Dirty Minds: An Interracial Russian Mafia Romance

She let go of my hand. “Kaz?”

A stewardess rushed to us. “Hello, Mr. Solonik would you like any—

“Vodka!” I roared at the stewardess and then calmed myself down. “Lots of vodka. No ice. No glass. Just the fucking bottle in my hand within five minutes.”

Nervously, the stewardess bobbed her head and turned to Emily. “And would you like anything, Mrs. Chambers?”

My mouse gave her a weak smile. “French fries. If possible?”

“It is.” The stewardess blinked. “Anything else you would like?”

Excitement filled my mouse’s eyes. “A burger too. . .and a hot dog with bacon on it. . .and mayo. And later a sundae. Vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce. And nuts. . .please.”

The stewardess didn’t write anything down as she nodded and rushed away.

My body drummed with anger, but I worked on staying calm. “They didn’t feed you either?”

“There were some attempts. I was more focused on escaping.”

I stomped over to her.

She inched back.

I picked her up.

“Kaz, I can walk.”

“You were limping.” I growled and carried her to the master bedroom. “You hurt your leg.”

“That may be true.”

“It is.” I brought her into the room, shut the door, and lay her down on my bed.

She tried to sit up.

I gritted my teeth. “Lay down, please.”

She did, but asked, “Why am I laying down?”

“I want to check what else is hurt.”

She lay flat on her back and closed her eyes. “I’m good at checking myself.”

“Not as good as me.”

“Maybe.” She yawned.

“Did you get any sleep?”

She opened her eyes. Those lids drooped over those beautiful browns. “No sleep for me. Did you get any sleep?”

“Of course not.”

“Of course not.” She grabbed the bottom of my shirt and tugged me forward. “Come here, Doctor. I already know what I need.”

I let her pull me to her.

“I want you in my arms.” She nipped at my lip. “That’s it. I want to eat French fries with your arms around me.”

I left her and sat back up. “Afterwards. First I check those ribs.”

She frowned and shut her eyes. “I told you I’m fine.”

“We’ll see.” I pulled off the rainbow shirt and slipped off those jeans. “Whose clothes are these?”

“I think it was Rafael’s chef’s sister.”

“You have the address?”

“No. Why?”

“I’m going to flatten it.”

Emily let out a long breath.

It took no time to undress her. Lust bloomed and my cock awakened, but I did my best to squash those desires. My mouse had been gone from me for too long. God only knew what they’d done to her.

Seconds later, I studied her nude body. “They didn’t provide any panties or bra?”

Yawning, she kept her eyes closed. “They tried.”

“Did or tried?”

“Again. It wasn’t my highest priority. I just put some clothes on and came back out to kick some ass.” She opened her eyes, saw me glaring, and pouted. “What?”

“I love that you escaped. I’m just mad that you did.”

“Why?”

“It was dangerous.”

“And it would’ve been safer to stay? When I arrived at the mall, Jean-Pierre and you were wrestling in beauty care products and there were motherfuckers with every weapon I could imagine.”

I pursed my lips and trailed my fingers along all the bruises on her body. “Who hit you?”

“Most of them are dead or passed out in a hospital.”

I tried but couldn’t keep the evil smirk off my face. “My mysh.”

“My lion.”

“And the ones that aren’t dead or in the hospital? How many can I find?”

“It’s only one.”

I circled a large purplish bruise over her ribs. “And where is he?”

“You beat him up pretty bad already. I don’t think he’ll mess with us anymore.”

Jean-Pierre.

I sneered. “Jean-Pierre put all of these bruises on you?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?” I growled.

“We’re safe. I don’t care about who did what. I’m ready to see Moscow.”

“For every bruise, I’ll give him a bullet.”

“I just want some French fries and your arms around me.”

I assessed her nude body. “There’s too many bruises. Almost every inch of you.”

She gave me a weak smile. “There’s bruises on my skin, but not on my soul.”

I raised my eyebrows. “Now’s not the time for poetry.”

“I’m trying to lighten the mood.”

“It will be impossible.” I kissed her. “Jean-Pierre has made an enemy of the Bratva.”

“I don’t want a war,” she murmured. “Besides. . .him and I are friends now.”

Anger boiled in my blood, but I wouldn’t take it out on my mouse.

It wasn’t her fault.

Someone knocked at the door.

I pulled the sheet over her body, rose, and went to the door.

The stewardess pushed in a cart. On top front and center…a large bottle of vodka sitting in a silver bucket of ice, with two bottles of mineral water. Two glasses stood on the side along with a bowl of fruit and muffins. “Mrs. Chambers, the fries will be ready soon. The chef is making them fresh, along with your burger and hot dog.”

“Awesome.” Emily closed her eyes and looked to be close to falling asleep. “Thanks so much.”