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 tucked 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.”