I laughed. “Yes. I feel loved.”
“See what I’m saying? Sometimes it’s the little things.” Maxwell cracked another egg and spilled its contents into the pan. “You cook for her and it’s a wrap. Game solidified.”
“Maxwell, did you hear the part about the fact that I can’t cook?”
“Man, all you need is a recipe book.”
Noise rose behind me. I checked. My men rolled dead men in plastic, taped them up, and carried them away.
“Misha, if I’m in the area, I’ll help you cook. And if not, then surely Rolan can help.”
“I’ll consider that advice.” I directed my attention to Akiva.
Tears spilled from his eyes. Sweat covered his forehead. Two of my men had him sandwiched on the couch. Another man lay new plastic coverings on the ground.
Maxwell continued to whistle as he moved around the kitchen.
I rose, walked over to the living room, and sat down in the seat across from Akiva. “What do you think?”
With a shaking hand, Akiva touched his chest. “A-are you talking to me?”
“Yes.”
“W-what do I think about. . .what?”
“Do you think Ava would appreciate my cooking for her more than my hiring a personal chef?”
“I-I think either one would make her happy.”
“That motherfucker don’t know shit.” Maxwell carried a plate over and handed it to me. “He’s the type of dude that has to auction ballerinas for monsters to rape. I wouldn’t get any advice from him.”
I took the plate and inhaled the savory scents. “I must say this looks amazing.”
He gave me a fork and a napkin. “Here you go.”
“Again, thank you.”
Maxwell remained there. “Try it. I won’t leave until you take a bite. It’s my thing. Em hates that shit, but I can’t help it.”
Smirking, I sampled the potatoes. Flavor burst onto my tongue. He’d put more than salt on here. I tried to think of the spices he could have used. My hunger instantly assaulted me. I sampled a piece of the cheesy spinach omelet. It melted in my mouth.
When I swallowed, I nodded. “You’re definitely going to help me cook for Ava.”
“I’ll do my best, man.” Maxwell walked off. “And don’t you feel even more loved now?”
“I do.”
“How many people can say I made them something to eat? So far, Em and you are the only living souls on this globe.” Max put the pan in the sink and grabbed a dishcloth.
I quirked my brows. “What are you doing?”
“Cleaning up.”
“No. Sit down.”
He smiled. “Yeah. Working for you isn’t bad. Em would have made me clean it all up.”
I continued to eat and turned my attention to Akiva.
The man’s chin quivered. His gaze kept going all over the condo. Perhaps he was counting all of my people, wondering if he had a chance of escape.
When I finished, I set the plate on the end table. “That was truly a delight, Maxwell.”
“I got you, man.” Maxwell rested in a chair near me and closed his eyes.
I leaned back in mine and hit Akiva with an intense glare. “And now you?”
“T-those texts weren’t from me. Leonid Turgenev called me the night you killed his grandfather. He had a car bring me to the Turgenev manor. He was highly upset and said he wanted revenge.”
“And the other families—Kuznetsov and Oblonskey?”
“They’re embarrassed with the reason why the men were in the theater. The Kuznetsov family definitely don’t want any trouble with the Brotherhood. Neither does Oblonskey.”
“Hmmm.” I crossed my leg. “So, you told all three families I killed them?”
Akiva opened his mouth in shock.
“I appreciate honesty.”
“I-I had to tell them the truth.”
“Of course. And why did the theater close?”
“We thought that perhaps there would be a solution to—”
“You thought that the Turgenev family could kill me and the theater could return to auctioning off ballerinas.”
Akiva shivered and said nothing.
I flicked my hand.
The man on the side grabbed Akiva’s right arm.
“Yes! Yes!” Akiva struggled with him.
The man broke it. The crack rose in the air.
Maxwell opened his eyes. “Damn. That must hurt.”
Akiva screamed in pain. His arm lay limp on his side.
I raised a finger in front of my mouth. “Shh.”
Shaking, Akiva pressed his lips together. But I could tell he was in a lot of pain.
I placed my hands on my lap and put my feet on the coffee table in front of me. “Back to Leonid Turgenev. What else do you know?”
“P-please, Misha. Don’t kill me. I have a daughter.”
That made me tense. Now I had a daughter too. But the problem with Akiva was having a daughter didn’t make him pause from auctioning off other people’s daughters.
I wagged my finger at him. “Only information will save you today, Akiva. I don’t care about your having kids. If anything, I may be doing your family a favor. As far as I can see, you’re a disgusting soulless individual.”
He trembled.
“What else do you know?”
“Leonid had three plans of action. The Brotherhood guards for me were just the first one.”