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)
A note lay next to the brushes.
I picked it up and read the words out loud, “Emily, I love you dearly. Tonight, paint it all out. Sincerely, Baba.”
Emily went over to the canvas and stood in front of it.
I set the note down. “Delphine said you should not eat, but would you like some tea?”
Still staring at the canvas’s vast whiteness, she nodded.
I went over to the suite’s opened door and gestured to one of my men. “Have the hotel bring tea up.”
“Yes, sir.”
Right when I was going to close the door, I spotted Tisha in the hallway, heading my way.
Ever since we were kids, he had this nervous gesture of tapping his hand on his right hip over and over as if he was trying to summon some hidden strength.
What is wrong now?
I stepped out into the hallway to meet him.
When he got to me, he frowned. “Our people. The ones that were assigned to clean up the bodies at the Alligator Don’s compound. . .”
“What about them?”
“They were attacked by Cartel.”
“I brought the best. Please tell me they succeeded.”
“They did. All forty of the Cartel members are dead.” Tisha kept his voice low. “However, many said that the attackers were highly skilled. Snipers. A couple had grenades.”
“They were not just merely stopping by to pay a visit.”
Tisha nodded. “They knew something had occurred and came armed.”
“And fast which means the Cartel already has people and weapons in New Orleans.”
Tisha bobbed his head. “I have Misha’s people searching for their location. My men are on it too.”
“No one sleeps until it is found.” I considered the dead Cartel members. “What are they doing with the corpses?”
“Burning the bodies along with the Alligator’s dead men.”
“No.” I sneered. “Return them to the Cartel with a message, ‘Stand back, and do not fuck with the Lion.’”
“The problem is that I don’t know which Cartel backed the Alligator Don—”
“Then, you still have a busy evening.” I left him there with his mouth open and entered the suite.
Chapter twenty-four
You Can’t Bomb New Orleans
Kazimir
The suite door clicked shut behind me, sealing off the world with all its lurking shadows and whispered threats. I was sure Tisha still stood in the hallway, stunned and exhausted.
But he would get the job done or deal with my roar.
Everybody wants to stand by the Lion, but barely anyone is ready to do the work.
When Tisha had come to Moscow and met King David, he had mocked the title and questioned why I kept David so close to me.
In New Orleans, Tisha would understand more than most why David wore the crown.
I stood there for a moment, letting the gravity of Tisha’s news sink in. The Cartel, with its tendrils reaching far and wide, had shown a level of preparation and aggression that couldn’t be ignored.
Our delivery of the dead bodies to the Cartel’s headquarters was meant to be a message, a clear statement of power and retribution.
Yet, in the back of my mind, a nagging thought persisted.
Will it be enough to grant us the peace we so desperately need if we stay in New Orleans?
I noticed a small bar on the right.
The bar itself was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, the wood polished to a high shine. Bottles of various shapes and sizes, filled with liquids of every hue, were meticulously arranged against a mirrored backdrop.
Behind it, black and white photographs of jazz legends decorated the walls.
I approached the bar with one purpose. My fingers itched for the familiar cold touch of a vodka bottle.
Hmmm. Where is it?
I rifled through the selection, my frustration mounting with every passing second.
None? Did they not know that I would be here?
King David told me that New Orleans had a great history for bourbon and recommended that I should try it on my visit.
I smirked.
David probably also thought the liquor would keep me calm.
Let’s see, King. Will it?
I selected a bottle of bourbon that boasted an age statement impressive enough to pique my interest. The amber liquid glowed seductively in the dim light.
This better taste good.
I poured the bourbon into a heavy crystal glass, lifted it, and took my first sip.
Well. . .not bad at all.
The warmth of the bourbon caressed my insides. Notes of vanilla, oak, and a hint of caramel danced together on my tongue.
I carried my glass over to one of the couches and collapsed in exhaustion.
And what is my mouse doing?
I turned to the left.
Emily played with the paint, mixing colors and dabbing globs of dark hues onto a palette.
Are you going to paint like Baba suggested?
From this vantage point, I watched my mouse and contemplated the chessboard of the criminal underworld laid out before me.
Hmmm.
I took a gulp of bourbon and pondered my next moves.
The game was always the same—power, loyalty, and death.
Tonight, the question of how to best eliminate a new possible enemy hovered above my head.