Dirty Minds: An Interracial Russian Mafia Romance

Muttering French, he stumbled forward, stopped, and then turned around.

I ate some more fries. “What are you doing? We’re leaving.”

He studied me and bit his lip.

“You don’t want to do that, buddy. Just turn around and let’s go.”

Apparently, the guy had other plans. Shrieking, he charged for me, still holding the two burgers close to him. I swept his left foot off the floor. He tripped and hit the wall. The burgers crashed to the carpet.

I slapped him with my back hand, shoved him to the wall, and pressed the gun’s point to his throat.

He gasped.

My heart boomed in my ears. Salt coated my mouth. All I could think about, was grabbing more of those fries.

What am I doing? Maybe I should just stay here. No. Jean-Pierre might kill Kazimir once he gets his girl. I’ve got to be there.

The chubby man whimpered against the wall.

I glanced around. “Did you get something to drink?”

He mumbled.

“Damn it. Never mind. You can’t understand me.” I gestured at the door and yanked him forward. “Let’s go.”

He opened the door and hurried out.

No one was outside.

When I thought he was heading to the elevator, he pointed to the other end of the hallway and spoke in French.

“What?”

He dangled his keys.

“Car is over there. Okay. Let’s go.”

Shit. I didn’t know the building had a garage.

We rushed down the hallway, edging past other apartments.

I put my injured hand under his arm. Just in case, maybe someone would think we were an odd couple walking together. I had no idea how I’d hurt myself. It was probably the wrestling with Jean-Pierre that did it.

My head went dizzy.

I put more fries into my mouth and dropped the carton.

I’m free. Kind of.

We walked down a short flight of steps to a gray metal door. He opened it. We went outside. My hand gripped the gun, as I scanned the garage.

The poor man still appeared terrified as he guided me to his car.

Move it. We have to get out of here.

I sped up our pace.

Jean-Pierre had to have other men searching around for me. It would be stupid not to. There should be guys all over the place.

Did they think I left the area already? How long had I paced on the roof? Are they still here?

We got to the outside garage entrance. I pushed the door open, scanned the space as fast as I could, and nudged the man to go forward.

I stayed behind him with my gun pointed at his back. “Take your time. Keep it slow.”

Conversation sounded further off ahead of us. It could’ve been Jean-Pierre’s men, or residents talking about the craziness going on in their building. The words were all French.

The man whimpered.

“Shh. It’s almost over.” I patted his back. “Car. Vroom. Vroom. Get me there.”

Maybe I should’ve brought some of his burgers along.

A couple climbed into a car on the right. They continued to talk among themselves . I swore it was an argument, but I had no time to care. What I knew for sure, was that they didn’t notice us.

The chubby guy got us to his car.

“My buddy. That’s what I’m talking about.” I patted his back again.

He gave me the saddest smile and tried to hand me his keys.

I shook my head. “No, I’m sorry. We’re in this together.”

He frowned.

“Vroom. Vroom.” I pointed to him. “You. Drive. Let’s go.”

Another whimper left him as he went to the driver’s seat.

I rushed over to the other side, opened the door, and sat in the passenger seat , but still pointed the gun at him. I thanked God his windows had a tint to them.

He turned to me and spoke.

“Shh.” I pulled his phone out, turned it on, and dialed Kazimir. The phone didn’t ring. It didn’t matter. I would get to him soon. My whole body calmed for the first time that day.

Just get out of here.

I made a gesture of starting the car.

The chubby man put the keys in the ignition, started it, and backed out. He mumbled something.

I pushed the tip of the gun into his stomach. “Shh.”

He trembled next to me.

I tried the phone again. Still, there was no signal.

What the hell is going on?

He drove the car through the garage. It was a small parking space. Slowly, we went down all the floors . Once we hit the bottom level, I spotted several of Jean-Pierre’s men near the exit.

No way. I came too far.

I sank back in the seat and lowered the passenger seat a little.

My captor stirred behind the wheel.

“Everything is going fine.” I tapped the man’s stomach with the gun. “Keep going.”

He kept his speed and drove past the guys.

I let out a long breath, but didn’t raise up in the seat. Outside of the building, more of Jean-Pierre’s men scanned the area. A few looked to be heading our way.