Dirty Obsessions: An Interracial Russian Mafia Romance (The Lion and The Mouse Book 5.5)

by Kenya Wright

  “Why were you crying?”

  Maxwell paused from cutting the potatoes, stood still for a few seconds, and then returned to the chopping. “Because my father had just died. X was trying to make sure we ate—Em, Daryl, and me. But none of us ate anything that night no matter how much he said that food would heal us.”

  I sat down at the stool by the counter. “I’ve had macaroni and cheese in London.”

  “If you didn’t have it in the American South or at certain spots in Harlem, then you didn’t eat it.”

  I grinned. “I must try that and other soul food.”

  “We’re talking beef ribs, collard greens, and cornbread. I could go on, but I might make myself hungry. And I don’t need to eat. I’m full.” He shifted to chopping onion. “Soul food was made from the slavery days, man. We would get the worst cuts from the masters. But we made that shit work.”

  He dropped the knife, spun around, lowered, and returned with a pan. “Fast forward to when motherfuckers are now free. Lots of freed slaves migrated to the northern spots. Fast forward some more and we’re now starving in the inner cities.”

  “Now I understand.” I nodded. “Some of the best food is made from a generation of hunger.”

  “There we go.” Maxwell took the pan to the stove, went to work, and continued to talk the whole time. “I know lots of people that would get free food from the government. Powdered milk and government cheese. We’re talking big ass blocks of old yellow cheese. Fuck that. We made the best of that shit.”

  “Soul food.”

  “That’s right.”

  A key jiggled in the door.

  Without being told, my men jumped in position.

  Maxwell continued to cook while I watched him.

  Before the door opened, shots rang in the hallway. I had men waiting in the staircase to surprise Akiva’s guards. Another set was ordered to ride the elevator up after Akiva and them, just in case my men in the stairway didn’t get his guards.

  Five of my men paused from their magazines and phones. Taking out their guns, they marched over to the front door and waited. The rest continued to sit. They would do the clean up afterward.

  “The potatoes are almost done.” Maxwell opened a drawer and pulled out a spatula. “I sliced them up real thin. You’ll be eating soon.”

  “Sounds good.” I watched him, enjoying Maxwell’s friendship.

  The door slammed opened, hitting the wall. I checked over my shoulder. Two of Akiva’s guards stumbled in with him. Shock replaced the fear in their eyes as they spotted us. My men pointed their guns at the three fools. I checked the doorway.

  Three men lay dead on the ground. Several of my men had already begun getting rid of their bodies and painting over the bloodstains in the hallway. Apparently, that specific coat of paint had been a bitch for them to find—periwinkle with a hint of olive green.

  In St Petersburg, there was no need to worry about the police as long as one cleaned up their messes. If I left the bodies, blood, and bullet holes, it would force the police to investigate. In this situation, a decent clean up would allow the cops to feign confusion at Akiva’s family calling for justice.

  “Surely, Akiva is simply on holiday,” the cops would explain to his loved ones. “Perhaps he was running from some conflict. Either way, there is no evidence of anything more.”

  I watched the door as Akiva spotted me.

  “Hold on.” Akiva’s eyes watered. “I can explain.”

  My man in front slammed him with the butt of the gun, grabbed him by the shoulders, and dragged him to the couch. With the Solntsevskaya guards, there would be no discussion.

  “Get over there.” My man gestured to the plastic floor.

  Both guys knew what would come. They tried to rush off in the other direction, but they were circled. Struggling ensued. Big bulky guys dragging other big bulky men to their end.

  I turned back to my friend.

  Maxwell whistled, went over to a cupboard, took out a plate, and studied it. “Dude has good taste.”

  “Nice design?”

  Maxwell showed me. Gold flowers were etched along the plate’s border.

  “Fit for a king.”

  “Yeah, man. You need to get plates like this when you have Ava over for dinner. You have to make her something nice too.”

  The Solntsevskaya screamed behind me. Several bangs of the silencer came next.

  “I can’t cook.” I shrugged. “I’ll have a chef make Ava something.”

  “No, man. A chef won’t mean anything at this point. You’ve already shown her you can out-spend any dude around her. Getting a chef is just spending more money.”

  Akiva cried from the couch, “Misha, please don’t kill me. I-I was only doing what the—”

  Keeping my view on Maxwell, I raised my hand.

  My man punched him in the face. “Shut up.”

  I raised my eyebrows at Maxwell. “A chef won’t be enough?”

  “You must cook for her.” Maxwell plated the potatoes, sprinkled salt on them, and then grabbed eggs from the fridge. “Take this situation now. How does it feel to have me cook for you?”

  I grinned. “I feel special.”

  Maxwell cracked an egg onto the pan and then glanced over his shoulder. “And you feel loved? Admit it, man.”

  I laughed. “Yes. I feel loved.”

  “See what I’m saying? Sometimes it’s the little things.” Maxwell cracked another egg and spilled its contents into the pan. “You cook for her and it’s a wrap. Game solidified.”

  “Maxwell, did you hear the part about the fact that I can’t cook?”

  “Man, all you need is a recipe book.”

  Noise rose behind me. I checked. My men rolled dead men in plastic, taped them up, and carried them away.

  “Misha, if I’m in the area, I’ll help you cook. And if not, then surely Rolan can help.”

  “I’ll consider that advice.” I directed my attention to Akiva.

  Tears spilled from his eyes. Sweat covered his forehead. Two of my men had him sandwiched on the couch. Another man lay new plastic coverings on the ground.

  Maxwell continued to whistle as he moved around the kitchen.

  I rose, walked over to the living room, and sat down in the seat across from Akiva. “What do you think?”

  With a shaking hand, Akiva touched his chest. “A-are you talking to me?”

  “Yes.”

  “W-what do I think about. . .what?”

  “Do you think Ava would appreciate my cooking for her more than my hiring a personal chef?”

  “I-I think either one would make her happy.”

  “That motherfucker don’t know shit.” Maxwell carried a plate over and handed it to me. “He’s the type of dude that has to auction ballerinas for monsters to rape. I wouldn’t get any advice from him.”

  I took the plate and inhaled the savory scents. “I must say this looks amazing.”

  He gave me a fork and a napkin. “Here you go.”

  “Again, thank you.”

  Maxwell remained there. “Try it. I won’t leave until you take a bite. It’s my thing. Em hates that shit, but I can’t help it.”

  Smirking, I sampled the potatoes. Flavor burst onto my tongue. He’d put more than salt on here. I tried to think of the spices he could have used. My hunger instantly assaulted me. I sampled a piece of the cheesy spinach omelet. It melted in my mouth.

  When I swallowed, I nodded. “You’re definitely going to help me cook for Ava.”

  “I’ll do my best, man.” Maxwell walked off. “And don’t you feel even more loved now?”

  “I do.”

  “How many people can say I made them something to eat? So far, Em and you are the only living souls on this globe.” Max put the pan in the sink and grabbed a dishcloth.

  I quirked my brows. “What are you doing?”

  “Cleaning up.”

  “No. Sit down.”

  He smiled. “Yeah. Working for you isn’t bad.
Em would have made me clean it all up.”

  I continued to eat and turned my attention to Akiva.

  The man’s chin quivered. His gaze kept going all over the condo. Perhaps he was counting all of my people, wondering if he had a chance of escape.

  When I finished, I set the plate on the end table. “That was truly a delight, Maxwell.”

  “I got you, man.” Maxwell rested in a chair near me and closed his eyes.

  I leaned back in mine and hit Akiva with an intense glare. “And now you?”

  “T-those texts weren’t from me. Leonid Turgenev called me the night you killed his grandfather. He had a car bring me to the Turgenev manor. He was highly upset and said he wanted revenge.”

  “And the other families—Kuznetsov and Oblonskey?”

  “They’re embarrassed with the reason why the men were in the theater. The Kuznetsov family definitely don’t want any trouble with the Brotherhood. Neither does Oblonskey.”

  “Hmmm.” I crossed my leg. “So, you told all three families I killed them?”

  Akiva opened his mouth in shock.

  “I appreciate honesty.”

  “I-I had to tell them the truth.”

  “Of course. And why did the theater close?”

  “We thought that perhaps there would be a solution to—”

  “You thought that the Turgenev family could kill me and the theater could return to auctioning off ballerinas.”

  Akiva shivered and said nothing.

  I flicked my hand.

  The man on the side grabbed Akiva’s right arm.

  “Yes! Yes!” Akiva struggled with him.

  The man broke it. The crack rose in the air.

  Maxwell opened his eyes. “Damn. That must hurt.”

  Akiva screamed in pain. His arm lay limp on his side.

  I raised a finger in front of my mouth. “Shh.”

  Shaking, Akiva pressed his lips together. But I could tell he was in a lot of pain.

  I placed my hands on my lap and put my feet on the coffee table in front of me. “Back to Leonid Turgenev. What else do you know?”

  “P-please, Misha. Don’t kill me. I have a daughter.”

  That made me tense. Now I had a daughter too. But the problem with Akiva was having a daughter didn’t make him pause from auctioning off other people’s daughters.

  I wagged my finger at him. “Only information will save you today, Akiva. I don’t care about your having kids. If anything, I may be doing your family a favor. As far as I can see, you’re a disgusting soulless individual.”

  He trembled.

  “What else do you know?”

  “Leonid had three plans of action. The Brotherhood guards for me were just the first one.”

  I leaned my head to the side. “And the second and third?”

  “I’m not sure, but I know it has something to do with these strange men. They’re a large group. It must’ve been eight or nine of them.”

  “Tell me more.”

  “Uh. . .” His chin quivered. “They are Asian. I don’t know if they are Chinese or Japanese or. . .I don’t know.”

  “What else?”

  “I don’t know much. The group of men came to Leonid when I was finishing my meeting with him. Leonid laughed in this evil way and said that I had nothing to worry about because these guys would kill you and anybody else.”

  “Hmmm.” Maxwell eyed him. “But how do you know it was three plans of action?”

  Akiva looked at Maxwell. “Before the door closed I heard him mumble something like that.”

  I spoke, “What did these Asian guys look like?”

  “They were dressed really nice. I didn’t even think they were killers or anything like that.” Akiva held his broken arm. “They all had on violet and gray.”

  “All of them wore the same color?”

  “Yes. They all had on violet and gray. That’s what stuck out for me.”

  “Same suits?” Maxwell asked.

  “No.” Akiva shook his head. “It was all different types of outfits. One had on violet suspenders with a gray shirt and gray pants. Others had on other things but it was the same two colors. And their hair were different colors too.”

  Maxwell and I exchanged odd glances.

  “Oh!” Akiva frantically bobbed his head. “They had these X’s branded on the back of their necks. All of them.”

  The X brands sounded familiar. I pulled out my phone and texted Naveen.

  Me: Do you know anything about a group of Asian men with X’s branded on their necks?

  Instead of texting, Naveen called which was a bad sign.

  I rose from the chair and looked at Anatoly. “Kill him.”

  Akiva screamed. “No! Please, Misha. I-I could help you out. I-I could be your spy or—”

  A bullet stopped his sentence.

  I answered the phone. “What do you know about them?”

  “Come on, Misha. Please tell me we don’t have any more problems.”

  “I killed some men in Ava’s theater a few days ago. One of the families may have employed a group of Asian men with X’s branded on the back of their necks. Apparently, they dress in sync. Same two colors—”

  “Incredible! Just fucking incredible. Are you trying to get yourself killed this year? Do you not have enough on your plate?”

  “I called you for answers, not more questions.” I headed out of the condo.

  Two of my men and Maxwell followed.

  “Do you know them?” I asked.

  “That group of color-coded guys are guaranteed to have you in a body bag by the end of the week.” Naveen groaned. “That’s the Xecutioners.”

  “The what?” In the hallway, I headed to the elevator. “Am I supposed to know what that is?”

  “That’s the group I tried out for after the military.”

  I laughed. “The one that wouldn’t let you in because they thought you dressed badly?”

  “Yes. And as funny as that may sound, I wouldn’t laugh about that around them.”

  I went serious. “They’re good?”

  “Better than good. So goddamn good I’m flying to St Petersburg today.”

  My head throbbed. I stopped in front of the elevator. One of my men pressed the button for it.

  Naveen continued. “I can get there by this evening. Don’t go anywhere or do anything in public.”

  “Naveen, I need you in Paris.”

  “And I need you alive or Paris won’t matter to me. I’m only here to help you out. If you’re dead, then I might as well go to the Cayman Islands and lounge by the water smoking a big fat joint while I’m getting my dick sucked.”

  The elevator doors slipped open.

  I let out a long breath and stepped onto the elevator. “What about Kazimir’s babies?”

  “They will have to wait if you have the Xecutioners’ attention. If I’m there, I can probably talk to them and perhaps. . .outbid whatever the family is paying them. That’s the only way you’ll stop the hit.”

  “Or we can kill them?”

  Annoyance laced his voice. “Did you not hear the part about them being good, Misha?”

  “Do you trust the Devil to behave in Paris?”

  “We had a conversation. He’ll sit tight until the right time.”

  The doors closed.

  The elevator lowered.

  I tapped my foot. “We still think the night of the eclipse is a good time?”

  “Yes. We’ve been monitoring them. All signs point to Jean-Pierre being out of the house with Eden. Sometimes she leaves the codes in the condo. Other times she brings them with her.”

  “And if the codes are on her?”

  “Then they return to the condo with us asking for the codes nicely.”

  “I would like to be there for that.” I smirked. “Okay. Come here and help me with this X squad. Then we go to Paris together and talk to Jean-Pierre.”

  “This has to go perfectly, Misha. No getting distracted by your ballerina. The e
clipse is in a few days.”

  “I’ll have someone pick you up.”

  “No way, Misha. You’re in rare form this month and fucking up in every way. If you ask someone to get me, the man might accidentally run me over. I’ll get to you on my own. Where will you be?”

  “At Olesya’s old condo. I’ll see you soon.”

  “Fine, try not to get any more enemies before I arrive.”

  “I’ll do my best.” I hung up and looked at Maxwell. “My top security guy is on his way.”

  “Is he decent?”

  “One of the best.”

  “Do you trust him?”

  “We grew up together. His family sought refuge with my father when he was young.”

  “Why?”

  “His mother had been considered the most dangerous and feared woman in India. She’d been charged with over a hundred crimes and massacred over twenty men.”

  “Her reason?”

  “They stormed into her small village and gang-raped her and other women.”

  “That would do it.”

  “Her family fled the country after that. Somehow, they landed in Prague. My mother heard about it and forced my father to bring them into our castle.”

  “Damn. His mother sounds like a badass woman. Is she still alive?”

  “She passed many years later from old age. When I built my empire, I had Naveen join my team. He has a knack for guns and security.”

  Maxwell frowned at me. “He better be the best. I’ve lost a lot of friends this year. I don’t want to mourn you too.”

  “I’ll make sure that won’t happen.”

  Chapter 9

  Ava

  I woke up to my grandmother yelling down the hall. “If you don’t get out of my kitchen, I am going to bar you from this apartment!”

  “Babochka, I’m trying to help.”

  Humor laced her voice. “With no shirt on?”

  “I didn’t want to get my shirt dirty.”

  She laughed. “Rolan, get your half-naked behind out of the kitchen!”

  Yawning, I rubbed my eyes and turned in bed.

  Hold up!

  Shock froze me. Misha’s sleeping face greeted my eyes. He had his shirt off. I lifted the blanket a little. He only wore black boxer briefs. Under the material, his cock lay against his muscular thigh, appearing between soft and fully erect.