Dirty Hearts: Interracial Russian Mafia Romance

Without Misha, the whole meeting would be a waste of time. Now that Sasha, Luka, and many of my top men had been killed in our war, I needed my most trusted around.

Pavel had shown his worth last night. Perhaps he would continue to be loyal. His tests would start now. One would think that hanging Sasha’s dead body up on a flagpole would get me some peace. Instead, division had further expanded within the Bratva. It was time to unite and get back to business.

Pavel spoke up as if realized he was stuck with me. “I’m sorry, Kazimir. I’ll send some men to the ballerina immediately.”

“Good.” I raised one hand. “But be careful how you approach his ballerina. Misha is possessive of her. No one talk to her or come too close. Search for Misha and leave her alone.”

Valentina and Misha argued all the time. For him and me, we didn’t have those problems. I did my best to figure out his boundaries and respect them. Meanwhile, Valentina liked to search for his limits and step all over them.

“And his father is gone.” A small ache sat in my heart. “He may need time.”

Misha had delayed the funeral. I had no idea where Uncle Igor’s corpse lay or what was going on in Prague. Misha and I would need to have a conversation soon.

I calmed for a minute and kept the sadness out of my voice. “If Misha is not up for planning Uncle Igor’s funeral, then we will do it.”

They nodded. Surely, they missed Igor too. He’d tattooed all the men at the table, and with an inked session from Igor came advice that could change the person’s life. He’d been a second father to us and then later a hero. A legend.

I tapped the table. “In fact, I’ll handle Misha.”

Abram placed his hands on the table. His complexion had lightened back to normal. “We should still discuss the new division of goods. With Luka and Sasha gone, there are some open territories up for grabs.”

“True, but I want Misha here when we discuss it.”

Abram looked like he was going to huff. Lucky for him, he didn’t. “And when will Misha get off his computer or that ballerina to deal with this? He’s never had time for the brotherhood before.”

Zahkar spoke up. “Because others were in position. Misha didn’t have to leave his computer.”

Nikolay added, “There are men more capable than him at this table. Perhaps, we can begin without him.”

“There are capable men here, but none I trust as much as Misha. And now more than ever, I only want those I trust around me.” I eyed each one of them. “Trust will rank higher than skill from now on.” I glared at the men in front of me. “In fact, I would say that loyalty will guard you better than a bulletproof vest. If I sniff out any more deceit, my bullet will pierce anything between us.”

Abram raised both of his hands. “Kazimir, I mean you no harm.”

“I know, but you have too many questions today. Sit back and enjoy the peace.”

Abram huffed.

I gripped the edge of the table harder.

Abram continued. “Peace? Our men are waiting with their hands tightly gripped on their guns. They want the money Sasha and Luka’s deaths have left over. Others don’t like this…new direction.”

I leaned my head to the side. “What new direction?”

“The new face of the Bratva.” Abram gestured behind me.

I didn’t even look back. The windows were behind me, displaying a perfect view of Emily’s building. It was the reason I’d called the meeting here. I’d wanted an eye on my mouse.

Surely, all of them had spotted Emily’s men walking around the property while we had the meeting. Due to the monkey heads, Emily amped up security for herself. Only God knew how many more people she’d hired.

Now, what is the count? I gave her seven. She added twenty-three yesterday. How many people today?

This morning, I’d counted fifteen extra men moving things out of massive trucks that had been parked in the back of the property. I’d called her, roared, and told her not to hire any more men.

By lunch, a van of women had arrived next. Some big, with muscles. Others slim. A few tall. A few had the Afro-Russian look. The rest appeared to be Ukrainian. Regardless of race and size, they were rough women with hard faces. Most had shaved off heads. The few that had hair kept it short or braided back.

Abram spoke. “People are saying the mouse is forming her own brotherhood.”

Zahkar sat next to him. He leaned in the opposite direction and appeared to be close to scooting away.

Forming her own brotherhood? Is that what the monkey head guy is upset about? Too many “new” faces? You mean too many “dark” faces?

I curved my lips into a dangerous smile. “And what are you saying, Abram?”