. I want him kept safe.”
The waitress returned with a tray of high-end cigars. I shook my head, ignoring the I’m-down-to-fuck invitation in her gaze. Everyone wanted to fuck the boss, but no one understood the danger of my bed. Not every woman could handle the fact that my enemies would slit their necks just because they were close to me.
Too many of my brothers’ wives and girlfriends had been killed. Therefore, I kept it simple. I got my cock wet when the urge came. After a good orgasm, I continued the game of ruling the world.
Sasha finished his drink and fixed his bluish-gray gaze on me. “What’s your plan for this evening?”
The waitress returned and filled my glass with more vodka. This time, she made a show of displaying her full cleavage in that red halter top. It was nice, but what cleavage wasn’t?
“What’s my plan?” I turned back to Sasha. “The same. Find out who killed Rumi. I like the look of this Emily. I would rather her not have intestines hanging around her neck too.”
“Fair point. Whoever killed Rumi would kill her.”
“Which is why I like that she is under the radar. No one would think I would go to her for help.”
“But, she does have a reputation.”
“Yes, but with no one on our level,” I said.
“I don’t know. She slipped out of Luka’s eyesight.” Sasha wagged his finger. “That makes me nervous.”
“Nervousness isn’t so bad. It’s just life telling you that shit is about to happen.”
“Let’s just hope it’s good shit.”
“It will be.” I scanned the space and rose from the table. My men and Sasha stood too. I adjusted my jacket and smiled. “So, let’s get a tour of your new little hobby. I also want to talk to Penelope.”
Sasha smiled. “I figured you would.”
The walk would clear my head and talking to Penelope about the missing hooker would ease my nerves. I had to keep busy while I considered what I would do with Emily.
She’ll have to tell me how she did it. I don’t like my washers having secrets.
Sasha led me around, knowing every turn and door to go through. His ease of the place told me he’d spent more time here than I’d understood. While I knew he’d gone to New York once a year, it must’ve been even more.
Interesting. It appears there are a lot of secrets going around tonight.
The brothel was set in a massive penthouse—a true palace in the sky with private elevators. Above the penthouse was a rooftop garden and sky-high pool illuminated in a haunting blue. Naked women of all races and sizes lounged by the water as top ranked criminals swam around them or stood in the corner talking business with another.
The lushness of the place continued. There were glass curtain walls and barrel-vaulted ceilings. Velvet upholstery mingled with custom-designed furniture.
“Penelope’s office is in the back.” Sasha gestured that way. “We should talk to her now.”
“Good.”
We passed several rooms. Four of my men followed us, ready to shoot, slice, or choke anyone that came near. But no one would. Everyone was too busy fucking.
I had no idea how many bedrooms the penthouse had, but it had at least seven. Dim lighting and moans filled the journey to the madam’s office. Erotic art hung on the walls of the passageway.
Sasha stopped at the last door in the hallway. “She spends most of her time in here, only coming out for the big spenders.”
“And we’re not big spenders?” I asked.
“She didn’t know we were arriving, although I’m sure someone told her when we walked in.” He knocked.
No answer came.
Sasha knocked again. After a few seconds, he turned the knob and opened the door.
The door widened.
The stench hit us first.
What is going on, New York?
A woman hung from the chandelier by her own intestines and wire. Dried blood caked her legs, gut, and neck. Long blonde hair fell to her waist. Diamonds decorated her neck, fingers, and wrists, although most of the jewelry had been splattered in blood. She’d been dangling there for a while.
The person did it the way Sasha would have.
Sasha grinned at the killer’s handiwork. “Beautiful. Don’t you think?”
“This is Penelope?” I asked.
“It was.”
I didn’t enter the office.
I’d found my mother dead in her bed, surrounded by all those furs. I’d sat next to her lifeless body and cried. It was the only time I could ever remember crying. Nevertheless, female corpses were the only ones I didn’t like to walk up on. They reminded me of Mom.
Yet, Sasha walked in with sick intrigue in his eyes. “What is it with this guy and intestines?”
I avoided looking at Penelope. By this time, Sasha was so close to her that he’d get the necessary information.
Shaking my head, I turned my attention to the pool of dried blood under her body. “She’s been dead since this morning?”
“Yes.” Sasha slowly circled her and then touched her hand. “Cold and hard. She probably died an hour or so after Rumi.”
“Someone was cleaning up loose ends.”
“Yes. Penelope must’ve known something.”
My washer and now the brothel owner. Who is doing this? And where is the missing hooker?
I raised my eyebrows. “Who will run this brothel now?”
“Alayna. I trust her.”
“Me too.” I gestured to one of my men. “Take care of this. No one needs to know. But first, call a couple cops to get prints and investigate. I want to know who did it by tomo
rrow.”
I turned away, done with all the death I’d seen so far. Whoever thought they could kill my people with ease would find out soon what I was capable of. And I wouldn’t just hurt the people involved, I would kill their families first—right in front of them—just to hear their screams.
Surprises. Too many fucking surprises. I hate coming to this country.
My phone rang.
This time Luka texted, probably done with hearing my annoyance.
Luka: We are in the lounge room. Where should I take her?
Me: To the roof top.
Luka: Yes, sir.
Sasha had taken me up there, but it had been a quick tour. I’d been too eager to question Penelope about her missing hooker. But now I needed air to think. Dealing with Emily under the stars would be just the thing I needed to put me back on track.
I put the phone up.
Sasha got to my side. “The mouse is here?”
“Yes.” I gestured to the room. “Sasha, it appears this problem may be bigger than I thought. You wanted control. Here it is. Find out what happened to Penelope.”
Sasha leaned his head to the side. “Are you sure you won’t need help with your mouse? I can help there too.”
“No. I have her.”
“She may disappear before you get to her. Where is she?”
“I told Luka to take her to the rooftop.”
“The roof? Interesting. Where the live sex performance is?” He chuckled. “I know what you’re doing. You’re pushing her out of her comfort zone, keeping her on edge.”
“I thought I’d done it in her office, but she was never nervous enough.”
“Enjoy your rooftop meeting.” Sasha pointed to the room. “I’ll deal with Penelope’s killer.”
Chapter 7
Emily
What the hell are they going to do to me?
The Russians didn’t seem pleased with my tunnel run. When I showed up, they didn’t even let me change. They carted me off to a car and drove me away. I was now at some freaky sex place, completely exposed—no wig, no identity to slip on and off. They made me come just as I was—Emily from Harlem. Cornrows, jeans, sneakers, and my lucky black jacket.
Kazimir would meet the true me, and I wasn’t happy about it at all.
I’ll have to be more careful next time, only slip away when it’s an emergency.
