Dirty Minds
The Lion and The Mouse (Book 4)
Kenya Wright
Copyright © 2019 by Kenya Wright.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher.
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Printed in the USA.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be assumed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Contents
Prologue
1. Kazimir
2. Emily
3. Kazimir
Second Act
4. Emily
5. Kazimir
6. Emily
7. Kazimir
8. Emily
9. Emily
10. Kazimir
11. Kazimir
12. Kazimir
Third Act
13. Kazimir
14. Emily
15. Kazimir
16. Emily
Epilogue
About the Author
Also by Kenya Wright
Dedicated to
Loette Johnson
You opened up your place,
when I needed a quiet spot in between travels.
You let me revise in peace,
while cooking me up the dopest meals.
Thank you for your service.
This book would’ve never been finished
without you.
Prologue
Kazimir
Pavel pointed forward. “I’ve got a jeep for us over here.”
I was on the phone with Misha. “Get the Devil’s location right…fucking…now!”
Misha’s voice remained calm on the other side of the line. “Pavel explained. My people are on it now—”
“Your people?” I marched toward the black jeep. “Your fucking people are on it? You need to be on it!”
“They contacted Maxwell. Emily talked to him.”
I stopped in front of the jeep. “When were you going to tell me this?”
“I called your phone.”
If Misha stood in front of me, I would’ve slapped him. “You fucked up. Celina stole my babies? No fucking phone call—”
“I thought, I had it under control.”
“Emily’s gone!”
Silence hit the line.
“Instead of you handling the situation yourself or calling me, you enlist some fucking psychos to track the nukes?” My chest rose and fell.
“Kazimir. . .I’m sorry,” Misha said. “You know I. . .I would never want something like this to happen to you. . .I understand. . .my mother. . .”
My eyes burned. I blinked and put my back to Pavel. My throat tightened. I couldn’t think. I didn’t want to think, but I had to move fast. Jean-Pierre was an idiot. Had a short fuse. Someone had taken his woman. He thought it was me. And now I would have to deal with the situation, while making sure Emily stayed alive.
Misha spoke again, “Kazimir, I’ll do anything. I’m on it.”
“You will.” I gripped the phone hard. “Because if something happens to Emily. . .your ballerina will never be able to dance again.”
I hung up the phone and got in the jeep.
Emily’s little female followed me. Nervousness covered her face. She was one of Emily’s new recruits from Kapotnya. For the first time today, I took a minute to study her.
Why did you pick this one, mouse?
The slim woman had a dark honeyed complexion. I thought she had a ponytail, but it was tiny sky blue braids, that hung in the center of her head like a long mohawk. Her hair had been shaved on both sides.
I thought back to the few conversations I’d had about her with Emily. My mouse had boasted about one of her woman’s skills in weapons, as well as cybersecurity. Apparently, she could hack into anything.
If this is her, we’ll be testing those talents today. Anything to get Emily back to me. Anything.
Most of my men resided in Moscow. I’d brought Emily to Paris for a vacation, and to buy my men time in Moscow to figure out the monkey head guy. Whoever kept cutting animals’ heads off and placing them in our bedroom was a sick man. Possibly Bratva. Emily couldn’t be near him. Paris served as a safe haven.
But then the Corsican got paranoid from my presence.
And Misha, dropped the ball after his father’s death. He should have been in Prague, dealing with the estate, funeral, and all of Uncle Igor’s belongings. Instead he chased pussy in St. Petersburg. Uncle Igor’s mistress, Celina, took my nuclear codes—one part of a pair. Celina had the sister portion. I kept the brother in a high tech basement safe in Moscow.
Instead of Misha coming to me, he sent some lunatics to grab it.
And took Jean-Pierre’s girlfriend.
An exchange would be the solution to this problem. I would get Jean-Pierre’s flute player and return her to him. Then, he would give me back my mouse.
This was a simple task for normal people. But for men like us, it would be the deadliest exchange of our lives. Both would be ready to kill the other. Neither would mind the carnage of the innocent, not when our women were involved.
Next to me, Pavel put on his seatbelt, as if bored with nothing else to do. He had his long hair pulled into a ponytail. He’d matched my new clothing. No suit for today like me. Army boots. Black pants and shirt. My uniform of the old days, when I would go out into the night and knock motherfuckers’ heads off.
Pavel appeared as ready as me to kill. “Where do you want to go?”
“Who’s the top brother here?”
“His name is David. They call him King David. He’s in Little Russia.”
It was a small neighborhood in the southwest of Paris.
I nodded. “Then let’s wake up King David. I’ll need all his men.”
“I figured you would want to go his way. I’m on it.” Pavel gave the order to our driver and we sped off.
The whole time, I gazed out the window as we headed to Little Russia.
Mysh. . .I’m coming for you. I swear.
The French had taken Emily. We’d been in my suite, making love. The Butcher had come in, put a gun to my head, right as I came, and took my mouse away.
Jean-Pierre, you’ve made an eternal enemy of me. There will never be a time where I won’t want to kill you.
My mouse had been my sanctuary. My goddamn religion. I praised her. Blessed every inch of her body. Without her, life would be hell. A demonic spirit gnawing at my soul. Even now, flames already burned my skin. I swore smoke suffocated my lungs.
Although the sun hovered above, a dark cloud followed me. Murderous rage floated within it. There would be no peace until Emily lay within my arms.
Usually I marveled more at the world. At the birds and the trees. The beauty of the sky. The shades of the flowers all around us. Not today. At this very moment, the earth represented a cruel place. Horror tangled with dread.
Without Emily, loneliness clung to me. Darkness seeped through every pore. My soul had blackened.
I had been building a house for Emily, right inside my chest. A castle. A haven. Deep within the crevices of my soul. The ribs had been the walls. My heart would power the place. Keep it warm. All this time, I was trying to get Emily deep inside of me. Deeper. Until she could never escape. And that piece of shit had snatched her away.
There would be no place that he would hide.
There would be no day, where I would forgive me.
Eternal enemies.
Pavel and I sat in the back of the huge jeep.
Emily’s new recruit rode in the seat in front of us. I turned to the woman. She’d been watching me from her right side.
As soon as our gazes met, she moved her attention to the laptop she’d brought along. It sat on her lap. She looked to be early twenties and inexperienced. However, my mouse was clever. Emily had found something in this one, and so I would keep her near.
I glared at her. “What’s your name?”
She touched her chest. “Are you talking to me?”
“Yes.”
“Oh. . .Blue. That’s my name.”
Pavel smiled at her. “Makes sense. What came first? The hair or nickname.”
Blue nervously turned to Pavel. “My nickname?”
“Who gave it to you?” Pavel asked.
“It doesn’t matter.” I turned away and stared out the window.
The jeep went quiet.
My voice held an edge, as I looked back at Pavel. “We’re going to King David.”
“Yes. I’m told that everyone began calling him King and not him asking.”
“I remember him. He was spiritual. Could take a heart out a man’s chest fast. Cut the chest. Crack the ribcage and yank it out with minutes to spare.”
Blue glanced over her shoulder and opened her mouth in shock.
Pavel shrugged. “Everyone has a cute little trick.”
“How long to Little Russia?”
Pavel checked his watch. “Ten minutes maybe.”
Blue raised her hand.
I glared at her. “What are you doing?”
“Asking to speak.”
“Speak.”
Blue swallowed. “I looked King David up. It should be less than that to get to his house. Barely five minutes.”
Pavel grinned. “How did you look it up?”
Blue gestured to her laptop. “I’m good at finding things.”
“You better be,” I growled.
If anybody fucks this up, they’ll be dead. I would hate to make that blue hair purple.
I stared out the window.
Little Russia was a small neighborhood in the southwest of Paris. Long ago, Russian-born taxi drivers had moved to the cheap apartments and did their best to take care of their families. Later, the Bratva got to the nice cab drivers. And money had them shifting their jobs to other things. Currently, Little Russia consisted of many Russian expats, and Bratva living harmoniously together.
The brotherhood’s dealings in Paris remained more business than criminal. Although the city was the center of all trafficking for France, the French were gentlemen. They tended to solve disputes during dinner and fine wine.
Apparently, not anymore. Now, they are just e idiots kidnapping women.
I pushed Jean-Pierre out of my mind.
I needed to focus.
The jeep pulled into Little Russia and sped down a small cobblestone road.
This place still has not changed .
Before taxi drivers and Bratva, Russians still flocked to Paris. I believed it was due to Lenin—the founder of the Soviet Communist Party. Here in the City of Lights, lived the famous revolutionary. Lenin’s revolution had failed in 1905. Full of disappointment and embarrassment, he fled to Paris in 1908, right at the height of the city’s cultural explosion.
Later, more Russian revolutionaries exiled to Paris.
Pavel disrupted my thoughts. “Are you okay?”
“No.”
“What can I do, Kazimir?”
Get my mouse back to me. But you know that.
I had to calm my anger, before I ended up killing everyone. My hair remained wet from the quick shower. Meanwhile, heartbreak had soaked my flesh more than the water. How I wish I stained my skin with Emily. Her scent.
I raised my hand to my nose and sniffed. Nothing came, but the shampoo’s flowery fragrance.
Fuck this. Where is my mouse?
I ran my fingers through the damp hair. “Do you know a lot about Lenin?”
“I know what’s necessary.” Pavel shrugged. “I didn’t do well in school.”
“Lenin lived in Paris for a while. Brought his wife and family.” I leaned back in the seat. “He met his mistress here. Inès Armand, a French communist activist.”
“That name sounds familiar.”
“She was married to the Russian Alexander Armand, from one of the richest families in Russia.”
“And Lenin and her cheated together?”
Blue stared at her laptop and didn’t type, but I could tell she was listening in on our conversation. This one was very observant. Of course my mouse would want her.
Pavel grabbed my attention. “Inès was Lenin’s whore?”
“She was more than a sex toy to him. She became his closest adviser, assistant, and confidante.” Pain hit me.
“And what about his wife? She never got mad?”
“She was happy to be the devoted wife. Meanwhile, Lenin and Inés’s relationship was one of the best-kept secrets of the Soviet Union and was more important to him than anything. Russian military guarded her.”
Blue typed in her laptop, filling the jeep with a tap tap sound.
Pain continued to rise in my chest. I touched the space above my heart, trying to sooth it away. I could feel myself dying. I wouldn’t admit it to anyone. They would think I was crazy, and they would be right. But still, I swore my organs were tearing apart. Shredding. My heart had already cracked along with my brain. My soul crumbled. Collapsed.
I wasn't used to this level of fear.
More than a day without Emily, and I wouldn’t be able to stand. Or see. Or even breath. More than a week and I would kill everyone. Any person who smiled or frowned. Walked or sat.
Jean-Pierre had not only put himself in danger, he triggered a possible apocalypse.
I gripped both of my knees to find balance. “Later. . .”
Sweat beaded along my forehead.
I wiped it away. “Later, Lenin returned to Russia. Their relationship continued, but it became more letters than contact.”
Blue typed into the laptop and raised her hand.
“What?” I asked.
“Asking to speak.”
My heart ached. I never experienced this before. It thudded fast. Throbbing with a boom, instead of beating at a normal pace.
Keep calm.
I growled at her. “Just speak. Don’t raise your hand like you’re in a goddamn class.”
She blinked. “Lenin and Inés’s love letters are in a museum in Moscow.”
“Good job.” Pavel gave her a weak smile. “You’re nervous. Relax and save your skills for more important things.”
Blue let out a long breath. “I am nervous. . .sorry. I need something to do.”
“Get the locations of Jean-Pierre’s warehouse.” I rubbed my sweaty palms together, not used to my body’s odd reactions. “I want the places where the Corsican keeps their guns and any other weapons.”
Blue stretched her arms and began typing. “Okay.”
Pavel looked at me. “What happened to Lenin’s mistress?”
I moved my hands to my chest, knowing the pain wouldn’t go away until my mouse returned. “When she died, she was given a national funeral. Lenin fought for it. She’s buried in the Necropolis of the Kremlin wall.”
Pavel whistled.
I watched Blue type fast onto her laptop. “Inés is the only French to receive the honor.”
“He pulled strings?” Pavel asked.
“More than that. Threats. Declarations of possible civil war. All to keep his mistress’s dead body near him. Lenin died four years later. He’s buried a few meters away from her.” I rubbed my face with both hands. “What do you think Lenin would have done, if Inès had been taken from him?”
Pavel whistled again. “It scares me to think
about it.”
Blue looked up from the laptop. “I have the locations of Jean-Pierre’s warehouse.”
“That was fast.”
“One of the cousins, Louis, oversees all of their security and weapons. Emily had me hack into his system three days ago.”
Mysh, you always think several steps ahead. Too bad I didn’t trust your men around you. I should have never intervened.
Blue and Pavel stared at me. Neither said a word.
I looked at Blue. “Write the locations down somewhere. Have them ready to give to King David.”
“Do you want to blow the warehouses up?” Pavel asked.
“No. We need to save any explosives. We’ll do something else to them.”
Every bullet had to count. Every weapon had to be salvaged for war.
Blue hurried to get the bag next to her, pulling out a notepad and pen. Next, she scribbled on it. When she finished, she handed the pages to me.
“Hold on to them.” The scowl hadn’t left my face, but I tried to soften it. “What do you think?”
“About the warehouses?” she squeaked.
“No. About Lenin. What would Lenin have done if his mistress had been taken?”
Blue placed the paper on her lap. “If they had taken Lenin’s mistress, there would’ve been a war.”
“You’re right. Have you ever fought a war, Blue?”
Her bottom lip quivered. “No.”
I directed my attention back to the window. “You will soon.”
Death and tragedy came without notice.
No signs had preceded. No phone call. No dream from God.
It was there, when yesterday it wasn’t.
And my heart drummed to the rhythm of war. My breath quickened in anticipation. Hot blood coursed through my veins.
Dirty Minds: The Lion and The Mouse (Book 4) Page 1
