Dirty Hearts: Interracial Russian Mafia Romance

“No. He’s never gone after me, but he may be monitoring us for a while.”

“And will you allow it?”

“It matters only if his monitoring will annoy me or not.”

I made a note to learn more about Jean-Pierre. With a name like the Butcher, it did give me pause. Kazimir may have found him harmless and funny, but his men following us didn’t give me ease.

The limo traveled further down the long country road. The vans remained off the private property.

I hope he loves this.

The limo stopped in front of a massive castle that caught even Kazimir’s eye. His gaze widened as several men stood in front wearing similar clothes to what we had on and holding many hunting rifles.

His grin spread. “Thank God.”

“What?”

“I was hoping we were going hunting, but I thought it might’ve been some dance class.”

“What?”

“It was the leather trousers.”

“Oh, stop it.”

He left the limo and helped me out. “I’ve never hunted, not officially.”

“Meaning?”

“Hunting to eat. Hunting to kill someone. Hunting for sport.” He nodded as he took in the area, “I’ve never done it.”

“Too busy running the world and scaring everyone?”

“Maybe.” He glanced at me, hitting me with an intense look. “Thank you, mysh. This means a lot. You’re showing me I need more time to relax.”

“Stop sucking up, Kazimir.”

“I’m not.” He shut the limo door behind me and took my hand. “You’re not mad at me anymore, anyway.”

“I’m not?”

“You’re not. You know I won’t do it again. You know I’ll do my best to make it up.”

I sighed. “And I get why you kept things from me. In fact, I’ll probably do it to you in the future.”

He stopped and turned to me. “What do you mean?”

I shrugged. “I won’t tell you things that may—”

“No, mysh.”

“This goes both ways, Kazimir. Don’t play with me.”

He appeared displeased but nodded. “I’m learning.”

“We’re learning.” I smiled. “But that’s old. This date is new. Let’s go hunting and forget about it all.”

His face brightened like a kid. “Oh yes. Let’s go hunting. What are we going after? What will we kill?”

“Well, I got us temporary hunting licenses for—”

“Really?”

“What?”

“Hunting licenses?” He chuckled. “You’re so proper.”

“I’m not just going to come to a foreign country and start shooting at animals without doing some research.”

“Even though you came here with a fake passport.”

“I’m ignoring you.” I led him to the men. “We have three choices—duck flighting and snipe hunting, we can go after some pheasant and woodcock, or…we can go balls to the wall and hunt boar.”

“Balls to the wall?”

“Yes.” I laughed.

He chuckled too. “I like that. Let’s put our balls all over the wall.”

I couldn’t stop laughing. “Not exactly how that works, but I get you. Boars it is.”

All our worries and little issues disappeared.

It had been a bitch to put the whole trip together. Thankfully, Pavel had helped. Kaz’s other guards had been scared to help. I’d sworn they would have told him. It was impossible to keep a secret from Kazimir, especially when his people were assisting.

That’s why I need my own crew. Never again will he sneak me out of the country without my men.

Before starting our hunt, we went into the castle for lunch. I’d rented it out for the day and evening, hoping we could cook our catch and maybe make love by some old 17th century elegant fire.

Once lunch finished, I had to practically run to keep up with Kazimir. He’d shifted entirely into the zone. One would have thought we were getting trophies for our efforts.

He loves it. Thank god.

Pavel stared at the guns and appeared close to pouting. Kaz’s two main guards looked like sad little puppies, pretty close to whining to participate. I convinced Kazimir to let them.

That was where the absurdity kicked in. It ended up being all of us in the massive forest behind the castle.

For hours, we raced across the lush, massive land. Sunlight scattered through leaves. There was beauty within the deep forest. The scrub hills of Provence offered a wonderful setting for hound driven hunts. At least twenty Russians and I followed our French hunting party, along with ten dogs. The older dogs—Wilbur and Louis—led the way.

Our guide, Jeffery knew so much. “Wild boar are all over France. Have you ever tasted one?”

“No.” I held my rifle. “I’m pretty excited to try it.”

“Boars have been ideal game since the beginning of mankind. You’ll love it.”

“My Uncle Igor would talk of hunting boars,” Kazimir said with pride. “He claimed it made boys into men.”

“That they do.” Jeffery nodded in agreement. “Boars are appreciated for their ability to hide and escape. Very clever. Men and dogs have trouble finding and catching them.”

“But are they violent too?” I asked.

“Boars can injure you, but their talent is in never getting caught.”

“How big are they out here?” Kazimir asked.

“Last year, I caught one that was 800lbs, but there have been times when I’ve only found ones at 200lbs.”