Dirty Hearts: Interracial Russian Mafia Romance

It was a struggle to rush back to the rocket launcher and then run to the stairs, but somehow, I found the energy. In the stairwell, I heard men yelling and rushing away.

“No!” I yelled at them. “Don’t run! Come! Talk to me!”

I shot a rocket down the staircase. My feet lifted a little from the force, it was that strong. I stumbled and regained my balance. The rocket shot down with insane power, dragging cement and piping with it, exploding midflight and never making it to the last floor.

Black smoke and fire came next.

Several men screamed in pain.

Got you.

I’d killed them but possibly fucked up my way down.

You’re not thinking. You’re just destroying.

It was hard to see as smoke rose in the area. Not my smartest decision. If I destroyed the staircase, how could I get down in time? If I blew up the building, how would I get my mouse back to me?

Mysh.

My heart ached.

Goddamn it! Bad move. Think better. No more slip ups.

Instead of going down, I headed for the roof.

If they get her out of the building, I can catch the car and follow it.

I had no idea if my choice was right or wrong. My legs burned as I headed to the roof.

Once I got out there, cold wind hit my face. Two of my men lay dead on the ground. Someone had stabbed them in the chest.

Meanwhile, my pilot peeked out from the helicopter, trembling.

“Are you okay?” I headed his way.

“Yes. The guy didn’t hurt me. He said I was a civilian so—”

“Good. Start it up.”

He blinked. “We’re flying out of here?”

“No. We’re flying down there.”

The pilot appeared to have more to say, but his quick glance at my rocket launcher shut him up.

We were in the helicopter five seconds later. It was in that moment I realized I was still naked. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. They’d taken Emily and he was called the Butcher. Surely he knew that if he lay one cut on her, I’d break every bone in his flute player.

Sirens blared off in the distance below.

I sat down and looked at the blood on my bare legs. “Give me your jacket.”

The pilot did. “I don’t think we can get down there.”

“We have to. They took Emily. She’s somewhere down there.”

“But the space between the buildings—”

“Get as low as you can!”

This is hopeless. No don’t say that. No. She’s down there.

But it was packed. The side of the building was pushing out black smoke. Hundreds of people had scattered below us. Among the civilians screaming, I spotted Paris police and French military.

You brought out all the stops, didn’t you, Jean-Pierre?

If we landed, I would be in custody and back to doing Jean-Pierre’s bidding.

The pilot tried his best, but I was no fool. The damn helicopter wouldn’t fit between the hotel and other buildings. The roads around it were too small and narrow.

Fuck! Fuck!

“Raise the helicopter.” I stared sadly at the sea of cars and people. My eyes watered, but I wouldn’t shed a tear. “Head to the airport.”

“Yes, sir.”

My heart broke.

“And give me your phone.”

“It’s gone, sir.”

What was the use of power, if I couldn’t keep my mouse safe? What was the point of having all the money and weapons in the world, if I couldn’t stop shit like this from happening?

The world spun around me, nothing but black-and-white space, fading in and out. No room. No feelings. No sounds. Not even any emotion. I became numb. Vacant. Terror-driven seconds ticked by, or maybe it was minutes. Too long.

The helicopter rose in the air and I gazed down below, wondering if I could spot Emily.

Please, Jean-Pierre. Please don’t hurt her. I’ll do anything. I’ll get your flute player. Just don’t hurt her.

My head spun out of control. I’d never been this out of it. I’d always been able to be calm and focused in the worse situations. Not today. In this moment, I was nothing. I had no power. No authority.

What the fuck do I do next?

I blinked and mentally shoved myself back to reality. My heart thundered in my chest.

“Get this helicopter to go faster,” I growled.

“Y-yes, sir.”

Perhaps, we sped up. I didn’t know. Blood rushed in my ears. My knees went weak. Thank God I was sitting. I might’ve passed out. I’d never felt so weak in my life. My hand trembled.

I told her I would protect her. I told her no one could ever go against us.

I swallowed hard as continuous panic swirled through me. All my money, men, nukes, the massive empire that I’d spent years building…and now I sat on a helicopter, half-naked and splattered with French blood.

Mysh.

My hands shivered. I was still holding the rocket launcher.

Please don’t hurt her. Please…

Chapter 21

Emily

Jean-Pierre’s limo sped through the street. It stank of more perfume and even sex. I didn’t know what he’d been doing in here earlier, but it definitely needed to be cleaned.