Dirty Minds: An Interracial Russian Mafia Romance - Page 65

Zahkar grimaced. “Your mourning and mad. You just need to kill someone.”

“Maybe I should kill you.” I stepped through and headed to the cell. “You have had the time to catch this guy. Because of you one of my mouse’s men is dead.”

“I explained the problem.”

“That’s not good enough.” I stomped to the first cell. It was empty. I went to the second. The next one was as vacant as well.

“Kazimir?”

“What the fuck?!” I roared and turned to him. “I told you to leave.”

“She’ll get pregnant again.” Zahkar looked down at the floor. “And never again. . .never will she get taken.”

“You can guarantee that?”

“I can.”

“Then, it will mean your life.”

“That’s fine with me.” Zahkar straightened and faced me. “I would like to be her personal guard.”

I lifted my brow. “You want to step away from my side and go to hers.”

“To be next to your mouse is to be by your side.”

I glared at him, wishing he would say something disrespectful, so I could hit him. Zahkar was right. I just needed to kill someone. And he was also right that she needed even more protection.

“She may not warm to you,” I admitted.

“I know she won’t. Especially now.”

“Still, you want to guard her?”

“I do.”

“Fine. Be at her side. She’ll eventually understand.” I headed forward and stopped in front of the third cell.

My men had the Devil hanging from a set of chains in the center of the cell. Chains dangled from his wrists and ankles. He’d been forced to balance on his toes. When the Devil saw me, he winced and whispered a prayer, muttering about Jesus in French.

They’d taken his mask from him. Now only scarred tissue and chewed flesh served as his face.

I walked closer to the bars. “How long have you known Jean-Pierre?”

The Devil’s jagged mouth quivered. “I. . .I’ve known him since I was a boy.”

“You know his family?”

The Devil bobbed his head.

“Is his mother and father still alive?” I asked.

When the Devil shook his head, the chains clanked. “No. Both parents are dead.”

“Too bad. What about his siblings?”

“None. His cousins are his brothers.”

“Hmmm.” I placed my hands into my pockets. “They were already going to die. I want him to hurt more.”

The Devil spoke in rushed words. Spit dripped from the corner of his mouth. “He has aunts that are like mothers. They live at his house in Nice. That’s where he usually is. That’s probably where he will go now. It’s his safe haven.”

Not anymore.

I glared at him. “You know the address?”

“I have a good idea of the location. It’s been years since I’ve gone.”

“Are there other cousins besides the four?”

“Yes. His mother’s family isn’t part of the Corsican. They’re regulars—”

“Then, they’ll die in front of him first.”

The Devil widened what should have been his eyes, but were more like slits in his face. “You want revenge?”

“I do.”

“I can help you. I can tell you anything I know about Jean-Pierre. All of them. I. . .I even know a little about the woman.”

“The one you cut?”

“Yes. Eden. I can tell you about the other one too. The dead one. Shalimar. The one in the chair was messing with Rafael. And Eden, she has an aunt—Celina. That’s who stole the nuclear codes.”

Her family would die too. All of them.

The Devil spoke with urgency. “I-I can tell you anything you need.”

“That would be the only thing to keep you breathing.”

“L-louis has a brother.”

“Where is he?”

“Not sure, but I could guess.”

“For your sake, they better be good guesses.” I glanced over my shoulder at Zahkar. “Get some men and take the Devil up to my office.”

Zahkar cleared his throat. “You want me to take him up to your office?”

“Yes.” I walked off and headed upstairs. “I want some vodka too.”

Zahkar pulled out his phone and made the order.

First I would start with Jean-Pierre’s city, slowly creating chaos there.

The Parisians thought they saw true terror this week.

They had no idea.

I might have e let France survive, if my child was safe. She’s not. She’s. . .

I shut the thought out of my mind and marched to my office.

I had no idea when I arrived, just that I was instantly at the bar with a bottle of vodka in my hand.

Maxwell sat in my office with Pavel, and Boris. None of the men had changed, but at least they looked like they’d gotten some sleep.

I scowled. “What do you three want?”

Maxwell spoke up. “How’s Emily? I heard people scream for a doctor, and then he ran up there, but no one said anything else. So I came down here for answers.”

“She’s fine.”

“I’m going to see her.” Maxwell rose and walked off.

“No.”

Maxwell stopped and turned around. “Did she get shot or something?”

“No.” I let out a long breath. “She was pregnant. Four weeks. She had a miscarriage.”

Maxwell widened his eyes. “Pregnant?”

Tags: Kenya Wright Romance
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