Dirty Hearts: Interracial Russian Mafia Romance

Rafael widened his eyes. “You better be fucking playing with me.”

“That’s not what you want to do, Jean-Pierre!” I shoved against his men, trying to break free. “You don’t want to take her. You’re smart, Jean-Pierre. Think this through.”

Keep calm. Relax. Talk to him. What does he need? Who was it that was taken? Evie? I don’t care.

I exhaled, ready to say something else or offer anything.

“You heard me.” Jean-Pierre gestured Emily’s way. “Let’s go.”

“Holy fucking shit.” Rafael grabbed her arm and pulled her out the door.

No. No. This can’t happen.

With no fear on her face, she didn’t turn my way, but I could feel the rage radiating off Emily. Her steps were careful.

More men came in.

Jean-Pierre touched something in his ear. It must’ve been an ear bud to talk to someone, because he said, “Plan B.”

Silence passed.

“Now there is…” Jean-Pierre turned back to me as I struggled with at least six men on the floor. Another had joined the party. “Have Misha call me.”

“I told you.” Every one of my cells boiled in rage. “Misha has been avoiding me.”

“So then what could Celina have taken from your Uncle Igor to make Misha avoid you?”

Goddamn it. Did the mistress steal my babies or is it something less valuable? No. If people are dying, then it’s my babies. The nukes. Who cares? Give me back Emily!

No wonder Misha wasn’t answering my calls.

“Okay, Jean-Pierre.” I let out a long breath. “Let’s calm down. I’ll call Misha now. Don’t take her from me.”

“You said yourself Misha has been avoiding you. Get him to contact you. When he does, he better be discussing Eden’s location and her safe return. I don’t give a fuck about what Celina took from you all. I don’t know what Misha’s tracking. I don’t care about anything else. You find the Devil. You find Eden. Or I’ll fucking play the most beautiful sonata on your lover’s spine. Her screams will be the sweetest melody.”

My soul cracked. He had the power now. He had my mouse. He could do what he wanted, and I would wait by doing his bidding until she was safe.

Dread saturated any part of me that might’ve been confident.

All hope left.

Do what he says. What else can I do?

“I can get him.” I looked at the door. Emily was gone, but how far? My heart ached. She was in no condition to be taken away. The stress could harm the baby. It could mess with her. She’d just had a nightmare. I didn’t know why that fact bothered me, but no thoughts made sense.

She’s gone. I lost her.

In our world, when a woman was taken, she was almost never returned. If she did, it was chopped up and in a box.

Please, God. Bring her back to me.

My voice cracked. “You don’t have to take her. Anything you need—”

“I told you what I need.” Jean-Pierre walked off.

His six men kept me trapped on the floor. “If you touch her, if you harm her in any way, I’ll fucking kill you!”

Jean-Pierre had already shut the door.

No!

Chapter 19

Emily

They’re taking me.

Six men had Kazimir down on the floor.

Terror hit me.

They yanked me out of the bedroom. Out in the hallway, Rafael handed me over to Jean-Pierre. “Here you go, Mastermind. Your captive is all yours.”

Jean-Pierre wrenched me to him and guided me forward. “What else could we do?”

Rafael wrung his fists in the air. “There were a lot of things we could have done in these past minutes. Not one of them we did.”

They’ve got me. For now. Focus. How many?

I counted.

Ten men. Could I get away? Have to. I can’t let them take me out of here.

As if Jean-Pierre heard me, he increased his pace. “Let’s go!”

He pressed the bud in his ear. Someone was telling him something.

Who? Louis maybe. He’s the security guy. Think. Think.

“Come on!” Jean-Pierre picked up the pace to a soft jog. I remained with him, studying his movements. Kazimir had painted them as perfumed pansies. I’d seen them in the picture Blue delivered to me in the file. Close up, they were horror in human form. There was nothing soft or sweet smelling about them. They looked like deadly killers, especially Jean-Pierre.

Kazimir needs to refresh his concept of pansy.

Jean-Pierre glanced my way.

I made a show of effort with keeping his pace.

“Good. Stay with me.” Jean-Pierre pulled me along. “Everyone head out. Don’t kill the Lion.”

I snapped my focus back to him.

Don’t kill Kazimir? Good. I won’t kill you so badly now. I’ll keep you alive for him.

I hurried a little.

See? I’m a gentle little flower, Butcher. Worry about the lion. Don’t stress over me.

Jean-Pierre touched his ear again. Whatever the man was saying to him made his face redden a little.

What’s going on in the bedroom?

We left the suite and hit the hallway.

French mafia were already at the elevator, holding it open. Jean-Pierre had come to start a war. The Corsican had surely outnumbered the few men Kazimir had brought with us on vacation.