Dirty Passions

by Wright, Kenya

  Boris and Max strolled with us and stayed three feet behind us.

  “Sorry, J.P. I was being safe.”

  “You were being paranoid.” He nudged my shoulder. “We’re friends.”

  “Not with that damn wig on your head.”

  “You wear wigs.”

  “Mine are nicer.”

  “Then, we’ll have to wig shop one day.”

  “Not until you tell me who is involved—”

  “Back to Danse Macabre.” He gestured for us to cross the street. “Did you know that the song was based on an old French superstition?”

  “No, J.P. And I don’t care.”

  “I don’t like that nickname.”

  “I don’t care about that either.”

  “1874.”

  I looked up at him as we got to the other corner. “1874? What’s that?”

  “When the song was composed.”

  “Jesus Christ. Who the fuck is involved—”

  “According to legend, Death appears at midnight every year on Halloween. Death calls forth the dead from their graves to dance for him while he plays his fiddle.” Jean-Pierre moved his other hand around and dotted each word. “Death’s skeletons dance for him until the rooster crows at dawn, when they must return to their graves until the next year.”

  “So, you woke me up to give me a lesson on classical music?”

  “When Danse Macabre was first performed it was not well received and caused widespread feelings of anxiety.”

  “As your presence in Moscow causes.”

  “Ha. My presence in Moscow? Have you seen Paris and what your lion did to it?”

  “You started it.”

  We rounded a corner.

  He stopped us.

  Harlem took that moment to pee.

  Jean-Pierre frowned at my fur baby. “I prefer cats.”

  “I prefer open honesty.”

  We faced each other.

  Rain poured down. People walked around us.

  “Do you see my gun?” I gestured under my jacket.

  “I did notice the bulge.”

  “I’m going to shoot you with my gun, if you woke me up to only talk about Dance Maccabi.”

  “Danse Macabre.” Jean-Pierre grimaced. “But, let’s talk about this situation. I’m having difficulty identifying the man responsible.”

  “You know his name, but not his face?”

  “This is true.”

  “But you’ve found it difficult for anybody to point the guy out or give you his location?”

  “That is also true.”

  “Kaz said that Moscow is not Paris. Things are more secretive here.”

  Jean-Pierre smirked. “Kaz? Is that your little lion’s pet name?”

  I pointed at him. “If you start calling him Kaz, I won’t be able to stop the ass whipping headed your way. Back to the name—”

  “I still have time to catch him.”

  “But, the clock is ticking, J.P. Just give me the name.”

  “You know why I’m withholding it. I want peace. Which means your psychotic maniac is tamed. And there will be no more bombs or lions storming the streets of Paris or no more threats about Eden.”

  I considered all of the things that occurred today. “Well. . .I may be able to give you another card to play in order to get Kaz to not start a war with you. It’s. . .a bit odd, but it could work. Truthfully, I think Kaz is thinking about maintaining some form of peace with the Corsican anyway.”

  Jean-Pierre leaned in closer. “I’m listening. What’s the new card?”

  “Eden’s father.”

  He stepped back. Rage covered his face. “Be careful, mouse. I’ve seen your kills. Is this a threat?”

  “What?” I blinked. “What the hell do you mean you’ve seen my kills?”

  “The Tinder Serial Killer case.”

  “Okay. First of all, stop stalking me. It’s creepy.”

  “As if being a serial killer doesn’t provide its own creepy factor.”

  “J.P. I mentioned Eden’s father, not as a threat, but because. . .”

  Damn. Should I even tell him, and would this really help.

  I considered the fact that, Rolan wanted Kaz to make peace with Eden’s father. That meant protecting Eden and in some way, not killing her lover, Jean-Pierre. She was pregnant after all. Surely a war would stress her out. It could harm their baby. This added to all the other logical reasons for why Kaz should leave Jean-Pierre alone.

  But will Kaz listen to reason, is the other question?

  Jean-Pierre’s anger deepened on his face. “You mentioned her father because?”

  “He’s Kaz’s. . .god father.”

  Stunned, Jean-Pierre stepped back. “God father?”

  “Yes.”

  I could see all types of chess moves working on his face. I hoped I had helped this situation and not ruined anything. I didn’t need Kaz involved in any war with anybody, especially a sneaky bastard like Jean-Pierre. This pregnancy had already seen enough chaos. Once this monkey business ended, I hoped for peaceful months ahead.

  Jean-Pierre nodded. “I knew that there was some connection with Eden’s father and the Bratva, but I didn’t know it was that deep.”

  “How did you know there was a connection at all?”

  “Eden has an old photo album. Inside is a picture of Kazimir’s father at her parents’ wedding.”

  “So, you know I’m not lying?”

  “That is correct.”

  “So?”

  Holding the umbrella a little lower, he rubbed his chin with his other hand and considered the options.

  “J.P. this is bullshit. Give me the name.”

  “It’s more than one. The guy on the inside of the Bratva is coordinating with another person who is outside of Moscow. I don’t know the outsider. I just know that he resides in Italy.” He moved his hand from his chin. “I planned to grab the guy in Moscow, torture him, and find out.”

  The outsider is in Italy. This supports Kaz’s and my theory.

  “Who is the insider?”

  Jean-Pierre extended his hand. “Will you continue all efforts to protect the French?”

  “What I do, is not for the French, it’s to keep Kaz out of war.”

  He gestured to his hand. “Same thing.”

  “I’ll continue to work on keeping a war from happening. You give me the fucking name.” I shook his hand.

  He tightened his grip around my fingers and wouldn’t let go. “I should make myself clear with you.”

  “Let go of my hand.”

  “If another bomb hits France and is linked to Kaz.” He yanked me forward and whispered in my ear, “Moscow will explode. That new house that he asked you to search for. . .I advise you to purchase one outside of the city.”

  I snatched my hand away. “So, you have cameras in the penthouse too?”

  “I will give you this name, and you will continue to protect the Corsican.”

  “Bullshit. You just changed the damn deal.”

  “I did.”

  “And I’m adding something.”

  He quirked his brows. “What do you want, mouse?”

  “I want evidence. You’re not just going to yell out a name.”

  “I recorded the man that I tortured.” Jean-Pierre handed the umbrella to me and took his phone out. “First, do we have a deal?”

  I thought about it and added, “I also want to be the god mother to your daughter.”

  He twisted his face in confusion.

  “J.P?”

  He frowned. “I. . .what kind of request is that?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “We have the time.”

  “Trust me,” I gestured to Kaz’s men across the street. “We don’t have the time.”

  He noticed them and then turned to me. “Why do you want to be the god mother to my child?”

  “Not child. Only if you have a daughter. That’s the deal. For your first daughter, I will be the god mother.�
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  “What is this, some sort of old fairy tale based on godmothers and first born daughters? This is not Disney and I’m not playing around with my child’s life.”

  “If you have a daughter, I’m the god mother. I will be in her life, protecting and supporting her.”

  “I don’t even know if I’m having a girl.”

  I held out my hand. “Deal.”

  “You are crazy.” He shook it.

  I rolled my eyes. “Now, give me the name?”

  “Pavel.”

  My heart broke. Slowly, I let go of his hand and blinked. “Pavel? Are you sure? That’s not right. What about. . .Zahkar or. . .Abram?”

  “It was Pavel. That was the name the guard gave us, and I believed him being that I had been peeling off his face, I don’t think he would have lied.” And then Jean-Pierre showed me the sick ordeal by pressing his phone’s screen.

  I looked, dizzied with sadness.

  On the phone, blood dripped down a man’s face. Jean-Pierre had a violin bow next to his forehead. But it wasn’t a regular bow. It had a sharpened edge and was already smeared in blood and decorated with torn bits of flesh.

  “Pavel! I told you. It was Pavel. Please! Pavel! Pavel!” The man shook and screamed as the bow came closer. “Pavel told us to erase the footage and keep it all hidden. He said if we didn’t he would kill our families. He gave us money. Please! I swear! It was Pavel. He told us to draw the symbol, after the butler and maids delivered the gorilla. Pavel!”

  I looked away. “Okay.”

  “I have a video of the other man saying the same name as well as the butler screaming it too. They all said Pavel.” Jean-Pierre showed me the phone and began to play.

  “No.” I shook my head. “Don’t show me.”

  My head spun.

  Pavel was the worst person for it to be. Something had to be wrong. It couldn’t be correct. I liked Pavel. He was the only one out of Kaz’s three childhood friends that I appreciated. Pavel had been in France with Kaz and helped get me back. He was good and sweet and. . .

  Apart of an organization that killed people. Maybe. . .he wasn’t that sweet.

  “Fuck,” I whispered.

  “So, you know this Pavel?”

  “I do.”

  “Tell me. Was Pavel close to us at times?”

  “Don’t worry about it. Kaz and I will be taking care of this from now on.” I gestured to his phone. “Can you send the video to my phone?”

  “I would love to, friend.”

  “It sounds creepy when you say it that way.”

  “And it sounds ridiculous when you call me J.P.”

  “You’re name is long. Get over it.”

  “I won’t. I will fight that nickname until my last breath.”

  “You keep bitching about it, and I may be the one to take your last breath.”

  “Friends don’t talk this way.”

  “Get out of Moscow, J.P. And as soon as you can, get in touch with Eden’s father, and somehow think of a way to soften Kaz’s view of you, using him. Meanwhile, I’ll be working on my side.” I left him there, taking Harlem and no longer needing the umbrella.

  “Wait.” Jean-Pierre rushed to my side. “Eden’s father doesn’t even know me.”

  “Now’s a good time to meet him. His name is Timur.” I looked his way. “Get out of Moscow. The longer you stay here, the more Kaz will want you dead.”

  “We’ll be gone this evening.”

  “Good.”

  “But not forever.”

  “Of course not.” I rolled my eyes. I got ready to talk again and glanced over my shoulder. But, Jean-Pierre had already headed the other way.

  Max and Boris returned to my side.

  Kaz’s men remained on across the street. One of them had his phone to his ear. Surely, he was letting Kaz know what was going on.

  Damn it. Why, Pavel? I liked him.

  Chapter 34

  What’s next?

  Emily

  “What did he say?” Max asked.

  “The person behind all this is Pavel, and that he’s working with someone on the outside.”

  “Naw, man.” Max shook his head. “I fuck with Pavel. It can’t be him.”

  “All the tortured men said his name.”

  Max’s face held disbelief. “Maybe, some guy told him to say that shit.”

  We rounded the corner and headed back to the penthouse.

  Boris spoke, “And who would be the outsider?”

  “I think this is all connected to business in Italy. But I have to talk to Kaz and figure this out. Until then. . .you see Pavel, stay close to him.”

  We arrived at the penthouse.

  “We’re supposed to stay close to you,” Boris said.

  “Keep an eye on Pavel. Do you know where he is?”

  Boris opened the door for me. “Kazimir sent him to watch the French.”

  “Hmmm. I wonder if Pavel knew the French were looking for him.”

  Max added, “Or figured it out today.”

  “No matter what. You see Pavel, stay close, and let me know. But no matter what, don’t have him around my baby.”

  Max eyed me. “And where will you be?”

  “In the penthouse, waiting for Kaz to get home.”

  Everyone stayed busy. Blue and Max took out the French’s cameras throughout the penthouse. I was tired of Jean-Pierre stalking us.

  Meanwhile, the wait for Kaz didn’t last long. Barely twenty minutes after I finished talking to Jean-Pierre, Kaz met me inside the bedroom, pacing in front of the door with my gun still in its holster.

  Without saying a word, he pulled me in his arms and held me.

  “Baby,” I whispered against him. “I’ve got bad news.”

  “Pavel said the French were heading here. And then, my men reported that you talked to them. Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine and I did talk to him.” I met his eyes. “And. . .Jean-Pierre showed me the torture tapes.”

  Kaz stiffened against me.

  “I have the name.” I leaned away. “The inside guy is Pavel.”

  Sadness broke across his face.

  “Jean-Pierre didn’t know the guy that Pavel is working for, but the tortured men said that he’s in Italy. Jean-Pierre planned on finding Pavel and torturing him, but of course it was impossible to get his identity as a French guy in Moscow.”

  Kaz let go of me and pulled out his phone.

  I headed for my own phone. “I have the footage, if you want to see it.”

  “No. You’re one of the only people that I completely trust. I believe you, and I have faith in your judgement.” He put his phone to his ear and spoke, “Where’s Pavel?”

  My heartbeats increased.

  The last thing I wanted to witness was Kaz torturing Pavel. I liked the man, but facts were facts. And if he conspired behind my baby’s back, then he would have to go.

  “Okay.” Kaz grimaced. “Let me know as soon as you find him.”

  My mouth opened in shock.

  Kaz pocketed the phone. “No one has seen Pavel since an hour ago.”

  “When was the last time you talked to him?”

  “When he told me the French were on their way here.”

  I returned to pacing. “Somehow Pavel was tipped off.”

  “I tipped him off.”

  “How?”

  “He knew that Zahkar was dead. When he asked, I blurted out in anger that Abram was dead too, and that he should be careful to not meet their fates. From that, he must’ve known that it was only a matter of time before I came to him.”

  “Wait. What?” I held my hand out to the side. “You killed Abram?”

  “I did.” Kaz ran his fingers through his hair. “And I had David and his men head to Kapotnya, to shut down the brothel and kill all clientele on the premises tonight. He will be reporting to me soon.”

  “Wow.” I walked over to the bed and sat down, needing a minute to gather my thoughts. “Abram is dead. Zahkar too.
And now. . .Pavel.”

  All of his friends are dead or will be. My poor lion.

  “Mysh?”

  I gave him a sad smile. “I don’t like that it’s Pavel.”

  Kaz walked over to me. “Me either, but do you understand why I ordered David on the brothel?”

  “Of course. You love me. You don’t want me harmed and you want the baby to stay safe.” My eyes watered. “I had come to the realization that I should’ve let you deal with the brothel anyway. . .but Abram. . .how do you feel after killing him? This is your second friend for today.”

  His eyes held a weary gaze. “I need a break.”

  Never would I have thought Kaz would admit such a thing.

  I rose and rushed to him, wrapping my arms around his waist and holding him tight.

  “Then, we’ll take a break,” I whispered. “As you always say, when you’re the boss you decide what you want to do.”

  “We can’t until the French are—”

  “Don’t worry about them. The French are on the next plane out of Moscow. We don’t have to worry about them anymore.”

  “We’re done with the French?” He took a step back and looked down at me. “How did that happen?”

  “I asked Jean-Pierre to leave.” I bit my lip nervous about Kaz getting mad from the next confession. “And. . .I told him that Eden’s father was your god father. I suggested that the god father might help him build some sort of friendly relationship with you.”

  “That won’t help him.”

  “Kaz, it might.”

  He frowned.

  I cleared my throat. “I also told him that I will try to make sure that there’s no war between the brotherhood and Corsican.”

  “And how will you do that?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. How many times can I fuck you into distraction?”

  For the first time since he entered the room, a smile appeared on his face.

  “Let’s see, if my pussy can stop a war.” I raised my hands and placed them on the sides of his face. “I love you, and you’re right. We need a break.”

  He gritted his teeth. “Pavel ran.”

  “Well, if our theory is correct. We know where he ran to.”

  “He went to Italy.”

  “Yes.”

  Rage radiated off him. “Have you ever been to Italy, mysh?”

  I smirked. “You know I haven’t.”

  “Then, let’s go.”