Dirty Macking – The Lion and the Mouse Read Online Kenya Wright

Categories Genre: Contemporary, Dark, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 67263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 336(@200wpm)___ 269(@250wpm)___ 224(@300wpm)
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I dragged the soft, fluffy towel over my wet body.

It was in that moment when I heard a man singing in the bedroom. In fact, he was directly outside of my door.

Who is that? It better not be Boris high ass in my room.

The person knocked.

I quirked my brows. “Yeah?”

An unfamiliar masculine voice came from the other side. He had a thick French accent. “I left three suits on the bed. Misha insisted that that olive green looked the best on you, but I also have a Naval Blue suit along with a black one.”

“O-kay.” I wrapped the towel around my waist. “You’re with Misha?”

“The Mosquito?” He laughed.

I slowly opened the door and widened my eyes.

A strange man stood across from me. His features were familiar, but I couldn’t remember where I had seen him before. A small scar was on his right cheek, just below his eye. It looked very old and was slightly raised from the rest of his skin.

In some ways, he resembled Jean-Pierre.

Is this another cousin?

They had to be related, but this guy had darker hair and a bit more edge. Jean-Pierre’s finesse didn't radiate from him. Dude had spent some time on the street and had lived in the gutter.

This man was all hard lines and angles.

His dark blue suit was impeccably well-tailored and fit his frame. He had a sleek white tie and a gun on the inside of the suit coat on the right. I could tell from the way coat hung lower on that side. It must have been a nice sized gun too. The fabric pulled tight from the weight of the gun and there was a small outline of the weapon.

“I apologize, Maxwell.” He held his hand out. “It is truly unfortunate that you have not met the most interesting one of us.”

I shook his hand. “Oh yeah?”

Smirking, he copied my tone, almost impersonating me. “Oh yeah.”

“You’re one of Jean-Pierre’s cousins?”

“I’m the only important one, Maxwell.” He let go of my hand and brushed his collar. “Rafael Dubois, but many call me The Comedian.”

“Because you’re funny?”

“My cousins do not think I am funny, but I believe I am hilarious.” Rafael moved out of the way and gestured to the suits on the bed. “I honestly should be called The Best Dresser or The Most Dashingly Handsome.”

“But, those names must have been taken?”

“Yes.” Rafael chuckled. “That must be why.”

I sized him up. “So, why did they start calling you the comedian?”

“There are so many great legends, but Jean-Pierre would say it is because when I first started killing, I had a nervous tick.”

I walked out of the bathroom and headed to the bed. “What sort of nervous tick?”

“Every time I killed a man, I laughed and laughed. I couldn’t stop. I would shoot the man again to make sure he was dead and still. . .” Rafael shook his head. “I’m laughing. We’re burying the body. I’m laughing. We’re getting rid of the gun. I’m laughing. My hands are under the faucet rubbing soap onto my fingers. I'm laughing. Blood is spilling into the drain, and still. . .I'm laughing.”

“That’s some nervous tick.” I perused the suits. “When did it stop?”

“It took many bodies. Many kills. Many deaths. Many years.” Rafael frowned. "Yet, sometimes when I kill. . .a chuckle may come, but that's now probably due to pure enjoyment."

“Jean-Pierre just made the phone call barely an hour ago. How did you get here so fast? Are you based in California?” I grabbed the olive green suit. “You mentioned Misha.”

“Oh, yeah. Your boyfriend.” Rafael chuckled. “He had his people watching the area with satellites and other complicated things that only nerds would—”

“Misha is not my boyfriend.” I looked up at Rafael. “He is my homey.”

“Is that what the kids are calling it nowadays?” Rafael grinned.

I stared at him.

Rafael raised his hands. “I am joking.”

I shook my head. “Your cousins are right. You’re not funny.”

He glared.

I picked up the olive green suit. “Misha’s people was watching us?”

“They saw explosions and then Misha called my phone, which is pretty creepy because I never gave him my number.” Rafael scowled. “I actually vowed to kill him one day, so all of this is very new to me.”

I narrowed my eyes at him. "You vowed to kill Misha?"

“I did, but my cousin has asked me to stand down. Things are tricky right now.” Rafael shrugged. “Apparently these days, we like the Russians.”

“You touch Misha and you will deal with me.”

“Aww. I will leave the Mosquito alone.” Rafael kissed the air twice. “But, that is only because I am a fan of true love, even when it is between two men.”

I studied him.

He stared back at me.

Tension filled the air.

I was smart enough not to go after him. He had a gun. I had a towel. While I could kill him with the towel, he could get me faster with the gun.



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