Pavel spoke up as if realized he was stuck with me. “I’m sorry, Kazimir. I’ll send some men to the ballerina immediately.”
“Good.” I raised one hand. “But be careful how you approach his ballerina. Misha is possessive of her. No one talk to her or come too close. Search for Misha and leave her alone.”
Valentina and Misha argued all the time. For him and me, we didn’t have those problems. I did my best to figure out his boundaries and respect them. Meanwhile, Valentina liked to search for his limits and step all over them.
“And his father is gone.” A small ache sat in my heart. “He may need time.”
Misha had delayed the funeral. I had no idea where Uncle Igor’s corpse lay or what was going on in Prague. Misha and I would need to have a conversation soon.
I calmed for a minute and kept the sadness out of my voice. “If Misha is not up for planning Uncle Igor’s funeral, then we will do it.”
They nodded. Surely, they missed Igor too. He’d tattooed all the men at the table, and with an inked session from Igor came advice that could change the person’s life. He’d been a second father to us and then later a hero. A legend.
I tapped the table. “In fact, I’ll handle Misha.”
Abram placed his hands on the table. His complexion had lightened back to normal. “We should still discuss the new division of goods. With Luka and Sasha gone, there are some open territories up for grabs.”
“True, but I want Misha here when we discuss it.”
Abram looked like he was going to huff. Lucky for him, he didn’t. “And when will Misha get off his computer or that ballerina to deal with this? He’s never had time for the brotherhood before.”
Zahkar spoke up. “Because others were in position. Misha didn’t have to leave his computer.”
Nikolay added, “There are men more capable than him at this table. Perhaps, we can begin without him.”
“There are capable men here, but none I trust as much as Misha. And now more than ever, I only want those I trust around me.” I eyed each one of them. “Trust will rank higher than skill from now on.” I glared at the men in front of me. “In fact, I would say that loyalty will guard you better than a bulletproof vest. If I sniff out any more deceit, my bullet will pierce anything between us.”
Abram raised both of his hands. “Kazimir, I mean you no harm.”
“I know, but you have too many questions today. Sit back and enjoy the peace.”
Abram huffed.
I gripped the edge of the table harder.
Abram continued. “Peace? Our men are waiting with their hands tightly gripped on their guns. They want the money Sasha and Luka’s deaths have left over. Others don’t like this...new direction.”
I leaned my head to the side. “What new direction?”
“The new face of the Bratva.” Abram gestured behind me.
I didn’t even look back. The windows were behind me, displaying a perfect view of Emily’s building. It was the reason I’d called the meeting here. I’d wanted an eye on my mouse.
Surely, all of them had spotted Emily’s men walking around the property while we had the meeting. Due to the monkey heads, Emily amped up security for herself. Only God knew how many more people she’d hired.
Now, what is the count? I gave her seven. She added twenty-three yesterday. How many people today?
This morning, I’d counted fifteen extra men moving things out of massive trucks that had been parked in the back of the property. I’d called her, roared, and told her not to hire any more men.
By lunch, a van of women had arrived next. Some big, with muscles. Others slim. A few tall. A few had the Afro-Russian look. The rest appeared to be Ukrainian. Regardless of race and size, they were rough women with hard faces. Most had shaved off heads. The few that had hair kept it short or braided back.
Abram spoke. “People are saying the mouse is forming her own brotherhood.”
Zahkar sat next to him. He leaned in the opposite direction and appeared to be close to scooting away.
Forming her own brotherhood? Is that what the monkey head guy is upset about? Too many “new” faces? You mean too many “dark” faces?
I curved my lips into a dangerous smile. “And what are you saying, Abram?”
He kept his face straight. The red tint returned. “I’m just wondering what your mouse is doing and if it will deal with us?”
“Never wonder about my mouse. It’s a very dangerous way to live. My mouse is not a part of the brotherhood.”
“She’s—”
“Go ahead.” My smile deepened. “You’re already juggling your balls in your hand. You might as well tug them till you come.”
Anger showed on Abram’s face. “She’s been in my territory, recruiting men.”
“I took her there.”
“For all of them?”
I rose from the table, not needing to explain myself any further. If she wanted to hire a thousand men and women from his district, it was none of Abram’s business.
I’d thrown a party to celebrate, and they’d welcomed her with cut-off monkey heads. I would never forgive them. Everyone was lucky they were alive today.
Nikolay raised his hand and held a smirk.
I growled. “Yes?”
“Are there rules when it comes to your mouse’s people?”
“Meaning?”
Abram spoke up. “Can we kill them?”
Zahkar added, “Can we fuck them?”
A few turned his way.
Zahkar shrugged. “My people say she’s employed women. Good looking ones.”
Emily had just employed them, and Zahkar’s people had already discovered. I’d left too many holes around me, making me weak. This war had left me open and with that, my mouse was under their view too.
Should I kill every man in this room? Would that change anything?
I considered taking everyone’s life. It would be easy. Every last person who had been at the ball could die, but I didn’t know if it would change anything or leave me weaker for attacks.
No. I shouldn’t kill everyone yet. I need to get Emily safe and far away from this. But how?
Zahkar gave a devilish grin. “How many people will she have and what are their responsibilit—”
“It’s none of your business.” I glared at him. “My mouse can do what she pleases and doesn’t have to answer to any of you.”
However, you will answer my questions.
“End of the meeting for now.” I turned to Pavel. “Get Misha here.”
Everyone rose with me.
I scanned the room. “We’ll return in a few days. No one leaves Moscow until this is done. Let’s give Misha time to bury his father and then we’ll get the new territories and division of goods in order. Sasha had New York, a lot of the east coast, and most of the west. We’ll need to decide what happens in America.”
“And Luka’s hold in the Middle East,” Abram added.
“Wait in Moscow and remain close.” I left the table, put my back to them, and walked over to my window.
Chapter 5
Kazimir
Once I put my back to them, the meeting ended.
Noise sounded behind me. They’d be heading off to complain among themselves. It was impossible to please everyone, and with so much money and territory up for grabs, there would be unrest for several days.
I watched Emily’s building, unable to focus on anything else. Some psycho had threatened her. One of my own. They’d snuck onto my property, cut up animals’ heads, and placed it on the bed where I made love to her. I’d left us defenseless in many cases. It was now time to build those defenses back up.
Misha, you have to help me.
Surely he understood his new position. He was Igor’s son, after all. Bred from Uncle Igor—a man of old traditions that grew from the ancient Russian thieves.
Misha will understand and seize the opportunity.
I watched Emily’s building, not getting any indicatio
n of what she was doing over there. All her men and women had remained inside. Earlier, they’d carried in boxes. Construction workers hammered and sawed on several sections.
I let out along sigh.
My mouse is too smart to show her hand so easily.
The door shut loudly behind me.
I glanced over my shoulder.
Pavel entered. “Your men are coming to me for orders. Why?”
“You’re my number two.”
“I’ve been hired?”
“You have.”
“I thought I would get some orientation.”
“This is it.”
He joked, “And the pay and health benefits?”
“Ask for what you want, and you’ll get it. Just get this guy who’s cutting the monkey heads first.”
“I’ll do my best.”
“That’s not enough.”
Pavel got to my side. “Your own men could be cutting the heads.”
“I figured as much.”
“This could get dirty.”
“Whoever did it knew the price.”
“That’s the other problem.”
A psycho with a purpose.
Silence hung in the air.
When I’d fell in love with Emily, I had not considered racism’s ugly head. Why would anyone care who I gave my heart to?
But there were those who would. Hateful people thriving on toxic ideas.
Racism was a monster I hadn’t yet battled. What gun could take it out? What bullet? What knife could cut it away? How thick did the blade need to be to slice the ugliness?
Hate based on color, religion, or ethnicity took many forms—prejudice, discrimination, acts of abuse, harassment. Violent or intimidating behavior. Racial name-calling and insensitive jokes. Exclusion. These were things I understood from looking at other countries. From using their weaknesses against them.
In America alone, racism was reflected in the system, in every layer of the American dream. That was how we’d toyed with their last presidential election. Misha had handled it personally for the Kremlin, dividing the population on social media. His team had created fake protest groups on Facebook, coordinated the meetup places for the movements, and then secretly invited both sides to fight it out on the streets. It had created an ugly year for America. Misha had hated the task and vowed to never do it again. Our President Smirnov had not been pleased.
But racism in my own home? Among the brotherhood?
I hadn’t been prepared. I’d thought everyone would understand the consequences. I’d believed many would see the magic of my mouse and not the color of her skin.
Someone didn’t and that person will die.
Pavel ended the silence. “Maybe the monkey heads came from someone else.”
“Who?”
“The French.”
I smirked. “I doubt it.”
“It wouldn’t be wise to sleep on Jean-Pierre.”
“I’m surprised you even know his name.”
“The world is learning his name.”
“The world is a funny place.”
Pavel quirked his brows. “Why’s that?”
“I remember when I first met Jean-Pierre, four years ago in Tokyo. We had a few shots of sake.”
“Was the Dragon there?”
I nodded. “Jean-Pierre looked too soft. He’d brought his silly cousin with him, the one that thinks he’s funny. The cousin claimed they’d broken out of jail.”
“Did they?”
I nodded. “But they used dynamite and a helicopter.”
I’d looked it up. The news had reported that two men stormed into the jail dressed in black with some sort of grinding machine. They’d used that machine to open the visiting room’s door. Rafael had then blasted his way out of prison with explosives smuggled to him earlier and concealed in tissue packs. The helicopter came right at the end, taking Rafael, his accomplices, and Jean-Pierre with them.
The cops discovered the helicopter on fire in the northern suburbs of Paris. Rafael had been the suspected mastermind and head of the Corsican. Meanwhile, nothing else had been reported of Jean-Pierre.
Both men disappeared from French media after that.
“Dynamite and helicopters? Amateurs.” Pavel laughed. “But not everyone can break out of one of the toughest jails with just a spoon.”
“The next time I talked to Jean-Pierre, it was at Uncle Igor’s request.”
“I’d heard the Corsican and your uncle had been fighting. That battle had spilled into my territory, but lucky for the French there were no real damages or injuries.”
“I went to Paris to make sure the conflict didn’t continue in Russia. I talked to them all—Jean-Pierre and his three cousins that stay by his side.”
I thought back to that time. Misha and Sasha had come with me. We’d arrived at badly decorated restaurant owned by his cousin, Rafael. The man had attempted some sort of odd fusion of French and Chinese cuisine. It hadn’t worked.
The décor had been god-awful. We’d walked out to the garden behind the restaurant to finish our conversation. The sun had begun to set. Lit red lanterns had dangled from the newly planted bonsai trees outlining the walls.
I gestured to the ugly thing. “You really went with the theme.”
His cousin Rafael spoke up. “I had no idea the Russians had such a talent for decorating.”
We reached the garden. Iron wrought benches sat in the center of roses and tulips.
I sat down on the first bench.
Jean-Pierre lowered on the other.
The rest of our men stood around us.
I looked at Jean-Pierre. “Four years ago, we had a shot of sake in Tokyo.”
He nodded. “We did.”
“And the conversation was to your liking?” I asked.
“It was.”
“Yet, you’ve been killing my men for the past two years.”
“My anger has nothing to do with the Bratva,” he said. “My conflict has nothing to do with your uncle either. He just has provided my enemy with your men.”
Tired of the bullshit, Misha walked toward Jean-Pierre and handed him a large picture of a woman—the one the whole battle was about.
Rage covered Jean-Pierre’s face.
Misha asked, “Is this the reason for the conflict?”
Jean-Pierre gave the picture back to him. “Yes.”
Misha smiled. “Then, if I kill her, we’ll be done?”
Jean-Pierre rose. His cousins flanked behind him. My men took out their guns.
I remained seated. “I’m sorry, Jean-Pierre, but my cousin is not as proficient with negotiations as we are.”
Misha chuckled, walked over to me, and sat down.
Jean-Pierre straightened his jacket and returned to his seat. “Killing Eden is not an option.”
“I didn’t think it was,” I said. “However, I’ve been known to take the wrong measures when a problem begins to annoy me.”
“Then, we should find a solution,” Jean-Pierre said.
“What would resolve this?”
“Your uncle’s men staying out of this.”
“It seems Uncle Igor will only pull back if his lover agrees.”
“Then, I can’t see a solution.” Jean-Pierre rose from the seat. “Let’s not waste any more time.”
I directed my gaze to the darkening sky. “The new moon comes tonight.”
“I usually don’t pay attention to those things.” Jean-Pierre placed his hands in his pocket.
“People usually look forward to the full moon. Everything feels more magical with that big glowing rock hanging over us.” I gestured to the sky. “But when the new moon arrives, the slate is clean. The night is a thick shadow without the moon's mystical gleam. It’s a tranquil time. When nature becomes calm.” I directed my view to him. “Humans go calm too. It’s renewal. Re-birth. A time to rethink the choices you made during the last month’s phases of the moon.”
Jean-Pierre spoke, “And you think I sho
uld take some time to rethink my choices in these past two years?”
“That would be wise. The new moon is symbolic of the second chance we are given over and over again.” I touched my chest. “I believe I’ve given you many second chances by staying out of this fight, but now I’m in. And, by the next full moon, my uncle will be given all of my resources.”
Misha stepped our way and pointed out at the city. “If my father gets Kazimir’s toys, Paris will become a flat piece of crumbled ruins and dirt.”
Jean-Pierre glared. “That’s a big threat over a small conflict.”
“You’ve bloodied the streets of Moscow and St. Petersburg over your violinist,” I roared. “Retreat. You have the next full moon to pull the Corsican out of Russia.”
Misha added, “All of them.”
Rafael entered the conversation. “Then the Bratva won’t be welcomed in France.”
Misha laughed. “The Corsican don’t even own France. We just let you rent it.”
Rafael appeared ready to fight.
“Calm down.” Jean-Pierre got between his men and us. “I make no move until the full moon.”
I leaned his head to the side. “And if you decide to push me?”
“Then, you’ll know, in my way.”
I smiled. “Make sure it’s well thought out, if you come for me.”
“Trust me. I always think things through.”
I nodded. “Then have a good evening, gentleman.”
Not much had come from the French since that conversation. Although there were rumors Jean-Pierre might’ve given men to Sasha to fight me in New York, that would need to be investigated.
I left my thoughts and returned to Pavel. “I may have Abram deal with the French. It would be a good test for him.”
“Abram has his eyes on Sasha’s territory,” Pavel said. “He won’t want to go to France.”
“But he’ll go.”
“He will.”
“And Misha?” Pavel asked.
“Go get him today. You’ll find him through the ballerina.”
“Okay. It’s been some time since I’ve visited St. Petersburg.”
This will be your test. Get the stubborn bastard back to Moscow.
Dirty Hearts: The Lion and The Mouse (Book Three) Page 6