On the Edge of Love (Mama's Brood Book 1) by Shay Rucker Page B

refused to take.
    “My personal bodyguard? My savior? My boyfriend? Only Randy will know the last one is a lie. Zeus would stay with me in my studio, protect me from the inside. As crazy as it sounds, I believe he’ll keep me safe from this Kragen or anyone else he might send.”
    Zeus stroked his jaw. “I get to stay with you?”
    “At least until this whole thing is resolved.”
    His lips turned up in a kind of smug smirk-grin thing. He resembled both a devil and a god. Lord, what had she just committed herself to?
    “Sounds like an excellent plan,” Zeus stated.
    Sabrina rolled her eyes. Of course it did. Now she’d just have to be on constant guard in her own home.
    * * * *
    Basir sat across from Maxim, sipping Turkish coffee. The stuff resembles brown silt, Maxim thought as he watched the older man settle the demitasse cup on its saucer. It had been over two years since he’d seen Basir in person. Only eight years older than Maxim, Basir, even with the strands of gray in his hair, looked much younger than his age. He was vain and prideful, so he kept his body taut and slender, his hair well-groomed, his beard and mustache cropped short and meticulous. It all added to the illusion of agelessness. Basir liked to give the impression, to both enemies and allies, that he had been and would be around forever.
    A member of the Consortium for over a decade and a half, Basir had managed the group’s activities in the Bay from his estate on the outskirts of Union City, California. He was a traditional man, if one did not look beneath his claims of honoring family and faith. He regularly used his spiritually enlightened persona to manipulate his subordinates and those too ignorant to know better. Years before, Maxim had heard one of Basir’s staff state that Basir was a “bad prophet,” not because he was corrupt or violent, but because he drank alcohol and behaved in ways with women not condoned by their religious teachings. Of course the man who had spoken against Basir had died violently not long after uttering those words. The dead man’s insight had reinforced Maxim’s long-standing irreverence toward people who proclaimed themselves the mouthpiece of God. Once a man of influence in his native land of Algeria, Basir commanded the same respect, if not more, from the people within his South Bay community, as well as across many other religious faiths.
    “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice,” Maxim said. “I didn’t want to show any disrespect by arriving to your area unannounced. As you may know, I was scheduled to attend the conference in London, but more urgent matters have called me here.”
    “Can I be of assistance?” Basir asked. Maxim had the distinct impression assistance was the last thing Basir wanted to offer him.
    “Thank you for your graciousness, but this is a situation I must handle myself.”
    Basir nodded as if he understood. “It is good you attend to your responsibilities. It lets those around you know you are a man of worth.”
    Maxim bowed his head once in thanks. “I will be here on personal business for the next few days. While I am here, I may even organize a benefit in San Francisco.”
    “This is good,” Basir said, hesitated, then asked, “Is it to be a Consortium-sponsored event?”
    Maxim contrived a chuckle. “No. I don’t have the luxury of indulging in such entertainments this trip, but I’m sure the men gathering in London are enjoying the privileges of membership as we speak.”
    “Yes,” Basir agreed, contemplating Maxim with the cold-eyed regard of a snake in waiting.
    Maxim returned the look with self-assurance. He couldn’t be intimidated by a mere look. The idea that he could was absurd. Basir obviously didn’t understand what it meant to be raised a Kragen.
    “It’s a mystery that you would not be at your father’s side for this conference. There are many concerning matters he must face with the recent attacks on our holdings. I’m certain he