He smiled. “Do you think you can help?”
I doubt it, but I’m totally down to help you not kill me.
I swallowed. “How can I help you?”
He studied me so intently, I felt stripped bare. “Let’s go to your office and discuss it.”
“Okay. Let me just let my partners know.” Maxwell, get the guns just in case. Kennedy, call my brother. “They’ll have to take up the slack for hosting my event.”
He nodded and followed me as I walked off.
Maxwell was already heading my way. We met in the center of the gallery.
Watching Kazimir the whole time, Maxwell stepped to my side and whispered, “What’s up?”
I whispered back, “I don’t know. He wants to talk. He’s Russian.”
“Obviously.”
“His first name is Kazimir. Look him up and ask around. It also wouldn’t hurt to get a gun or two.”
“Okay.” Maxwell eyed Kazimir behind me. “Where are you two going?”
“My office.”
Maxwell frowned.
“I’ll be fine. If he wanted me dead, I would be dead. This probably deals with the Jamaicans.”
Maxwell shook his head. “Or it deals with your brother.”
My calm shifted to nervousness. It was one thing to have the Russian mob at my art showing. It was another thing to have them there due to Darryl. Anytime people came knocking because of him, I had to do bad things.
“Let’s hope this doesn’t deal with Darryl.” I looked around. “Where’s Kennedy?”
“As soon as she spotted the Russians, she left.”
“Left?”
“Left.”
What the fuck?
“Okay. That’s fine.” I sighed. “I’ll be back. This is probably no big deal.”
Maxwell didn’t look convinced. “Be careful. I’ll check him out.”
I left Maxwell and guided Kazimir to my office. With each step, his men moved from their positions in the gallery and followed us.
Most of the regular art enthusiasts paused from their conversations and looked to see what was going on. Anybody who didn’t know much about the crime world would’ve probably thought he was some high political figure and his men were secret service.
But a few knew what was up. They spotted Kazimir and his men and headed to the exit.
I had no doubt that by tomorrow morning, everyone in Harlem would know the Russian mob had come to my gallery. I just hoped none of this would get me in trouble. Working for criminals meant walking a tight rope each day. The trick was doing exactly what they said without the tiniest error because one problem could mean the end of my life or those around me.
It wasn’t the easiest job, but it kept me closer to getting the hell out of New York.
He’d said that he was like the lion in the picture and I would be his mouse nibbling away.
I don’t know about that. I just hope this lion doesn’t eat the mouse.
Chapter 3
Kazimir
She was beautiful and very dangerous. The beauty was easy to spot on her, but the danger, it crept behind her eyes. She was scared, but not terrified. She was compliant and open to what I had to say, but not shaking in her heels.
I’ll have to watch this one.
I hadn’t survived and prospered in the Bratva on killing alone. Intelligence, lethal skills, and physical ability were awesome qualities to fill my résumé, but my advantage came from my natural instincts. And those instincts were telling me that Emily was more than what met my eyes. Much more dangerous than she appeared. Not many women incited this.
She showed me to her office and I looked her up and down, admiring that lovely body. She had on a tight white skirt with a cream-colored top. Against those breasts, the top was too small to be legal. Her tiny waist exaggerated those curvy hips and ass.
She dressed in all white, but she’s no angel. What’s her story?
She unlocked her door. I stepped inside and gestured for my men to stay behind. Sasha remained outside with the paintings.
The door closed behind me.
She went to the other side of the desk and sat down. I immediately hated the distance between us, thinking I would’ve gotten to touch her hand again. When she sat down, our gazes met.
Her eyes were big and bright as the full moon, casting a magical glow across her face. This close and without any distractions from the people in the gallery or even my men, I realized those eyes weren’t simply brown. Tiny flecks of green and gold illuminated the irises.
For a moment, I found myself lost in those liquid depths, wondering what secrets lay hidden beneath.
Her sexy voice sliced through the quiet. “How can I help you?”
“If one needed millions washed, how would they do it?”
She raised her eyebrows as if shocked that I went right into it. But I had no time for fun banter. I had money that needed to be cleaned.
She folded her hands and placed them on the desk. “I’ve never cleaned anything over half a million.”
“Then, congratulations.” I smiled. “You’ve been promoted.”
She frowned but said nothing.
“How would you clean millions?” I asked. “This is hypothetical of course.”
I’d been ahead of the FBI for years, having my own men planted in many of the departments, but I still didn’t like talking at locations that had not been checked by my people. My wording would have to be careful, yet still deliver the required message.
“Millions?” She blew out a long breath.
“Be quick, Mrs. Chambers. Your brother’s life depends on it. Again, this is all hypothetical.”
Her face shifted to worry. “My brother is involved?”
“Is that your final answer?”
“No.” She cleared her throat. “How would I wash millions? I would find someone who was already rich or at least coming up on a big inheritance. They would be easier to control and funnel money through. That person could get the capitol from a bank to borrow massive loans, ones that wouldn’t make the government suspicious, when his bank account begins to fill. I’d have the person buy huge, expensive properties which is easy to do in New York. Everything is overpriced. Purchasing buildings are good for washing huge amounts. For millions, we’re talking skyscrapers. There would be fake office spaces, fake tenants, trumped up construction bills, etc.”
“Interesting.” I watched her. “Then, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow? Where?”
“I’ll pick you up from your place. Haven Street, right?”
Fear hit her eyes when I said her address, but she kept her voice calm. “Yes. I live on Haven Street.”
“I’ll see you again at eight in the morning.”
“Okay.” She rose when I did. “And. . .my brother?”
“He’s gotten himself into some trouble, but you can help. You’re very smart. There should be no problems.”
She gripped the edge of her desk. For a second, I didn’t like that reaction, didn’t want her that scared of me. But that was only for a second and then she walked around her desk.
“So. . .my brother is safe?”
“He is.”
He probably won’t be able to move his right shoulder anymore, but he can move everything else for now.