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

by Wright, Kenya

  Why didn’t you want me to know about this new message?

  Boris spoke, “Zahkar did give us a job yesterday.”

  “He did?”

  “Yes. Delivering trucks of food and clothes to protestors downtown.”

  “You all helped them?”

  “Yes.”

  I’d watched the footage all morning of Moscow, St. Petersburg, and other Russian cities. The protests had stopped. Unknown trucks delivered boxes of food and other supplies. In other cities, money was given in envelopes. No one was sure who was responsible for the kind acts. An hour later, President Smirnov made an announcement that he’d done it. I’d been annoyed. Kazimir had found it funny.

  At least that problem is somewhat solved. Smirnov probably didn’t like how Kazimir initially solved it, but now that he’s taken credit, everything’s smoothed over. Hopefully.

  “It felt good to give back,” Boris said.

  “It always does.”

  My spoiled lion roared from the shower. “Mysh!”

  Oh, I’ve got your mysh. You’re hiding things from me? And you’re trying to distract me from this monkey head problem.

  “What are we going to do about the cut up animals?” Boris asked.

  “They’re not telling you anything else?” I asked.

  “No.”

  “Stick to my plan and keep everyone off the property, except for Yuri and you. Stay in your rooms. Get close to a maid or someone else on staff. See what you can find without the brothers.”

  “Got it.”

  “But stay within the shadows.”

  “I’m good with doing that.”

  “I’ll call you later tonight just in case we have another phone problem.”

  “Sounds good, boss.”

  I tried not to laugh. No matter how many times I told Boris my name, he kept it at boss.

  “Stay safe and talk to you later.” I hung up, left my phone, and stormed into the bathroom.

  Lucky for Kazimir he was naked. Hot water streamed down his muscular frame. He glanced over his shoulder while I ogled that perfect ass. “What took you so long?”

  I took off my robe and stepped inside. “I was getting an update from my crew.”

  “Hmmm.” A hint of agitation dotted his face, yet he took my hand and guided me into the warm water. “And what’s new with the crew?”

  “Not much.” I left his arms and went closer to the spray of water, letting it soak my hair.

  He pulled me back against him. His cock pressed into my ass. “Not much?”

  I moved away. “You would know more than me.”

  “Meaning?”

  “My phone is apparently not accepting phone calls from my men.”

  “When people go on vacation, they unplug—”

  “Don’t mess with my phone again.” I turned around and glared at him.

  The line in his jaw twitched. He stepped closer, towering over me. “And who told you about the phone problem?”

  “Never mind that.”

  “Was it Boris or Yuri?”

  “Make sure my phone is working upon the hour.”

  “It may be an hour before we leave this shower.”

  “It won’t be.” I twisted back around and began covering my arm in suds.

  He turned me around, took the washcloth, dropped it on the ground, and slipped his body against mine. “Your phone will be back in order as soon as I leave the shower.”

  “Thank you.”

  He wrapped his arms around my waist and kissed me. “I’m sorry. I don’t like men having free communication with you.”

  “Get over it.” I leaned away but didn’t leave his arms. “Anything else you want to add?”

  He gritted his teeth. “Meaning?”

  “Nothing new going on at the house in Moscow?”

  He leaned his head to the side. “Who did you talk to again?”

  “Chimpanzees? A mother and baby hanging over our bed? And you don’t say anything?”

  “I wanted a name before I came to you—”

  “And do you have one?”

  “No.”

  “Then, we should go back today.”

  “But we won’t.” He slipped his fingers down the curve of my back. “What’s a threat miles away? What’s the use of us rushing back when we have men to do it for us?”

  “No one is letting my men in the house and you’re blocking communication.”

  “That was due to my command. I want access to our house limited from now on. I don’t know your men, and I don’t like them talking to you.”

  “And I don’t know your men.”

  “True.” He lifted me up.

  “What are you doing?” I wrapped my legs around his waist. “Put me down. This is—”

  He swallowed the rest of my response with a kiss. When he finished, he whispered, “I’m going to get his name and anyone else involved.”

  Not even a little turned on for sexy time, I lowered from his waist. “I would rather get his name myself. This is between him and me. The monkey and chimpanzee has nothing to do with you.”

  “No, mysh. You’re mine now. Your enemies are mine.”

  “This enemy is probably one of your brothers. It would be better if I did it, anyway. You wouldn’t have to mistrust everyone.”

  “Whoever did it isn’t a brother to me anymore. And when I figure out who it is, I’m giving him to you.”

  Shocked, I stepped back. “You are?”

  “I am. You’ll want to kill him and send a message to the others. I do understand that.”

  “Cool, but it would have more effect if I found him myself. You giving him to me is bullshit. I want to do it myself.”

  “You’re on another level. We don’t do things ourselves anymore,” Kazimir grumbled. “I can make my own sandwich, but I haven’t in ten years.”

  I sighed.

  “You’re on another level now. We don’t muck about with the peasants.” He nipped at my bottom lip. “Let my men handle it. Let them get the names and faces. Whoever is involved from top to low level will die by your hands.” He kissed me again. “For now, let’s enjoy Paris.”

  “And if this guy isn’t discovered before we get back?”

  “Then you and your men have full freedom to investigate.”

  “Whatever.”

  He quirked his eyebrows. “You’re still mad.”

  “I am.”

  “Why?”

  “You withheld information and messed with communication with my men.” I finished cleaning as much as I could without those delicious hands distracting me. It was time to get control of my new lover. He had to bring the alpha male bullshit down several notches.

  I walked out of the shower, quickly grabbed a towel, and left.

  He watched me. “And how am I going to make this up?”

  “Maybe I’ll add a bow to that outfit!” I entered the bedroom.

  “Come back!”

  “Don’t mess with my phone anymore!”

  He muttered a curse but didn’t say anything else.

  I returned to the doorway and watched him turn off the shower and stomp out.

  “Kaz, I don’t know what you did with your other women, but this is too much.”

  “I’m learning.”

  “And if that motherfucker sends another animal to the house, you tell me.”

  “Of course. I just didn’t want you stressed—”

  “I want a picture of the chimpanzee and baby. I want to know what I was supposed to see when I walked in.”

  “I have many people handling this. Several agencies as well as—”

  “If it’s a person in your brotherhood, he may have those same contacts. We don’t know what this is. Stop withholding stuff from me.” I dried myself off. “And don’t you ever mess with my phone again!”

  Kazimir grumbled some more. “You’re barely clean. Come back in the shower.”

  “You’re barely forgiven.” I decided to change in the extra bedroom.
<
br />   Hours later, we rode toward the French countryside in silence. Kazimir didn’t know where we were going, and I was still pissed. I understood his mindset but didn’t agree. It was the same problem from Prague—him thinking he had to protect me from everything.

  I thought we had this settled. Are we always going to be arguing about this?

  I turned to him.

  He was on the phone with Zahkar, getting updates. He looked gorgeous in the tweed blazer and leather trousers. A brown tie went with his white shirt. Everything blended together perfectly. Before he’d waken up, I’d even gotten some help from Valentina who knew his sizes by heart. They were such an odd bunch of siblings, but I loved them.

  Every now and then, he glanced at me. I made it clear I was eavesdropping. How else would I get information?

  I can’t believe he didn’t tell me about the chimpanzees.

  From listening to his phone conversation, I’d learned our guards in Paris had caught wind of the French mafia following us. I didn’t know much about the Corsican and wondered why they would stupidly bother us. I glanced over my shoulder and confirmed what I’d heard from eavesdropping. Two white vans followed far in the back.

  “I know we’re in France and this is Jean-Pierre’s domain.” Kazimir waited and then his voice boomed. “Fuck tradition. I don’t get permission from anyone.”

  I looked out the window as a third van showed up further away.

  Three vans. Damn. Are they trying to start something today? What’s going on?

  “No. I did not call him. Why would I?” Kazimir looked out the window at one of the vans. “You’re not contacting Jean-Pierre either. If his pansies come close, they’ll be dead.”

  Do we really need a war with the Corsican?

  Keeping Kazimir calm was turning into a job. Had I not stepped in with President Smirnov and him, I swore it would’ve gone horrible.

  I mean, isn’t there some punishment for stabbing a general in your hotel room?

  Kazimir barked some more, “Jean-Pierre should stay far from me before I put blood on his dress.”

  I smirked.

  No wonder he messed with my phone and kept everything from me. He thinks he’s a god.

  In a way, he was. We’d gone to Paris for dinner. He’d slapped one high level general and killed another. He’d rented out an underground burial city for the afternoon just as a light surprise. So far, I hadn’t seen Kazimir not dominate and take what he wanted.

  “It may be unwarranted, but Jean-Pierre knows better. Get some men on him.” He shut off the phone.

  I looked at him. “Why are the Corsican following us?”

  “You’re talking to me now?”

  “A little bit.”

  “It’s my surprise date. You’re supposed to talk to me.”

  “Your date hasn’t begun.”

  “I’m wearing leather pants. It has surely begun.” He glanced down at his outfit. “However, I must admit this is comfortable.”

  “Why are they following us?”

  “Because their little leader, Jean-Pierre, has his panties in a bunch.”

  “Must you refer to him in the feminine?”

  “He reminds me of a woman.”

  “Are you saying women are weak?”

  “No, I’m saying Jean-Pierre should’ve gone into dressmaking, instead of a life of crime.”

  I shook my head.

  “It’s the truth.” He pouted. “I’m sorry about your phone.”

  “Make sure it’s working.”

  “I put in the orders.”

  “You better or I’m going to put my foot in your ass.”

  “So violent. Would you really let your foot mess up my nifty leather pants?”

  I held in my laughter and tried to stay mad.

  Why do I even attempt to be pissed with him? He’s so fucking spoiled and irresistible.

  I sighed. “Have you figured out what we’re doing today?”

  He studied me. “I have an idea.”

  I wore an outfit similar to his—a classically tailored blazer for women with almost the same patterned tweed jacket, except mine had slits in the back and many elegant details to accentuate the timeless style.

  “Give me your guesses,” I said.

  “We’re going dancing.”

  “No.”

  He looked at my jacket and then his. “We’re starting a band.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Clown school.”

  “Kazimir, the outfit is not that bad.”

  “It is, but at least you’re talking to me.”

  “Barely.”

  “I’ll take what I can get.”

  Our limo traveled down a long country road and headed onto a private path. The vans of Corsican made a different turn. Surely, they would be parked off in the shadows waiting for us to come out.

  “Why do you think they’re following us?” I asked.

  “I killed Sasha and hung his body up. Now, I’ve flown to France. I’m sure their panties are in a bunch.”

  “Enough with the panty metaphors, Kaz, and people don’t get nervous about things unless they’re guilty or...”

  He grinned. “Or?”

  “Or you’re the baddest motherfucker on the scene and it scares them. Basically, I would be nervous if you were visiting my country.”

  “What are you saying?” He shrugged. “I’m an excellent tourist.”

  “Your visit in New York changed the landscape of Manhattan.”

  “That was Sasha’s fault. He bombed the building.”

  “Prague will probably never be the same after the castle shooting.”

  “In all fairness, Prague is used to that behavior after Uncle Igor’s oddities.”

  I smiled. “Tell me about the Corsican.”

  “I would rather spend my time talking about something more important.”

  “Still.”

  “Their little leader is named Jean-Pierre. He wasn’t the head until recently. In these past years, he gained a reputation. They’ve been calling him The Butcher.”

  “Didn’t they used to call Luka, ‘The Butcher’?”

  “Yes, but that was different. Luka earned it. Jean-Pierre is just a maniac with several special knives.”

  “Why is Jean-Pierre rising in reputation?”

  “Because he was fighting Uncle Igor for three years over another matter. I gave my uncle some men and weapons thinking Jean-Pierre and his cousins would be put in their place. It didn’t happen.”

  I quirked my eyebrows. “He beat your uncle?”

  “No, but Jean-Pierre definitely kicked his ass in their little war. Some of it spilled into Russia. They manhandled some of the brothers. It became embarrassing. I actually flew to Paris one time with Sasha to talk him, hoping he would stop.”

  “Why not fight Jean-Pierre yourself?”

  “It would’ve looked like I was helping Uncle Igor.”

  “And your uncle wanted to destroy Jean-Pierre on his own?”

  “Yes. And this all started over some woman. She played something, violin or flute. It doesn’t matter. Jean-Pierre was sneaking into her apartment and watching her sleep.”

  “What the fuck?”

  “Exactly. He stalked her without her knowing.”

  “How did Uncle Igor get involved?”

  “The flute player’s aunt was a mistress to my uncle. She came to him with the problem.”

  “Earlier, you kept saying them, but I thought you were only talking about Jean-Pierre.”

  “Jean-Pierre has three cousins. They’re always together or paired up. Each has their own crew, but united, they were unstoppable for my uncle.”

  I gazed back at the vans again. “Why do they call Jean-Pierre The Butcher?”

  “He likes to cut people. I’m told he carries around a violin case full of different sized blades, and when people don’t do what he wants, he plays a death song on their skin.” Kazimir doubled over with laughter.

  “That’s not f
unny.”

  More laughter came. “I find it all comical. A death song? Violin bows with blades? Why not just shoot them in the head?”

  “He sounds psychotic.”

  “He’s a frilly little man. I don’t believe the rumors.”

  “Maybe you should.”

  “Jean-Pierre looks like the type of man that spends three hours primping in front of the mirror and styling his hair. Valentina calls him my elegant villain. She said all heroes need one.”

  “You and Valentina are crazy.” I chuckled.

  “She’s a fan of the Butcher. Due to that, I’ve left him alone, but if he keeps sending his men to follow us, I’ll play my own death song on him.”

  I turned away from the vans. “Do you think they’ll be a problem today?”

  “No. He’s never gone after me, but he may be monitoring us for a while.”

  “And will you allow it?”

  “It matters only if his monitoring will annoy me or not.”

  I made a note to learn more about Jean-Pierre. With a name like the Butcher, it did give me pause. Kazimir may have found him harmless and funny, but his men following us didn’t give me ease.

  The limo traveled further down the long country road. The vans remained off the private property.

  I hope he loves this.

  The limo stopped in front of a massive castle that caught even Kazimir’s eye. His gaze widened as several men stood in front wearing similar clothes to what we had on and holding many hunting rifles.

  His grin spread. “Thank God.”

  “What?”

  “I was hoping we were going hunting, but I thought it might’ve been some dance class.”

  “What?”

  “It was the leather trousers.”

  “Oh, stop it.”

  He left the limo and helped me out. “I’ve never hunted, not officially.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Hunting to eat. Hunting to kill someone. Hunting for sport.” He nodded as he took in the area, “I’ve never done it.”

  “Too busy running the world and scaring everyone?”

  “Maybe.” He glanced at me, hitting me with an intense look. “Thank you, mysh. This means a lot. You’re showing me I need more time to relax.”

  “Stop sucking up, Kazimir.”

  “I’m not.” He shut the limo door behind me and took my hand. “You’re not mad at me anymore, anyway.”

  “I’m not?”

  “You’re not. You know I won’t do it again. You know I’ll do my best to make it up.”