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

by Wright, Kenya

There we go.

  I grabbed his pretty tie, wrapped it around his perfumed neck, and choked him.

  Wrong bitch.

  He grunted. I choked him as I kicked and punched.

  Rafael cleared his throat. “Do you want me to play a song while you dance with her?”

  Grunting, Jean-Pierre shoved me hard into the wall. Pain exploded against my back.

  Fuck.

  He twisted me around.

  I lost control.

  Wait.

  He turned me again and kicked up my feet. I fell hard on the floor. Pain burst all over my ass.

  Jean-Pierre towered over me. “Listen. I hate getting aggressive with women. Let’s not change my view tonight. Clearly, I could’ve broken your arm and tied it around your neck as a leash to drag you forward. I would rather you walk next to me.”

  I’d like to see you break my arm, motherfucker.

  I kept my comment to myself and rose.

  He straightened and dusted off his jacket. The bastard had the nerve to have diamond cufflinks and even more diamonds in his watch.

  You really dressed up to kidnap me.

  I tightened my bed sheet. Maybe, if I’d had regular clothes on, I could’ve had a fighting chance. Defeat filled me, but I wouldn’t let these bitches see.

  “I’m sorry.” My bottom lip quivered. “I just don’t want to go with you.”

  “I’ve heard worse.” Jean-Pierre gestured behind me. “Now get on the fucking elevator.”

  The person in his ear said something.

  Jean-Pierre dragged me forward. “Run!”

  Run? What did he say? What’s Kazimir doing?

  He raced off with me in a tight grip.

  Is Kazimir coming?

  I tried to slow us down, but when we got to the elevator, Jean-Pierre slung me on.

  Rafael got on, asked between sputtered breaths, “Why the hell are we running again?”

  Jean-Pierre kept his hold on me. “Kazimir’s got a rocket launcher.”

  Say what now?

  Rafael muttered, “Shit.”

  The other men hurried on.

  The doors closed.

  Did they say rocket launcher?

  The elevator lowered. I swore it followed the beating of my heart. Sweat trickled down the sides of my face. The sheet I wore was torn a little at the ends.

  “Louis?” Jean-Pierre touched the ear bud. “Where is the Lion now?”

  So that’s who he was talking to? Louis. Good. I’ll kill him too.

  Jean-Pierre tapped the bud.

  I checked the numbers above the elevator door, watching our lowering progress.

  We get out of the elevator and then what? How many of his men are waiting down there?

  I scanned the elevator.

  Maybe I can figure out something in here.

  I checked Rafael. He’d been watching me the whole time, scowling.

  Still mad about that chokehold, huh?

  The voice garbled from Jean-Pierre’s ear.

  We all turned to him.

  Jean-Pierre growled, “I don’t need your director’s cut commentary. Where is he now?”

  My heart boomed in my ears.

  “What word?” Jean-Pierre asked.

  Silence filled the space.

  “Catch it. The word might be important.”

  What word? What the hell is going on?

  Terror and adrenaline snaked through me. I had to get away, keep trying and never give up. I’d seen what Jean-Pierre had done to his victims. That wouldn’t be me. He may have been a gentleman in the hallway, but he wouldn’t be one for long.

  “No one can kill him,” Jean-Pierre said. “Tell everyone to run.”

  Kazimir, please don’t get hurt. I’ll be okay.

  For some reason, the elevator rocked. I lost my balance and fell into Jean-Pierre. The sides of the elevator trembled. One of the men whispered a prayer. Rafael nudged him to shut up.

  Kazimir, what are you doing, baby?

  The elevator rocked again.

  “What the hell was that, Louis?” Jean-Pierre stumbled back and gripped me harder.

  Rafael muttered under his breath, “Jesus Christ, what are we doing?”

  Jean-Pierre fisted his other hand. “Get out of the building, Louis!”

  So, Louis is in the building somewhere.

  I wished I could’ve told Kazimir. Grabbing Louis would’ve been a great way to end this.

  The elevator shook again.

  The lights flickered.

  Baby? Don’t get killed.

  Rafael looked at the elevator’s ceiling. “What the fuck is that? King Kong? If the Bratva have King Kong, then I’m switching sides.”

  Jean-Pierre sighed. “He’s got a rocket launcher.”

  You shot it in here, Kaz? Oh God.

  I opened my mouth and then turned away.

  O-kay.

  Rafael put his gun away and wiped his face with both hands. “Rocket launcher?”

  Quiet came next.

  The elevator continued to lower, but not fast enough.

  Jean-Pierre stared at me within the silence. After a few seconds, he took off his jacket and handed it to me. “Take this.”

  I don’t think so. Keep your jacket, asshole. I won’t be with you for too long.

  I swallowed my anger and kept my voice calm. “I’m fine.”

  “I didn’t ask.”

  I grabbed the jacket and put it on. The whole time, my gaze remained on him.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Emily.”

  “Where are you from?”

  “New York.”

  “When did you meet Kazimir?”

  “Not too long ago.”

  None of your fucking business.

  He let out a long breath. “I’m not in the business of stealing women. This will go short, as long as Kazimir helps me find her.”

  But will you live after this? That’s the question.

  This all started from somebody kidnapping his woman I assumed. Was it that violinist? I wished I’d known who done it so I could kill them too. Jean-Pierre kept asking about Misha. Did Maxwell know what was going on?

  Goddamn it! What the hell is going on?

  The elevator shook again.

  I scanned the elevator and glanced up as the light flickered again. “If you don’t mind me asking...who do you think took her?”

  Jean-Pierre frowned. “The Bratva had something to do with it.”

  The next time the elevator shook, we all stumbled. Jean-Pierre bumped into me and then moved away. Unable to keep my balance, I grabbed the wall.

  Come on. I can’t go out this way. Not on an elevator with a bunch of sweet-smelling French guys.

  I sighed. “Do you have a name of the person who may have her?”

  “The Devil. Misha should know more.”

  “Why are you telling her this, again?” Rafael growled. “We already kidnapped her.”

  Jean-Pierre shrugged. “She could help.”

  For the first time, I saw desperation all over Jean-Pierre. It made me less angry.

  I could use this. I could get free.

  The elevator stopped at the lobby. Screams and shrieks came from the other side. Everyone pulled their guns out. I had no idea what to expect and got behind Jean-Pierre.

  The doors opened.

  Men ran from different directions. Many were uniformed. Cops and soldiers. None looked to be on Kazimir’s side. They were all with Jean-Pierre.

  Fuck me. This motherfucker is really going to take me.

  Flames snaked up the right side of the building close to the stair entrance. Smoke thickened the air.

  “Let’s go.” Jean-Pierre dragged me out.

  No, man. I can’t go with them. This has to end now.

  I frantically scanned the space. “I…I could help.”

  Jean-Pierre looked unconvinced as he pulled me along. “Talk.”

  “My brother is with Misha. I could call him and ge
t the message to Misha.”

  Rafael came up to my side and eyed me. “Why is your brother with Misha?”

  “He decided to stay in St. Petersburg for a while.”

  They said nothing else as we hurried outside.

  No. No.

  The sun had come up. The streets were filled with onlookers, cops, soldiers, and screaming guests. Flames and smoke swirled around the hotel. High above, a helicopter sounded.

  Kazimir? Is that you?

  I raised my view but couldn’t tell.

  Military guards marched toward the hotel.

  No. Don’t get hurt, Kazimir. We’ll figure this out.

  I shook Jean-Pierre’s arm. “Call them off.”

  “I’ll help,” I begged. “I’ll do anything to get her back for you. Just make sure they don’t hurt Kazimir. Let him go.”

  He said nothing.

  A limo pulled up.

  Rafael opened the door.

  Jean-Pierre shoved me in.

  Fuck. How am I getting away from them?

  Chapter 20

  Kazimir

  With Emily no longer in the bedroom, I had no one to keep safe. They wouldn’t shoot me. Jean-Pierre needed me alive to get his flute player. I didn’t know how Misha was involved, but my cousin would pay for this.

  They will all pay for this!

  Meanwhile, six men kept me on the ground. I was on my back. I strained against them. “How long do you think you have to keep me down?”

  No one answered.

  They had my arm and legs trapped to the floor. But no one had held down my head or neck. I slammed my head into the man in front of me. He fell back. For the one holding my arm, I bit his nose, snatched off the tip, and spit it back in his face.

  He screamed.

  His blood dripped down my chin.

  The other one closest to my mouth moved away.

  With two men off me, I seized the opportunity and grabbed another in his crotch, squeezing and biting my nails into the little meat. He screamed. The others tried to move my hand but someone let my arm ago, and that was the end. I slammed one into the other, smashing their faces into each other over and over and doing my best to kill them. Blood splattered. Bruises bloomed on their faces They fell to the ground.

  The other two came for me, getting in some sort of grappling stance.

  “Oh, you think we’re going to fight?”

  I lunged forward. They backed away.

  I roared and grabbed them both. We wrestled, smashing into the balcony glass and grappling among shattered pieces outside. A minute later, they flew like eagles in the sky right as the sun layered it with light.

  Another minute, I took one’s gun and shot the rest. One in the chest. Another in the gut. Even though another was groaning on the ground, I put a bullet in his head. No one could survive after this. All would have to die.

  Where are you, Butcher?

  I gazed down at the gun in my hand.

  This won’t be enough. Fuck. I need to hurry.

  Emily had to still be in the building. They couldn’t have left yet. I had no idea who was alive or not. Hopefully, Pavel was at the airport with Emily’s men.

  Thank God I had a change of heart. Now, I need their help. She should’ve been here! I’ll never take her away from her men again.

  My heart boomed in my ears.

  I need something bigger. Where did I put the rocket launcher?

  I ran to the other side of the bedroom, jumping over dead bodies.

  “Here we go.” I dove under my bed. Sasha used to say I was crazy for taking rocket launchers while I traveled. However, I found a rocket launcher to be as important as a toothbrush. I never left home without it.

  I dragged the heavy thing out and found one of Emily’s knives. My arms and legs ached. The men had given me a hard time, even though they probably weren’t supposed to hurt me.

  There we go.

  I gripped the huge weapon in my hands. The rocket launcher slowed me down, but I hurried forward anyway.

  Where are you, mysh?

  In the hallway, all my top men lay dead on the floor. Rage spiraled inside me. More of my dead men scattered the living room. I opened the door to the suite and even more dead lay right in front the door.

  They killed everyone. It’s just me.

  The elevator dinged as it shut.

  I glanced down the hallway. “Mysh?”

  Some of Jean-Pierre’s men stood in front of the elevator. I set the rocket launcher down on the floor. If I shot it, a rocket could affect the elevator. I was sure Emily was on it. I couldn’t put her in harm’s way as I tried to free her.

  Stupidly, the French men appeared to relax when they saw me drop the rocket launcher.

  I raced their way and shot a knife at one. It was a perfect throw; the blade severed his neck. I wanted to spend more time cutting him, but Emily was gone. Time was of the essence. I could take my time killing all the Corsican later.

  I took the other’s gun and shot him. Another came for me, but they were low levels. The stupid ones left to die.

  They were dead within seconds.

  Still, sorrow and terror filled me.

  They were on the elevator. They had to be. I’ll have to take the stairs. How will I beat them down there?

  It was a struggle to rush back to the rocket launcher and then run to the stairs, but somehow, I found the energy. In the stairwell, I heard men yelling and rushing away.

  “No!” I yelled at them. “Don’t run! Come! Talk to me!”

  I shot a rocket down the staircase. My feet lifted a little from the force, it was that strong. I stumbled and regained my balance. The rocket shot down with insane power, dragging cement and piping with it, exploding midflight and never making it to the last floor.

  Black smoke and fire came next.

  Several men screamed in pain.

  Got you.

  I’d killed them but possibly fucked up my way down.

  You’re not thinking. You’re just destroying.

  It was hard to see as smoke rose in the area. Not my smartest decision. If I destroyed the staircase, how could I get down in time? If I blew up the building, how would I get my mouse back to me?

  Mysh.

  My heart ached.

  Goddamn it! Bad move. Think better. No more slip ups.

  Instead of going down, I headed for the roof.

  If they get her out of the building, I can catch the car and follow it.

  I had no idea if my choice was right or wrong. My legs burned as I headed to the roof.

  Once I got out there, cold wind hit my face. Two of my men lay dead on the ground. Someone had stabbed them in the chest.

  Meanwhile, my pilot peeked out from the helicopter, trembling.

  “Are you okay?” I headed his way.

  “Yes. The guy didn’t hurt me. He said I was a civilian so—”

  “Good. Start it up.”

  He blinked. “We’re flying out of here?”

  “No. We’re flying down there.”

  The pilot appeared to have more to say, but his quick glance at my rocket launcher shut him up.

  We were in the helicopter five seconds later. It was in that moment I realized I was still naked. It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered. They’d taken Emily and he was called the Butcher. Surely he knew that if he lay one cut on her, I’d break every bone in his flute player.

  Sirens blared off in the distance below.

  I sat down and looked at the blood on my bare legs. “Give me your jacket.”

  The pilot did. “I don’t think we can get down there.”

  “We have to. They took Emily. She’s somewhere down there.”

  “But the space between the buildings—”

  “Get as low as you can!”

  This is hopeless. No don’t say that. No. She’s down there.

  But it was packed. The side of the building was pushing out black smoke. Hundreds of people had scattered below us. Among the civilians screamin
g, I spotted Paris police and French military.

  You brought out all the stops, didn’t you, Jean-Pierre?

  If we landed, I would be in custody and back to doing Jean-Pierre’s bidding.

  The pilot tried his best, but I was no fool. The damn helicopter wouldn’t fit between the hotel and other buildings. The roads around it were too small and narrow.

  Fuck! Fuck!

  “Raise the helicopter.” I stared sadly at the sea of cars and people. My eyes watered, but I wouldn’t shed a tear. “Head to the airport.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  My heart broke.

  “And give me your phone.”

  “It’s gone, sir.”

  What was the use of power, if I couldn’t keep my mouse safe? What was the point of having all the money and weapons in the world, if I couldn’t stop shit like this from happening?

  The world spun around me, nothing but black-and-white space, fading in and out. No room. No feelings. No sounds. Not even any emotion. I became numb. Vacant. Terror-driven seconds ticked by, or maybe it was minutes. Too long.

  The helicopter rose in the air and I gazed down below, wondering if I could spot Emily.

  Please, Jean-Pierre. Please don’t hurt her. I’ll do anything. I’ll get your flute player. Just don’t hurt her.

  My head spun out of control. I’d never been this out of it. I’d always been able to be calm and focused in the worse situations. Not today. In this moment, I was nothing. I had no power. No authority.

  What the fuck do I do next?

  I blinked and mentally shoved myself back to reality. My heart thundered in my chest.

  “Get this helicopter to go faster,” I growled.

  “Y-yes, sir.”

  Perhaps, we sped up. I didn’t know. Blood rushed in my ears. My knees went weak. Thank God I was sitting. I might’ve passed out. I’d never felt so weak in my life. My hand trembled.

  I told her I would protect her. I told her no one could ever go against us.

  I swallowed hard as continuous panic swirled through me. All my money, men, nukes, the massive empire that I’d spent years building...and now I sat on a helicopter, half-naked and splattered with French blood.

  Mysh.

  My hands shivered. I was still holding the rocket launcher.

  Please don’t hurt her. Please...

  Chapter 21

  Emily

  Jean-Pierre’s limo sped through the street. It stank of more perfume and even sex. I didn’t know what he’d been doing in here earlier, but it definitely needed to be cleaned.