Anatoly Medlov (8 page)

He shook his head and grinned. On his knees, he pulled off his dress shirt and undershirt and threw them on the floor beside the bed. “Before I make you remember why you are
my slave and why I am master of all of freakdom
, can I ask you question?” His voice changed. A hint of serious concern laced his words.

“Yes,” Royal said, now up on her knees helping him unbutton his pants.

“I told you what happened between the two boys today. What do you think about it?” His belt jingled as she tugged at it. “You never said. And you
always
say.”

Royal stopped and looked up at her husband. His muscles rippled through his torso under the many tattoos that colored his massive body. His cologne intoxicated her. His hands made her quiver and turn to clay. Dmitry was the sexiest man that she had ever laid her eyes on, even as an older, more seasoned gentleman. But conversations like this could ruin any mood regardless of beauty.

“What do
I
think?” she finally asked.

“
Da
, what do you hink,
zhenshchina
?” He looked down at her with a raised brow. His question sincere, he awaited an answer from his trusted wife.

There was a tense pause in the room.

Royal removed her hands from his black trousers that barely hid his steely erection only inches from her face and sat back in the bed against the headboard. Pushing her long hair from her face, she pressed her bare lips together and pulled the sheet over her exposed breasts.

“I just don’t trust him.
Gabriel, I mean...not Anatoly.
And I don’t think that you should trust him either, Dmitry. I can see it in your eyes even though you’re trying to hide it. You’re excited that there might be
one
more opportunity to fix things between you and Ivan, because you loved him so much,
even though he was rotten bastard
. My opinion is this...if that
boy
is anything like his father, it’s best that you just kill him tonight and save yourself the trouble. No one will think ill of you for it. I know that I won’t. In fact, I would be proud of you.”

Silently, Dmitry watched her with an unreadable look in his crystal blue eyes that were accented by tiny, intricate crow’s feet that were truly pronounced now as he slightly furrowed his brow.

He was shocked at her candid advice, but grateful for her truthfulness.

Since the incident in Memphis and the incident in Sochi, Royal had become more guarded than ever before. She was starting to be as cold and calculated as he, only without being involved in any illegal activities. This fact reminded him to tread carefully with his wife, his new equal.

Sitting beside her in the bed with his knees up, he planted his hands behind his head and looked up at the ceiling.

“
Ahh
...you know me well. When I saw him, I did have a hopeful...I was hopeful,” he stopped his sentence. Turning to her on his elbow, he grabbed her caramel face and ran his thumb over her pink lips. “Have I really made you so jaded, Royal Stone?” His minty breath tickled her nose.

“
Da
,” she answered with an equally stone face. “I only hope that I haven’t made you soft.” Running her hands through his blondish, gray locks, she leaned in to receive his kiss.

Hungrily, he pulled her to him with one hand and tore his pants off with the other. Opening her legs and balancing his weight as to not hurt her, he pushed inside of her warm body with one long, vicious, coiling stroke.

“As you can feel, my love, I don’t know the meaning of soft,” he whispered into her mouth as he devoured her.

***

Anatoly sat on te couch in his hotel suite talking into the black, Apple laptop on the table in front of him. Now comfortable in a pair of jeans and barefoot, he drank his scotch under dimmed lights, trying to calm himself from the day’s events and prepare for the evening.

With a platter of pickles in his lap, he slouched over and listened attentively as the men debated the latest issues.

Over the last few months, Anatoly and his men had moved more guns internationally than his father had moved in years. He used all of his contacts, met with as many bosses as possible and constantly pursued the all mighty dollar.

As he promised his father, after the operation in Sochi, quietly he had concreted the Medlov Crime Family at the top of the organized crime food chain. And where at first, many had assumed that he was unable to fully step into his father’s lofty shoes as boss, now only a few questioned his reach and his eagerness.

He was building an impenetrable force of men, who were willing to do the hard work in seedy places of the world where no one wanted to go and willing to do the most unspeakable acts in the name of Vory.

As he sat listening to the men, he went through each of the deals meticulously and went down his notepad of questions, just as he had seen his father do time and again as boss.

Tapping his pen against his knee, he reached over for his cigarette and waved his hand to quiet the men.

“Enough, enough,” he said, taking a drag. The smoke billowed up into a hazy cloud above him. “This is what we will do.” His deep, baritone growl grew deeper. “Have Yuri call the dealer back and tell him that we will cut his percentage. I don’t want him running this deal. It’s too important, and he is less than reliable.”

“Then, who will run it?” one of his men asked as they sat around a small meeting table in front of their computer.

“We will,” Anatoly answered. “We’ll send one of our men with him to facilitate. It’s not rocket science, but it’s starting to cost like it. I want more returns and fewer expenses. It’s
our
product. So, it’s our way or no way.”

“We’ll choose someone from Memphis,” another man said. “It’s too risky to trust anyone else. This is the last shipment, boss. If we can get rid of it properly, then we don’t have to worry about the guns being traced back to us at any point.”

“Don’t you think that
I
know that? After all that I did,
myself
, to get this shipment, I won’t allow anyone to screw it up.” Anatoly put down his paper and pen and pulled the laptop closer to him. “Did you find Donovan?”

“
Da
, he was holed up in Chicago. We brought him back kicking and screaming. He was in basement of his mother’s church.”

“Will do, boss.”

“Anything else?” Anatoly asked.

“No,” his men answered collectively.

“Good. Goodnight, gentlemen,” Anatoly said, closing his laptop.

As he rested back on the couch, the background noise of the television in the other room clouded his thoughts along with his men talking among themselves about Gabriel. However, he could still see his sister’s face and his mother’s casket flashing every time that he closed his eyes.

Fortunately, he was now past tears or hurt. Instead, anger had filled his heart, anger at his family for being callous and anger at Gabriel for simply
being
. Something about his new cousin just rubbed him the wrong way and he intended to find out why.

As he drank the last of the scotch in his crystal tumbler, his cell phone rang. Looking at it, he rolled his eyes. Victoria.
Again.
He should have never gotten involved with the woman. His father had warned, but as usual, he had ignored him thinking that the old man had gone soft. Now, she was a thorn in his side. He started to answer it and threaten her, but he felt any attention would be too much.

“Vasily,” Anatoly said, hitting IGNORE. “As soon as we get back to the states, get my number changed and get it to everyone
except
Victoria.”

“Yes, boss,” Vasily answered, standing behind him in the far corner of the room.

Anatoly looked behind him and raised his brow at the man. Vasily was a loyal solider of the Vory, never faltering in his responsibility. A young man, barely thirty, he was nearly as quiet as Anatoly but if possible, more serious and gravely tempered. When needed Vasily had been quick and deadly but also a friend to his boss during times when the young man had no one to confide in.

“Vasily, what do you do when you’re not here?” Anatoly asked, motioning for him to come around the sofa and face him.

“I sleep...eat...workout,” Vasily answered. “And occasionally...get laid.”

Anatoly smiled. “It sounds like I can only help with one of those. Would you like drink?” He offered the scotch.

“Thank you,” he reached across and grabbed the bottle.

“What do you think of Gabriel?” Anatoly asked, motioning for the man to sit down on the couch across from him

Vasily pulled at h slacks and sat down. His large muscular body bulged in the black suit, showing his guns tucked carefully under his jacket and his pants leg.

“I don’t trust him,” he answered in a low, thick accent. He spoke quietly to ensure no one could hear their conversation. “The code should never be compromised.” There was a silent agreement between the two on that fact. Vasily continued, “He has job in society. A day trader. So, he lives double life. A man like that cannot be trusted, because he could also have double allegiance.”

Anatoly was glad that he was not the only one in his camp who felt the unease of Gabriel’s presence, and he was doubly happy not to have leeching
yes
men around him. Noting the man’s observations, he moved on. “Did you do what I asked?”

“
Da
. It’s being done now.”

“Good, I want to see his face at the meeting with papa when he discovers it.” He chuckled and toasted the man. “Thieves-in-Law.”

“Thieves-in-Law,” Vasily said, turning the bottle up.

Resting back on the couch, Anatoly grabbed the remote and turned the television on when his pocket began to vibrate. Reaching for his phone, he looked down and smiled. It was Renee.

“I’ve got to take this. Take drink and share with the men,
eh
,” he said, dismissing Vasily.

“Thanks, boss.”

When he was alone, Anatoly quickly answered before she hung up. “What’s up?” he asked coolly, looking around. His voice lowered.

“Just checking on you,” Renee answered. “And calling to let you know that Lt. Agosto came by here looking for you yesterday.”

Anatoly paused.

“Are you still there?” she asked curiously.

“
Da
,” he said quickly. “What did he want?”
“Said he was looking for you.”

“Probably nothing. What else is going on?”

“Thought that would be enough.”

They both were silent. Anatoly knew that Renee wasn’t nearly as blind to his affiliations as Royal had been to his father’s. Instead, they both never brought it up. However, before now, Agosto hadn’t shown up in quite some time. His stomach turned in knots at the thought of what the
Italian
might have up his sleeve.

“And
Destiny
came by to see you. She brought a copy of the story she did on >
Mother Russia
to drop by...only she didn’t drop it by the restaurant. She brought it here. Don’t you think that’s odd?”

Anatoly agreed silently but wouldn’t answer her aloud.

“Was the funeral tough?” Renee finally asked to change the subject. His silence had spoken volumes for her.

“No. It was just a funeral,” he said, doodling on the paper as he talked. “My family is a bunch of idiots.”

Renee laughed before she could catch herself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to laugh but so is everyone else’s,” she replied. “You ought to meet my folks.”