Dirty Hearts: The Lion and The Mouse (Book Three)

by Wright, Kenya

  “Then, I’ll make sure he’s here.”

  “Thank you so much.” I was glad he didn’t ask me any further questions on Maxwell.

  I didn’t know what I was thinking either, just that I couldn’t have Maxwell far away from me for too long. I was sure Valentina had kicked him out temporarily. Whatever the problem, it would be solved. Maxwell was an easygoing soul and Valentina was a nice person. I liked her. She was Kaz’s sister. But Maxwell had to be near me. How else could I protect him? How else could I make sure he remained out of harm and not meeting his demise too soon like Xavier and Kennedy?

  I’ve lost many people. Shit. I’ve lost Harlem. I won’t lose Maxwell.

  If he started having feelings for Valentina, that would be great. I would just need to get Valentina to stick with us somehow.

  I’ll worry about that later.

  “You’re plotting,” Kaz said.

  “I’m—”

  “Plotting something.”

  I need to make sure I can protect you. Protect us.

  I glanced out the window at the protestors. The police had finally separated enough groups so we could get onto the highway. “What’s the Kremlin?”

  “Kremlin means ‘a fortress inside a city.’” He slipped his hand down my arm. “In America, you say White House, and the White House is the living body that’s separate from the human puppet playing as president.”

  I smirked. “Well, that’s one definition of the White House.”

  “Basically, the White House is not just a building.” He laughed. “That’s what the Kremlin is. It’s not just the president or where he works. Sometimes he’s not included in what the Kremlin does. It is many general secretaries, premiers, ministers, commissars, and more. Most corrupt.”

  “This is interesting.”

  “Good.” He kissed me. “That’s your first Kremlinology lesson for today.”

  I licked my lips, loving the taste of him on my mouth. “So when protestors are asking Smirnov to help them, they’re asking the president to fight the mean government? Smirnov vs. the Kremlin.?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even though he runs it?”

  “Of course. But, if something is wrong, it will not be considered Smirnov’s mistake. It’s the Kremlin’s. And when things go well, then Smirnov is the savior.”

  “How much control does Smirnov have over Russia?”

  “As much as any president would, which is not much at all.” Kazimir moved his arm and kissed me on my cheek. “These protests are inspiring. I think I’ll give you a course on how to toy with a president.”

  I cleared my throat. “Maybe we can start off small...like messing with a mayor.”

  He smiled. “We’ll talk Russian politics for later.”

  I was happy for that. The very idea of fucking with a president didn’t give me warm fuzzies in my stomach. I already had a psycho cutting off monkey heads.

  Forget about it.

  I leaned against him, snuggling deeper into his embrace. His heartbeat soothed and comforted me in a way I could only describe as primal.

  “Now it’s time to focus on our date.” Kazimir kissed me. “We’ve never officially had one.”

  “You’ve taken me many places.”

  The limo came to a stop, giving me scant opportunity to compose myself. Planes and flight crews surrounded us. I raised my eyebrows. Apparently, the limo had pulled into the airport.

  “Wait.” I sat up, took in the area, and then turned to him. “We’re flying?”

  “Da. My favorite French spot is in Paris. Of course.”

  “Of course.” I swallowed.

  I figured we would drive to a nice place in downtown Moscow. At the most, we would’ve gone a few minutes outside the city. Instead, Kazimir had us driven to his plane—which was twice the size of Valentina’s—and that night, we would fly to Paris.

  Just for dinner.

  “What happened to the mouse, after she was trapped?”

  “The lion ruined her for anyone else.”

  Kazimir knew exactly what he was doing. Maxwell had been right. Nothing Kazimir did would be a simple gesture. He wanted me to know no one else could compete, that no one else could stand next to him and look like a challenge.

  Although he’d cut those ribbons away days ago, he’d bound me to him. And I was fine, happy to be caged, relishing in the way he fucked me within the shadows of the bars. But there was a problem, and it had nothing to do with Kazimir, my sexy lion. The ruler of the world and my heart.

  Something rose inside me as I sat in the limo and stared at the plane. Dark anxiety. Stress for the future. Worry about more enemies hiding in shadows. It was dread. Darkness. It gripped my brain and spun in my head like a tornado, messing with my moment to stop and smell the roses.

  Questions remained.

  Are we safe? Can we finally focus on love, or will more end up dead?

  Kazimir disrupted my worries. “Stop that.”

  “Stop what?”

  He hadn’t opened the limo door yet. “Stop worrying about the future.”

  “How did you know I was?”

  “Because you’re mine and you’re good, and that’s how one becomes good, by thinking about winter when it’s only summer.” He ran his fingers through my hair. “But now it’s fall, and we’ve stocked up. We’re ready for winter, and we’ll be ready for any other season.”

  “I want to be useful.”

  “You will.”

  “I need to learn Russian.”

  “You already are.”

  “I just don’t want to waste any time.”

  He smiled. “Tonight, I only want you to relax. We will start our lessons tomorrow, and some time in between, you’ll see the doctor.”

  “The doctor? I saw him yesterday.”

  “Have you had your period yet?”

  “I would like you to stop asking me that each week.”

  “You could be pregnant. It’s been on my mind since our last conversation weeks ago. We may have a child on the way.”

  Kaz’s ability to casually rob me of breath and speech never failed to surprise me—no matter how many times he did it. Too much had happened. I was just learning how to love Kazimir. How the hell would I know how to love a little child? One that was a mixture of us?

  “Relax, mysh.”

  “I am.”

  “You’re not. You’re scared.”

  “My period isn’t due until next week.” I had no idea how I’d managed to keep my voice from cracking. “And a pregnancy would be...big for me right now. I don’t know if I can do it.”

  Kazimir leaned closer until his nose touched mine. “You’ll never have to do anything alone, and I mean anything. It will always be your decision, no matter how I feel about the topic.”

  I closed my eyes, unable to look into his without feeling an embarrassing prickle. “Okay.”

  He pressed his lips against my neck. “Remember, we’re in this together. When it comes to anything, it will always be us against them.”

  My body erupted with goosebumps. “I won’t forget.”

  “And I promise to take my time and keep everything simple.”

  I opened my eyes and glanced back at his plane. The crew stood outside. Who I assumed to be the pilot waited by the stairs. “Yes. You’ll keep everything simple.”

  He trailed a series of delicious kisses all along my collarbone. “Good discussion. Now, let’s go to Paris.”

  Am I pregnant?

  We left the limo and headed to the plane.

  A uniformed man jumped out of a car he’d parked behind our limo. Wiping his forehead, he hurried to us. “Sir.”

  Kazimir growled, “Yes?”

  “General Popov and several units are heading this way.”

  More messengers from Smirnov? I didn’t think the Russian president is going to let us eat dinner tonight.

  “We’ve been ordered to stop you from getting on the plane.” The man stepped back. “I just wanted to let y
ou know about the order.”

  “Thank you.” Kazimir glanced over his shoulder at the darkening horizon.

  Cars approached. Five of them. All had Russian flags waving from the back.

  My heart hammered.

  Kazimir held my hand. “Don’t worry. This will be quick.”

  I swallowed, unsure of what would happen. Part of me wanted to tell Kazimir to run to the plane with me. The other knew he had complete control of the situation.

  The cars parked in front of us. Several uniformed men rushed out. They held guns in their hands.

  They didn’t walk over. They did a half-jog, half-march our way and then stopped four feet in front of us. I inched closer to Kazimir.

  In the final car, a man stepped out. Although older, I could tell he’d been through a lot. There was some bulk under his highly decorated suit jacket. Tons of medals hung on his chest.

  Is he a general or something? Has to be.

  Scowling, he headed our way and stopped right in front of Kazimir. “Your president has requested your time.”

  Kazimir let go of my hand and stepped in front of the man. Only a foot lay between them. Kazimir took his other hand out of his pocket and raised it above him.

  The general looked up at the hand. “What do you think you—”

  Kazimir slapped him. Dead in the jaw. A hard smack to the face.

  The general stumbled back. Shock covered his face as he touched his jaw.

  A dark edge left Kazimir. “I said I was taking my mouse out on a date.”

  A few of the soldiers behind us raised their guns. They kept checking with the general as if unsure of what to do.

  The general pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at his face. “Smirnov will hear about this.”

  “Good because that slap was for him. Tell him.” Kazimir grabbed my hand and guided me onto the plane.

  Holy shit. Holy shit. Can he do that?

  I didn’t shriek in horror, even though I wanted to. I didn’t look back, even though I felt the guns pointing my way and the angry glares from a foreign military. I didn’t stutter questions to Kazimir, doubt his move, or question why he’d made it.

  I remained on my man’s side, trying to get used to this new level of power, this dominating man, and the world he moved in.

  Xavier had a thing about silence. He droned on about it all the time, spouting out quotes from ancient white men.

  “Euripides said that silence is true wisdom’s best reply.” Xavier cleaned his gun. “But then silence is one of the hardest things to argue against.”

  I sat cross-legged in the section of the bus he referred to as a living room. He’d filled the area with a makeshift bookcase made from old milk cartons. Across from the shelf, there was a beat-up olive-green loveseat that Xavier slept on.

  “Shit.” Xavier wiped the gun with his cloth. “Half the time, a motherfucker just need to shut up to look brilliant.”

  I exhaled, not ready to think of Xavier or New York. But Xavier had a good point that still rang true today. Silence would be the key in this world. It was time to learn and take it all in, instead of run my mouth.

  Kazimir had blown off the president of a major powerhouse country—his own country. Officially, Kazimir didn’t really have a lot of countries he could legally live in. I was hoping we’d make this place our home. Smirnov had contacted Kazimir three times, and Kazimir’s final response was a hard slap to Smirnov’s general.

  My nerves frazzled. I didn’t even take in Kazimir’s massive plane and all the luxury it exuded.

  So...can you just slap military generals around in Moscow?

  We boarded the plane. Instead of regular seating, there was a small living room. Kazimir took me to a leather seat. I sat down, and he got in the seat next to me. A stewardess pushed a cart toward us where champagne bubbled in two glasses.

  The pilot came in and chatted with Kazimir in Russian. I captured a few words and phrases here and there. They went on about sports, and the pilot updated Kazimir on his kids.

  I glanced out the window. The general remained outside, not on the phone or talking to anyone but staring at the plane with a high level of hatred blazing in his eyes.

  I gulped in the fear I’d been holding in since Kazimir slapped him. New York and simpler times returned to me.

  “You hear Rocky got shot in his head last night?” Maxwell carried a huge bag of groceries into my kitchen. “The funeral will be closed casket.”

  Once a week, we cooked dinner together. I knew it was Maxwell’s only home-cooked meal. If I left Maxwell in full control of his life, he’d eat gummy worms for breakfast and powdered white doughnuts for lunch, and then pop a vitamin at the end of the day as if he was taking his health seriously.

  “Someone shot Rocky?” Xavier chopped potatoes on the counter.

  Darryl and Kennedy ignored the whole conversation as they made out on my couch. We all pretended not to see the disgusting public display of affection.

  “Yeah, man.” Maxwell placed the bag on the counter and pulled out a large bag of gummy worms.

  “Come on, Max.” I grabbed the bag from him. “Don’t mess up your appetite.”

  “It’s my fruit for the day,” Maxwell argued and came my way.

  “Go on, man.” I kept the bag behind me. “It’s just sugar.”

  “We need sugar to live.”

  “Y’all get out the damn kitchen with all that shit! Always playing around when I’m cutting.” Xavier waved the knife around. “And why the hell did Bobby get shot?”

  Maxwell turned his attention back to Xavier. “Remember I told you Bobby slapped ‘K.J. down on Broadway’?”

  I rolled my eyes. The guy’s name was K.J. down on Broadway. He wouldn’t answer if you didn’t say the whole thing. And because he was the main numbers guy in Manhattan, a lot of people said the whole name.

  “Bobby slapped him on Friday.” Maxwell acted it out. “Open hand. Straight to the jaw.”

  Xavier whistled and shook his head. “So, K.J. down on Broadway had to kill him.”

  “Yeah.” Maxwell nodded.

  “What? Why did he have to kill him? He just got slapped.” I pulled milk out of the bag and put it in the fridge. “That makes no sense.”

  “A man can never slap another man.” Xavier set the knife on the counter to show how serious his point was. “Listen, a man can punch a guy in his jaw during the winter. I mean, knock his ass out. And both of those men will be cool and playing basketball in the summer.”

  “That’s right.” Maxwell yanked the gummy bear bag from me. “A punch is fine.”

  “But if you get slapped by another man.” Xavier wagged his finger. “You got to kill him. There’s no way around that. The streets will be talking. A man get slapped like he’s a chick? Shit. You got to shoot that motherfucker, or they’ll be giving his ass dresses for Christmas.”

  “That’s a stupid rule.” I pulled out some plates.

  Xavier returned to cutting. “I don’t make the rules, Em.”

  Kazimir disrupted my thoughts. “Are you okay?”

  My stomach twisted. “Yes. I’m fine.”

  “Don’t worry about him.” Kazimir gestured to the general still seething outside the plane. “I plan on teaching a lot of lessons this week.”

  Let’s just hope the general doesn’t have a New York state of mind. I would hate to have to kill him.

  Chapter 9

  Kazimir

  Emily fell asleep in her seat. Fighting a giant would do that to a person.

  Gently, I took my time unbuckling her and then carrying my mouse into the master suite.

  Will Zahkar find this man before we get back?

  I’d bought him as much time as I could. Hopefully, there was someone for her to kill when we returned.

  She lay next to me in bed with her eyes closed and her warm frame nuzzled against mine. Earlier, she’d been asking about Russia and the government. I could tell my slapping the general had affected her.
It hadn’t been intentional. I’d just become so enraged. Couldn’t I get one quiet week with my mouse without someone bothering me?

  Already, my enemies had gone into hiding. I still couldn’t identify them all, but many had gone silent. Especially the ones that tended to be the most annoying—the Yakuza in Japan and Corsican in France.

  Did any of you help Sasha go against me?

  It didn’t matter, if they did. With my mouse and I united, all would crumble. I just had to show her my way. It would take time.

  But how much time do we have?

  So many things tornadoed through my head. It was good that we hovered above the world. At times, the sky was the safest place for us.

  And what else should I be worried about?

  I slipped my hand over Emily’s stomach, making sure not to wake her.

  Are you pregnant, mysh?

  I grinned at the possibility.

  I had no idea if enough time had gone by to tell. I’d never tried to put a baby in a woman before. Most of the time, I used a condom, unless she was a longtime fuck toy. But with Emily, I’d broken a lot of rules. I’d gone raw by the second time of entering her, needing to feel that pussy slip along my cock. And when it was time to bust, to shoot inside her, to fill her with me, I couldn’t stop it. I craved it. I became addicted to it, anxious with the idea of trapping and bonding her to my soul through way of our child.

  Could you be with child?

  If she was, then my strategy would have to change for the future. If she carried my child, she couldn’t stand next to me. I would have to be in front of her, protecting and keeping her and our child safe.

  She would have to stand down. Would she understand?

  Pressure filled my chest. My head said she would. My heart argued I wouldn’t be able to enforce it.

  What would she do if she found out she was pregnant? Would she settle down?

  I closed my eyes.

  A visual of Emily played in my head. She was pregnant, holding guns in both hands, and racing through the street. As much as I tried to get rid of the visual, it continued to show like a movie.

  “Fuck,” I muttered in Russian.

  She stirred and rolled over. “What’s wrong?”

  Now’s not the time to discuss this. We don’t even know if she’s pregnant. Why am I so excited by it?