The Chronicles of Young Dmitry Medlov: Volume 7 (The Medlov Crime Family Short Stories Series) (8 page)

              “No!” she called out.  “Dmitry, no, please!”  Her voice shrieked in pure fear.

              Looking up from his brother, Dmitry glanced down the stairs at Arie, trembling and finally let him go.  Throwing him off his leg, he stood up over Ivan’s body.  As he looked down at the man, purple and heaving, there was absolutely no pity.  Reaching back like a man kicking a dog, Dmitry struck Ivan in his ribs one last time.  “Fuck me? Fuck you!” Dmitry finally screamed. 

              Coughing, Ivan got up off the floor, face bloody and spit.  He ran his tongue over his lip and looked at Dmitry with a hateful grimace.   

              Arie bolted up the steps to Ivan to help him, but he snatched away.  “Get off me,” he said, pushing past her. “What the fuck are you bastards looking at,” he said, headed toward the garage.

              Davyd walked up the stairs slowly and stuck his head into Dmitry’s room. “Want me to follow him?”

              “Fuck him,” Dmitry answered, laying back on the bed.  “Let him go.”

              Arie stood at the top of the stairs in complete awe. She rarely gave her husband much credit, but he had actually pulled it off. 

              Now, the question was, could she?

Chapter 9

With a sore, swollen mouth, tattered clothes and no shoes on, Ivan sped down the long gravel drive leading off the property of Dmitry’s estate, in his brother’s red, custom-made Lamborghini Diablo. 

He had picked this one, instead of one of the 20 other cars, for two reasons.  It was Dmitry’s favorite sports car, and he never drove it.  When the stuffed-shirt came out to the garage and realized it was gone, Ivan knew that he’d lose his shit all over again. 

Serves him right
, he thought to himself.

Large rocks popped up and scratched the perfect paint job and dirtied up the chrome wheels, much to his delight.

Looking cautiously behind him in his rearview mirror to see if anyone was following him as he hit the main road and headed for London, he shifted gears and push down on the accelerator.  The engine revved wildly and smoke blew out of the dual exhaust adding to his never-ending theatrics. 

It would take nearly an hour to get to his destination, but he would need at least that long to get himself together.  Smiling hurt like a bitch, but he could not deny the sublime pleasure that overwhelmed him at the moment. 

As usual, his dull and visionless brother had been unable to see through Ivan’s murky façade to his true motives. 

Ivan knew without a doubt that Dmitry would be ready for a fight as soon as he threw the little guard through his bedroom door.  He knew that the very mention of Alexandria would send him into a whirlwind.  He also knew that his brother’s conservative views on sex would push him into someone’s bed before it was all said and done. 
A man couldn’t be that tightly wound and not explode eventually.

As the moon shined down through the trees and lit up the road, he let down the window and allowed the cool breeze to clear his head.

“What is that noise?” he said aloud, turning up the stereo.

He shook his head in continued disapproval.  Dmitry had a half of million dollar, kick ass sports car and was playing Mozart.  Pulling the CD out of the player, he threw it out of the window and turned on the radio to find a rock and roll station. 

***

Like two vicious territorial lionesses in the same room, Arie and Emma eyed each other as they went their separate ways from the stairwell leading to Dmitry’s room.  Sullen and angry, Arie headed back down the corridor that she had come back from to her personal chambers moving slow and deliberate, waiting for just one word from Emma.  Unable to take out her frustration on Dmitry or Ivan, she quickly shifted focus on the one person in the house that she was sure that she could take.

But Emma was not at all disturbed by the quiet threat.  After fighting in war-torn countries for the basic right to be a woman, she had no qualms about beating the hell out of this one.  She stood at the corner of the stairwell, leaning against the door wrapped in her sheet and waiting on Davyd. 

Besides at that moment, she really didn’t care about Arie; what she did want to know was the answer to several
why’s
. As in…

Why did Ivan really care about her sleeping with Dmitry?  It didn’t make much sense, but neither did most of the things that Ivan did. 

Why did he pick such a shabby wife?  Emma felt superior to her in every form of the word as she watched her make her way down the hall into the darkness like a dirty alley cat. 
The nerve of the woman to actually prance in her house.
 

Why did Dmitry react to the name Alexandria so strongly?  Now that was an interesting piece of information that she was dying to know. Did Dmitry have a child?  And how old?  Her mother had insisted that Dmitry had no children at the time of their wedding announcement; so this would be a little insight into if Dmitry was as truly noble as he pretended.

***

Davyd walked into Dmitry’s disheveled bedroom and shook his head at the mess that the boys had made during their fight. Blood and trash was everywhere – a typical sibling fall out, so he thought.  He found Dmitry lying on the bed in his underwear looking up at the ceiling blankly with his bloody arms behind his head and his scratched up feet perched on the edge of the footboard. 

“Well, I guess you finally had that discussion, eh?” Davyd said, walking over to the bed and sitting on the edge.
He was getting too old for this shit to stand up at attention.

Dmitry raised a brow but kept his eyes on the wooden beams above him. “I’ve lost him, Davyd.”  His voice was sad now that it was all said and done. 

“When exactly did you have him?” Davyd asked with a frown. He turned in the bed to the boy and hiked his leg up over the side.

Dmitry let go of a sigh and smacked his lips. “My mother begged me to take care of him before she died.  And I thought money would make things better for us, but nothing helps. He can’t be content, no matter what I do.  And tonight, I knew it. I could see it in his eyes.  He wants to break free, but he’s not ready.”

“Are you going to let him?”  Davyd rather liked the idea of getting rid of Ivan once and for all. The boy was old enough to run his own shop. “And you were no more ready than he was when it was your time.”

Dmitry contemplated what the consequences of each decision would mean.  “He thinks I’m stupid.  You and I both know that he’s responsible for the drugs in the clubs.  No one else would dare cross me like that.”  Dmitry sat up and looked at his bloody knuckles.  “He’d rather choose that than a life with a family, our family.”  Trying not to sound pathetic, he pulled his thoughts together.

“Well, what are you going to do about it?  He jetted out of here in that same Diablo that you won’t drive and God knows where he’s headed.”

Dmitry sucked air through his teeth. “There is a tracker in the car. It’s design to activate as soon as it’s more than one mile off the property.  Call Vijay and have him tell us where Ivan is going.”

Davyd stood up and stretched.  “And once we know where he’s headed and what’s he’s up, then what?”

“Don’t send Emma to the club.  Don’t send the men to his location. When he gets back tonight, l will cut him off personally.  He can take whatever earnings that he’s made behind my back and make a new life.”  A flashback of Ivan’s face when he was only a little boy crossed Dmitry’s mind and made him shut his eyes tight. 

Davyd hated to see his young boss so hurt by his brother’s betrayal, but he was glad that they had finally arrived at this conclusion. It was best for everyone involved.

“I’ll call Vijay then,” he said walking to the door. “What about Emma?”

Dmitry yawned. “Tonight before you go to bed, set up a meeting for me in the next few weeks. I’ll fly to Columbia and see what I can do.  It will give me a much needed break.  And in the morning, pack her and send her on the way. I don’t want to see her right now.”

Davyd thought that was an even better idea.  “I’m on it,” he said, leaving Dmitry alone.

As soon as he hit the stairwell, he saw Emma emerge from the corner.  She held tightly to her sheet and walked to the base of the stairs to meet him.

“Is he okay?” she asked, truly concerned.

“He’s fine,” Davyd grunted, “couldn’t be better.” Tapping her on the shoulder, he walked with her back toward her quarters.  “He’s had some time to think and he’ll fly to Columbia in the next couple of weeks.  I’ll arrange something with you before bed and in the morning, I’ll see you to your plane.”

“Is he kicking me out?” Emma asked, appalled.

Davyd smiled. “Think of it as expediting. He can’t risk your safety.  So you’ll need to leave and head back to New York.”

“Who does he think that he is?” Emma asked, pulling at her sheet.

Davyd tightened his hand on her shoulder, just enough for her to know that he was serious. “He’s the man who has agreed to meet your terms out of sheer respect for your mother and your history.  Now it’s time for you to meet his out of the same.” He looked down into Emma’s eyes with warning in his glare.

Emma snatched away from his hold, but knew that her best course of action would be agree. “I’ll be prepared to leave at dawn.”

Chapter 10

After Ivan arrived back in London from his long drive, his first stop was to the Hutton Industries bonded warehouses located just a block south of Heathrow airport.  He pulled in very quickly to one of the secured locations where his drugs were housed and traded his brother’s flashy sports car for a black Mercedes SUV, changed into all-black tactical gear stored in one of his cargo holds and grabbed a few automatic weapons with scopes. 

              Having to do this alone instead of with Arie, he opted for a bullet-proof vest and a black mask.  It would be important to stay small and out of sight for this operation, so he also took off all of his rings, watches, and necklaces and placed them in the car for safe keeping. 

              Fighting against the clock, he pulled out into the night’s air with purpose.  Still over an hour away from Canvey Island docks where their Columbian connection would be dropping off their monthly score of 25 kilos of uncut cocaine, he gunned it in the truck, determined not to stop for anyone or anything.  Without question, he simply had to beat his men there in order to get in place, otherwise, the entire plan would go sour.

              On a usual run, Ivan’s illegal shipment would arrive in the sleepy docks of Canvey in Essex a little after ten o’clock via a Columbian container ship from its headquarters in Cartagena. The larger legal shipment would arrive with petroleum for pipelines and chemicals for blending on-site at the facilities. A special team would dock, unload the bulk chemicals and in the process drop off the 25 kilos in a small tanker marked for Hutton Industries along with their other shipments for distributors along the Thames River. 

              This distribution system was put in place well before Ivan signed on and many organizations outside of his own were involved, which was why he had to wait until after the shipment was delivered and loaded onto his cargo ship before he could get rid of his team.  Otherwise, he would face starting a war with the Columbians that he’d sure he need once he branched completely off with Dmitry.

              When he arrived at Canvey Island, he parked off the dock near the drop off for the Columbians, hiked a little over a mile along the sandy bank and waited quietly, spying the port with his binoculars.

              The brisk winds blew off the water and chilled his body as he lay behind a boulder off the hill.  With his Dragunov SVD perched on a flat surface pointed down the location, he waited patiently under black camouflage. 

              Several minutes later, the men arrived at the poor with their go-fast boats to move the shipment on schedule.  Slapping himself on the cheeks to wake himself up, he moved into position and placed his finger on the trigger.

              “Show time,” he muttered as he spit out his gum. 

              Once the Columbians had passed off the shipment and exchanged the money, Ivan locked in on the two men carrying back the goods in the boat to the small cargo ship.  They were chattering away, barely paying attention to their surroundings, because they had made the run so often without one interruption.

              As soon as the last batch was loaded, Ivan prepared to attack.     

              Taking a deep breath, he exhaled and pulled the trigger. A sharp, air-bending sound and large flash from the muzzle erupted into the night. 

              Even from over 200 feet, he still managed to shoot the first man directly in the head through his black skull cap.  He dropped quick, falling to his knees and then forward onto the ground.  The second man, surprised by the attack, quickly ducked for cover, but as soon as he bent down, Ivan pulled the trigger again, shooting the man directly in the eye. 

              Waiting patiently, he watched as the driver came off the boat to see what was holding things up.  As soon as he put his foot on the bow, Ivan pulled the trigger for the last time.  The direct hit blasts them man’s chest wide open and he fell backward on the boat.

              Picking up his weapon, Ivan threw the sling over his arm and ran as fast as his feet would take him in the sand to the boat.  Jumping over the dead men, he boarded the boat and headed off into the canal with the shipment and over half of his problem solved.

***

Alone in her room, Arie looked at herself in the gold-gilded mirror.  Hair down and curled, make-up applied and wearing a silk chemise, she barely recognized herself.  In her mind, despite all of the damning things that she could say about her appearance, she knew that she looked the part that Ivan wanted her to play tonight, but after the experience that she had shared with Dmitry in Milan, she wasn’t sure that even this would entice him into bed with her. 

              Self-doubt was her biggest enemy.  It wasn’t that she didn’t think she was pretty, it was that she didn’t think she was good enough. And if any man could see her insecurities, she knew that Dmitry could.

              There was something about him that wore her down.  Maybe it was his ice-cold stare, or the way that her body reacted to him whenever he was near, but something about him completely paralyzed her. 

              Bending down to the counter, she ran her nose over the mirror and sucked down the cocaine that her husband had not bothered to finish.  Most days, she only got high when Ivan insisted, but tonight, for what she had to do, she would need the numbest to deal with his possible denial.  As she rose up, she looked at herself again in the mirror and felt even shabbier. 

             
He won’t take you
, she heard a voice say.

              She wiped her red nose and a tear in the same violent hand movement over her face. 

              “You have to do this,” she said aloud to her reflection in the mirror. “He’s counting on you.  What are you worth if you can’t do one thing right?” Running a frustrated hand through her freshly curled locks, she bent down again and took another hefty, near-death snort. 

              This time when she rose up, she felt dizzy.  Taking a deep breath, she held on to the edge of the counter and started to cry.

              “What are you good for?” she asked herself again as real tears flowed down her face.

              Thoughts of her brother, Dorian, crossed her mind.  Was he really so bad?  How many slaps and bruises had she taken from Ivan since she left her brother?  How many times had her he shared her because it amused him? How many times had he taken her when she didn’t want him?  How many times had he fucking threatened her with her life?

              Feeling her hands begin to tremble, she turned from the mirror and made her way inside of the bedroom. Placing her small dagger under her girder belt, she thought of Plan B.  There would need to be a second option should she fail. 

              Slipping on her black satin robe, she tied it securely around her small waist and headed for Dmitry’s room, praying that Emma had not beaten her to him.

              As she walked in the darkness, she began to feel the effects of the drugs.  Her body flushed with heat, speeding up her heart rate and causing her lower lip to tremble.  Running a hand down the side of the wood paneling as she made her way through the darkness, she slowly approached the main hallway leading to Dmitry’s room.

              Something told her to turn away, to go back and be the failure that she always managed to be, but the idea of disappointing Ivan when he needed her most, pushed her to continue. 

              Thankfully, no guards stood near the staircase or his bedroom.  As quietly as her feet would take her, she made her way up the stairs and to his bedroom door, which was open after the fight earlier. 

              She saw Dmitry in the shadows, lying in the bed across the fireplace.  His body was languid and peaceful.  Like an angel, he slept with beautiful grace that drew her from the entryway toward him. 

              She stepped carefully over the shards of glass and wood and found her way to the far side of the bed. 

              His large hand rested out beyond the bed with one large finger pointed toward her.  She stood by it, looking down at his muscular form.  In only his black underwear, he snored lightly, legs wide open, body perched up on a pillow. 

              He was so different from Ivan.  They were like night and day, and just his existence made her feel as though being with Ivan was curse instead of a blessing.  However, if she could make him want her, take her, then maybe, there was hope. 

              As soon as she crawled over onto the large bed, Dmitry’s blue prisms flashed open and glared up at her as she sat with her legs straddled over him. 

              He said nothing at first. 

              Feeling accomplished for that small feat, she crawled over his body and pushed a warm kiss to his mouth.  So sweet and warm was it, that he placed a large hand on her back and pulled her to him.  She could feel his lion-like heartbeat pounding against her chest.  Falling deeper into his embrace, she ran a hand through his blonde curls and raked her nails down his neck. 

              Dmitry tasted her slowly, sucking at her tender bottom lip.  Wrapping both arms around her waist, he returned her advances with a fire that she had never felt before.  His tongue tasted like pure mint, his lips like velvet, his skin smelled of sandalwood and his muscles felt like they had been carved from stone. 

              Pulling on her robe impatiently, she tore it off and pushed her body up on his chest.  With only the fireplace illuminating the room for him to see her, she lifted her small gown off her body and revealed her breasts. 

              Her eyes shone bright with the need for acceptance. 

              “Take me,” she said, tears running down her cheeks. 

              Dmitry ran a hand from her neck down to her heart.  He rested it there and looked at her.  “Why?” he asked in pity. 

              “Please,” she said, feeling him grow erect beneath her. 

              Now fully awake, Dmitry looked up at her in confusion. He could not deny that he wanted her – that maybe he had always wanted her in some way – but he could not allow himself to lose control with his brother’s wife, no matter how beautiful she was. 

              “Why don’t you want me?” she asked, voice strained.

              Dmitry clenched his jaw and swallowed his ramping lust.  “I do,” he whispered. 

              “Then take me. I’m here,” she grabbed his hand and put it on her rigid nipple. 

              Dmitry shook his head.  “Why?” he asked again.

              “Because you have to,” she answered sincerely.

              The look in Dmitry’s eye changed from pity to prompt and final denial.  As soon as she saw it, she reached for the hidden dagger and with one quick motion had it at his neck.  He looked down at it and slowly back at her.  “Go ahead,” he said, voice low and foreboding.  His brow rose.  “It won’t change him and it won’t change how he’ll see you.”

              Arie’s disposition instantly changed.  Tears flowed down her face onto his as she sat atop of him. 

              Her sobs were muffled as she tried to hold them in.  “I just wanted to be loved,” she said, pushing the knife against his skin.  Blood dripped from the end of her jagged knife onto the bed.  “But no one will do that.” 

              Dmitry smiled.  “It’s overrated,” he said, taking a deep breath.

              Arie smiled back with pain in her eyes. “Tell me about it.”  Quickly lifting the blade, she turned it toward herself and ran it across her neck, slicing her delicate skin. 

              With a jolt, Dmitry pushed up in the bed, reaching out for her as he screamed.  But the deed had been done. 

              “No! Damn you, Arie! No!” he cried. 

              Grabbing her up, he tried to stop the bleeding as it pooled in her gaping wound, but her gurgling gasps told him that he wouldn’t have enough time.  He screamed out for his men and Davyd, but no one came fast enough. 

              Clutching his hand as he held her in his arms, she looked up at him with scared eyes as she coughed her last breaths. “I’m sorry,” she said, spitting blood. “I just can’t do this anymore.”

              The men ran quickly into the room, turning on the light and pointing their guns, but when they arrived, they were as confused as Dmitry was.  He looked up at them with blood covering his body and Arie dead in his embrace. 

              Davyd was the last to walk into the room.  As soon as he saw Dmitry, he looked up at the ceiling and put both hands on the top of his head.  “Bloody hell!” he screamed.

              “Find my brother,” Dmitry said with tears in his eyes.  “Tell him.” He sniffled. “Tell him to come home.”

TO BE CONTINUED…