Dirty Love (The Lion and The Mouse Book 2)

by Kenya Wright

  “He told me he wouldn’t let me go.”

  “That scared you?”

  “Of course. He was going to eat me.”

  “No.” Kaz nipped at my mouth. “He was going to consume you. That’s a very different thing.”

  I grinned. “So I should never be afraid to be eaten by a lion?”

  “Never.”

  Lifting my head, I kissed him, tasting a hint of sugar and coffee.

  “No fear, mysh. None.” He softly grabbed my face between his large hands. “In order to survive this, we can’t be scared, and we’ll always need to work together.”

  “It was just a dream, Kaz.”

  “No.”

  “So a dream is also a meaningful coincidence to you?”

  “No, it’s even more. It’s a direct message from somewhere.”

  “Somewhere?”

  “Whether inside of you or far beyond.” And then he shifted from philosophy professor to dirty, perverted gangster. He slipped his hand down to my breasts and stroked my nipple with the pad of his thumb. The hungry point hardened under my bra and shirt.

  He groaned. “You’re lucky I don’t have time.”

  I frowned. “We’re almost there?”

  “Yes. We’ll arrive in a few minutes. But, I really wish we had time. I would’ve loved to show you how good it is to let a lion eat you.”

  I giggled. “You’re so dirty.”

  “You too.” He nipped at my mouth and then stepped back. “We should go. I received a message this morning from Luka. Sasha was spotted in Moscow but leaving the city.”

  “Where did he go?”

  “No one in Russia has seen him. At least none of my people in any of the cities. He’s there, but he’s hiding well.”

  “Okay, but we’re going to end this.”

  “Yes. This week. We’re all in the same country now. There’s nowhere to run.”

  “All of us? Who else is here?”

  Kaz showed me his phone. “Darryl was with him.”

  My chest seized with dread as I looked at the image. My brother stood next to Sasha. Both were dressed to impress—designer outfits. Darryl talked on the phone as if he was some top boss. Sasha stared at a car that was pulling up.

  My body trembled with anger. “Darryl is here.”

  “Yes. I was told Darryl left in one car, and Sasha in another. Both cars went in separate directions.”

  “Who told you?” I asked.

  “I have a twenty-million-dollar reward for both of them. Once he hit Russia, everyone began tracking his moves. I began getting information in no time.”

  “Do you think he knows about the reward?”

  “Definitely. His hometown has already been burned. People are searching.” Kazimir nodded. “And after what happened to Xavier, I’m wondering if you want to handle him yourself?”

  “Yes, I would like that a lot. If not for Daryl’s ass, X and Kennedy would be alive. Whatever love I had for my brother died when X did.”

  “Then, it’s time to get to work. We just have to figure out where Darryl and Sasha went. Throw the phone away after you’re done with that picture.” Kaz left me in the dining area, holding his phone.

  I studied the image some more. No guilt or sadness decorated Darryl’s face. He looked happier than ever before.

  Are you wondering about me? Do you care? Do you even miss Max or X?

  Darryl felt like I ended our great childhood. That was clearer after his betrayal. I never thought he believed Kennedy or me on what Max’s dad was doing to us. He would rather keep the good image of the men than confess to the monsters.

  To Darryl, I’d put him in the foster care system. I’d made him fatherless and poor. And it didn’t matter how much I gave him or how I protected him. To Darryl, I’d killed his father and favorite uncle. I’d taken two of the most important people out of his life.

  Where X understood and had lost his daughters, Darryl held onto the resentment like a seed, putting it in the dirt, watering and giving it sunshine every day. Watching and monitoring it during the seasons. Letting the hate for me grow. And when he met Sasha, it had been time for him to harvest.

  Well, I hope you’re well-fed because there will be no more to yield, you piece of shit.

  Minutes passed. Kaz showered and dressed. I did some quick research on Moscow. The train stopped ten minutes later.

  It didn’t appear to be a typical train stop. We got out on an empty path, climbed over rocks, and even went through a hole in a fence. A black car sat there.

  Kaz pulled keys out of his pocket, opened the passenger door, and gestured for me to get in.

  A little shocked, I said, “I’m impressed.”

  “I run the world. Don’t be too impressed.”

  I rolled my eyes and got in.

  We drove off, but this time, Kaz followed traffic rules.

  I drank in his city. All around colorful domes hovered over. Even though it wasn’t cold, it looked chilly here. Already, I imagined the place appearing like a Russian fairy-tale in the winter—sugar powder snow and lights shimmering over all the gorgeous parks and squares we passed.

  We stopped at a corner. A massive church sat on our right. A large group people in regular dress held wooden crosses in front of it, speaking to others walking by. With Prague, I’d been caught off guard. That wouldn’t happen here. I’d researched so much.

  I glanced to the east and took in the first Soviet skyscrapers to peak the Moscow skyline.

  “Is that Red Square?” I pointed at the glass.

  “Yes, I’m taking the scenic route. I don’t know how much you’ll get to see over the next few days.”

  Red Square had been the most stunning yet forbidding square in Moscow. It was a huge pedestrian space paved in stone right next to the Kremlin. Everything was held here—from rock concerts to military parades.

  “Why did they call it red square?” I asked.

  “Because red used to mean beautiful.” He drove us away. “During the winter, a skating rink goes up. You’ll love Christmas here.”

  “I bet.

  He showed me around a little more, pointing out this and that. The architecture was insane. Many buildings resembled colorful fairytale castles. Others appeared like wedding cakes designed by an acid-crazed baker. Regardless, I took in this new world and was stunned. There were candy-striped onion domes with blank arches and sharp spires. Blood red brick or white stone. Octagonal-towered chapels glittering in gold. Deep ochre-colored buildings with narrow windows and helmeted cupolas. Masses of jagged towers. Delicate white rooftops that looked like they’d been dusted with snow. Gothic cathedrals with glass roofs.

  Blown away, I asked, “Where did the inspiration come from designing this city?”

  “This is all late 19th century. Russian Revivalist architecture.” He gestured to one magnificent structure. “The domes that are shaped like onions, they symbolize burning candles.”

  “Oh.” I shrieked like a kid.

  His smile widened. “Onion domes are usually in groups of three to represent the Holy Trinity.”

  “So, Moscow has strong religious roots?”

  “Very much.”

  In Moscow, he seemed different. His energy was more focused. It was like the city had revived him. I knew that any wounds he’d brought would be brand new by the end of the day.

  We hit a massive highway.

  “We’re not going to my house.”

  “Your castle,” I corrected.

  He smirked. “You’ll have bigger, if you want.”

  “I only need an apartment.”

  “Then, I will set it up. If you want.”

  “I would want an apartment, but I’ll be able to manage. It’s important for me to—”

  “Be independent.”

  Instead of looking at the road, he glanced at me. “You’re not comfortable with me providing for you? You’re my girlfriend. There are things that come with that.”

  “What things?”

&n
bsp; He returned to the road. “You ask as if you have a chance to back out.”

  “I ask because I want to know.”

  “Then, you’ll see what things come, mysh. Put the apartment idea away for a few days and consider what I have to offer.”

  Uncomfortable with the topic, I pointed forward. “This is cool.”

  A massive bridge appeared before us. The arches were red and a huge silver disco ball dangled from the center.

  “That’s Zhivopisny Bridge. We’re in north-western Moscow, passing the Moskva River.”

  “What’s going on with the massive disco ball?”

  He chuckled to himself. “Yes, it does look like a disco ball. That was a structure that was supposed to be a restaurant. The project was abandoned.”

  “You know a lot about what goes on here.”

  “This is my city.”

  “True.” I nodded. “Although, I didn’t find your name, when I was researching Moscow.”

  “You won’t. This isn’t America. We have a problem with journalists dying here.” He shrugged. “What else did you find on your research?”

  “Rich people buy ambulances and drive them around because the traffic is so bad.”

  He laughed.

  “Do you own one?”

  “No, but Valentina had two.”

  I continued, “Russia has nine time zones and its surface area is bigger than Pluto’s surface area.”

  “That I didn’t know.”

  “Tea is big here.” I looked out of the window. “Oh, and there are at least ten secret Russian cities with unknown names and locations.”

  “Forty-four.”

  I quirked my brows. “And you know their names and where they are?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  He glanced at me. “Why do I know them?”

  “Why are they secret?”

  “You’ll find that any history here is connected to war. Those secret cities were made to create bombs and other nuclear weapons. The people who lived in those cites designed or worked in plants that helped build them.”

  “Do they still live there?” I asked.

  “Yes.”

  “And are they still making weapons there?”

  “Yes, and unofficially.” He took us off the bridge, down several streets, and sped us onto another highway. “This place that we’re going to will be your first place. If you have a problem, then go here.”

  I swallowed. “First place?”

  “My places are yours. You’ll need to know the locations and be acquainted with each property’s staff.”

  I pushed down my fear. “Okay.”

  “It’s in Rublyovka.” Kaz grinned. “Russia's Beverly Hills. Although I’ve never been to America’s Beverly Hills, I imagine it must be a very rich place because surely ours is.”

  “It’s a top zip code with top people living there.”

  “In Rublyovka, Putin lives a few houses down. Anyone with power in Russia has a house here, which is also why they call it Oligarch Row.”

  I gripped the edge of my seat as he spun in and out of traffic. “The Russian president.”

  Something made him laugh at the way I asked. “Yes, mysh, did you want to meet him?”

  “I think I’m good on that. I don’t really know what I would have to say. The things I’ve heard scared me.”

  “Well, you’ll meet him eventually. At times, he can be a problem that I deal with.”

  “And he lives next to you?”

  “Yes. It’s heavily-guarded with a six-meter high fence.”

  I grinned.

  “What’s so funny?”

  “The way you described his place. You made note of the things that would stop someone from breaking in versus what the house looks like. X described houses that way, but then…X was a thief.”

  Kaz winked. “That’s how I began. Ten years old. Creeping into the houses of fat rich officials and stealing their elegant dishware.”

  We entered a new section that I knew had to be Russia’s Beverly hills.

  At first look, it didn’t appear too welcoming. Massive walls surrounded every residence, although I got a little peek of many massive structures.

  “This area is what many call, Red-to-Riches. A lot of the backstabbing corrupt fled their lives after the war.”

  “What war?”

  “Pick any. The corrupt fled to the West, and many of my kind grabbed properties at cheap rates.” He lowered his speed. “Others call it this the Gilded Ghetto. My house was worth 64 million, but I grabbed it for 50.”

  I didn’t have a response for that. At the moment, I didn’t have fifty dollars in my pocket.

  This is insane. Can I really move with a man like him?

  As if he heard me, Kaz shook his head. “No fear, mysh. You must treat money like a jacket or it will eat you alive.”

  “Like a jacket?”

  “Yes, put it on, when you’re cold. Take it off, when the sun is out. The jacket is just a thing, but it’s not you. Without the jacket, you’re still Emily, amazing, smart and beautiful. But with the jacket, you are simply Emily with a bit of style. But you made the jacket, it did not make you.”

  I whispered to myself, “Money is a jacket.”

  “Let’s hope you keep warm for a long time.”

  He pulled into a massive driveway.

  Damn. That’s what over sixty million dollars looks like.

  Dark brown and with at least three levels, it stood next to a huge lake. Water fountains were on the right and encased in marble steps that led to a massive garden decorated in tons of flowers.

  “How big is the property?”

  “43,000 square feet.”

  I joked, “So just a little bit bigger than my brownstone back in Harlem.”

  “A little.”

  He parked right in front. Two servants rushed out. Shock hit their faces. Tears fell from one of their eyes. He wiped it really quick and spoke in Russian to Kaz.

  “No, around Emily we will speak in English.” He patted the old man’s back. “She is…my girlfriend.”

  I tried to keep my laughter away. There was something with the way Kaz said the word. We both didn’t know how to get comfortable with the idea, even though we secretly loved it too.

  Both servants stared at me and nodded.

  That’s right. I know it’s a shock. He’s not only alive, but he’s brought a black chick back and fell in love.

  “I’ll introduce you some more later, but right now I want to show Emily around.” Kaz held my hand and guided me away.

  The two staff members looked perplexed but hurried up the stairs.

  “You trust them?”

  “I do. Everyone on this property used to work for my mother. Some of them were kids of her servants.”

  “And they stayed with the family?”

  “I overpay and barely bother them simply because they remind me of my mother.” I squeezed her hand. “I’m barely here. They usually have free reign of the place.”

  “Did your mother live here too?”

  “Yes. This was the first home I bought her, and then I kept it for myself.” He gazed at the water fountain. “I come here, when I’m lost. I come here, when I’m found.”

  “And what moment is this?”

  “I haven’t decided yet.” He turned to me. “I think it’s both.”

  I pointed to the smaller house further back. “What’s that?”

  “The butler’s quarters.”

  We went inside. The main hall was at the ground floor. The center was decorated with exotic stairs shaped like a horseshoe.

  Kaz proceeded to introduce me to so many people—cooks and maids, gardeners and security. And with each one, he announced that I was his girlfriend and that only English would be spoken in the house from now on.

  Everyone grinned or smiled. All were welcoming.

  We toured his property next, and with everything he pointed out, he used the words ours and we. It made me excited
and completely uncomfortable at the same time. Until the moment we’d arrived, I’d thought I would get a little apartment in Moscow and we would date more long-term. I hadn’t considered the fact that being his girlfriend meant living along with him.

  Can I do this?

  He squeezed my hand. “Is this too much for today?”

  “No.” I breathed in and out. “I’m fine. It’s just taking a minute to get used to.”

  “Remember, mysh, money is just a jacket.” He showed me the tenth or eleventh bedroom. “How does the jacket feel?”

  “Very warm and cozy.” I drank in the grandness of the place.

  “And out there is the saltwater pool lap pool.”

  I chuckled when we entered a smaller room that was about the size of my living room back home.

  “Oh. I guess I can finally use this room more now.”

  “What is this room?”

  “It’s a climate-controlled room to keep furs in good condition. Mom had a brilliant collection.”

  “A room just for furs.” I blinked. “Okay. This jacket is super cozy.”

  “If you need to use the helicopter, just let anyone on the staff know. It’ll be ready in twenty minutes or so.” He pointed to the other end of the hallway. “That area is not a balcony. It’s a helipad.”

  Wow. This jacket is now heavy as fuck and choking me with anxiety.

  The tour continued, and I became even more amazed. If the rooms didn’t have marble and gold, they were natural stone or wood. In the billiard room, there was a sculpture of a woman made from bullets. The library was filled with solid oak and mahogany as well as stacked with leather bound books. Chandeliers were everywhere and most of the décor dripped in gold. The place had its own cinema, a sports hall with showers, a swimming pool along with a Turkish bath area, and even a sauna with an ice pool to cool off. Royal and soft at the same time.

  It boasted a wine cellar, a 'storage room for presents', and a garage for seven cars.

  And then we paused at our bedroom which was the entire size of my brownstone back in Harlem. It was decorated in cream and gray. Above the bed, a painting hung that took my breath away. A large image of the famous lion and mouse story sat above his bed. The poor beast lay trapped in rope as a mouse gnawed it away.

  “Was this already here?” I whispered.