I kept my hands to the side. “I’m sorry.”
“Fix your sheet.”
I looked down. One breast was hanging out. Dirt and grime lined up the bottom of the fabric. I yanked it up and wrapped the sheet tighter around me.
“You look disgusting.” Loathing coated Jean-Pierre’s words. “I hope you’re happy. You’ve got your sheet dirty. And where’s my jacket?”
I pointed by the door.
He glared. “Did you even go to the bathroom?”
I whispered, “No.”
“Get in the stall and go!”
I limped over to another stall. My sheet had fallen to my hips.
“Fix yourself!”
“Fuck you,” I muttered.
“Excuse me?”
Silent, I limped to the stall, turned around, and tried to close it.
In seconds, he marched over and pushed the stall door back open. “No. You lost your right of privacy, when you killed my men.”
“I didn’t kill them. I knocked them out.”
“Piss or shit, and then let’s go!”
I inched back to the toilet. “Could you turn around, please?”
“You think I’m stupid enough to put my back to you?”
Good for you. I was going to knock you the fuck out.
For few seconds, we both scowled at each other.
Jean-Pierre’s words came out in a hiss. “Do you need my help?”
“No.” I raised the sheet, sat on the toilet, and urinated.
The whole time he glared at me. “Who taught you how to fight?”
“Life.”
“Is that a person’s name or metaphor?”
“Both.” I grabbed some toilet paper, used it, flushed, and rose.
He remained in front, blocking my way. “You didn’t kill them?”
“I only knocked them out.”
Jean-Pierre took off his shirt. Like I figured, the man was all muscle underneath. Nothing as big as Kazimir’s size, but who could compare to a god. Still, Jean-Pierre held his own in the strength department.
No wonder it’s so hard to knock you out.
Shirt off, he stepped closer into the stall.
My nerves flared on edge.
What are you doing?
I inched back.
He dangled the shirt in front of me. “Put this on.”
“No, thanks.” I shook my head. “Your shirt is dirtier than my sheet.”
“Put it on!”
I gulped in fear and did as he said.
“And put the sheet in the trash. We’ll get you some more clothes soon.” He didn’t put his back to me, but he didn’t look at my body either. The whole time, he kept his eyes eye level with mine as he scowled.
I dropped the bed sheet and put on his huge shirt. The bottom hung to my knees. It reeked of piss. The toilet that I’d dumped his head in, probably hadn’t been flushed. Warm water soaked the collar and most of the front.
Great. Now we both smell.
I buttoned the shirt up and grabbed the sheet.
He backed out of the stall.
I walked over to the trash can and stuffed the sheet into it.
“Good job.” Jean-Pierre headed over to the bathroom door, pushed it open, and barked at the guards outside. “Get a doctor in here. She knocked them out. We have to watch her.”
One of the guys entered, quirked his bushy brows, and then spotted the knocked-out men on the floor.
I realized Jean-Pierre and I were super close. Not listening to the guards and Jean-Pierre’s conversation, I leaned his way as he barked off more orders and when he raised his arm to point to the passed-out guards, I slipped my hand in his pants pocket and took his phone.
Holy shit. I’ve got it.
Thank God his shirt was super long. I let the left arm sleeve fall over my hand, as I gripped the phone within my sleeve.
Okay. I have to get alone again.
Jean-Pierre grabbed my wrists and dragged me forward. I pressed a button, hoping I turned the phone off. It vibrated in my hands, and then stopped. The last thing I needed was anybody calling Jean-Pierre. while I had his phone on me.
It’s too soon to go to the bathroom again. Maybe he’ll leave me in the car for a few seconds. I can call Kazimir, and he can track us.
I hurried to keep up with Jean-Pierre.
Three guards followed behind us.
I didn’t think anyone noticed I’d grabbed the phone. I thought we would be heading back out of the restaurant. Instead, we went toward the kitchen.
Good. I can get a knife.
But Rafael stood in there. A black woman stood on his side. A huge curly afro surrounded her face.
Who’s this? Blue never told me about black woman in the Corsican. I would’ve remembered that.
I glanced at her as she stirred a pot and stared at me in shock. Surely, I must’ve looked crazy. Jean-Pierre and I were both wet from the toilet bowl situation. He now had on no shirt. He’d slicked back his soaked hair. A new bruise knotted his forehead.
Meanwhile, I wore his drenched, toilet-water t-shirt and nothing else.
The black woman with the afro, said something to Rafael about croissants. I squinted to catch her accent.
She’s American. Maybe the south. Not Northeast. And not the west. Who’s this?
Jean-Pierre let me go and barked to his guards, “Take her up with Louis.”
Oh God. Louis is here too. So far, that’s three of the four I will met—Jean-Pierre, Rafael, and now Louis. Where’s Giorgio?
A guard walked on both sides of me. They all had their guns out. Step by step, I walked into the dining room.
A tall man turned around. He didn’t speak, but he studied me. I took that time to assess him. Tall with dark hair. Just like his cousin Jean-Pierre, but not with the same flare or swag. Brown eyes. Hook nose. Good-looking, but in a thuggish way.
Jean-Pierre walked in.
Louis moved his scrutiny from me and targeted Jean-Pierre. “This won’t end well. You know that right?”
“Let’s not think about that now.”
Louis adjusted his jacket as if he needed to do something with his hands. “I think it’s a good idea to consider Kazimir’s feelings.”
“Fuck the lion’s feelings. Bratva kidnapped Eden. This will be a fair exchange.”
“Fair? You think Kazimir is going to be thinking rationally?” Louis raised his hands in the air. “He’s taken lions out of the zoo.”
Say what now?
Jean-Pierre scowled. “We don’t know if that was him, or if the missing lions are even related.”
“It’s him.” Louis paced back and forth. “Who else would steal lions today?”
Baby, why did you steal lions?
Jean-Pierre gazed out the window. He had his hands in his pocket. Exhaustion covered his face.
Louis yelled out more points. I doubted Jean-Pierre listened as he stared past the glass.
What are you thinking about?
Louis went on. Clearly, no one had approved of kidnapping me at all. It hadn’t been premediated. Jean-Pierre had just grabbed me because he couldn’t get through to Kazimir. Granted, he’d come to Kazimir at the wrong time—early the morning in our bedroom while we were making love.
But, I was understanding Jean-Pierre a little more. He was still pyscho. Although I would kill him for separating me from Kazimir, at least I understood him.
How can I use this to escape?
I kept quiet and studied both men. Jean-Pierre continued to stand stiff by the cold glass. Louis paced back and forth, yelling out possible alternatives to get them out of this predicament. Regardless, Jean-Pierre would not return me, until he had Eden.
Goddamn it.
At least, more information came out of Louis’ arguing.
“Kazimir has somehow grabbed tons of men.” Louis wrenched off his jacket. Wet stains decorated the space around his arm pits.
Jean-Pierre nodded by the window. “The Bratva has people arou
nd Paris. It makes sense.”
“These guys aren’t just Russian. Many of them have brown skin.”
Brown skin? Are those my men? They would’ve arrived by now. Good. My baby isn’t on his own.
I held my smile in, and kept the phone hidden within the shirt sleeve.
Kazimir had decided my men should come to Paris last night, and made the order seconds after the decision. Thank God. They’d apparently arrived in time to help him find me, but also to keep him safe.
Boris. Yuri. Lemon. Blue. Help, Kaz. Do everything you can to keep him safe.
Rafael headed into the dining room, eating French fries. Hunger hit me instantly. But I wouldn’t let them know. Now wasn’t the time to get comfortable. I had to focus on getting out of there.
Together, Louis and Rafael got together, and tried to convince Jean-Pierre to rethink what they were doing. They switched to French.
Fuck.
I couldn’t capture any of the words. I had no idea what they were saying. It didn’t matter. The whole time Rafael and Louis sputtered out those foreign words, Jean-Pierre stood by the window lost. For a second, I felt bad for him. For a second, I even felt some guilt for dumping his head in the toilet.
Just when I thought his cousins might’ve been victorious with changing his thinking.
Jean-Pierre shook his head, grabbed my arm, and spoke in English, “I’m not waiting for information. Let’s go. We have to keep moving.”
I rose with him.
He checked his pants pocket and stopped. “Where’s my phone?”
Rafael called after us, “Maybe you left it in the bathroom. What happened in there anyway?”
Jean-Pierre headed off to the bathroom.
Louis and Rafael remained in the dining area as Jean-Pierre, his guards, and I hustled along.
Shit. They can’t find out that I took the phone.
I cleared my throat. “Can I go to the bathroom again?”
“No!” Jean-Pierre roared.
“Please.”
He glanced over his shoulder. “No.”
“But—”
“At this point, you can piss on yourself.”
I hurried forward. Those same three guards rushed to my side. Before Jean-Pierre opened the bathroom door, I crashed into him, slipped the phone in his pocket, and then stumbled back.
He grumbled something in French and then yelled, “What are you doing?”
I opened my mouth and then closed it.
A horn blared outside of the restaurant.
Jean-Pierre looked that way. “Check and see why they’re signaling.”
One guard ran to the front.
Jean-Pierre headed back into the bathroom, stopped, touched his pocket, and pulled the phone out. Turning around, he stared at me.
No words came out.
I did my best to appear innocent.
Jean-Pierre dialed someone, brought the phone to his face, and spoke. “Hey, have you heard from him yet?”
I leaned his way, but couldn’t catch anything from the person on the other end .
Jean-Pierre put his back to me. It didn’t matter that he did as he proceeded to yell at the other person. “Get him on the fucking phone! Government? Country? You tell the president, that if he doesn’t answer his phone, I’ll send somebody over to stick their cock deep in his ass!”
Kazimir and Jean-Pierre have a lot in common.
Jean-Pierre hung up, pointed to the door across from us. “Go that way. We should leave.”
Okay. He’s not focused. He didn’t realize I took his phone. Can I get it again?
One of the guards opened the door for me. The back of the restaurant shown on the other side. Horns honked louder. Tires screeched. Smoke thickened the area.
Scanning the space, I walked out and spotted his limo now parked next to two full dumpsters.
And then a woman screamed behind me.
Was that the black woman with the afro? Why is she screaming? Did they kill her? No!
Gun shots blared next. Fast, Jean-Pierre pulled out his gun, ran to me, and held me close to his side. “Don’t try to escape. You’ll end up getting killed.”
I put my arms around him.
He looked down at me. “What are you doing?”
“Staying close.” I slipped my hand in his pocket and grabbed the phone. “Too close?”
“Too damn close.”
I slipped the phone back in the long sleeve and edged back from him. “Did you kill the black woman?”
“The who?” He raised his gun and pointed in front of us. “No. Why would we kill her?”
“She screamed.”
“Not because of us.”
“Okay. That’s good.” My hand shook as I held his phone within the sleeve. My hands stumbled over buttons while I tried to shut it off. “W-what’s going on?”
“Your lion’s looking for you.”
I looked all over, hoping to see him or my men anywhere. The screams came again. All the guards had their guns out now and circled us.
Jean-Pierre kept his gun in the opening of the alley leading to the back of the restaurant. “Where are you, lion?”
My heart pounded in my chest.
You shoot him and I’ll break your fucking neck.
The limo’s engine roared on, and then pulled up in front of us.
No. I’m not getting in the car.
And then a crash came from deep into the restaurant.
“Fuck!” Jean-Pierre opened the door and shoved me inside the limo. “Get in!”
I hurried inside and came close to dropping the phone.
A gun battle ensued from inside the restaurant. I couldn’t see anything. Gun shots came loud as the building began to collapse.
What happened?
Kazimir’s or my men must’ve been here. The ground trembled. Something exploded. I tried to get to the door. I needed a better look.
“Get back!” Jean-Pierre shoved me further into the limo.
“You better not hurt him!” I wanted to push out and run forward, but Jean-Pierre turned his gun to me and shook his head. “Get your ass inside and shut up.”
Goddamn it.
I climbed deeper into the limo.
Another explosion sounded several feet away from us. A cluster of thick, white smoke rose in the air. The ground quaked, shaking the limo, and us. And then an additional sound rocketed. The limo’s windows vibrated. The scent of fire rose, mingling with the smoke.
“Shit!” Jean-Pierre must’ve spotted somebody. He hurried to the limo door and opened it.
Who’s this?
Louis, Rafael, and the black woman with the afro, ran outside of the restaurant, and piled into the limo. Dust covered some of their hair. Rafael and Louis had their guns out. Terror filled the black woman’s eyes. I could tell she wasn’t used to any of this.
And then the driver sped off.
I held onto the sides of my seat as the vehicle rocked me from side to side. Rushing to get my balance, I checked the back window and only spotted destruction. The restaurant no longer resembled a building. It was just crumbled bricks, busted pipes, and shattered glass. One of the diesel trucks drove around it. Another raced toward us.
Jean-Pierre still held his gun as he touched his forehead. The weapon shook in his trembling hand. “What happened?”
“A truck plowed through the front window! Fucking Russians,” Rafael yelled. “Get us out of here!”
“Don’t worry.” Louis put one gun down, got on the phone, and spoke to someone in French.
The limo stopped in the middle of the road.
Is Louis on the phone with the driver or someone else?
I looked through the back window.
A fire truck rushed past us and blocked the diesel.
Louis kept talking in French.
Maybe, he’s talking to the fire department.
The fire truck blocked the way. The diesel could not get around it.
That’s okay. Kaz is close.
Kazimir. You’re close.
Hope filled my heart.
I looked beyond the blocked diesel. A massive cloud of dust and smoke hovered over the restaurant’s demise. Further off in the distance, I saw more buildings dressed in a blaze of horror. Only in this area, the sky had darkened from bright blue to black. Flames danced all over the neighborhood.
I thought about what Kazimir had told me long ago.
“I would destroy the world, if it would calm you.”
Almost every car on this block had been set on fire. They were no longer vehicles. The paint had darkened. The windows burst and shattered. They were black metal skeletons glowing in bright orange bonfires.
People screamed and ran on the sidewalks.
Huge trucks barreled down the streets.
Several fire trucks raced by.
One headed to the restaurant.
Another turned right.
The other veered left.
Several police cars arrived and stopped in front of us.
Louis got off the phone. “We’re going.”
Two police cars surrounded us as the limo sped away.
Fuck. So close. So goddamn close.
Chapter 3
Kazimir
Misha had hired a man named the Devil to get my codes back from Celina. Somehow, the codes had fallen into Celina’s, niece’s hands. Her name was Eden, and she was the same niece that Jean-Pierre had stalked and fallen in love with.
I didn’t know how he’d gotten Celina’s niece. Even odder was how the codes ended up with Eden. None of it mattered. Misha discovered the codes were stolen. The camera’s in Uncle Igor’s castle showed Celina stupidly taking them, along with jewelry and a suitcase of gold bars. Apparently, she didn’t think Igor would be leaving her anything in his will.
She was right.
Igor’s men told Misha about the theft. Misha hired the Devil to get them back.
It was all a domino effect of idiots. And somehow it landed in my bedroom last night.
The Devil had no problem finding the codes. Misha had personally put new tracking devices on them.
The Devil took Eden—the unlucky niece with the codes. Jean-Pierre’s obsession. The Devil retrieved the codes but decided that he didn’t want to return Eden. Jean-Pierre had become such a popular man that even the Devil despised him.
Dirty Minds: The Lion and The Mouse (Book 4) Page 4