Dirty Hearts: Interracial Russian Mafia Romance

He chuckled behind me. “Yes, mysh. Tonight, my concept of the blood moon is changing.”

“Maybe it’s the power of the eclipse changing your old ideas and transforming them to new ones.”

“Perhaps.” His chest hardened. “I will still call your men to Paris. Things are getting tense.”

“What?” I left his arms and turned his way. “I mean I’m glad, but…do you think there’s a threat? Did the French bother you again?”

Yesterday, he’d told me about the French gang coming into his steam treatment and annoying him.

“No. The pansies have been quiet besides more of their men following us.” He shook his head and walked over to the table. “But with this eclipse and super blood moon…one must pay attention to what’s happening in the universe. To ignore it would be to lose.”

I widened my eyes. While I was enjoying my alone time with Kazimir—he was everything and more to me—I did feel a bit naked without my men. A lot of the time, I had to depend on Kazimir’s men to help me out. I would’ve rather they be protecting him instead of doing my errands.

I walked over to him as he handed me my glass. “Don’t worry, Kaz. We’ll be fine.”

“We will, but having your men here will keep things safe. I’ll have Zahkar arrange everything now. I was being jealous and overprotective. Your men could be a good thing.”

I opened my mouth in shock as he pulled out his phone. “You’re serious?”

“Yes. They’re your men. I’ve been being childish about it.” He shrugged. “Perhaps, this is the lesson from the eclipse. I need to give you space. Let you do your thing as you’re always saying.”

I grinned. “Thank you, Kazimir.”

“That giant better not punch you again.”

“It was training.”

“Only I train you from now on.”

Well, at least we have a little growth from him, but not too much. He’s still the lion after all.

“This phone call will be quick, mysh. And then I’ll return to the blood moon and you.”

He put his phone to his ear, went to the window, and barked out orders as he gazed into the darkening sky. “Yes. You heard me. Have them all flown out here.”

I called out, “Blue and Lemon should come.”

Kazimir rolled his eyes. “Apparently, there’s a Blue one and a Lemon one that should take top priority.”

Really, you’re judging our nicknames, Mr. Lion? I mean really?

Kazimir turned to me. “Zahkar wants to know if she’s the one with the blue hair?”

“Yes. That’s Blue. See? I keep it simple.”

Kazimir spoke into the phone. “Yeah, that’s the one. The one you find annoying. Send her and the orange.”

“Lemon,” I corrected.

“Sorry. Lemon. And any of the other ones. But keep it down to ten. I don’t want another visit from the perfumed pansies until it’s time to kill them.” He shut off the phone and put it away. “Why’s the other one named Lemon?”

“Her name is Lemonotsky.”

“Where is she from?”

“Siberia.”

“Then that’s not her real name.”

“It was the name she gave me.”

“Pavel will need to look into all of them.”

I left my seat and got to his side. “I expected no less from you.”

“Good.” He gathered me in his arms. “Then, let’s enjoy the eclipse.”

As we gazed at the sky without telescopes, Kazimir continued to ask me questions about my crew.

“The blue-haired one.” Kazimir stepped to his telescope and toyed with it. “Was she the one that had the thick envelope delivered to you last night?”

“Yes.”

“What was in it?”

I adjusted the lenses on the telescope and decided to mess around with mine too. “She’s my computer whiz. It was all information on the Butcher and his cousins.”

He rose from the telescope and glared at me. “Why are you looking into them again?”

“Because they were following us on our date, and then of course later, they went into your steam room—”

“But I’m sure you didn’t know that prior to you asking for the information.”

“I didn’t, but I was still curious.” I looked through the telescope.

“And your thoughts?”

“Blue found some images of the men Jean-Pierre has killed. I get why they call him the Butcher.”

“Tell me more.”

“From first glance at the victims, one would think he was hacking away at the bodies.” I rose from the telescope and slowly sliced the air. “But there’s a sort of sing-song way he cuts them.”

“One can tell a lot from a person’s kill. What did you get from his victims?”

“Looking at the way he kills, I would say Jean-Pierre is probably meticulous, inventive, and definitely a perfectionist.”

Kazimir held humor on his face. “Fascinating. More, mysh.”

“I didn’t know why, until I looked further into his past. Jean-Pierre used to be a popular violinist.”

Kazimir laughed.

“What’s so funny about that?”

“Nothing.” He laughed again. “Tell me more about the Butcher and his musical talent.”

“Well, he can’t play anymore. His hands were damaged. I went through the medical records.”