Dirty Hearts: Interracial Russian Mafia Romance

“Louis?” Jean-Pierre touched the ear bud. “Where is the Lion now?”

So that’s who he was talking to? Louis. Good. I’ll kill him too.

Jean-Pierre tapped the bud.

I checked the numbers above the elevator door, watching our lowering progress.

We get out of the elevator and then what? How many of his men are waiting down there?

I scanned the elevator.

Maybe I can figure out something in here.

I checked Rafael. He’d been watching me the whole time, scowling.

Still mad about that chokehold, huh?

The voice garbled from Jean-Pierre’s ear.

We all turned to him.

Jean-Pierre growled, “I don’t need your director’s cut commentary. Where is he now?”

My heart boomed in my ears.

“What word?” Jean-Pierre asked.

Silence filled the space.

“Catch it. The word might be important.”

What word? What the hell is going on?

Terror and adrenaline snaked through me. I had to get away, keep trying and never give up. I’d seen what Jean-Pierre had done to his victims. That wouldn’t be me. He may have been a gentleman in the hallway, but he wouldn’t be one for long.

“No one can kill him,” Jean-Pierre said. “Tell everyone to run.”

Kazimir, please don’t get hurt. I’ll be okay.

For some reason, the elevator rocked. I lost my balance and fell into Jean-Pierre. The sides of the elevator trembled. One of the men whispered a prayer. Rafael nudged him to shut up.

Kazimir, what are you doing, baby?

The elevator rocked again.

“What the hell was that, Louis?” Jean-Pierre stumbled back and gripped me harder.

Rafael muttered under his breath, “Jesus Christ, what are we doing?”

Jean-Pierre fisted his other hand. “Get out of the building, Louis!”

So, Louis is in the building somewhere.

I wished I could’ve told Kazimir. Grabbing Louis would’ve been a great way to end this.

The elevator shook again.

The lights flickered.

Baby? Don’t get killed.

Rafael looked at the elevator’s ceiling. “What the fuck is that? King Kong? If the Bratva have King Kong, then I’m switching sides.”

Jean-Pierre sighed. “He’s got a rocket launcher.”

You shot it in here, Kaz? Oh God.

I opened my mouth and then turned away.

O-kay.

Rafael put his gun away and wiped his face with both hands. “Rocket launcher?”

Quiet came next.

The elevator continued to lower, but not fast enough.

Jean-Pierre stared at me within the silence. After a few seconds, he took off his jacket and handed it to me. “Take this.”

I don’t think so. Keep your jacket, asshole. I won’t be with you for too long.

I swallowed my anger and kept my voice calm. “I’m fine.”

“I didn’t ask.”

I grabbed the jacket and put it on. The whole time, my gaze remained on him.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Emily.”

“Where are you from?”

“New York.”

“When did you meet Kazimir?”

“Not too long ago.”

None of your fucking business.

He let out a long breath. “I’m not in the business of stealing women. This will go short, as long as Kazimir helps me find her.”

But will you live after this? That’s the question.

This all started from somebody kidnapping his woman I assumed. Was it that violinist? I wished I’d known who done it so I could kill them too. Jean-Pierre kept asking about Misha. Did Maxwell know what was going on?

Goddamn it! What the hell is going on?

The elevator shook again.

I scanned the elevator and glanced up as the light flickered again. “If you don’t mind me asking…who do you think took her?”

Jean-Pierre frowned. “The Bratva had something to do with it.”

The next time the elevator shook, we all stumbled. Jean-Pierre bumped into me and then moved away. Unable to keep my balance, I grabbed the wall.

Come on. I can’t go out this way. Not on an elevator with a bunch of sweet-smelling French guys.

I sighed. “Do you have a name of the person who may have her?”

“The Devil. Misha should know more.”

“Why are you telling her this, again?” Rafael growled. “We already kidnapped her.”

Jean-Pierre shrugged. “She could help.”

For the first time, I saw desperation all over Jean-Pierre. It made me less angry.

I could use this. I could get free.

The elevator stopped at the lobby. Screams and shrieks came from the other side. Everyone pulled their guns out. I had no idea what to expect and got behind Jean-Pierre.

The doors opened.

Men ran from different directions. Many were uniformed. Cops and soldiers. None looked to be on Kazimir’s side. They were all with Jean-Pierre.

Fuck me. This motherfucker is really going to take me.

Flames snaked up the right side of the building close to the stair entrance. Smoke thickened the air.

“Let’s go.” Jean-Pierre dragged me out.

No, man. I can’t go with them. This has to end now.

I frantically scanned the space. “I…I could help.”

Jean-Pierre looked unconvinced as he pulled me along. “Talk.”

“My brother is with Misha. I could call him and get the message to Misha.”

Rafael came up to my side and eyed me. “Why is your brother with Misha?”

“He decided to stay in St. Petersburg for a while.”

They said nothing else as we hurried outside.

No. No.

The sun had come up. The streets were filled with onlookers, cops, soldiers, and screaming guests. Flames and smoke swirled around the hotel. High above, a helicopter sounded.