Dirty Hearts: Interracial Russian Mafia Romance

Systema?

I kept my groan to myself.

To call systema a Russian martial art was to miss the point.

It was yoga and judo mixed with street fighting and ancient Cossack techniques. Russian military taught it to their soldiers, especially special forces and elite government intelligence bureaus. It was a systematized physical, mental, and spiritual practice, which had numerous benefits both for physical and psychological health. Many used systema to maintain balance in a dark world. That was the part that dealt with breathing and constant movement.

Others used it to knock a person out within seconds, regardless of size and weight. Systema didn’t rely on strength and attack. It allowed for a very smooth and relaxed method of fighting. Dancelike. It wasn’t about strength and size. It was more about the body, mind, and environment.

And my mouse wants to dabble in it with her men?

I left my house through the side entrance.

Pavel asked behind me, “What are you going to do?”

“Whatever I want.” I frowned. “By the way, get rid of that spy. It’s dangerous. If she finds out, I won’t get between her and you.”

“Any woman who gets this sort of attention from our lion will be watched by everyone. And if I hadn’t—”

I stopped and faced him. “My mouse is very particular. Approach any situation with her with great care.”

“Someone should have eyes on her.”

“If she kills you, I won’t stop her. Never force me into that position.”

He laughed. “Don’t worry, but I’ll take your advice.”

“Good. Make sure you spread the word.” I walked off, following the cobblestone path to her building.

It took us ten minutes to get to the front entrance.

Two men stood outside the door. From my office window, I couldn’t see them. They’d hidden themselves in odd nooks with guns pointed our way. When one spotted my face, he signaled for the other to put his gun down.

She’s made the servant quarters into military barracks.

Pavel and I approached. Her men stepped aside. One even opened the door.

At least her people know that they’re to listen to me, even if she won’t.

I entered. Pavel and my guards marched behind.

Long ago, the three level building had housed ten maids and two butlers. They’d had a large space on the first floor which the servants had shared. A massive kitchen for meals and an even bigger room served as an emergency pantry.

There was an underground entrance that led to the tunnel so the servants wouldn’t have to walk back and forth through the snow during the winter.

Later, my mother had a new quarters formed. It was closer to our house, held the highest quality items, and a state of the art heating system.

The old building was emptied after that and mainly turned into storage. In my earlier days, I’d had many weapons stocked away on all levels. When I took the secret bases from Russia, I began storing my weapons there.

Today, I paused for a second and studied the newly renovated space. It had been stripped to all gray cement. Even the wallpaper had been torn off. Hammering and sawing sounded above.

We continued past the empty living area the servants used to share.

Roaring sounded off in the distance.

I raised my eyebrows. “What the hell is that?”

“Sounds like an underground boxing match.”

We followed the sound, passed the now gutted kitchen, and climbed down into what used to be the building’s basement.

Cheers rose.

Then more roars.

My neck stiffened at the possibilities.

It’s never a dull day with you, mysh.

I entered the crowded basement.

It was a massive area. Five lightbulbs dangled from the ceiling. People lined the walls as they stared at the two people fighting in the center. No one noticed us walk in. Why would they when my mouse was half-naked, shirt and jeans ripped, bloody-faced and slapping around some big bulky guy?

He had to be taller than my 6’4. Pale skin. Bald head. Scattered tattoos, but not brotherhood related. His shirt was off. Sweat drenched his huge arms and chest. His jeans were raggedy, but I didn’t know if that was due to Emily or that was how he’d come.

Another guy? Who the hell is this? No more men, mysh!

The big guy charged for her. She slipped out of his reach and slammed his elbow. He lost balance. She punched his shoulder. He fell back but tried to grab her. She hit him in the gut. Groaning, he crashed to his knees.

The crowd roared, but it was too fast to call the winner. With a quick recovery, the guy grabbed her by the knees and dragged her down to the ground. Her body slammed into the concrete.

Motherfucker.

I moved forward.

Pavel stopped me. “Wait.”

I almost shot him. “What do you mean, wait?”

“She’s got him.”

I turned back.

Emily hammer-jacked the back of the guy’s neck. Still, he didn’t let go. Instead, he lifted her up a few inches from the ground.