Dirty Desires: Interracial Russian Mafia Romance

I let out a long breath, trying to ease the tension rising in my chest.

A revolutionary wave had swept over Russia. So far it was only nonviolent resistance. Simple civil resistance. Strikes. Anti-corruption protests. Rallies for democracy. Many of the movements adopted colors or flowers as their symbol.

This one had been named the Velvet Rose. Gagovok called for a peaceful revolution. He questioned Smirnov’s eighteen years of power and disputed the obvious unfairness of the elections.

Kazimir thought Gagovok had spunk. Due to that, the brotherhood tossed him some money here and there. Sometimes, we gave him some men to protect himself.

I was sure Sasha told President Smirnov, but I had no proof.

In response to Gagovok’s rallies, last month Smirnov declared that he wouldn’t allow color revolutions to occur in Russia. We would soon see the test of the Kremlin as this week continued.

If I can just keep Kazimir out of these protests this week, then I’ll have time to think about Russia and Smirnov later.

However, there was no time for Smirnov and Kazimir today. Those two superpowers would have to wait, until I delivered Ava’s grandmother safely to her.

I really should kill Fuego. Fucking idiot. Of all days!

Somehow, I got to Valentina’s favorite place in time.

Valentina kept rooms in several high end brothels around the world. For years she got more pussy than me. In St. Petersburg she had two favorites. The first one, we’d littered with dead bodies. Currently, I parked in front of her second favorite one and got out.

A brand new suit lay in the back seat inside of a garment bag. I grabbed the bag, draped it over my arm, and headed to the building.

When I’d parked in front of the upscale building, I barely got the car at the right angle. Shaking my head, I had no time to fix it. Minute-by-minute, Ava’s grandmother would be getting closer to Moscow, and I would have to deal with the problem.

As soon as I left the car, I spotted pants and clothes resting on the lawn. Black boxer briefs flew out next, raining down along with socks and a gold watch.

Looks like I came just in time.

My phone rang.

Now what?

I checked the screen.

Kazimir’s name showed up.

I might as well deal with this now.

Groaning, I answered. “Are you looking at the protests, Kazimir?”

His deep voice hit the line. “I am.”

“What are we going to do?”

“Watch and see.” There was something about the way that he said it, that made me uneasy. “That’s not my concern right now, Misha.”

“What is?”

“Uncle Igor’s funeral.”

“Father’s dead. I’m sure he can wait a few days.”

“But should you wait?”

“That’s no longer a question, cousin. We will wait. I’m too busy.” Still on the phone, I headed to the building. My men barreled behind me. They’d taken separate cars and had been following the whole time.

An edge laced Kazimir’s voice. “Fine. I will let you deal with your mourning in your way.”

“How big of you.”

“Careful, Misha.” His voice softened which was uncharacteristic for Kazimir. “Well. . .since we’re not doing the funeral, then we can have a celebration.”

I shook my head. “I don’t have time for that either.”

“We’ve won. We should break bread and—”

“Fine. I’ll be there.”

“Tonight?”

“Not tonight.”

“The party will be tonight.”

I groaned. “Must it be tonight?”

“It’s time for a celebration.”

Dear God. What’s gotten into him?

“Will you come?” he asked.

“Maybe.”

Anger laced his tone. “Maybe?”

I checked my watch. “Kazimir, I don’t have time for this. I can call you back in a few hours, when my emergency is done.”

“We won’t need to talk on the phone. You’ll be in Moscow.”

I let out an exasperated breath. “I have some. . .complications right now. I will give you an answer later about the party and also the funeral.”

“What complications?”

“None of your business.”

“You’re grumpy. So, then it’s about your ballerina?”

“I’ve got everything handled.”

“Where’s Maxwell?” Kazimir asked.

The brothel’s doorman spotted me and stepped aside.

My man opened the door.

I went through it. “Why are you asking about Maxwell?”

“My mouse will want him back in Moscow soon.”

“I’m actually about to see Maxwell. I need his help with something. I’ll talk to him about it.”

“Hmmm,” Kazimir said. “Make sure Valentina agrees.”

I let the sarcasm spill onto the line. “Definitely, you know how concerned I will be about Valentina’s feelings.”

He ignored me, never wanting to get between us. “When you arrive, we should discuss our actions on the protests. They are demonstrating here too.”

Great.

It wasn’t a rare sight in Moscow to see tens of thousands of people pour into the streets to express their opposition to the government that made its home here. Moscow served as the epicenter of the pro-democracy protests in 2011-2012. And it was the city where Tikhon Smirnov lived—along with the tens of thousands of people who made the Kremlin machine zoom along. However, it made me uneasy that so many protests were occurring today in cities all over Russia.