by Kenya Wright
I gazed down at those steps that were still stained in red—no matter how much Maxwell said I’d bleached it all away.
Kazimir got to my side. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just don’t like going this way.” I glanced over my shoulder.
Luka hung behind us with his gun out and eyes scanning the backyard.
I turned back to the steps and gulped. “I don’t want to go through the front just in case someone’s watching my place.”
As if sensing how uncomfortable I was, Kazimir held my hand and squeezed. “Let’s go, Emily.”
I took forever going down each step. Kazimir furrowed his eyebrows but said nothing right as we got to the door. My fingers shook as I put the key into the hole.
Luka grumbled. “You’re not scared of dark underground tunnels, but you’re scared of basements?”
Kazimir ordered, “Be quiet.”
I unlocked the door and opened it. Cold death rose from the whole place. I still hadn’t renovated it. Black soot coated all the walls. It was completely empty, just scattered ash and burned out things.
Luka walked in.
Still holding my hand, Kazimir guided me forward. I dragged behind him.
“Where’s a way upstairs?” Kazimir asked.
Trembling, I pointed to the direction of the stairs.
“Okay.” He tightened his grip on me. “What happened here, Emily?”
“A. . .fire.” I let out an exasperated breath and hurried to the steps, picking up my pace.
Luka ambled up first.
Kazimir watched me as he led me up them. “Did someone close to you die down here?”
“You could say that.” I didn’t look down anymore. I kept my focus forward as Luka opened the door into my brownstone.
When we got into my apartment, I went straight to my fridge, grabbed a bottle of rum, and took two long gulps.
Both men stared at me.
I’m never doing going down there again.
I set the bottle on the counter. “You can have some, and there’s beer in the fridge too.”
Luka leaned his head to the side. “Vodka?”
Kazimir frowned. “Go check the place, Luka. You don’t need anything to drink.”
I shrugged and took another gulp.
Kazimir grabbed the bottle from my hands and took his own swallow. “Who died down there?”
I reached for the bottle.
He moved it from me. “You were scared. I didn’t like it.”
“I’m fine now.” I stared at the bottle.
“I don’t like secrets.”
“Cool.” I grabbed the bottle from him and backed up, before he could get it again. “And since we’re sharing secrets, then you can tell me why your stepbrother wants to kill you.”
He leaned on the counter and smiled at me. “You’re bolder now. Less scared of me.”
“Should I fear you?”
“Why were you scared in the basement?” Kazimir walked over to me and took the bottle back. “We’re partners now.”
“You don’t need me as a partner. You have countries that would back you. Why haven’t you called anyone yet to. . .I don’t know. . .do Bratva things?”
His lips curved. “Bratva things? I like that.”
He took a swig of the rum and handed it back to me. “When you’re in power, there’s no need to rush to move. It’s always smart to sit back and observe. I’m dead now.”
“True.”
He winked at me. “Let’s see what happens, while I’m dead.”
I took my last sip, already feeling a little tipsy. “I haven’t eaten. I’m hungry.” I set the bottle on the counter. “Are you hungry?”
“Yes.”
“Luka too?” I asked.
“He’s always excited to eat.” Kazimir dove into his jacket and pulled out his wallet. “We can order—”
“No. I’m dead too.” I winked back at him. “Let’s see what happens. That means no delivery, and no major lights on in the house.”
The curtains were already drawn and covering the windows. I grabbed tons of candles from my pantry and lit them. Luka helped me place them throughout the place.
A dim lighting bathed the space.
I gave Luka the TV. He’d been stuck to it all last night as he watched me, and I’d researched what buildings to wash Kazimir’s money with. Now it all seemed like weeks ago. For some reason, spending hours in the tunnel with people made us close.
“Thanks.” Luka crashed onto the couch. “You’re a good person, Emily.”
“Does that mean you’ll never kill me?”
“As long as Kazimir doesn’t ask, I can guarantee it.”
I laughed. “I’ll take that.”
He turned the TV on. The news played on most channels. We all gathered in the living room and watched the craziness on the screen.
“The death toll for the Financial District Bombing has reached seventy-five people.” The woman’s hair whipped around her in the wind. Police lights flashed behind her. A large crowd stood behind yellow tape, waving at the cameras.
She gestured back to the clouds of smoke coming out of the crumbled building. “The mayor has announced that the New York Exchange will be closed as well as other surrounding businesses and schools within a five-mile radius. A list is provided on News 9’s website.”
A photo image of Luka, Kazimir, and I walking into the building appeared on the screen.
“Holy shit,” I muttered under my breath.
“Authorities ask that you contact the number below if you recognize the woman in this photo and/or know any information pertaining to these people.” The image changed to black and then she returned to the screen explaining Kazimir and Luka’s impressive criminal backgrounds.
But most importantly, we learned that everyone assumed we’d died in the fire. Footage from a streetlight showed us going inside and then five minutes later, it all exploded.
A sketch of a white man showed on the screen.
“A recent witness has come forward on the Tinder Killer, offering a description of the man’s face. The witness described the man as Caucasian, around six feet, and possibly having a beard. If you see this man, please contact—”
Luka switched to another channel showing the bombing. It hadn’t been hard. Tons of channels covered the tragedy. I imagined the whole world was watching this, posting hashtags on social media for all the people that had innocently died.
Kazimir shook my head. “If you didn’t take us into the tunnels, then we would’ve died. No one would’ve survived that.”
“That’s what your stepbrother was hoping for.” I shook my head and went to the kitchen. “If I was going to try and kill you, a bomb would be a good solution. Who would be bold enough to try and get close to you with a gun or knife?”
“A sniper would be better,” Luka added. “A bomb is too messy, and it kills more people than intended.”
“Food poisoning is the way.” Kazimir walked over to the kitchen and sat on a stool next to the breakfast bar. “I like your place.”
I took out bowls and other things to cook with. “Thank you.”
Bored with the bombing news, Luka changed the channel to a football game and placed his feet on my coffee table. I almost told him to take them down and remembered the big guns on him, and our new little friendship.
“Any food allergies?” I asked.
Kazimir chuckled. “No.”
“Any type of food that you hate?”
“No, which is why food poisoning would be a good way to kill me.”
“Well, I would rather not talk about that.” I went to the small radio on my kitchen counter and switched it on. Slow jazz played through the speakers.
“Who died in the basement?”
I dropped a plate. It crashed to the floor.
Luka was already at the edge of my kitchen with his gun pointed at me.
I froze.
“Sorry. I thought someone was coming through the w
indow.” Luka put the gun down and went back to the couch.
“Jesus,” I murmured and grabbed the broom from the pantry.
Kazimir rose and took the broom away. “Tell me.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because we don’t have secrets anymore.”
“Secrets are okay.”
“Not between us.” Kazimir swept up the plates. “And for your question earlier, Sasha—my stepbrother—wants to kill me because he believes that I took his position—his father’s empire.”
Kazimir walked over to the trash can and dumped the pieces.
I can now cross out “Russian mafia boss cleaning my kitchen” from my bucket list.
Kazimir set the broom on the side. “The Bratva pick you. These are killers. People I would never want you alone with. These men follow who scares them, and Sasha doesn’t scare them.”
“Why not?”
“Because he’s gay. Some men see that as a weakness.”
“Do you?”
“No. Sasha was more than capable of running the Bratva. The only problem is that he wouldn’t be able to keep his reign. He’s good with schemes, but never with the long run. He doesn’t think big enough.”
I pulled out some pots. “He’s a sprinter like my brother. He comes up with a good con, but never thinks about what he’ll do with the reward.”
“Yes.” Kazimir sat down on the stool. “My men won’t be ruled by Sasha. They would’ve thought foul play if I died.”
“So, it’s just a matter of time when chaos begins for Sasha?”
“Yes. For now, I’ll decide what I will do.” He rested his elbows on my counter and knitted his fingers. “Who died in your basement?”
I put the pot down and crossed my arms over my chest. I felt like I needed to protect myself as I answered. I had to guard my body. “Two little girls died in the basement.”
“And who died on the outside? You looked like there were ghosts everywhere.”
“Why do you care?” I asked.
“You weren’t scared in the tunnels.”
I turned around and started cutting vegetables. “Maxwell’s dad died by the steps of the basement.”
“How?”
I banged the pot against the counter, exhaled, set it down, and turned to him. “This is not what I want to talk about.”
Of course, Luka stood in the doorway with his gun pointed my way.
I glared at the big guy. “And would you please calm down?”
Kazimir nodded at him.
Luka returned to the couch.
“He’s fucking fast.” I gritted my teeth. “I can never hear when he comes up.”
“That’s the point.” Kazimir kept a calm expression on his face. “Why does this make you so mad? What happened to you?”
“You should’ve been a therapist, instead.”
“You’re snappy, when you’re uncomfortable.”
“I don’t like telling my secrets.”
“You shouldn’t. People can use them against you, but I won’t.”
“How can I tell?”
“You saved my life. Now, I want to wipe out everything that scares you, starting with this basement. Who do I have to kill? Why did you get so scared?”
I opened my mouth in shock and then shook my head. “Don’t worry. I already killed him.”
His eyebrows furrowed. “Maxwell’s father?”
“Yes.”
“The guy that you said would kill for you?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t understand why he’s so loyal.”
Fine. Just tell him everything. It doesn’t matter.
I turned away from Kazimir and went back to cooking. “Maxwell’s father was a good-looking guy. People called him a playboy. My father and him were best friends since they wore diapers. They all lived in this building. We all lived here, in fact.”
“So, you grew up here?”
“Yes.”
He rose and began to walk around as if trying to learn more about me.
“They were all friends. My parents, Kennedy’s parents, Max’s dad. Max’s mother left them before I could walk so I don’t remember her. Either way, they used to come to our place and play cards every Saturday night.” I filled the pot with water. “I hated Saturdays. Still hate them.”
“Why?”
“Because, after a while, Maxwell’s dad, Reggie would wander off from the adults and always come play with the kids.” I stirred the pot. “And. . .he always touched me. . .”
Hot steam rose and burned my hand. I kept my fingers there to feel the pain of the burn, wishing that the sting would be enough to erase the past.
I didn’t know how long I stayed there, hurting myself.
Out of nowhere, Kazimir appeared behind me and moved my hand away.
“I can’t hear when you move either,” I whispered as he pressed his body against me, pulling me away from the stove completely.
“That’s the point, little mysh.” He turned me around. “I’ll send Luka for food.”
Kazimir shut the stove off and placed the pot in the sink.
And even crazier, Luka had already been standing there, holding his gun to his side. “Is she okay?”
Am I okay?
“She’s fine.” Kazimir guided me around the bar. “She just zoned out.”
I quirked my eyebrows. “What do you mean I zoned out?”
“For close to three minutes, I called your name.”
That didn’t make any sense. It only seemed like a second had gone by.
Kazimir handed Luka several bills. “Get us something to eat that’s close by. Go out through the basement and come back the same way.”
Luka grimaced. “Kazimir, I don’t like leaving you here—”
Kazimir frowned. “Get some tampons for yourself too, while you’re out.”
Grumbling, Luka rolled his eyes, took the money, and left.
Kazimir turned my way.
“Women are strong too,” I said.
“What made you think I didn’t know that?”
“The tampon comment.”
“Good point.” He pulled my arm in front of me and studied it. “You burned yourself.”
I tried to move it away. “I’ll be fine. What was I doing?”
“Just holding your arm over the steam.”
I ran my fingers through my hair. “I’m fucking losing it.”
“Maybe, you need to lie down.”
“No.” I grabbed his hand. “Maybe, I just need to fuck.”
He didn’t move as I tried to pull him to my room.
I blew out a long breath. “What?”
“This is all connected.”
“What is all connected?”
“You. It all comes back to you for some reason. Too many meaningful coincidences. Everything keeps going back to you.”
“It really doesn’t.” I stomped off to the bedroom, completely not feeling like myself. I needed a shower and more rum. This wasn’t me. I stayed in control. I unraveled in darkness and silence.
Kazimir followed me into my bedroom and closed the door. “You killed Maxwell’s father because he touched you?”
Jesus. He’s not going to let this go.
“Yes, even though that day hadn’t been the first time.” I turned his way and hugged myself. “But my father never believed me. He beat me, when I told him, said that lying like that could get his best friend in jail. Reggie was a playboy. My father couldn’t believe that this guy surrounded by all these women would inappropriately touch a ten-year-old girl.”
“And what did your mother say?”
“She passed from diabetes before all of this happened.”
“So, it was just you and your brother, Darryl?”
“Yes, and my brother didn’t believe me either. He made me swear not to tell Maxwell.” I began to pace in front of my bed.
I’d never said any of this out loud before. Those that were close to me already knew the story and were trying to fo
rget.
“That day, Reggie made me go get ice cream with him. My dad wouldn’t let me stay. Everyone thought I was being a brat.” I stood in the center of the room. “Instead of going to the bodega, Reggie took me around the building to the back of the house.”
“Where the steps led?”
“Yes. He kept saying that he really loved me and that him loving me would be a good thing to help me get over my mother. That it would heal me.”
Rage covered Kazimir’s face. If Reggie had been alive, I was sure Kazimir would’ve killed him.
“Reggie dragged me down the steps, pushed me against the door. . . and I don’t remember much else.”
Kazimir widened his eyes.
“My Uncle Xavier found me by that door sitting next to Reggie. His penis was out. Reggie was lying on the ground and there was a broken bottle sticking out of his stomach. And blood was all over me. On my face, shirt, feet, hands. . .” I gulped and closed my eyes.
Kazimir wrapped his arms around me.
“Xavier put two and two together. And what I didn’t say was that our families didn’t have regular jobs. They all did illegal things. Calling the cops to handle something like that wasn’t even an option. Xavier was drunk, but he acted fast. He opened the basement door. We all dragged Reggie inside.”
“Who is we?” Kazimir asked.
“Oh. . .my brother. . .and Maxwell had been with Xavier. Maxwell didn’t even look at me as they carried Reggie inside.” I buried myself into Kazimir’s arms, trying to hide myself. “There used to be an incinerator in the center of the entire building where everyone lived. The basement had one opening for it. Xavier shoved Reggie’s dead body in that incinerator. It blocked something—gas, I don’t know, but a fire exploded from there. We all raced out of there.”
I climbed out of Kazimir’s arms, not wanting to be comforted. “Xavier’s little girls were hiding in the basement. Xavier and I didn’t know. They died immediately.”
Kazimir’s expression looked so sad and I didn’t want him to pity me.
“The fire rose to my parents’ level and ate my father up. Thank God Kennedy’s parents had already ended the card game and grabbed Kennedy. They’d gone off to their own place upstairs and were safe from the fire.”
Kazimir stepped to me.
