Dirty Passions An Interracial Russian Mafia Romance (The Lion and The Mouse #5) - Kenya Wright Page 0,138

message to all. Something that people will discuss throughout history.”

My phone rang.

I climbed into the limo and left David outside.

My head fogged.

The phone rang again.

I put the device to my ear. “Yes?”

Pavel’s voice came on. “It looks like the French are heading toward your penthouse, but I’m not sure.”

It took me a minute to get my head around everything. So many thoughts spun around in my mind.

“Kazimir?”

“Yes, Pavel.” I cleared my throat. “Stay on them.”

“I already called our men ahead to watch out.”

“Good.”

“Kazimir?”

I gazed out of the window. “Yes.”

“Why is Zahkar dead?”

I didn’t respond. Emotions tornadoed through me. Anger and sadness. Guilt and confusion.

“Kazimir, I’m sorry for asking, but. . .it was Zahkar. What could he have done?”

“He did enough. Abram is dead too. If I was you, I would focus on staying alive and less on why others died.”

I hung up, not sure why I had been so harsh with Pavel. He had done nothing wrong.

Pain hit my temple.

An ache filled my chest.

And all I wanted to do was get back to my mouse.

Chapter 33

Frenemies

Emily

My phone rang, waking me up. Yawning, I opened my eyes.

Darkness bathed my room.

“Kaz?” I touched the other side of the bed and only felt the round belly of my furry baby.

Harlem liked to sleep like a fully satiated human—belly up, legs spread out, and mouth open with his tongue wagging to the side. He lounged in doggy heaven.

Kaz isn’t back yet.

The phone rang again.

“Okay. Okay.” I dragged myself up, crawled over, and grabbed it off the nightstand. “Hello?”

A French accent rode the male’s voice. “We need to talk, friend.”

“J.P. unless you’re going to give me some names then call me later.” Groaning, I collapsed back on the bed and closed my eyes. “You woke me up.”

“I would think you have more pressing matters around you than to worry about my disturbing your peace.”

“What do you want, J.P.?”

“A better nickname. You do understand that my mother spent a lot of time thinking of my first name and it is a grand one. Many women love it. Men are probably jealous—”

“Did you get the people involved?”

“Did you dream about me?”

“No.” I quickly opened my eyes. “And. . .I never have dreamed about you. Never.”

“That sounds a bit guilty.” Curiosity laced his voice. “I wonder why.”

I sat up. “Who’s involved with the monkey heads and the gorilla?”

“Come downstairs so we can talk. Bring no more than two men.”

“I’ll bring as many people as I want.”

“If you do, you won’t talk to me, and you may find that these gorillas can turn into other things.”

I let out a long breath. “Where do you want to meet downstairs?”

“I’ll come to you. Just be down there in five minutes. We don’t have much time. The lion’s cousin is probably listening to this call. So be quick and bring an umbrella.”

“Why?”

“It’s wet outside.” Jean-Pierre hung up.

Turning on the light, I climbed out of bed and checked my watch. I had barely been asleep for an hour.

This better not be any bullshit.

In that moment, Harlem woke up and stared at me through half closed eyes.

“How was your sleep, buddy?”

He rolled onto his stomach and watched me.

“What the hell does J.P. have up his sleeve now?” Taking off Kaz’s big shirt, I hurried to get dressed. “He better have a name. I know that. I should take my gun and shoot his ass for waking me up.”

Once Harlem noticed my dressing, he jumped off the bed and wagged his tail, excited and ready for an adventure.

I put on a bra, put back on Kaz’s big shirt, climbed into jeans, and then put on some sneakers. Most important, I grabbed my gun, made sure it was loaded, and then got the holster.

They won’t get me again, if that’s the plan.

Next, I shimmied into a jacket, making sure my gun was hidden.

“Come on, Harlem.” I left the bedroom.

He trotted after me.

Max and Boris sat in the living room. Although Max simply watched tv, I sniffed the marijuana smoke in the air.

“Kaz is going to kill you for smoking in here.” I yawned and headed to the front door. “Come on, guys. The French want to meet us outside.”

Max shot up from the couch. “The French as in Jean-Pierre?”

“Yes. He only wants me to bring two people, so you both win the dumbass lottery.”

Boris frowned. “More of our men will be waiting in the hallway. There’s no way I’m going to have you unguarded like that.”

“Fine, but make sure the French don’t see them.” I headed