Dmitry's Closet (38 page)

     7. Demand a convocation of inquiry for the purpose of resolving disputes in the event of a conflict between oneself and other thieves or between thieves.

     8. If necessary, participate in such inquiries.

     9. Carry out the punishment of the offending thief as decided by the convocation.

     10. Not resist carrying out the decision of punishing the offending thief who is found guilty, with punishment determined by the convocation.

     11. Have good command of the thieves' jargon ("Fehnay").

     12. Not gamble without being able to cover losses.

     13. Teach the trade to young beginners.

     14. Have, if possible, informants from the rank and file of thieves.

     15. Not lose your reasoning ability when using alcohol.

     16. Have nothing to do with the authorities (particularly with the ITU [Correctional Labor Authority]), not participate in public activities, nor join any community organizations.

     17. Not take weapons from the hands of authorities; not serve in the military.

     18. Make good on promises given to other thieves.

Chapter 28

     There was complete media frenzy behind the bomb attack on
Mother Russia
and the Medlov compound. Outlets from across the nation stood outside of the gates of Dmitry's home discussing the murder of a young shopkeeper and the attempted assassination of a millionaire of questionable character with alleged ties to the Vory v Zakone by his crime boss brother, Ivan Medlov, who headed the Memphis Medlov Organized Crime Family.

     Obviously, the media had it all wrong, which was good for the men who had survived the attack and for his son, who was now the head of the family, but it was not good for his most apparent and haunting dilemma.

     For nearly 15 years, Dmitry avoided his name ever making one newspapers regarding his possible connections to the mafia, and now his face was splashed across CNN, MSNBC and Fox News along with newspapers nationwide. He had no choice. He had to leave.

     Three months had passed and although the house repaired and the restaurant rebuilt, there were several undercover investigations going on by the MPD, FBI, ICE, DEA and the IRS. Dmitry was embattled, yet none of his worries outweighed the pain he felt for Royal.

     He sat in the back of the limo as it escorted him now to the private airstrip, where he had made arrangements to fly to Prague to his new luxury villa that awaited him with a full staff and a newer life.

     He also had purchased two large storefronts in the middle of Prague 1 district, where he had already started a new restaurant and an upscale clothing store called
Royal Flush,
just as he had promised her.

     A staff had already been picked and both would be open within the week. Besides, he had done everything that he could here.
Dmitry's Closet
and
Mother Russia
belonged to Anatoly now. There was nothing more to fix, no more reason to linger.

     "What are you thinking about?" Royal asked, taking off her shades.

     Dmitry put his hand on her knee and sighed. "You. This is big move so early in your recovery. I'm not sure that you even need to be out of the bed."

     "I'm ready." She rubbed her growing stomach. "I think we both are. This place is just a memory now. It's time to move and time for you to stop treating me like I'm made of glass."

     The diamonds sparkled from her neck. Dmitry had purchased a three-million dollar diamond necklace, designed specifically to cover the large knife mark that Ivan had left when he tried to claim her life.

     "Prague is a good change. Somewhere new where no one knows me or
j
ou," she said confidently. "I can feel it. Everything is going to be fine."

     Dmitry raised his brow. "They know me, but there is no need to worry. I won't be
boss
in Czech Republic. I'll be shop keeper like you."

     "Well, we'll finally have something in common."

     The limo stopped on the airstrip and the driver opened the door.

     "Mrs. Medlov," he said, offering his hand.

     "Umm, I never get tired of hearing that name," Royal said, taking his hand and smiling.

     "Good, because you're going to hear it for the rest of your life." Dmitry stepped out after her.

     There was not one cloud in the sky, and spring had brought fresh clean air, warm weather and unexplainable beauty. Memphis was wonderful that way, always offering all four seasons in full. Royal would miss that.

     As soon as the sun hit Royal's necklace, it lit up the airstrip. Dmitry smiled. No matter where she went for the rest of her days, he would make sure that her lifestyle reflected her name. She would live like a queen. He would see to it.

     "Are you sure that you're ready to leave this all behind?" he asked, straightening his linen suit.

     He stood beside her taller and more hauntingly beautiful than ever. His blonde hair brandished streaks of new gray. His eyes wore lines beside them where talons of life had clawed at his face in the middle of sleepless nights. But his heart was warm and content. The love he now possessed radiated past the physical and transformed him into something one could only admire.

     "Everyone already thinks that I'm dead thanks to Cory and your doctor," Royal said as their bodyguards escorted them. "I might as well start a new life."

     He stole a look at his wife. Strong. Beautiful. Resilient. She had stood by him until her end. She had endured the sins of his life with more dignity than even he could, and she had done so at his expense with no blame.

     I owe you everything, he thought to himself. It was a recurring though lately. His existence was no longer complete without her.

     He grabbed her hand and led her to their private jet.

     This was the end of their stories apart and the beginning of their one life together. God only knew what was in store.

     Dmitry had been by Royal's side the entire time of her recovery. Every time that she woke, he was there to take care of her—feed her, bathe her, dress her, read to her. Every need had been met. Every promise kept. He did so with little to no sleep. He barely ate. He never stopped worrying.

     He paid the coroner, doctors, lawyers, police and the local judges millions to stay out of jail and out of court—to keep his secret of Royal's survival.

     All that he cared for was her health. It had been his dedication that kept her and his blooming daughter alive.

     And it had been New York and Moscow that had come in to help the transition go smoothly. He had their blessings and therefore their protection. Men came in droves from across the world. They replenished the ranks and worked faithfully under the Medlov Family's newest boss.

     Upon her recovery, Dmitry and Royal were married in their home with only Cory and Anatoly to witness a quaint, private ceremony. She could never again call her adopted family or see Renée but the trade was worth it. She wished them all well.

     Royal had known no pain after that horrible night with Ivan and no greater pleasure than being married to a man that seemed to live to provide her complete happiness.

     For weeks after Ivan's attack, Royal had been displaced. The transfusions, the pain pills, the nightmares overwhelmed her. For weeks, she could feel his large hands on her body, his tongue in her mouth, his scent on her skin. She remembered the thrust of his hips and the cut of his blade. But with her healing, resolve had come.

     Ivan's death had been retribution for his crimes against her.

     Royal looked up just in time to see Dmitry lean over and kiss her lips softly.

     "Let's get the hell out of here, Mrs. Medlov."

     She and her entourage boarded and relaxed as the stewardess seated them and prepared the passengers for takeoff.

     Quietly, Dmitry sent Anatoly a text. It simply read,
"From a father to a son, thank you."

     Anatoly smiled as he read it. He sped through the streets of Memphis in his father's old Mercedes-Benz with a new lease on life and a new woman in the passenger seat.

    
"Good Luck, Papa,"
he texted back.
"I hope that you enjoy jour new boring life cooking borscht and chasing brats?

     Dmitry smiled and deleted the text.

     "Everything okay, baby?" Royal asked, touching his arm.

     "Everything is perfect, sweetheart," he said, grabbing the champagne off the tray as the stewardess passed.

About the Author

     Latrivia S. Nelson is an urban fiction and interracial romance author. Her first novel,
Ivy's Twisted Vine
(2008), is the largest interracial novel in its genre.
Dmitry's Closet
is her first urban fiction/interracial romance novel.

     Currently, Nelson is working on her next book and pursing her Ph.D. in criminal justice. She lives in the suburbs of Memphis with her husband (Adam) and two children (Tierra & Jordan) and works for The Carter Malone Group, a full-service public relations firm.

www.latrivianelson.com     www.dmitrys closet.com

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