Dirty Minds: An Interracial Russian Mafia Romance

We both caught our breaths for a second and then dove for the gun again, slamming into each other.

Displays of perfumed lotion fell on top of us. Blue cream spilled onto me. White powder blanketed him. I was sure we looked like a bunch of clowns—grappling in soaked beauty products.

This fight between us. It had been a brutal beating. I was close to passing out. He looked near to falling into a coma My bones and ribs ached. Blood dripped down my head and mingled with sweat, and that blue cream.

But there was no point dwelling on pain.

Mysh? Did I buy you time?

I didn’t know if I’d given her seconds to avoid him, but Jean-Pierre’s crew has strengthened their resources.

Shots rang above my head.

Shit!

“Kazimir!” David raced my way. Eyes widened when he saw me, and yelled, “Run!”

As he sped off in the other direction.

Run?

Covered in white powder, Jean-Pierre stayed on the ground, halfway sitting up, his chest rising and falling fast.

Our gazes met.

Both despised the other. Rage and fury shot back and forth between us, like bullets in a horrific battle.

But when he heard the roar of motorbikes, Jean-Pierre grinned at me.

More shots came my way.

Fuck! No more time for you, butcher.

Limping a little, I leapt forward, grabbed the gun, and ran away from the enemy for the first time in many years.

No time for Jean-Pierre anymore. I have to get Emily and leave. Where are you, mouse?

Tons of bikers zoomed through the store. Lumpingly more than sprinting away, I glanced over my shoulder and shouldn’t have. It had been a long time since I ran, but here, I did. So many bikers chased David, his men, and me.

While I could probably grab one or two off their bikes, and sling them to the side. Ten bikers with guns verses me bruised, tired, and possibly out of bullets would fuck me up. It didn’t appear to be a fair match anymore.

“Let’s lead them to the vans!” I found my energy and sped up.

Hopefully someone was sitting at the vans near the guns.

More bikers zoomed in.

Far off and behind me, Rafael roared, “You goddamn right, motherfucker! This is our city!”

It won’t be much of a city soon. Trust me on that.

Chapter 14

Emily

They must be done with the exchange.

In the mall, People still ran, but not many. Fires had been started in some places. Shoppers had shifted from running, to looting. Police sirens blared, while mall security cowered with others.

I scanned the chaos within the mall. “What the hell happened?”

Maxwell drove us forward in a golf court. We’d jacked it from a mall security guy who had been hiding behind a plastic tree.

Thank god, Maxwell brought me two extra guns. I gripped one in each hand, knowing that we would need them .

I kept the hood on my head, just in case one of Jean-Pierre’s men spotted me.

Men on motorcycles sped past us with guns.

“Oh hell no.” I shook my head. “Speed up.”

Maxwell slammed his foot down on the pedal. It might’ve gone a little bit quicker, but not much. “This is as fast as it goes.”

“Shit. That has to be Jean-Pierre’s men on those bikes. Follow them.”

“You just stay under that hood, and don’t make it obvious that you have guns.” Maxwell rounded the corner in the direction of the bikers.

It had been a bitch to even get inside the mall. Police and military had blocked it off. They were all with the Corsican. And Maxwell had forgotten the location of the movie theater’s entrance, confusing it for store, and leading us right toward two other vans of Frenchman .

Luckily, they hadn’t spotted us.

The cops came next, and still we rushed away.

But it had all been pure luck getting us inside the mall.

We went down an aisle full of beauty products and lingerie stores.

It was pure hysteria and mayhem. People screamed and ran away. The whole place was littered with bags and phones sprawled here and there. Everybody ran off in different directions.

“They’re here. Stop.”

Maxwell pushed his foot on the brakes.

I jumped off.

The bikers turned into some big department store several feet up.

Where are they going?

Shots rang.

“Fuck that.” I ran off. “They better not be shooting at him.”

Maxwell drove the slow cart on my side. “Get your ass back on here. It’s going as fast as you are running.”

Sighing, I climbed back on. He didn’t even need to stop. I pulled out my phone, and dialed Kazimir. He didn’t answer. It wasn’t a good sign.

“Damn it.” I turned to Maxwell. “Give me your phone.”

“Why?”

“I’m calling Jean-Pierre.”

“What?”

“Come on.”

He handed it to me. “You think that’s a good idea?”

“If you come up with better, than tell me it.” I checked his recent calls and dialed the one that didn’t look like a Russian phone number.

“Oh shit.” Maxwell pointed. “Em!”

Kazimir ran out of a store, or I thought it was him. Blue cream covered most of his face and body. There was some pink glittery gunk on the bottom of his pants. At least four other guys ran with them.