Dirty Obsessions - The Lion and The Mouse

Maxwell rubbed his hands together. “The Brotherhood is more organized than the Italians.”

“In some ways, we learned from them and upgraded certain parts.”

“So, Kazimir wants you to be one of the personal assistant spy guys?”

“Yes. This would be on a much higher level than a simple brigadier. I would be over Brotherhood security. His number one. For now, Rolan told me that he has Pavel at his side.”

“Would Pavel be over support?”

“Possibly. But then with all the killing from this war with Sasha and Luka being gone. Kazimir will need a Derzhatel obschaka.”

“Which is what?”

“A bookkeeper. He collects the money from all the brigadiers. He even bribes or threatens whatever government, if necessary. Many would consider him number three.”

Maxwell smiled. “Sasha and Luka are dead and now the Bratva are hiring.”

I nodded. “And when Kazimir hires, more will be needed to fit the empty positions.”

“Hmmm. Maybe I’ll submit my resume.”

“No need. You already have a job here with me.”

“Which would be cool, if you lived near Kazimir.”

“Because you want to be close to the Mouse?”

“I do.”

“And do you think his Mouse will always be by his side?”

Maxwell gazed off in the distance. “I don’t know. Love doesn’t always last forever.”

“You think what they have is love?”

“It is something. I see the way Kazimir looks at her. The way he doesn’t want anyone near her, especially other men. There’s a wild energy about him when he sees her. It’s like he’ll just as soon kill everyone in the area to make sure they’re alone. To guarantee that she’s his.”

I leaned forward, fascinated with his thoughts. “This is a new side of my cousin.”

“That’s even scarier. It’s why. . .although I’m having fun with you. . .I want to make sure Em is safe. I need to guarantee that there’s no danger coming her way and that your cousin is being good to her.”

“Then, I’ll get you to Paris soon.” Guilt hit me. Maxwell could have gone to Paris at any time, but he remained here to help me out. In that moment, I appreciated him more than he could ever know.

Silence filled Akiva’s living room.

My stomach growled.

Maxwell eyed me. “Last night, when you went downstairs with Ava in that night club, did you get some food?”

“No. There’s no eating down there.”

“Just fucking?” Maxwell grinned.

“Yes.”

“Then, that settles it.” Maxwell rose and stretched his arms. “I can’t have my main man hungry after he provided me with a meal for a king.”

“You enjoyed dinner last night?”

“Shit. I had steak, lobster, and oysters in these little pastry things. Man, my stomach was so damn full.” Maxwell walked off to the kitchen. “You think Akiva will mind me cooking you up something?”

“No way. I’m sure Akiva would want us as comfortable as possible.”

Maxwell went into the kitchen and opened the refrigerator. “Promise me something, Misha.”

“Anything.”

“When I finally figure out where I’m going to live and what I’ll be doing, you have to come through and let me cook for you.”

“I’m honored. I’ve never had someone cook for me personally in a long time. It’s always been chefs or hired cooks.”

Maxwell looked up from the refrigerator. “When was the last time?”

“Kazimir’s mother.” I shook my head. “Actually, Ava offered to cook for me too.”

“See. You’ve got two people from New York showing you love, man. And with Mrs. Jones's hips, I know she can cook some soul food.”

“Soul food.” I nodded. “I’ve heard the term before.”

“Hold up.” Maxwell took out eggs. “You haven’t eaten soul food before?”

“No, but I’ve passed restaurants that said they—”

“No, man. Passing a soul food restaurant don’t mean shit. You have to eat it.” He went back to the refrigerator and rummaged through it. “Damn. This motherfucker got a lot of cottage cheese in here. Yo, you like spinach?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll whip you up a nice omelet. There’s an unopened package of pancake things in here.”

“Bliny.”

“You want one?”

“Yes. Serve them with the eggs, please.”

My four guys finished with laying down the plastic. Three sat down in the dining area. The fourth went to the window and gazed out.

“Oh hell yes. Potatoes. It’s a wrap now.” Maxwell closed the refrigerator and carried several items to the counter. Then, he started washing off potatoes in the sink. “We’re about to fix that ache.”

“Sounds good.” My stomach growled. Smirking, I rose from the seat and walked over to the bar across from him. “Why do they call it soul food?”

Maxwell pulled out a knife and started chopping the potatoes at an impeccable speed. “My Uncle Xavier used to say that it’s the only food that touches and delights the soul. I’m sure that’s not true. Tons of food touches the soul. But Xavier was trying to get me to eat my macaroni and cheese that day. I kept crying. I wouldn’t touch it.”

“Why were you crying?”

Maxwell paused from cutting the potatoes, stood still for a few seconds, and then returned to the chopping. “Because my father had just died. X was trying to make sure we ate—Em, Daryl, and me. But none of us ate anything that night no matter how much he said that food would heal us.”