Dirty Minds: An Interracial Russian Mafia Romance

In a blur, he jumped to his feet and ran.

Not today.

I rose and raced after him. All of David’s men charged too.

I hurried. Running over several of David’s dead men in the front row. It seemed Rafael wasn’t just funny; he was also a good shot.

“Get the flute player!” I screamed.

No. You don’t get a happy ending. Not today. You’ll pay for what you did.

From my view, it was chaos, as we all chased Jean-Pierre and the others out of the theater. They couldn’t escape. I refused to spend these next days worried and looking over my shoulder, wondering if he would come back.

I had no more time for days and weeks of war. Emily had our child. They needed to remain safe.

“Kill them!” I roared as they made it out of the theater. The whole time the French shot and my men did too. Bullets zipped in the air.

And in the middle of the chaos, I spotted Jean-Pierre. He still hadn’t made it to her.

There you go.

I was so close to him.

And then Eden screamed ahead of us, “Jean-Pierre!”

“I’ll be fine!” He jumped over a dead body. “Go without me!”

Still, she screamed, “Jean-Pierre, the Lion’s right behind you.”

I am.

He ducked to the left.

I leapt in front of him, barely missing. He slammed into my side, punched me in the jaw. Pain exploded. I gripped his neck. He slammed back into me.

Rafael appeared behind him, raised his gun, and shot.

Fuck.

I jumped back and hit the floor.

Jean-Pierre ran forward. Rafael kept his gun pointed at me. He had a good shot. Panic slammed me. I could die now.

Both men ran off together.

I exhaled.

Jean-Pierre could run, if he wanted to. One of them would die. I had Russians outside the theater, and Russians by the van he had driven to the theater in .

I’ll kill you later.

David got to my side. One of them had shot him in his arm. “What do we do?”

Pavel ran up to me. “We’ve got a problem.”

Aggravated, I growled. “Besides what we already have?”

“Maxwell and Emily couldn’t get in from the back. French police almost stopped and grabbed them. They’re coming around to the front.”

Anxiety shifted my anger. “They’re running in Jean-Pierre’s direction?”

“Yes. If he goes back out the way he came.”

They can’t bump into each other. Jean-Pierre would have no reason to keep her alive.

I rushed forward. “We have to make sure Jean-Pierre doesn’t go that way. Our best bet is to not let them leave the lobby, until I have Emily.”

Where are you, mysh? I should have never sent Maxwell. I should have gone myself. Because I would have shot the cops.

With Pavel and David at my side, I left the theater.

Fighting had overtaken the lobby. The air smelled of buttery popcorn and blood. My men had not come to play. Ukraines battled in the space too. They shot at Jean-Pierre’s group, skimming off a few men one by one, but never killing the guys I wanted. The French had two women with them—Eden and the black woman who they intended to pass off as Emily.

Who the hell is that?

Shots blared. The women screamed. Popcorn flew everywhere. Arcade games rang among roars of chaos.

David yanked me back into the theater. “Wait.”

The door shut behind us.

I gripped my gun. “What are you doing?”

“Thankfully, it would l take time for them to get out of the theater.” David pointed to the exit. “Let’s get the vans with your special guns, drive them around the other way and make sure he’s blocked from your mouse.”

“Let’s go.”

We raced that way.

I eyed him as he kept my pace. “Special guns?”

“You asked for tanks. Remember? This was the best I could do.”

Pavel yelled after us, “I’ll try to keep Jean-Pierre and his crew in the lobby.”

“Good. Buy Emily time. They can’t bump into each other.”

Third Act

Chapter 13

Kazimir

David and I ran through the theater’s fire exit.

Police guarded the spot. The same ones that had blocked Emily and Maxwell from coming inside.

Fuck you.

We shot them all. Bullets to the head. Easy targets.

What was a cop uniform, when my mouse was involved? Nothing.

Seconds later, dead cops littered the ground.

“They’re over here.” David raced past bullet-ridden cop cars.

I spotted them as we rounded the corner.

Two huge vans were parked side by side with large guns welded on top of the roofs. Men stood on the van’s tops with helmet on their heads.

“Yes.” I nodded. “This will do.”

Men were already in the driver seats of the vans. As soon as David, and I came closer, the drivers started each vans engine . Other men slid the huge doors open.

“Let’s go.” I ordered and climbed in.

They drove, sped around the outside of the movie theater, and entered the section that Jean-Pierre had drove through earlier. Surprisingly, his men were not in that section. They were probably heading to save Jean-Pierre.