Dirty Minds: An Interracial Russian Mafia Romance

“That name sounds familiar.”

“She was married to the Russian Alexander Armand, from one of the richest families in Russia.”

“And Lenin and her cheated together?”

Blue stared at her laptop and didn’t type, but I could tell she was listening in on our conversation. This one was very observant. Of course my mouse would want her.

Pavel grabbed my attention. “Inès was Lenin’s whore?”

“She was more than a sex toy to him. She became his closest adviser, assistant, and confidante.” Pain hit me.

“And what about his wife? She never got mad?”

“She was happy to be the devoted wife. Meanwhile, Lenin and Inés’s relationship was one of the best-kept secrets of the Soviet Union and was more important to him than anything. Russian military guarded her.”

Blue typed in her laptop, filling the jeep with a tap tap sound.

Pain continued to rise in my chest. I touched the space above my heart, trying to sooth it away. I could feel myself dying. I wouldn’t admit it to anyone. They would think I was crazy, and they would be right. But still, I swore my organs were tearing apart. Shredding. My heart had already cracked along with my brain. My soul crumbled. Collapsed.

I wasn’t used to this level of fear.

More than a day without Emily, and I wouldn’t be able to stand. Or see. Or even breath. More than a week and I would kill everyone. Any person who smiled or frowned. Walked or sat.

Jean-Pierre had not only put himself in danger, he triggered a possible apocalypse.

I gripped both of my knees to find balance. “Later. . .”

Sweat beaded along my forehead.

I wiped it away. “Later, Lenin returned to Russia. Their relationship continued, but it became more letters than contact.”

Blue typed into the laptop and raised her hand.

“What?” I asked.

“Asking to speak.”

My heart ached. I never experienced this before. It thudded fast. Throbbing with a boom, instead of beating at a normal pace.

Keep calm.

I growled at her. “Just speak. Don’t raise your hand like you’re in a goddamn class.”

She blinked. “Lenin and Inés’s love letters are in a museum in Moscow.”

“Good job.” Pavel gave her a weak smile. “You’re nervous. Relax and save your skills for more important things.”

Blue let out a long breath. “I am nervous. . .sorry. I need something to do.”

“Get the locations of Jean-Pierre’s warehouse.” I rubbed my sweaty palms together, not used to my body’s odd reactions. “I want the places where the Corsican keeps their guns and any other weapons.”

Blue stretched her arms and began typing. “Okay.”

Pavel looked at me. “What happened to Lenin’s mistress?”

I moved my hands to my chest, knowing the pain wouldn’t go away until my mouse returned. “When she died, she was given a national funeral. Lenin fought for it. She’s buried in the Necropolis of the Kremlin wall.”

Pavel whistled.

I watched Blue type fast onto her laptop. “Inés is the only French to receive the honor.”

“He pulled strings?” Pavel asked.

“More than that. Threats. Declarations of possible civil war. All to keep his mistress’s dead body near him. Lenin died four years later. He’s buried a few meters away from her.” I rubbed my face with both hands. “What do you think Lenin would have done, if Inès had been taken from him?”

Pavel whistled again. “It scares me to think about it.”

Blue looked up from the laptop. “I have the locations of Jean-Pierre’s warehouse.”

“That was fast.”

“One of the cousins, Louis, oversees all of their security and weapons. Emily had me hack into his system three days ago.”

Mysh, you always think several steps ahead. Too bad I didn’t trust your men around you. I should have never intervened.

Blue and Pavel stared at me. Neither said a word.

I looked at Blue. “Write the locations down somewhere. Have them ready to give to King David.”

“Do you want to blow the warehouses up?” Pavel asked.

“No. We need to save any explosives. We’ll do something else to them.”

Every bullet had to count. Every weapon had to be salvaged for war.

Blue hurried to get the bag next to her, pulling out a notepad and pen. Next, she scribbled on it. When she finished, she handed the pages to me.

“Hold on to them.” The scowl hadn’t left my face, but I tried to soften it. “What do you think?”

“About the warehouses?” she squeaked.

“No. About Lenin. What would Lenin have done if his mistress had been taken?”

Blue placed the paper on her lap. “If they had taken Lenin’s mistress, there would’ve been a war.”

“You’re right. Have you ever fought a war, Blue?”

Her bottom lip quivered. “No.”

I directed my attention back to the window. “You will soon.”

Death and tragedy came without notice.

No signs had preceded. No phone call. No dream from God.

It was there, when yesterday it wasn’t.

And my heart drummed to the rhythm of war. My breath quickened in anticipation. Hot blood coursed through my veins.