She moved from my arms. “It was part of my training.”
“It doesn’t happen again.”
“Kazimir—”
“End of discussion. We had several deals. You broke them, so I get to break the rules too.”
“What rules did I break?”
“I gave you seven men. You added. We agreed at thirty. Today, the whole basement was crowded.”
“We already settled that with the ribbons.”
“You hired more this morning too. I called you to end it.”
She shrugged. “I didn’t hire any more men after that phone call.”
“So, you hired women. Very cute, mysh.”
She pointed toward our bedroom. “There were cut-off monkey heads in our bed—”
“You’re bloodied and bruised.” I glared. “I told you that you were mine.”
She blinked. “But—”
“I love you, and I want you safe. I won’t bend on that, so get used to it before I kill all your men and flatten that building.” I left her there, not wanting to yell anymore.
She called out. “Kazimir, can we talk now?”
“See the doctor!” I stomped away. “We’ll talk more in our new bedroom...when I’ve calmed down.”
She remained silent behind me.
Rage filled every inch of my body. It took everything in me to walk off, and when I did, I didn’t look back.
“Kazimir?”
“And when we meet, make sure you’re naked!”
Chapter 6
Emily
The doctor had okayed me like I knew he would. There were only a few bumps and bruises. Nothing broken. No major injuries.
I stood in the shower. Hot water streamed down my aching body.
What am I going to do with him?
Kazimir was being possessive and overprotective. Part of me loved it. The rest hated it.
I knew he wanted to handle the monkey head situation on his own, but I had to do it myself. One of his brothers was threatening me. The last thing I needed was him swooping in and saving me. It would tell others they could fuck with me behind Kazimir’s back.
It was better for me to find the perpetrators and deal with it on my own.
This morning, I’d met with Boris and Yuri. I had them go down to Kapotnya, a district in the southeast of Moscow. There, they’d recruited more men and women.
The noise of the MKAD had pressed right against the district, one of the reasons the region had been ranked the worst to live in for decades. Even with the windows up, traffic had bustled loud outside of the car.
“In America, I would call this the ghetto.”
“That’s a fair assessment, mysh. Lots of immigrants, refugees, and people who are so broke, they don’t have pets because they would eat them.”
For days, I’d been going to visit the area myself. I wanted to know more about my men and where they’d come from. It was a tough place, rougher than any poor section in New York. Poverty seeped through every corner. Dirt-smudged children walked the streets asking for money with one hand and holding a knife with the other. They never knew if strangers would be friends or foes, and I didn’t blame them.
Half of the kids I saw, I gave money to. Exorbitant amounts that had made their eyes widen. I’d told them to get off the streets but knew they wouldn’t listen. I’d told them about tunnels and sewers to hide in and they’d just looked at me crazy.
The district didn’t remind me of Harlem, but it made me ache. Sometimes, it felt like home. There was connection there with these people—Afro-Russians and immigrants searching for a better life but getting blocked and brutalized in every direction. We barely spoke the same language and had different cultures, but our skin color unified us. We understood how it was to walk in a room and be judged due to the tint of our flesh and the thickness of our hair. We knew about not being able to make it in the world just from that alone. Nothing else.
Not that others didn’t deal with racism or some other form of oppression. But with the Afro-Russians, I felt a vibe. A connection. Some odd bond only created from this concept of color.
We were on the black team.
But could I trust them from that alone?
Plenty black people in my life had torn me down. Many tried to kill me. Others stole. Even my own brother attempted murder. My own father didn’t believe me when I was being raped by his best friend.
It was why I’d gotten in touch with Maxwell after the monkey heads. He hadn’t responded. Instead he’d texted, explaining there was some emergency with Misha he was helping him with.
Me: What emergency?
Maxwell: If I told you, you wouldn’t believe it.
Me: When are you coming to Moscow?
Maxwell: You miss me?
Me: I need you.
Me: And yes. I miss you.
Maxwell: Give me a few days or maybe a week. I have to finish this for Mischa.
That was the last we spoke. I had no idea what was going on in St. Petersburg. Kazimir thought Maxwell was with Valentina. Meanwhile, Misha was doing something with Maxwell and ignoring Kazimir’s phone calls.
What’s going on with them? I need more people I can trust around me.
If some of the Bratva had a problem with my dark skin, I didn’t want Maxwell being too far.
Would someone try to kill him just because he was black? Jesus. I thought leaving America would give us a break from that. But, of course not. Russia isn’t known for its gentle love for all.
Now, I had added women to my crew. Sisters and cousins from my men. And these females were nothing to fuck with. They all had their battle wounds and scars.
Out of all my new hires, four had stood out.
Since helping me and Kazimir kill Sasha, Boris and Yuri remained with me.
Boris was the most loyal. Kazimir had called him my little dog. Most of the time, Boris could be found planted outside my bedroom. He shadowed me and slept in an extra bedroom downstairs. The only time he showered was when I did.
He’s probably showering right now.
In these past days, I’d learned Boris had a rough childhood. His mother was a Nigerian immigrant who’d cleaned for a Bratva member’s house. The father began a sexual relationship with her, although Boris wasn’t sure if it was rape or romantic. That question in itself possibly kept him up at night.
When his mother became pregnant with him, the Bratva member quit all contact and fired her. He and his mother struggled in the district all his life. I’d met her once. She’d sat us down and served shchi, a soup made from fermented cabbage and included potatoes, carrots, onions, and chicken.
I’d thanked her for her hospitality and promised to visit again.
Other than that, I was still learning Boris. He loved to wear orange and did so whenever I didn’t want him in a suit.
Yuri remained a mystery. Low cut. Chocolate skin. Massive chest and arms but chicken legs. He could probably run, but it wouldn’t be hard to knock him down. Didn’t matter because he had skills with a gun.
However, Yuri was shady at times. He disappeared a lot. He rubbed his nose too much. I wondered if he had a habit—cocaine or something worse. Powder was expensive for someone living on the streets.
I’ll have Maxwell watch him when he gets back.
There were two females who also stood out—Lemon and Blue.