The Chronicles of Young Dmitry Medlov: Volume 7 (The Medlov Crime Family Short Stories Series) (7 page)

Chapter 8

Slamming the door behind him, he headed quietly down the dark hallway, still barefoot and now high. He loved a good plan, and felt giddy like a child at the thought of carrying it out. 

After a few lines of coke, the castle seemed larger than before.  The long winding halls, old Victorian paintings and hardwood floors covered in ancient rugs, made him feel as though he had traveled back in time.

Why did Dmitry want to live here in this mausoleum when he had enough money to buy something of his own, somewhere else, in some other country other than stuffy-ass England?

He found his way to the stairs that led to Dmitry’s bedroom and slowly trotted up.  With each step, he could hear muffled moans and cries become louder.

A guard walking the long hallway by Dmitry’s room, spotted Ivan and came to the top of the stairway to meet him.

“Can I help you, sir?” the guard asked nervously.  He had heard about Ivan, so had everyone else at the estate.  And everyone said the same thing
.  He was trouble.
 

Ivan gave a wry smile.  “I’m just going to pop in on my brother – not that that is any of your business,” Ivan said, continuing to climb the stairs. “I tell you.  A man gets a little money and then he’s suddenly treated like a god.  This is the same man I grew up sharing a toothbrush with. It’s sort of over kill, don’t you think?”

“Master Medlov is unavailable at the moment,” the guard replied, widening his shoulders.

Ivan made his way all the way to the top stairs and stood over the short, stocky guard.  He looked down at the man and assessed him.  “Are you Dmitry’s personal guard?”

The man looked up at the giant but didn’t falter. “I’m the guard for this floor, but all his guards are personal,” he answered.  “We do what Mr. Medlov says. And he says that when the door is closed, no one is to bother him.”

Another moan from Emma escaped. This one was longer and louder, nearly climatic. 

“Sounds like someone’s enjoying themselves,
eh
?” Ivan raised a brow.  His voice lower now.

Pursing his lips together mockingly, he held his chest.  “Can I tell you a secret, Mr. Personal Bodyguard? The woman in that bedroom is my son’s mother.”  He nodded yes to the man’s embarrassment. 

“I don’t know who is in there, sir, but you can’t interrupt.”  He stepped closer to Ivan and made sure to keep his voice pleasant.  “I will tell Mr. Medlov that you came calling, sir, as soon as he becomes available.” 

Ivan grinned again
.  This little shit had big balls.
   “Oh.  How thoughtful of you – a nice guy with a nice little gun.”  He looked at the man’s side arm, poking out of the side of his jacket. “But my message is actually for Emma.”

“What message is that then, sir,” the man asked. 

“Tell her that I said…”

Before the man could respond, Ivan grabbed him up by the sides of his collared-shirt and lifted him off the floor.  Using him as a ram, he pushed the man through Dmitry’s bedroom door, knocking it open.

“Fuck you!” Ivan finished as the man fell.

Dmitry and Emma looked up as the small man landed on the floor atop broken shards of wood.

Covering her exposed breasts with her arms, Emma grabbed the sheet to cover the rest of her body. 

Ivan stepped over the man and walked inside, pleased with himself. “Make sure that she gets the message now,” he said with a smug grin to the man on the floor.

Dmitry rose up and carefully moved Emma off his lap.  Standing up naked beside the bed, he wiped the sweat from his brow.

Very quickly more guards flooded the room with their guns pointed, unsure of what they were walking in on.  Their confusion showed on their faces as they entered.

“What the fuck do you think that you’re doing?” Dmitry asked Ivan. 

“That is exactly what I should be asking you,” Ivan snarled. “What happened to not touching her?  You just couldn’t help yourself, right? You sent for her, told her that you wanted her, seduced her, and fucked her right in your dead wife’s bed, but I’m the bastard!”

Emma looked on mortified, wondering if Dmitry would tell that she propositioned him and not the other way around.

“I changed my mind,” Dmitry answered without blinking. He smacked his lips in protest. “She’s not your wife, and this isn’t your business.  But you are making a fool of yourself.”

The idea that Dmitry seemed not at all concerned only pissed Ivan off more.  “I’m making it my business. The fact that she is Catherine’s daughter doesn’t seem to bother you, but I thought that considering she’s Gabriel’s mother, you might have a little respect.”

“Don’t be mellow dramatic,” Dmitry warned.

Ivan could see that his brother was at the end of his civility.  “Dramatic?  How would you feel if I fucked Alexandria?”

Dmitry’s eyes blazed and the tension in the room thickened. 

Feeling the animosity, Emma stepped back wondering who Alexandria was and what she had to do with anything. 

Ivan continued to taunt his brother, egging on a fight.  “If you aren’t sure how you’d feel about it, brat, let me know. I’ll be happy to fly to Moscow
right now
and fuck Alexandria right up the ass.  I always wanted a go at the little bitch, and it’s high time that I had dibs on yours instead of the other way around.”

Dmitry’s fists balled.  It wasn’t the busted door or the interruption that angered him nearly as much as the mention of Alexandria. He knew that his brother wasn’t just bluffing. He’d do it, if given the chance.

“Get out,” Dmitry ordered in a low foreboding tone.

“Figures,” Ivan scoffed as he turned to leave.  “When it becomes about you, you don’t want to
play
anymore.”

“Not you,” Dmitry fumed. His nostrils flared.

Ivan froze like a snap shot.  

“Everyone else, Get. Out,” Dmitry said again, legs locked in place.  His chest fell and rose as a storm brewed inside of him. 

Emma was shocked when she realized that the dismissal included herself. “The more things change, the more they stay the
exactly the
same,” she said, picking up her clothes off the floor. “You realize that the real relationship is between the two of you, not the women, right?”  .

Dmitry glanced down at her but said nothing.

Quickly, she excused herself out of the room, past the guards and Ivan, but walked right into Davyd’s arms.

“What do you want?” she asked, snatching away.  “To kick me out of the house now?”

“You’re naked, ma’am. I’m going to escort you to your room.” He offered his hand again.  “And while we walk, I was hoping to explain the terms that Dmitry and I have come up with in order to supply your work in Columbia.”

Suddenly Emma wasn’t so angry anymore. Even with all the drama, her main priority was being addressed.  “Well, I could definitely use an escort considering my current state,” she said, handing Davyd her clothes. “Will you carry these please?”

“Happily,” Davyd said, hurriedly whisking her away from the scene.

The guards were next.  After helping the battered man off the floor, they walked through the broken entry, leaving their boss and Ivan alone.

“How long do you think I’m going to just allow you to run roughshod over this family?” Dmitry asked, bending over to slip on his black boxers.  Standing back up, he stretched his wide back and cracked his neck.

Turning around from the entryway, Ivan stepped over the broken wood door and onto a flat stable surface. “You want me to tell you what your problem is, Dmitry?” Ivan asked as he rolled up his sleeves. “You think that you’re my papa.”

Dmitry cocked his head.  “Oh, I think?” He said suggestively.  “Funny, last time I checked, I was the only one cleaning up all of your continual fuck ups.  That makes me your fucking father.  I’ve been forced to do the damn job for as long as I remember.”

“So you keep reminding me,” Ivan exhaled and looked up the vaulted ceiling.  “What are you going to do about it?”  He shook his head. “You might run this organization, but between the two of us
blood
brothers, you don’t run shit. And you know it.  This enchanted view of yourself really needs to be pulled back a notch.”

“You are going to help me with that?” Dmitry asked, closing in the space between them with three long strides.

Standing face-to-face with his brother, Dmitry breathed down Ivan’s neck.  Speaking in his native tongue, he pushed his chest out.  “
Chto vy sobirayetes' s etim delat' imenno?” He said in a deep, low, taunting voice into Ivan’s ear.

“Oh, I’m going to do something about it,” Ivan smirked.

“What are you going to do?” Dmitry asked, ready.

Ivan shrugged with the grin still on his face, even though he knew what was coming. “I told you. I’m going to Russia, and I’m going to find Alexandria to give her the best night…”

              Before Ivan could finish his statement, Dmitry picked him off the floor nearly two feet in the air and carried him several feet back into the wooden book shelf, knocking books and trinkets to the floor. Ivan’s head hit the wood with a clang, but he used the shelves to climb backwards and pull himself up above Dmitry just enough land his right elbow onto of Dmitry’s shoulder.  Unable to get free, he punched Dmitry in the face, but the man did not budge. 

              Reaching back, Dmitry penned Ivan with one hand to the shelf and punched into his rib cage with the other, knocking the wind from him.  When Ivan went slack for a moment, Dmitry picked Ivan’s 250 pound body up by his shirt and belt and threw him to the corner of the room on top of the nightstand.

              Landing on his back, Ivan knocked the lamp and picture of Catherine down.   Dizzy, he fought to gain his balance, before his brother could strike again. 

              Running a hand through his hair, Dmitry flexed.  “It’s been a long time, but I think you need to remember who the boss of this house is,” he said, voice still low.  Pissed, he kicked the books out of his way. 

              Ivan fell off the nightstand on the floor and at the same time grabbed the brass candle stick holder between the bed and table.  “Give me your best shot, motherfucker,” he said, raising up in a defensive stance.

              Incensed by the fact that Ivan thought a candlestick holder was going to stop him, Dmitry rushed him, picking Ivan up again and carrying him completely over the bed. In mid-flight, Ivan beat the stick into Dmitry’s back, but as they fell, Ivan was the first to hit the floor. 

              Sitting up on top of Ivan’s chest, Dmitry punched him hard in the face with his right hand and tried to snatch the holder of out Ivan’s hand with the other, but Ivan was able to roll his brother over after several punches and get on top of him.

              Aiming for Dmitry’s face with the holder, Ivan tried to bash his head in, but Dmitry caught the holder only inches from his face and at the same time caught Ivan by the neck.  Throwing him off of him, he punched him again, this time in the temple.

              They struggled in the floor, rolling and punching, until they ended up at the wall.  Blood flew onto the carpet from both of them as punches rang out.

              Hearing the struggle throughout the halls of the house, the guards and Davyd headed back up the red, carpeted staircase, but as they did, they saw Ivan’s nearly 7’ body fly through the opening of Dmitry’s bedroom and land with a thud.

              Dmitry had kicked him dead center in his chest with his barefoot, but his thighs were so powerful until carried the man out of the room.

              Coming out of the broken door behind him clad only in his underwear, Dmitry reached for Ivan’s head and pulled him back up to his feet by his black curly locks. “I’m not done with you yet,” Dmitry grunted before he punched him again. 

              Ivan hit the wall and knocked down a painting of Catherine’s mother. 

              “Fuck you!” Ivan spat, falling back. 

              “Fuck me?” Dmitry said, swinging another air-bending punch.  As he did, Ivan found enough strength to move his head.  Like a bulldozer, Dmitry’s hand pummeled straight to the wall and got stuck.

              Ivan used that one small opportunity to attack Dmitry and get several body punches into his exposed abdomen.

              The bodyguards were about to intervene when Davyd spoke. “Stand down,” he ordered as Emma peered around the corner, still draped in Dmitry’s sheet. 

              Pulling his bloody hand out of the wall, Dmitry swung at Ivan’s head.  When Ivan ducked, Dmitry grabbed him by the front of his shirt and wrapped his arm around his neck, bringing him down on his knee. 

              Kicking and flailing, Ivan tried to get away, but the more he struggled, the tighter Dmitry’s trip became. 

              Choking the air out of his body, Dmitry looked into his eyes, contemplating ending his brother’s life finally. 

              When Arie rounded the corner to find out what all the ruckus was about, she saw her husband at the top of the stairs being choked out by the quiet and deadly Dmitry and Emma and Davyd at the base of the stairs watching.  The rest of the men stood frozen, unsure of what to do.