Anatoly Medlov (3 page)

He trailed her arms down to her long fingers. Manicured nails. No rings. Not married. She wore red-backed, leather heels that highlighted her thick, muscular legs, and she clenched her Blackberry as if it was her only lifeline.

What was odd to Anatoly was that she smelled like sex. It was strange that woman dressed so conservatively would smell like something so lustful, but the perfume that she wore screamed words that were so provocative he was certain that under all the layers of fine clothing, she was wearing lace. He looked at her hips as she stopped explaining.

She and the officer looked over at him for his version of the story and caught him before he could take his eyes off her perfect butt. He smiled as he looked up - didn’t even bat an eye.

***

Anatoly’s bodyguard pulled up to his boutique,
Dmitry’s Closet
, and dropped him off at the front door. Aching from head to toe, he limped inside, letting the door slam behind him.

The patrons looked up as he made his way through the store to the back office with his head down and his leg dragging.

In the corner by the dressing room, Renee, the store manager, watched him dumbfounded. Excusing herself, she left her assistant, Miriam, to see after the customers while she followed Anatoly to the back.

As she came through the door, she saw him wince and sit down behind the credenza. After making sure the door was locked behind her, she strode over to the office refrigerator and pulled out an ice pack, then walked over to the desk. He looked up at her with a
don’t-even-ask
scowl.

Renee ignored him. With a smirk, she put the ice pack on his forehead, applying more pressure than needed to his reddened face.

“
What gave me away?” he asked, putting his hand on hers as she applied the ice. He looked up at her with a boyish grin. His lip was busted and bruised, but he smiled anyway, forgetting the pain.

“
You’re all scarred up,” she said quickly. “Pretty hard to miss. What happened?”

“
I got hit by car,” he explained. “On my bike,” he continued.

“
I told you that thing wasn’t a good idea.” She stood back up and crossed her arms. “Now look at you.”

“
Ugh. You are so afraid of everything, Renee. I had to buy you a Hummer to keep you from being afraid of road.”

“
That’s the company car,
remember
? My name isn’t on it,” she corrected him.

“
Well, you’re the only one who drives it...so...,” his cell phone rang. He rolled his eyes.
Who was it now?

The pain shot through his arm as he reached into his pants and pulled out his phone. His bloody knuckles scrubbed against the denim and stained his pants.

Renee winced for him.

“
I’m alright,” he said more for her than him. Renee didn’t blink an eye. She didn’t believe him. He needed a doctor, but he was too bullheaded to call.

Sitting back in the chair, he looked at the number for a minute. His face turned pale.

Turning away from Renee, his voice lowered, and he nodded as he spoke in Russian. There were a hundred pauses between his stuttered words.

Renee watched him from across the room in awe. She’d never seen him talk to anyone with such careful measure – not even Dmitry. He finally looked up at the ceiling, grunted, then finished his conversation and hung up.

Turning around, he slipped his phone in his pocket and bit his lip. Renee was compelled to stay and pry. Unable to obey her instinct to leave him alone, she cleared her throat.

“
Bad news?” she asked.

Anatoly snapped out of his daze and looked up at her. He swallowed hard again and tried to shake something off.

“
You could say that,” he finally uttered. He gave a weak smile. “My...my mother just died.” His eyes watered.

***

Like his father before him, Anatoly sat at the head of the Medlov Crime Family table in the basement of
Mother Russia
as the council talked. As he listened while they argued, his mind traveled back to the voice on the phone, a young, desperate boy of a voice – his little brother.

It had been so long since he had laid eyes on his family, so long since he had hugged his mother. Wh he left many years ago, his mother had told him to never return, to never look back. He had taken her advice. Even when he was in Moscow, only miles away from his childhood home, he never visited. His mother never answered his calls, even when she knew that it was him. Word had traveled to her that her son was a Vory, was a boss, was a
somebody
. But how could he ever remain, if people were to know where he had come from? So she disowned him out of love, and now she was dead.

Anatoly snapped out of his daze and cleared his throat. The loud room quieted. They were all sympathetic for the boy’s loss, but they had seen him harden over the years. The quiet lion had grown from a cub to a king through crafty business deals and cold-hearted killing tactics. They knew that he would recover soon from his newest wound.

There would only be a few more evolutions before Anatoly was the exact replica of his father—an act of betrayal so cruel until he would never recover, the loss of a true friend or a lover, and the torn ties of family bliss. Each boss had experienced each pain in a different way, but the story was always the same.

They looked at him now, going through one of the three pains he was promised as boss. His mother had just died and with her any thought of kindness or conscience. The death of a mother was one of the two leg weights lifted off a man in Anatoly’s position.

When his mother passed, what was left of his humility would shed like old snake’s skin. The new man who emerged would always be tougher, more resilient and more dangerous.

The older men in the council had nearly applauded when they heard the news of his loss, realizing that the boy’s alienation from outside people only made him more astringent.

“
I’ll be gone
at most
two weeks. There are a couple of meetings that were coming due anyway,” Anatoly said, looking down at his pale hands. His voice was dry. “I’ll make the best use of my time while I’m there.”

“
Before you leave, we should discuss one looming problem,” an older man on the council, Yuri, said from the far end of the table. He sat forward and looked around. The other men looked on.

“
Yes,” Anatoly gave his permission to speak.

“
Lieutenant Nicola Agosto,” he said with a deep growl. The room tensed with the mention of the Italian police officer’s name. “His investigation is getting closer and closer. We have only two options, turn him or kill him.”

“
Killing a cop at his level isn’t that easy to do,” Anatoly answered. “I have contacts in his shop. Let me reach out to them to see what can be done to neutralize him, but
per the request of my father
,” Anatoly tapped his pen on the table, “We have been advised to tread very carefully with Agosto.”

“
Why?” Yuri asked.

“
Because it brings far too much ention back to us in ways that we won’t be able to hide. There are ways to muddy the waters for Agosto without actually touching him.”

“
Does he have something on us?” Yuri asked. “We do not negotiate with police officers...”

Anatoly snarled. “Don’t mistake my youth for ignorance, Yuri. I know that we do not negotiate with officers, but we also do not expose ourselves and show our hand without cause.” His hand hit the table as he looked around the room. “I’m getting really tired of being reminded of the code, like I do not know it.”

“
We meant no disrespect, Anatoly. We only wanted to address the issue with the pig,” Yuri retracted.

“
Agosto’s a boy scout. I doubt that he has anything, otherwise, he would have already used it, but we have men close to him who know what he’s up to and keep us ahead of him.” Anatoly sat up in his seat. “So, nothing happens to Agosto or his family while I’m away.” He stood up and stretched his aching back. “I’m done...anything else comes down the pike, pass it through Vasily. I’ve gotta get some rest.”

***

The sun had finally set by the time that Anatoly walked outside of
Mother Russia
. The wind blew through his blonde locks and filled his nostrils. He took a deep breath and looked up at the stars shining down on him. A tight pain was growing again in his chest – too much stress. He bit his lip and slipped into the back of the car at the front of the restaurant waiting to pick him up.

His driver, Vasily, drove quietly through the streets without bothering his friend. He watched Anatoly look out of the window, staring out into nothingness. He wanted to ask him if he was alright, but he knew better. A Vor thrived on pain, on anger. It only made him more powerful. Their type was bred on hopelessness, so when hope emerged, they knew where it came from.

***

Pulling up to the gated compound only minutes away from downtown, Anatoly was escorted back home in his Mercedes. The bodyguards stood guard in the hut, watching their boss as he was escorted up to the front of the large, plantation-style mansion, lit up at dusk with lights. In the driveway was a black Hummer.

Evidently, Renee was visiting.

Anatoly looked at the truck and gave a sigh of relief. He needed to see her face tonight.

Grabbing his backpack and his IPod, he walked up the stairs slowly. As Vasily opened the door for him, he smelled food drifting through the corridors. Anatoly tried to conceal a grin.

Dropping his backpack in the corner, he checked the mail on the table in the foyer and yawned.

“
Do you need anything else, boss?” Vasily asked, standing with his hands clasped in front of him.

“
Net
.” Anatoly grabbed an envelope off the table and slipped it in his pocket. “Take the rest of the night off.”

“
Spesiba
,” Vasily said, bowing his head. He turned and headed down the back corridor to his room.

When his man was out of view, Anatoly headed toward the kitchen. He walked softly down the marble floors in the darkness of the house into the large kitchen.

Renee had the television going while she cooked up a small feast. With her back turned and her IPod attached to her hip, she sang as she put the final touches on the fried chicken that she placed on a silver platter.

Anatoly stood in the darkness of the corner watching her with his arms folded in front of him. He could watch her all night if she left him.

Outside of his mother and his step-mother, she was the only woman that he knew who loved to cook. She took immense pride in it, but because she was alone in Memphis, away from her large family in Atlanta, she only got to cook for more than herself when she came to see him.

In her favorite apron, she whirled around the kitchen moving plates and flatware to the island bar for the two of them. In between cooking, she drank straight out the wine bottle and sang Al Green.

“
Are you just going to stand in the corner like a pervert, or are you going to help me fix the table?” she finally asked, without looking away from the mixed greens stewing on the stove.

Anatoly stepped out of the darkness with a clever grin. Quietly, he went over to the cupboard and pulled out two wine glasses. As he sat them down, he looked at the table and noticed the card by one of the plates.

“
It’s for you,” she said, taking the ear buds out of her ear.

“
What is it?” he asked with his back toward her.

“
Open it and see.” She turned off the eye on the stove and grabbed a bowl. “Fried chicken, greens, yams, beets for you, and cabbage...for you.”

“
What’s the occasion?” He opened the envelope to find a sympathy card from Hallmark,
praying for his family during their loss
.

“
I just felt like you needed something to cheer you up. You had a pretty shitty day,” she said, putting the food on the table.

The bowls clinked on the granite table top. Placing the mittens down, she looked up at him.