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)
He caught the gaze of many passing by. “Hear the real stories of the most infamous voodoo queens of New Orleans!”
Paolo tugged at Max’s pants as if asking to give the man a dollar.
Max shook his head and hurried Paolo and Harlem along, probably not wanting to touch anything to do with ghosts and voodoo.
Kaz and I strolled forward.
“Walk the same paths as Marie Laveau herself and discover where the Queen of Voodoo held court with the spirits!”
We continued past him.
“And let’s not forget the ghosts that roam our streets!” The man pointed to some of our security. “Real ghosts, my friends, who’ve left the veil of death behind to wander the alleyways and buildings of the French Quarter!”
Kaz’s men appeared disturbed and kept space between them and the man.
I chuckled.
The man tried to wave them over. “From the sorrowful lady in white searching endlessly for her lost love to the soldiers of past battles, still fighting their wars in the afterlife!”
Kaz’ men hurried their pace.
Naw. These Russians don’t play with shit like that.
Kaz caught my intrigued expression and smiled. “Do you want to go on the ghost tour, mysh?”
“Hell no. We have enough freaky, dark shit going on.”
He pushed the stroller with one hand and placed his free arm around my waist, pulling me closer to him as we walked. “What should we do with the Colombians, mysh?”
“It makes me nervous deciding something so big, when I’m. . .the way I am.”
“And I think it is in these times when you show to yourself and everyone else how strong you truly are.”
I sighed.
“What do we do?”
I frowned. “I want to kill the Colombians and the bankster.”
“But will it be easy?”
“I doubt it.”
“It would be a war on two fronts, US and Colombia. And right now, we are making sure you are healed.”
“Then, we don’t act now. We go to the dinner and see if a conversation could get us some resolution and delay the time.”
“You think a meal and drinks will get Cali cartel to drop the organ harvesting?”
“I want to give them a chance. See if there is another market they want to get into. Harlem Crew could go to Colombia and help them shift their business to anything else.”
“Befriend the organ harvesters and help them get back on their feet.” Kaz laughed. “My sexy, little fawn.”
I shook my head. “Let’s hope talking and diplomacy can keep us out of gunning down everyone.”
“And the bankster?”
I thought of the disgusting man. “Do we really need to negotiate with a dying billionaire?”
“Exactly.” Kaz nodded. “And our chess playing witch? Do we still get the absinthe for her?”
“It could be an ingredient that she really needs to heal me.”
“Or it could be another problem she wants solved.”
“I like parties. Let’s get in touch with this dude and see what happens.”
Kaz gazed at me, and something sparkled in his eyes, but I didn’t know what it was.
“What’s on your mind, baby?”
“I picked the right woman to have at my side.” Then, he snapped his view to a large family walking by us.
I moved my view to them too.
A woman pushed a double stroller, another little one, full of energy and laughter, ran ahead, weaving through the crowd with carefree joy. Beside them, a man—presumably, the father—had his camera out, snapping pictures of the street artists.
Kaz’s gaze followed them, and this sweet softness filled his eyes. He pointed at the double stroller. “We will need a stroller like that soon. One for two babies.”
“A stroller for two babies.” I side-eyed him. “No the fuck we won’t.”
“Actually, we may need a triple stroller, mysh.” Kaz laughed.
I looked at him, really looked, and saw not just the dangerous man that the world feared, but my romantic partner and loving father who was now dreaming of simple joys.
Beneath the tattoos and the muscle, beneath the reputation that preceded him, was a man who cherished the idea of family, a very large family.
This motherfucker.
Then, I thought back to how he gazed at the painting of all my alters and opened his heart to them.
My heart warmed.
Dang it.
The family disappeared into the crowd, and I leaned closer to Kaz. “Okay. . .maybe. . .a double stroller.”
Kaz gave me a triumphant grin, leaned his head back, and took a quick look at my ass. “Triple, mysh. Triple stroller.”
I sucked my teeth.
Max and the boys slowed down and met our pace. “Eh, Em! My nephews, including the furry one, are getting tired. I say we get some food at one of the best spots, drop off the kiddies, and then head to the strip club where Uncle Max can fund a lot of pretty ladies’ college education.”
Paolo pumped his hand in the air. “Strip club!”
Oh God.
Chapter thirty
The Pussy Point System
Kazimir
Later that evening, I stood in the center of the Cathouse strip club and took a swig of my vodka.