Total pages in book: 247
Estimated words: 248926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1245(@200wpm)___ 996(@250wpm)___ 830(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 248926 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1245(@200wpm)___ 996(@250wpm)___ 830(@300wpm)
“And this was about three hours ago?”
Wassily nodded.
“I must have really did something crazy for Kaz to bring Paolo in there.”
Wassily pursed his lips together.
I wanted to ask him exactly what happened, but I knew it would be better to ask Kaz or Max. Anyone else would probably be too scared to tell me. And only God knew what Kaz would do if they accidentally upset me.
Max is fine, so that’s good.
Still, I asked the questions that terrified me the most. “Are. . .Blue and Valentina alive?”
“Yes.”
“Boris, David, and Baba?”
Wassily nodded.
“The French?”
He nodded again.
Okay. I won’t ask any more questions.
I headed off, wishing I had put on my slippers. At least the plush carpet smoothed against my toes.
Harlem trotted after me as if excited to be on a late night adventure.
Wassily got to my side. “Are you sure we should not wake up Kazimir?”
“I’m sure.” I walked down the hallway. “I just want to see if Max is up. If he is, I have to ask him something.”
Chapter 36
Healing Power
Emily
When I approached Max’s door, smooth jazz hit my ears. The silky, calming tones were a mix of genius improvisation and deep rhythmic patterns played by a saxophone, trumpet, and piano. Clean and layered notes vibrated into the hallway and permeated the air.
I leaned against the door and just listened to the beauty of the music.
It eased my nerves.
Wassily gazed at the door. “You do not think he is awake?”
“Max is up. He can’t sleep with anything on. Everything has to be silent.” I tapped on the door. “When I go in, you all stay out here.”
Wassily nodded.
I knocked again.
The jazz music shut off.
Then, the door opened.
Max stepped into the hallway, wearing only black silk pajama pants. The sight instantly reminded me of how powerfully built he was. Usually his clothes hid it all. His chest was sculpted. Those arms packed with thick muscle, and hard lines etched his flat stomach.
I swallowed.
Without saying anything, his gaze went to my night gown, then Wassily and the other men.
Nervous, I kept my voice low. “Hey.”
Max raised his eyes brows, but remained quiet.
“Can I come in?” I tapped my barefoot against the carpet. “I have some questions.”
He studied me. “That depends.”
“On what?”
“Who am I talking to right now?”
“What?”
“Is this Lunita or Em?”
I frowned. “Boy, if you don’t let me in this room.”
“Welcome back, Em.” Grinning, Max stepped away. “I wasn’t sure, since you showed up half-naked.”
“What? I’m not half-naked.”
“I can see your nipples and that you don’t have on any panties.”
I hugged myself. “Really, Max? Stop looking.”
“You’re the one that showed up like that.”
“Well. . .” I stepped into his room. “You’ve seen me naked tons of times, so stop looking.”
“True that.” Max looked down at Harlem as my puppy trotted inside. “Eh. You better not piss on anything in here.”
Wagging his tail, Harlem ignored his uncle and sniffed around the room, checking out all the rows of sneakers Max had on one side of the room.
“Yo. Get away from them.” Max clapped. “Those are collector items.”
Harlem rushed away and began sniffing along Max’s bed.
Wassily and the rest of my men remained outside.
Max shut the door.
I checked out his space.
The window’s drapes were pushed aside, letting moonlight spill in.
Max flipped the light switch.
I glanced over my shoulder. “What song were you playing?”
“Coltrane’s Blue Train. 1957. Pure artistry.”
“X used to play that a lot?”
“He did.”
I scanned the space.
Max’s room represented a true bachelor’s pad. His king-sized bed only had one pillow. The rest them lay on the floor near the foot of the bed. An opened bottle of brandy sat on the nightstand.
He spoke, “You know Coltrane used to be in Miles Davis’s band.”
I bobbed my head. “Yeah. Coltrane was on Davis’s Kind of Blue.”
“And Milestones.”
I turned, still assessing Max’s space.
He’s changed, but he’s the same too.
A video gaming console stood next to the HD television. He must have been in the middle of a battle. Two fighters were frozen in mid-air with their feet pointed and fists raised, defying gravity and physics. One wore all black armor and a silver cloak. The other had on white clothes.
Max went to the shelf where a small device was and pressed the button.
That beautiful jazz song came back on.
Max bobbed his head with the rhythm. “Miles gave Coltrane the freedom to push the limits and experiment. He understood the young Coltrane was the motherfucking man.”
I noticed a stack of old Jet magazines on top of his black suitcase. The glossy covers were worn thin and bent. X loved that magazine. He considered himself a connoisseur and had hundreds of issues. In Prague, Max must have grabbed several of X’s things and kept them with him.
Damn. I miss you, X.
Max swayed back and forth with the trumpet’s playing.
I grinned. “But, didn’t Coltrane get kicked out of Davis’s band?”
“Yeah. Coltrane had a bad heroin habit. Thelonious Monk grabbed him later, but that was after Coltrane’s spiritual awakening.”