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 window.” 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.