Dmitry's Closet (37 page)

     Slowly, he bent her fingers back and made the blade drop to the ground. She winced in pain as he pushed her back in the corner and put his large hand around her warm neck. Like a rag doll, he picked her up off the ground. Nuzzling his head in her hair as he whispered.

     "Do you know how long I have thought about us being
alone
together?" He kissed her cheek. "Hang up the phone, Royal," he said, licking his lips.

     She put the phone to her ear, gasping for air. "His name is Ivan Medlov. He killed my fiancé, now he's going to kill me," she cried to the operator before she dropped the phone.

     Ivan stomped the phone into rubble as he held her off the ground. "Kill you? What would make you say that?"

     Royal couldn't speak. She kicked and struggled to breathe for air.

     "Do you have anything smart to say today without your posse to back you up? Go on. Make a joke." He eased her down to the ground so that she could breathe.

     She gasped for air and cried. "I know why you're doing this?" she said with tears in her eyes. "But I can't be responsible for Ari."

     "What?" Ivan said amused.

     "Ari Medlov." She inched down the wall away from him. "It's not my fault.
You
sent her to kill Dmitry. He accidentally killed her. How did all of that become my problem? Why are you after me?"

     He smiled deviously. "Don't try to soften me up with reason and bullshit, Royal. You know why I'm here, and it's not to hear you psychoanalyze me."

     Royal could see that he was dead set on killing her. She wiped the tears from her face. "You're a fucking psycho. You know that? I guess it drove you crazy when you realized you'd never be half the man you brother is."

     "That's what I'm talking about. Don't be a pussy. Don't cry and scream for me to
please let you go.
You know I won't anyway. You can tell me if I'm half the man my brother
was
after I pull my dick from your ass."

     Ivan grabbed her by her hair and dragged her out of the bathroom. Kicking and screaming, she tried to bite him and punch him.

     "Let go of me, you piece of shit!" She slapped him in his eye as he pushed her. Ivan absorbed the hit and pulled her sweater from her body.

     "That's it. Fight. Fight. Fight," he said, grabbing her by her waist and carrying her to the bed. "It's better when you fight, baby," he whispered in her ear. "I can't wait to taste you." She could feel his erection as it prodded against her back. She tried to pull away.

     "You rapist!" she screamed fighting back.

     He threw her on the bed and dropped the gun. She tried to run, but he caught her by the ankle and pulled her back to him. She kicked him in abdomen and spit at him.

     His eyes were wild. He licked her saliva from his cheek and pulled a large knife from his side pocket. The gleam from the blade reflected in her eyes.

     "We'll get to exchanging body fluids soon enough, bitch." Reaching back, he slapped her in the mouth.

     She fell dazed onto the bed as she felt him pulling her pants off. Trying to hold on, she fought for her panties, but his large hands ripped them away from her skin.

     "Dmitry!" she screamed out.

∞♥∞

     Three black Tahoe trucks pulled into the Medlov estate full of men. Dmitry was the first to emerge. He ran up the stairs of his home into the bullet-riddled front door. He stepped over one of his dead bodyguards and ran up the long, curved staircase straight for his bedroom.

     The alarm was blaring, deafening everyone. His heart pounded. Was Royal still alive? What had Ivan done to her and his unborn child?

     They heard shots behind them. His men turned and mowed down Ivan's men with merciless AK-47s. Dmitry never looked back. He ducked and continued upstairs. Leaning against the hallway entrance, he looked over the corner to see a couple of men running his way. Pulling a RAP4 hand grenade from his jacket, he pulled the pin and rolled it down the hallway. Shooting it, he stood behind the doorway as the hallway exploded.

     Gun pointed, he emerged from the smoke, shooting the injured, bloody men as he passed them. He heard Royal screaming. She was still alive! The bedroom door was open, hanging off its hinges. He ran into room and pointed the gun.

     Ivan stood behind Royal with his Glock field knife against her neck. The serrated edge flirted with her life line. He still had a smile on his sweaty face, enjoying every minute of the girl's torture.

     Royal was shaking and naked. Her body had small cuts on it that had been carved by Dmitry's insane sibling. She would barely speak, angering Ivan, who wanted more than anything to hear the fear in her sweet, innocent voice.

     Ivan rubbed his free hand in her wounds, making her cry out. "She is something else," he said, rubbing her stomach. "She begged me not to fuck her. Told me she was pregnant. What a trip, huh? Looks like the baby got to know Uncle Ivan a little better. We were practically
head
to
head.
By the way, I think it's a girl."

     Dmitry pointed the gun at Ivan. His heart raced. If he missed, even an inch, he would kill Royal. All of this would be for nothing.

     Royal sobbed. Her long hair wrapped around her and mingled in her salty tears and bloody face.

     "This is between you and me, not her," Dmitry said, voice unbelievably calm.

     "No, what just happened is more so between your little black bitch and me," he laughed. "It's good man. Really good. I'll give her that."

     Dmitry moved closer, trying to get a better shot.

     Ivan cut her neck slightly. "Don't do it. I'll slice her open, and I'll enjoy it."

     Royal cried again. The pain paralyzed her. Blood trickled down her collar bone onto his large tattooed arm.

     Dmitry stopped.

     "Okay. I'm not moving. Just don't hurt her."

     "I don't know, brother. I had thought about killing her, but I may keep her for a while. Afterwards, I could sell her. Get a few bucks."

     Dmitry kept his eyes on Royal. She was starting to fade. She would faint at any moment. Her weak body was only held up by Ivan's strong grip around her waist.

     "Royal, stay with me, baby," Dmitry said soothingly. "Don't give up."

     Ivan snickered and kissed her head.

     "Is this how it felt when you killed my wife?" Ivan asked suddenly. "Did you feel this
empowered
before you slit Ari's throat. It's something, isn't it? The power that women give you over them is
priceless.
You couldn't pay me
not
to kill her."

     "Take me, Ivan. Kill me. Just let her go."

     "You were already supposed to be dead. I paid all that fucking money to make sure that you burned alive or was shot to death." He shook his head. "Can't find good help these days. Now, I'll have to kill you and her
myself?

     "Start with me," Dmitry said, putting the gun down. "Start with me. Let her go. She's so weak, she can barely stand. She doesn't deserve this."

     "Oh but she does. She wants it." Ivan grabbed Royal's breast. "She needs it after being with you." He licked the side of her face.

     "I don't have anything. No gun. Please just take the knife from her neck."

     Ivan watched his brother for a minute then ran his hand down the side of Royal's body. He enjoyed watching Dmitry in so much pain, having never seen the depths of him before. All he had to do was mention her name, and Dmitry cringed like he had been shot by a thousand bullets. The man who was once made of stone had turned to dust before him.

     "Tell him how good it was, Royal," Ivan ordered, pressing the knife against her neck. "Tell him it was the best that you've ever had." He ran his hand down her inner thigh.

     Royal closed her eyes. "Only you, Dmitry," she said in a whisper. She felt the knife as it cut into her throat for her disobedience. The taste of iron filled her mouth.

     She heard Dmitry as he screamed her name.

     "ROYAL!"

     Ivan stepped back as Royal's tired, feeble body hit the floor beside the bed. He laughed loud and hearty, enjoying himself immensely.

     Dmitry pulled the knife from his side pocket and charged towards his brother, screaming and groaning in agony. Ivan ducked. Catching his brother in the waist, he picked him up and carried him a few feet from Royal's body. Dmitry buried the knife into Ivan shoulder. He tore through the flesh until is stuck in his bone.

     The two men fell into the table and slid on the floor.

     Dmitry screamed out in pain, pulled Ivan's knife from his leg and rolled over. He was resigned to dying but not before Ivan. Not for what he had done to Royal.

     Ivan pulled the long dagger from his shoulder and screamed.

     "You fucking rat bastard!" Ivan screamed.

     To their feet, they were again, moving around like angry wolves. Their eyes were planted on each other, shoulders hunched, knives pointed.

     Dmitry felt the warm blood running down his leg.

     Ivan felt the blood gushing from his shoulder.

     Dmitry didn't wait. He stepped in and with a swift, stiff arm felt his knife cut Ivan across the chest, long and wide. He moved back out and swung with his balled-up fist, making contact with Ivan's ear. He knocked him off balance, dazing him.

     Ivan swung and stuck the knife in Dmitry's chest, then pushed him up against the wall. Blood painted the both of them.

     Dmitry screamed and head butted Ivan, then kicked him in the groin. As he bent over, Dmitry kicked him in the stomach and sent him backwards. Pulling the knife out of his own chest, he threw it right into Ivan's chest. There was a minute of shock.

     Stunned and dazed, Ivan found the gun. Dmitry ducked beside the bed and pulled Royal's limp body to safety. He covered her, wanting badly to die with her or live with her but do neither without her. Bullets whizzed over the two of them as he held her tight.

     Ivan stood up and spit on the ground. He wheezed as his lungs slowly collapsed.

     "Son of a ball-headed bitch," he said, coughing up blood. "I'll be damned if I die without taking your selfish, worthless, genocide-fueling ass with me. Trust me. The world will be better for it."

     Pointing the gun, he heard shots ring out behind him, through him. His body jolted forward and large bloody holes filled his chest. Sticking his shaking fingers in the wounds, he fell forward on the bed dropping his gun.

     Cory and Anatoly stood behind Ivan in the doorway. Anatoly pointed a large chrome Desert Eagle .50AE pistol at his back. He had finally gotten what he most wanted, to kill his murdering bastard of an uncle.

     "Hurry, Dmitry. Agosto is on the way. He still thinks you're dead. If you go now, you can get out of here undetected," Cory said, looking down the hall.

     Anatoly ran over to help his father, but he stopped by the bed and looked away. "Shit," he said with tears in his eyes. "What did he do to her?"

     Dmitry had dressed her wound and was applying pressure to her neck. He finally stood up with Royal's bloody wilted body in his hands.

     "Oh no," Cory said, limping towards them, holding his bloody wound from the gun fight.

     "Nothing matters anymore," Dmitry said, watching Anatoly grab a sheet and cover her.

     Cory walked over and felt her neck. "She's still got a little pulse. We can get her to the emergency room, but we have to go now."

     Anatoly touched her arm. "I'll take her to the hospital. You have to go, Papa."

     "I have to stay by her side." Dmitry shook his head in despair.

     "You have to go." Anatoly knew it was the only choice. "Go, papa."

     "The bag is downstairs. The plane is waiting." Cory touched his arm. "There is no more that you can do here. We'll take good care of her."

     "She won't live," Dmitry said crying. "She's dead because of me. My wife. My child."

     Anatoly took Royal from his father's arms. "Cory take him now, before he goes mad."

     Cory guided Dmitry out of the house into the Tahoe and drove off, leaving his son and the woman that he loved behind. The police could be heard in the distance approaching the mansion, and he felt like nothing more than turning himself in for the guilt that he carried in his broken heart.

     "I am failure," he said, sitting back in his seat.

     "You prevailed," Cory said, passing the police officers.

     "I escaped. I am escape artist. That is all."

     "Even if you gave yourself up, there is nothing more you can do for Royal. She will live or die without your control."

     "Turn back," Dmitry said softly. "Sync up with Ana-toly, if he has already headed to hospital."

     "Excuse me?"

     "Turn back. She will live or die, and I will be there for her as she was for me. The rest of my fate can be determined later."

     "If I turn back, you could go to jail, Dmitry, for a very long time."

     "I have almost one billion dollars. If I can't get a lawyer who will get me out, what good is my money?"

     "Are you sure?"

     "I couldn't be surer." Dmitry wiped his tired eyes.

     "Hurry. Please."

The Thieves' Code

    
A thief is bound by the Code to:

     1. Forsake his relatives—mother, father, brothers, sisters...

     2. Not have a family of his own -- no wife, no children; this does not however, preclude him from having a lover.

     3. Never, under any circumstances work, no matter how much difficulty this brings. Live only on means gleaned from thievery.

     4. Help other thieves -- both by moral and material support, utilizing the commune of thieves.

     5. Keep secret information about the whereabouts of accomplices (i... e. dens, districts, hideouts, safe apartments, etc.).

     6. In unavoidable situations (if a thief is under investigation) to take the blame for someone else's crime; this buys the other person time of freedom.