Dirty Hearts: Interracial Russian Mafia Romance

Questions remained.

Are we safe? Can we finally focus on love, or will more end up dead?

Kazimir disrupted my worries. “Stop that.”

“Stop what?”

He hadn’t opened the limo door yet. “Stop worrying about the future.”

“How did you know I was?”

“Because you’re mine and you’re good, and that’s how one becomes good, by thinking about winter when it’s only summer.” He ran his fingers through my hair. “But now it’s fall, and we’ve stocked up. We’re ready for winter, and we’ll be ready for any other season.”

“I want to be useful.”

“You will.”

“I need to learn Russian.”

“You already are.”

“I just don’t want to waste any time.”

He smiled. “Tonight, I only want you to relax. We will start our lessons tomorrow, and some time in between, you’ll see the doctor.”

“The doctor? I saw him yesterday.”

“Have you had your period yet?”

“I would like you to stop asking me that each week.”

“You could be pregnant. It’s been on my mind since our last conversation weeks ago. We may have a child on the way.”

Kaz’s ability to casually rob me of breath and speech never failed to surprise me—no matter how many times he did it. Too much had happened. I was just learning how to love Kazimir. How the hell would I know how to love a little child? One that was a mixture of us?

“Relax, mysh.”

“I am.”

“You’re not. You’re scared.”

“My period isn’t due until next week.” I had no idea how I’d managed to keep my voice from cracking. “And a pregnancy would be…big for me right now. I don’t know if I can do it.”

Kazimir leaned closer until his nose touched mine. “You’ll never have to do anything alone, and I mean anything. It will always be your decision, no matter how I feel about the topic.”

I closed my eyes, unable to look into his without feeling an embarrassing prickle. “Okay.”

He pressed his lips against my neck. “Remember, we’re in this together. When it comes to anything, it will always be us against them.”

My body erupted with goosebumps. “I won’t forget.”

“And I promise to take my time and keep everything simple.”

I opened my eyes and glanced back at his plane. The crew stood outside. Who I assumed to be the pilot waited by the stairs. “Yes. You’ll keep everything simple.”

He trailed a series of delicious kisses all along my collarbone. “Good discussion. Now, let’s go to Paris.”

Am I pregnant?

We left the limo and headed to the plane.

A uniformed man jumped out of a car he’d parked behind our limo. Wiping his forehead, he hurried to us. “Sir.”

Kazimir growled, “Yes?”

“General Popov and several units are heading this way.”

More messengers from Smirnov? I didn’t think the Russian president is going to let us eat dinner tonight.

“We’ve been ordered to stop you from getting on the plane.” The man stepped back. “I just wanted to let you know about the order.”

“Thank you.” Kazimir glanced over his shoulder at the darkening horizon.

Cars approached. Five of them. All had Russian flags waving from the back.

My heart hammered.

Kazimir held my hand. “Don’t worry. This will be quick.”

I swallowed, unsure of what would happen. Part of me wanted to tell Kazimir to run to the plane with me. The other knew he had complete control of the situation.

The cars parked in front of us. Several uniformed men rushed out. They held guns in their hands.

They didn’t walk over. They did a half-jog, half-march our way and then stopped four feet in front of us. I inched closer to Kazimir.

In the final car, a man stepped out. Although older, I could tell he’d been through a lot. There was some bulk under his highly decorated suit jacket. Tons of medals hung on his chest.

Is he a general or something? Has to be.

Scowling, he headed our way and stopped right in front of Kazimir. “Your president has requested your time.”

Kazimir let go of my hand and stepped in front of the man. Only a foot lay between them. Kazimir took his other hand out of his pocket and raised it above him.

The general looked up at the hand. “What do you think you—”

Kazimir slapped him. Dead in the jaw. A hard smack to the face.

The general stumbled back. Shock covered his face as he touched his jaw.

A dark edge left Kazimir. “I said I was taking my mouse out on a date.”

A few of the soldiers behind us raised their guns. They kept checking with the general as if unsure of what to do.

The general pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his face. “Smirnov will hear about this.”

“Good because that slap was for him. Tell him.” Kazimir grabbed my hand and guided me onto the plane.

Holy shit. Holy shit. Can he do that?

I didn’t shriek in horror, even though I wanted to. I didn’t look back, even though I felt the guns pointing my way and the angry glares from a foreign military. I didn’t stutter questions to Kazimir, doubt his move, or question why he’d made it.