Dirty Minds: An Interracial Russian Mafia Romance

“Maxwell, if you even think about shooting me in the leg again, stab yourself in the brain, and before the blood drops, pray to God”

“Why would I do that? I like my brain.” Maxwell checked the Devil again. “So. . .what are you going to do with him?”

“Anything I fucking want.”

“Hey.” Maxwell raised his hands. “I’m not the enemy.”

“Stop following me. Go back to sleep.”

“Too much shit has gotten out of hand, since I’ve been gone.”

I groaned.

“I’m here to keep everything right.”

He blabbered on. Ignoring him, I took us past the ball room and kitchen. My staff scurried past us. Tension had saturated the house. Not everyone knew what had happened, but they must have felt our pain.

Once I got to my massive war room, my men opened the door.

We all barreled in.

The space was empty, except for the massive globe in the center of the floor. Men carried large tables into the room. Two others brought in maps.

David scanned the space. “What are we doing?”

I walked around the globe. “Planning a war.”

“Against the Corsican?”

“Yes.”

“Sounds good.” David scratched his head. “I just need some coffee.”

“Get it. We have places to bomb.”

Maxwell cursed under his mouth.

David’s face went serious. “And how is your mouse again?”

My heart ached. She would need time to heal. What did I know about healing, when I spent my life causing pain?

“She’s asleep.”

David looked nervous about asking the next question. “And when Emily wakes up?”

“I’ll be by her side.”

“Until then—”

“We bomb Paris.”

David shook his head. “Then, I’ll definitely need two cups of coffee.”

“You may want to call your family and friends who are there too.”

David widened his eyes. “What should I tell them?”

“Run.” I studied the globe. “Tell all your family to run.”

Maxwell stretched his arms out. “So. . .you’re going to bomb Paris?”

I looked up at him. “Yes. Will you need coffee too?”

“Naw, but I may need that vodka from the desk.”

“Get it, Maxwell. And then we’ll have some fun.”

Maxwell rushed off along with David.

Zahkar remained out in the hall muttering low to Pavel. All four of the men appeared worried. Surely, they knew I was serious. There was no way the French would live, and now with my daughter. . .gone.

Now, I’ll never let any of them survive.

War would come to the Corsican’s doorsteps. Blood would rain down on their heads. And right as they sucked in their last breath, my name would be in their screams.