Dirty Minds: An Interracial Russian Mafia Romance

Natalie stepped inside. “Did you see anything you like?”

I nodded.

She shut the door.

Just when I thought she was going to talk, she stared at me.

I watched her, unsure of where this was going.

What’s this?

Then she stepped to me and came closer.

I remained where I was, unsure of what to do. She had a small frame. A few bruises on her leg, but she didn’t look to be getting in any fighting stance.

Natalie stopped a foot in front of me and kept her voice low. “Why did they take you?”

Holy shit. Is she going to help?

I cleared my throat. “B-because. . .someone took Jean-Pierre’s woman and—”

“Did you kill anybody?”

“No.”

“So, it’s gangster shit?”

“Um, yes but—”

“I don’t want to get involved, but you can use my phone.” She handed it to me.

I reached for it.

Natalie yanked it back. “Just don’t bring it to my house. I have my son and sister here. We don’t have anything to do with this stuff.”

Nodding, I kept my hands to the side.

She didn’t bring the phone to me. “And don’t tell Jean-Pierre or anyone—”

“Never. You won’t have anything to do with it.”

“Here.” She gave me the phone.

I took it.

“Wait.”

I paused.

“Let me go out and make sure it’s cool.” Natalie held out her hands. For the first time, I noticed they were shaking. “I’ll get you a washcloth.”

“Okay.” I put the phone in my jacket pocket.

She walked out, letting the door swing open a little. Off in the distance, I spotted Jean-Pierre from the kitchen bar, watching me.

Hey. I’m being cool. I learned my lesson.

I almost smiled and waved, but knew that would make me appear even more suspicious. My guards ducked their heads in, looked me up and down, and then went back into the hallway.

Nothing to see here, guys. I’m cool.

Natalie returned with a soapy red washcloth, stepped in, and shut the door behind her.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

“You’ve got a minute or two. If they catch you with it, I’m going to say it was already in the bedroom.’

I nodded. “That’s cool.”

“Don’t bring this here.”

“I won’t.”

“We’re not in it.”

“Trust me. You’ll be protected. I owe you.”

Natalie left.

I waited a few seconds, hurried behind the door, and dialed Maxwell.

His dark voice came on. “Hello?”

Excitement filled me as I whispered. “I don’t know where I am. It’s the hood. Can you track me?”

“Jesus Christ.” Maxwell wasted no time. “Yeah. We can. How long do you think you can stay on the phone?”

“Doesn’t matter.” My body trembled. “I’m going to set the phone somewhere and keep it on. Put your side on mute and no one should be alarmed.

“Got you.”

“I’m leaving.”

“Em?”

My body trembled. “Yes.”

“I love you.”

I froze for a second. My heart boomed in my ears. “I love you too, Max.”

“Be safe.”

“Take care of my lion.”

“Take care of yourself. . .I’ve got him.”

“Okay. I will.” I pulled out a drawer, set my phone inside, and closed it.

Okay. Okay.

Tears fell from my eyes. It wasn’t like me to be crying all the time. A lot had happened. Maybe, that was a good excuse, but I wouldn’t take it.

I wiped my face and focused on the next task.

Everything is going to work out.

I pulled out the next drawer, grabbed the first thing I could find, and put it on—a rainbow shirt and regular denim jeans. Natalie had more ass than me, so there was a little sag in the back of the jeans. My hips took up some of the slack. None of it mattered. I was just happy to get out of Jean-Pierre’s toilet-stained dress shirt.

Like Kazimir had joked about, Jean-Pierre definitely wore perfume. However, the toilet water had given the sweet scent a sour odor. It had been hard not to gag from smelling myself.

Thankful for the washcloth, I used it, washing my face and body where I could.

The guards still hadn’t come inside.

Should I check? I’ll check. Real quick. Maxwell should be tracking the area now.

I pulled the drawer open and all hope crashed.

The phone was off.

Why? Lost connection? Low battery? What the fuck? Or maybe it’s on lock screen or. . .

The door opened.

A guard peeked in. “Let’s go. You’re dressed.”

Goddamn it! Did they get the address?

I closed the drawer and headed back to the kitchen.

What happened? Did they track the call? Was it enough time?

Jean-Pierre studied me as I sat next to him.

I hated being under his gaze. Somewhere in my dressing, he’d changed too.

I didn’t have a watch, but I swore at least ten minutes passed.

Maxwell didn’t get the track. Something happened. Fuck.

A baby cried somewhere in the apartment.

I paused from my worries.

Natalie giggled. “That’s my son, Benji. I’ll be right back.”

The whole time Natalie never glanced my way. She rushed off like we’d never shared words.

What’s up with these women? Are they on the French’s side or not?

Jean-Pierre shook his head and leaned Louis’s way. “Two women and a baby in this tiny place? I’ll give Rafael a week and if this isn’t fixed, then let me know.”