“I won’t need it.”
Boris climbed down further. “I texted everyone. They’ll meet us in Kapotnya in an hour.”
Max pulled out another joint.
“Really? Are you going to put that out and come on?” I followed Boris into the hole.
“How about you focus on not falling off the ladder and messing up those blue pajamas.” Max placed the joint out at the top of his ear and began to climb down too.
As I descended into the sewer, a calmness washed over me. I always found comfort in the darkness.
When I was a kid, I’d been obsessed with finding secret tunnels throughout New York, spending weeks reading through books in the library and then dragging Maxwell and Darryl to search them out. People wouldn’t believe how many passageways had been built and hidden right under them.
But for some reason, tunnels and dark labyrinths had been my home. At the scariest times of my life, I sought the tunnel’s hidden comfort over anything else. It was crazy that today after losing so much, I had ended up in one.
The universe is an odd place.
Once all of us hit the ground, darkness swallowed us in. Even with Boris’s flashlight it was hard to see.
I pulled out my phone and turned on the light. I figured Max was about to do it too, but the only thing he lit was his joint from earlier.
I rolled my eyes. “Wow, Max. Just wow.”
“I need to be comfortable. Or you’re going to hear the sounds of a black man crying and shrieking every ten seconds.”
“Good point.”
Together, we walked in silence, through the darkness. Rats scurried past our feet. They were bigger than the ones in New York and much bolder. A few sniffed at our feet, before darting away.
Max let out a long breath which was probably thick with marijuana smoke. “What’s up with all the cats down here?”
Boris spoke, “Those aren’t—
“You’re focus,” I interrupted. “Just focus on. . .heading this way.”
I nudged Boris hoping he would get the picture.
Max was scared of rats and mice. If he saw one come to close he would shoot. We didn’t need to have bullets bouncing all over to sewer today. If he thought they were cats, then I would let my poor brother keep that lovely theory. And I wouldn’t be the one to tell him, until after we got out of here.
Something scratched near us.
Max blew out smoke. “Creepy cats.”
“Yeah.” I cleared my throat. “It’s all the darkness that makes them that way.”
Thankfully, as Boris had said, it took us no more than ten minutes to get to the end.
I wondered what Kaz was thinking. He knew I couldn’t get on the plane. The people monitoring him would have only spotted me going into the parked garage. Perhaps, he figured I’d found some hotel near the area.
When we arrived at the spot, Boris stopped us. “I’ll check to make sure everything is clear. And then I’ll help you up.”
“Good.” Max nodded. “I’ll need the help.”
I gently shoved him. “He was talking to me, Max.”
He snorted.
Boris climbed up the ladder, shoved at the sewer cap, and climbed out.
When Boris disappeared above, Max whispered in my ear, “Yo, you need to watch out for him.”
“Why?”
“Boris likes you.”
“I doubt it.”
“Trust me. I know these things.” Max shined the light on the ladder. “How long has he been up there?”
“I feel like it’s been a minute.”
“More than that.”
“Boris hasn’t said anything. Do you think we should go?” I got on the ladder and looked down at Max.
“Hell yes,” he said. “These cats keep sniffing at my ankles and shit. I think they’re horny. I have to get out of here.”
“Pussy.” I climbed up.
“You damn right. I’m definitely a pussy. I hate sewers and things that live in sewers.”
I got to the top of the ladder and climbed out.
When I stood, shock hit me.
Now I know why Boris didn’t yell back.
Pavel had a gun to Boris’s head along with another guy who pointed it at his back.
How did they know what we were doing? Does Kaz have microphones in my car?
My answer came, when I looked beyond Pavel.
Holding flowers, Kaz walked over to the hole. A hint of apology covered his face. He didn’t make a move toward me. Instead, he stayed there like a silent lion—watching, studying, and devouring me with his gaze.
While I wore blue pajamas and now sewer-dingy sneakers, he had put on a new suit. It was charcoal gray and as fine as silk. The shirt was white as new snow. The tie royal blue.
His dark voice left him. “Not only have I fallen in love with a beautiful and smart woman. Evidently, you are some sort of hide-and-seek champion.”
Stunned, I cleared my throat. “Maybe, you should stop making me hide.”
“How did you find me?”
“Your phone kept moving. It took Misha some time, but he figured out why.”
“What do you want?”
“We should talk, mysh.” His voice sent shivers up my spine, stopping my heart inside my chest as if he controlled the oxygen it needed to beat. “I missed you.”
Max appeared from the hole and spotted Kaz. “Oh, come on! You mean I walked through that damn tunnel for nothing?”
And then I realized that some of my men circled the area and they had all of their guns out. Meanwhile, Kaz’s people aimed their guns at them. It was quite the show.
Kaz gestured to them. “Perhaps, if your people put their weapons away, mine will.”
Max left the hole, stood next to me, and gestured to Kaz. “Nice flowers, man. Roses and lilies. Looks like an expensive breed.”
I turned to my men. “Go ahead and put down your guns! It’s okay.”
They lowered their weapons.
His did the same.
Kaz walked over and handed me the bouquet. “I like how they protect you. Although if they point guns at me again, they may not see the next day.”
I didn’t grab the flowers. “Did you pull back the bombs?”
His expression hardened. “Can we talk? I have a table reserved at the bar a few blocks down from here.”
“It’s in Kapotnya?”
“Yes.” He took another step toward me, closing the small amount of space that had been between us. His warm scent surrounded me. “Will you come?”
“You didn’t answer my question about the bombs.”
“I didn’t?”
“You’re dancing circles around the truth. Spinning and twirling. Be careful. I might trip and slam you to the ground.”
He gave me a weak smile. “And I might like it. At least you’ll be touching me.”
“Kaz. . .the bombs.”
He frowned. “They’ll be gone in a few hours.”
“Why so long?”
“It’s a lot of bombs.”
I scowled.
“My men are due to fly back to Moscow tonight.”
“And your war with the Corsican?”
His jaw clenched. “That’s a discussion inside of the bar.”
I tapped my foot and thought about for a few seconds. “Okay. I’ll go, but this doesn’t mean anything.”
“Let’s take the limo.”
“My men are coming.”
“Fine, but they can walk and when they arrive, they’ll stay outside.” He took my hand, wrapping those strong fingers around mine. “Have I told you that I missed you?”
My voice went weak. “Yes.”
“You shouldn’t have walked in the tunnel. You shouldn’t be walking at all.”
“You closed the airport.”
He spoke through clenched teeth, “Of course I did.”
We approached the car.
He opened the door for me.
I climbed in.
He followe
d.
Shutting the door, he handed the flowers to me again.
I took them and inhaled the petals’ perfumed scent. “Thank you.”
Silence filled the space.
The limo moved forward.
I gazed out of the window on my left and took in Kapotnya. In this part of the district, it appeared less like a city and more like a place after an apocalypse. It was an urban space, just devoid of warmth. It was a collection of buildings, yet not many lived in them. And if they did, it was to do drugs or suck cock for a ruble.
Today, no one walked these streets but my men behind the limo. However, I knew that many watched us from the roofs and some windows. And those people had guns pointed at the vehicle, ready to shoot, if asked. Boris would have made sure of that.
Kapotnya was a tricky place, but I was glad that I had more friends here than enemies.
This was a part of the district I hadn’t seen.
Every city had a cusp, where the good part of town turned bad. Moscow was no different. Kapotnya lay twelves miles southeast of the center of Moscow. It was hard up against the MKAD—the ringed beltway surrounding the capital city. The border between desirable and undesirable where trash lined the streets and gutters stand of vomit and urine. Here the ragged truth of poverty bulged outward.
Boris told me that during Russia’s brutal winters, the homeless froze to death, huddled in abandoned building’s doorways and crouched beneath broken cars.
When I had first arrived there was more abandoned buildings than homes. More dirty, homeless kids begging for food outside than happy ones playfully walking home from school. More prostitutes than working mothers. More dealers than employed men. Kapotnya had a population of twenty-seven thousand—all lost souls packed into a crime and drug-infested district. Full of migrants ignored by the Kremlin. Crumbling low-rise buildings and all overshadowed by a monstrous oil processing plant that polluted the atmosphere yet didn’t give the locals jobs.
Currently, the district had shifted some. Less trash littered the streets. Somehow the shattered streetlights had been changed. There were still a few prostitutes here and there, but no homeless, starving children.
I’d given Boris money to have his sister and mother start a shelter. I bought up two decayed buildings and just gave it to them. It had been barely a month, but I was told that people worked around the clock—day and night shifts. Painting, repairing, and making the place a home for all those that needed a safe spot to sleep.
I should go by there today and see how everything is going.
Also, street art had suddenly begun to take over a lot of the buildings. I didn’t know if it was because I’d given all the dealers and killers jobs in the area. Therefore, not many people lurked around hungry at night. It left the streets free for the artists to paint their passions on bricked walls.
Only God knows. . .
Regardless these artist had a lot to say. A roaring lion stalked one wall while a mouse rode its back. Shadowed people marched behind the creatures. I wished the limo had slowed down, so I could further take the image in.
President Smirnov decorated another building. Daggers stabbed his eyes. Blood dripped down his cheeks. A hole sat in the center of his chest, exposing that he had no heart within his ribcage.
A starving child decorated another building. She gazed up at a rich man covered in diamonds. He gave her the middle finger.
We passed more street art. And they were living dreams on brick. Visual critiques of the world. Pictures of the soul. Visible emotions too vivid for words, shouting in the truest language.
Kaz’s deep voice sounded. “You’ve changed this place so fast.”
“Not me. The people here did it.”
“Trust me. You did this. You gave them jobs. Money. Food. Hope.”
“Hope?”
“Yes, and freedom.”
“Not freedom. I only gave them money.”
He quirked his brow. “US Dollars?”
“Yes.”
“That changes a lot. The ruble is nothing in Russia, especially dealing with crime. Drug trade. Money laundering. Even the selling of weapons or women only deal with euros or dollars.”
“I never thought of it that way. Still, I don’t know how much I’ve helped in Kapotnya. Have you seen the street art? It’s painting a different reality.”
“I have. You gave them the freedom to paint the things that are in their souls. Hungry people don’t put up graffiti. They only have time to steal and murder.”
“I think it was more Boris, Yuri, and Blue helping out. I gave them a couple funds for projects here and there.”
“You did this, but I like that your humble, mysh. Perhaps, you’ll teach me how to be that way, one day.”
“I doubt lions know how to be humble.”
“This may be true.”
The limo stopped in front of an old house. A broken neon sign hung in the front. I couldn’t make out what it said in Russian.
“This is the bar.” Kaz opened the door and climbed out.
I set the beautiful flowers on the seat, scooted out, and left the limo. “This is a bar?”
“And restaurant apparently. I was told it made the best fried cat.”
My stomach twisted. “What?”
“Russians believe meat is an important part of the diet. If you’re extremely poor in the winter and starving. . .and a cat happens to trod by. . .”
I swallowed down my disgust. “Have you ever been so poor you ate a cat?”
“Yes, and I was very young. Probably eight. I remember Valentina was around five and kept crying about the kitty.”
“Do you remember what it tasted like?”
He nodded. “Cat taste like rabbit. It’s why I’m not a fan of rabbit either. Too me it taste like cat.”
“Boris talked about eating trash-can-roasted cat.”
“Growing up here, I’m sure he’s had a few. Winter is rough when there’s no money to get enough meat to make a pot of stew. Even worse, if you don’t have a pot or stove to cook it on.”
We walked toward the bar that looked more like an old house. In its golden years, it probably was no more than a glorified shed. I couldn’t imagine the place ever looking polished and put together. At this moment, it appeared close to falling over. The roof sagged like a plane or something had crashed through it. Cracks decorated the windows that had boards behind it.
“Shockingly, I was able to rent the whole place out.” Kaz opened the door. It screeched from the movement.
“I’m surprised that the bar wasn’t reserved already.”
“The universe must’ve wanted us to have a private talk.”
An old man stood at the bar with a toothless smile. He spoke fast in Russian and bowed several times at Kaz.
I doubt he’s had a big celebrity like the lion in here before. Business will definitely pick up after this.
Kaz turned to me. “He wants to know, if you’re hungry.”
I thought about the place’s fame in making good fried cat. “Oh, no. I’m good.”
“Are you sure?” Kaz tilted his head to the side. “No fried cat for you?”
“Funny, but no. I’m sure he does a great job, but no fried cat today.”
Kaz spoke back.
I did my best to focus on the words. For the past days, I’d only been listening to French or English. Now we were back in Russia and my language class was picking up.
Kaz guided us to a small table, took off his jacket, and set it down on one chair. “You can sit here.”
“No. I just walked through a sewer tunnel. I can sit on a dusty chair.”
“Please.”
“Okay.” I sat down on the seat.
The old man brought over two glasses full of water. He left and then returned with two glasses and a dusty bottle of red wine. He uncorked the bottle and poured for us both. The whole time Kaz watched me.
I told the old man thank you in Russian.
He beamed, bowed, and left.
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“You made his day,” Kaz said.
“No. You made his day. How many times can he say that he served the lion?”
Kaz raised his glass of wine for a cheers. “To the lion and the mouse.”
I picked up my glass and clinked it against his. “To the end of bombing.”
“Okay.” Kaz’s jaw twitched. “To the end of bombing.”
I took a sip. “Damn. This is actually pretty damn good wine.”
“It’s not too late to order that fried cat.”
“Not funny.” I sipped some more.
“So. . .how do I get you back in our bed tonight? Do I beg? Do you want me on my knees?”
A wave of heat rolled down my chest, past my stomach and between my thighs. He directed his gaze to my mouth as if he yearned to kiss me. He licked his lips, took another sip of his wine, and set it down on the table.
The door opened.
I looked that way.
Pavel walked in holding three boxes in his hand. One took up both of his arms. The other two were small and stacked on the top of the big one. Pink wrapping paper covered all of them. Large white bows tied around the two smallest. While little holes were scattered across the bigger box.
I gestured to them. “What are these?”
“Bribes.”
“You don’t need bribes.”
“Then, what do I need?”
“To stop the bombing. Which you have. But the question is, are you done?”
His lips were tilted at the corners as if he was composing a dirty joke. No words left his mouth.
Come on, Kaz. Please end this.
My heart pounded in my ears as I waited for the response.
Chapter 4
Compromise
Kazimir
This was the part of the conversation I didn’t look forward to. Being in a relationship proved to be difficult. We had to talk this through and come to some form of compromise. I could see no other option. She wasn’t like my men. I couldn’t threaten her.
Without my mouse, there would be no lion. That I knew for sure.
At this point, whatever she wanted, I would give her. I would tether the moon and sell its light. I would gather up all the stars, if their glow annoyed her. My mouse wasn’t just a woman. Not merely skin and bones. She was my religion. My light. The wonder that made this reality easier to bear.
Dirty Passions Page 6