Dirty Minds: An Interracial Russian Mafia Romance

He would no longer be able to use the van since my people had shot it up.

I checked my phone.

Where are you, mysh? Did Jean-Pierre spot you?

My phone rang.

“Yes?” I answered.

Disappointment came, when Pavel’s voice hit the line. “Any sign of Emily?”

“Not yet.”

“Jean-Pierre is out of the lobby, but with half of his men.”

“Good. And the women?”

“They’re both alive.”

“And the funny one?”

“Him too.”

“Call when you have something.” I hung up.

We sped through the large mall, driving over filled bags sprawled on the floor. The mall had erupted into chaos. Shoppers jumped out of the way. Many had already been rushing to the exits, possibly hearing all the war going on in the movie theater. The place looked like a war zone. Shoes and sneakers were scattered among smoking guns in puddles of blood. Men from both sides aimed and shot. Teenagers ducked and screamed. Mothers dragged their kids, crying and running away. There was no mall security in sight.

Shoppers raced all over the place, crashing into each other. More bags, and even large displays, crashed here and there. So many women ran back and forth. A mob of terrified people, speeding to the left and right.

“Where are you, butcher?” I opened the passenger door as the van slowly drove through the chaos. Adrenaline pumped in my veins. I stood dangling out the passenger side, ready to kill someone. I held a gun in my hand, and revenge in my heart.

David got behind the driver and glanced out the front window. “Where do you think he is?”

I scanned the space. “Probably a perfume store, or one that sells bras.”

“He’s a wierdo.”

“Exactly.” I hung further out the van, checking all directions. “We keep Jean-Pierre blocked in, until Emily arrives.”

“Once she arrives?”

Excitement bubbled inside of me. “Once my mouse comes, everyone can do whatever they want.”

I won’t be paying attention.

We drove toward the escalators. It was a fork in the rode. We could go right or left. I had no idea which way Emily was coming or where Jean-Pierre was going. The best bet would be to bother the shit out of him, until I got a phone call that she was safe.

Crowds of men, women, and kids rushed back and forth, screaming as they spotted our vans.

Someone shot in the air.

I snapped my attention that way.

David gritted his teeth. “He’s on the left.”

The van moved toward the direction. My heart hammered. I didn’t like going in the direction Jean-Pierre may have shot from. The last thing I wanted to do was reunite with Emily full of bullets.

I’ll be fine. She’ll be fine. She’ll be with me soon.

I cocked my gun. “Hurry.”

The driver honked his horn at the scared shoppers and sped up.

I shook my head, as I took in more of the stores. A lot of makeup counters were in the center of this path. Tons of female clothing shops outlined the hallway. And then there were the perfume shops and lingerie stores.

David laughed. “You weren’t kidding.”

“I told you he was a wierdo.”

What self-respecting man hid among bras?

No more gun shots sounded .

Besides people running, I hadn’t spotted him.

Nothing? No. You’re hiding.

Sweat trickled down the side of my face. The Butcher had proven to be a worthy villain. Tricky and able to deal with all the complications I threw his way.

What do you have up your sleeve now? Do you know Emily is near?

People screamed some more.

The driver honked as we made it to the end of the path.

David asked behind him, “You think we went down the wrong way?”

“No way. The gun shot came from here.”

“It could’ve been a distraction.”

I nodded. “You’re right. Let’s head back to the escalators.”

The tires screeched, as we swerved and did a U-turn . I was sure we left black streaks in the mall’s floor.

“We’ll get them,” David said, as the driver sped up the van and rushed us back. “Do you see him or his cousins?”

I continued to stand on the passenger side. “I only see mannequins, with bras and panties on them.”

“I know. It’s starting to distract me.” David grinned. “Let’s check in on Pavel. Perhaps your mouse is back.”

“Yes. She has to be.”

She’s too clever to stay anywhere she doesn’t want to be.

David coughed into his hand. “Jean-Pierre’s probably out of here and running away.”

“Good.” Calm came. “We’re almost done.”

And then a large mannequin torpedoed in our direction, slammed into the van, and stayed on the hood. It wore a velvet gown outlined in feathers.

Jean-Pierre. You fucking pervert.

“What the fuck?!” The driver swerved, trying to continue his path forward as the mannequin blocked his view.

Somewhere in front of us, Jean-Pierre screamed, “Lion!”

I pointed my gun in that direction. “Where are you, Jean-Pierre? Say one more thing.”

Another mannequin crashed into my door.

I fell out of the moving van and crashed onto the floor. My kneecaps cracked. Not broken, but it would be difficult to run. I bit through the agony and rolled to the left. Motherfucker! My arm and side exploded with pain.