Dirty Hearts: Interracial Russian Mafia Romance

I’d like to see you cut my head off. I’m no monkey, bitch.

Chapter 4

Kazimir

Last night, Pavel heard all the commotion, came up, and helped me take order. While he hadn’t given me an answer about working at my side, he’d slipped into the position naturally.

He’d called in Moscow’s finest and had them grab fingerprints.

Emily showered in another suite’s bathroom with Boris and Yuri on guard.

Pavel and I went to the main security room on the property. During the party, three men had been monitoring the camera. They reported nothing and had spotted no oddities the whole evening. Further questioning with a knife exposed that the video footage from the first hour of the party had disappeared.

The one who’d realized it had been afraid to confess it.

He’d died first.

The second security guy pulled up the camera for the bedroom. All the screen showed was a feed of an empty bedroom the whole evening. It was absurd. The cameras had caught nothing. Someone had clearly doctored the footage.

And so, the other two men died by my hands, before morning.

There could be no slip-ups when my mouse was involved.

The monkey heads were a deadly threat, one signed in fenya. It meant this person or group had a purpose. Murders with a goal were the most dangerous of all. Let it be over money. Let it be over greed. But a purpose could fuel the insane to do the most horrific things.

This had to end fast.

My mouse won’t let this go on for too long. Neither will I. This could get bloody, if I don’t end this now.

I didn’t sleep much last night.

We’d moved to another master bedroom and fell asleep in each other’s arms, both shaken from the threat hovering over us like a black cloud.

Early this morning, Pavel brought me the lab results from our bedroom. I’d anticipated a clue, something to point me in the right direction.

No fingerprints. No DNA from anyone but Emily, the monkeys, and me.

Therefore, the rest of the day went by with me in a horrible mood.

By that afternoon, I’d called the top men from the party, wondering if anyone would look guilty or show their hand. It didn’t matter. They were the highest; next would be Misha and me. Whoever had anything to do with the monkey heads would belong to either Misha, them, or me.

This has to get settled this week. No one leaves.

I scanned the room. Four men sat around the table in front of me—Zahkar, Nikolay, Pavel, and Abram.

Abram had been stirring in his seat the whole time. His pale complexion had tinted as much as his red hair. Granted, I’d been glaring at him since he walked in.

I frowned. “Why did you leave early last night?”

“I didn’t leave.” Abram adjusted his tie as if to loosen it. “I stepped out for a little bit and then came back.”

“When?”

“When the dinner came out.”

Pavel sat closest to me. He’d kept it professional today. Dark blue suit. Long hair pulled back in a ponytail. Pavel spoke, “I saw Abram re-enter. I even gave him a hard time for being gone—”

“Where did you go?” I continued to watch him.

“I had a personal situation to deal with.”

“Nothing is personal today.”

Silence rode the space.

Did you threaten my mouse?

We were supposed to be talking about dividing the dead’s territory and any further action toward the Japanese and French, but there were other matters that had jumped to priority. Those damn monkey heads played in my mind.

Who would be stupid enough to do that?

The men stared back at me in silence.

They were smart enough to know I needed them now and positions were open. Their presence here was a test to see if they were ready to stand next to me. I would be giving them trials from here on.

But I couldn’t think of Bratva business anymore. Not when one of them wasn’t being brotherly.

The person who did this would be high level. Men like these. Cocky, psychotic, hateful men.

I gripped the table hard.

So you think Emily is a monkey? Come to me. Stand in front of me and say it.

Clearing his throat, Pavel sat on my left. “Should we begin, Kazimir?”

On my right, the chair lay empty.

The scowl never left my face. “Has anyone heard from Misha?”

Pavel responded, “He hasn’t been answering his phone.”

That’s who I need here. Misha. He could make sure the cameras and the men monitoring them are on point.

I clenched my jaw. “Get someone over to St. Petersburg to deliver my message personally.”

“We actually couldn’t find him.” Pavel cleared his throat. “He didn’t return to any of his condos after the ballet performance he was spotted at.”

“Did you check the ballerina’s condo?”

Pavel frowned. “I’m not sure if they did—”

“Do it.” I glared.

Pavel twisted his face in confusion and then straightened it.

Sorry, friend. You’re hired. Today’s your first day.