Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 140940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 705(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 140940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 705(@200wpm)___ 564(@250wpm)___ 470(@300wpm)
I let out a long breath.
I do not think there is one word or phrase that could truly embody what she is.
But what remained constant, like the ever-present moon, was my love for her.
That I knew for sure.
No matter the phase, no matter the change, my love for her was unwavering. There was this gravitational pull that kept me orbiting around her, always returning, always constant.
For in her, I had found my sun, my moon, and all my stars, wrapped in one breathtaking woman.
Movement sounded behind me.
I turned around.
Tisha stepped onto the balcony. “They are here.”
“And is my mouse still asleep?”
“She is.”
“Good. She must get her rest.” I took my cousin in.
Exhaustion covered his face. His eyes were heavy and drooping, dark circles etched underneath. At least a new bandage was wrapped around his body.
Clean and white.
It was a stark contrast against his dirt-stained clothes.
I frowned. “Go to sleep, Tisha.”
He shook his head. “I am on right now. I will sleep later—”
“You are tired and—”
“Sinaloa Cartel delivered sicarios to New Orleans.”
Goddamn it.
The weight of Tisha’s words brought all that pressure back to my chest.
Sicarios. . .here. . .and so close to my sons and mouse. . .
The term wasn’t foreign to me. In fact, it’s very mention conjured images of cold-blooded assassins.
The sicarios were the stuff of dark legends, a nightmare brought to life from the underbelly of the criminal world.
Brutal psychos with no code.
No mercy.
No remorse.
Vicious men and women drenched in bloodlust.
They would slaughter a man’s mother, wife, and kids right in front of him, and then take his life after hours of torture.
Even the Brotherhood had a thin moral line to keep us somewhat human.
They had nothing.
No lines.
No souls.
I gritted my teeth. “So, Sinaloa has decided to raise the stakes, even higher.”
Tisha’s nod was grave. “I have discussed this with King David.”
I quirked my brows.
He is king now?
Back in Moscow, Tisha had joked about David’s title. After tonight. . .Tisha now chose to call him king.
Apparently, my number one had utterly earned my cousin’s respect.
I smirked. “What did you and David discuss?”
“The Cartel knew we blocked ports and all ways into New Orleans. David and I believe that the strip club bombing was not truly about killing you or Emily.”
“Interesting.”
“It was a distraction. When they attacked, our men were called away from their posts to help out in any way possible.”
“Giving them the opportunity to slip the true killers in.”
“Yes, Kazimir. The Cartel’s most lethal killers. They are not just hitmen. They are shadows. Phantoms known for their ruthlessness and inability to be traced.”
A chill ran through me. “How many do you think entered New Orleans?”
“At least thirty.” Tisha swallowed. “However. . .”
I leaned my head to the side. “What?”
“These particular sicarios are being led by someone named Milagro.”
I considered the meaning of the name in Spanish. “Miracle.”
“Apparently, Milagro does not miss.”
I sneered. “He will miss this time.”
“We do not know if Milagro is a man or woman, but David pulled Misha into our phone call so that we can get the person’s identity.”
That earlier phone call I had had with Misha told me all I needed to know about his energy. Some of the tension left me. “The Mosquito will find Milagro, before he or she finds us.”
“Still, we may need to head to the Comedienne’s estate tomorrow.”
My frown deepened.
“Kazimir, sicarios move like ghosts, leaving only a trail of bodies in their wake.”
The balcony, once a refuge, felt too exposed, too open. I glanced back at the bedroom where Emily lay, oblivious to the new danger that now shadowed our lives.
The thought of those cold, efficient killers anywhere near her and my boys tightened the already suffocating grip of anxiety in my chest.
“We will move before the dinner tomorrow.” I sighed and glanced back at the moon.
They dare bring fucking assassins around my kids?
That dinner would be heavy with the promise of bloodshed.
Did the Butcher and everyone else coming to New Orleans truly understand that this would not be a simple dispute.
It would be a massacre.
I turned back to my cousin.
Tisha rubbed his tired eyes.
I shook my head. “Go to sleep. You have done well for tonight—”
“I am on.” Tisha gave me a sad smile and then winked. “But you must go to sleep, Kazimir.”
I tensed at the very idea of simply heading to bed on such a dangerous night. Then, I thought of Emily and stressed even more. “Lunita may show up—”
“We have put precautions in place.”
I looked through the glass door, showing the view into our bedroom.
Shadows cloaked the space due to the only source of light being the soft glow of a bedside lamp.
My mouse lay there, so peaceful in sleep, her chest rising and falling rhythmically.
I thought about the moment after our bath when she gathered up her wet hair and began looping and twisting those soft strands into long braids. Those fingers moved with such grace and precision.