Anya forgot that she wasn’t supposed to be listening and quickly interjected. “Daddy said that Davyd is a playboy,” she repeated.
Davyd turned and looked behind him at Anya, who quickly threw her small hands over her pouty pink lips. Her eyes bucked as she blushed. “Sorry, Davyd,” she said in a muffled voice.
“Mind your business back there, little munchkin. It’s rude to eavesdrop, though you be a pro at it.” He gave her a wink and smile.
Anya giggled and turned back to Dora’s movie.
The driver looked at Davyd and smiled. “She’s been here before, that little girl.”
“I know.” Davyd shook his head. “Twice. She’s got an old soul. I hope to live long enough to see her grow into a young woman. She’s going to give this world hell.”
The beautiful winding roads through the plush countryside full of tall trees, foliage and brush and acres of farmland made for a peaceful drive. As they passed the land marker that designated the end of the Medlov land, they entered a shady portion of the road where the trees were so tall and full until it nearly blotted out the view of the sun peeking through the millions of leaves.
The driver hit his breaks suddenly when a small buggy being pulled by an old man came across the road without notice.
“Shit! What is he trying to do, get killed?” the driver said, laying his palm down on the horn. “Move along, you old bugger.”
Davyd looked around at where they were and felt a twinge in his stomach. “Put your foot back on the accelerator,” he ordered.
“You want me to run him over?” Yuri asked.
Davyd looked over from where the man had come from and saw that there was no way he could have come from beyond the brush. “Yes, run him over,” he said in a calm voice as he pulled his side arm.
The driver did as Davyd said and pushed down on the accelerator and at the same time he blew his horn to give the man some warning. The old man pulling the buggy barely got his small wooden carriage across the road before they barreled past.
The driver cut his eyes at Davyd. “Is something wrong, sir?”
As they passed, Davyd looked behind him at the buggy again. “One thing is for sure…something isn’t right,” he said, turning back around to face the front. As they crested the hill and prepared to come down it, they saw a black SUV coming in the opposite direction towards them. It slowed down to a crawl as the man driving looked through his windshield at Davyd. The driver was a bald white man with black shades on and black gloves gripping the wheel.
Even from a 50 yard distance, Davyd could see that the man and the truck were out of place. “Get us out of here,” Davyd ordered as he cocked his gun. “Anya, get down!”
The driver was oblivious as to what was going on, but Davyd knew through many years of working with Dmitry that this was an ambush.
Before he could react, the truck coming towards them turned crossways in the road, blocking off traffic and lowered its windows. Two semi-automatic weapons were stuck out of the window and began to unload on the Medlov Bentley.
The bullets hit the car with a loud thud, flattening tires, mangling the grill and windshield.
“Oh shit!” the driver screamed.
Davyd flipped his phone opened and dialed Dmitry as the driver backed up. The tires screeched on the pavement as it burned rubber in reverse. Letting down the window, he stuck his desert eagle out and shot several rounds right into the door of the truck.
With the trees thickly lining both sides of the road, there was nowhere to go but the way that they had come. The driver focused as he bagged back but as they crested the hill again they saw the familiar buggy and three men crawling from the inside with semi-automatic weapons. They too unloaded on the Bentley, making sure to aim at the tires and not the backseat.
Anya screamed aloud, curled up into a ball on the floor behind Davyd’s seat. Her voice pierced Davyd’s ears and could be heard even above the gunfire.
“Sit quietly, babushka. We’ll get you out of here,” Davyd said, returning fire. The phone was on speaker. When Dmitry answered, he heard the gunfire also.
“We are under attack by an SUV in front of us and a buggy of motherfuckers behind us. It’s a total of at least six guys.” Giving the driver a gun from the glove compartment, he pointed behind him at the three-man team approaching. “Take them out,” he ordered.
Dmitry jumped up from the bed, pulled a weapon from the nightstand and ran out into the hallway with a gun in one hand and the phone stuck to his ear. “Stepan! Get some guns and the men. Let’s go!” he ordered with his robe flowing behind him.
“What’s happening?” Royal screamed as she followed behind him. “Where is Anya?”
Quickly, Dmitry slipped the clip in his Glock and ran down the many rows of carpeted stairs. “Where are you?” he asked Davyd, hearing his daughter screaming in the background. “Is Anya alright?”
“Ten miles from the house,” Davyd said, slipping in a new clip. “You aren’t going to get here before this is done, Dmitry.” He looked back at Anya to make sure that she had not been hit.
The statement cut to the bone, but it was true and they both new it.
“You have to keep her safe,” Dmitry begged. “I’m coming for you now.”
Just then a shot rang through the window and into Yuri’s head. The gun dropped out of his hand onto the pavement outside. His eyes averted to the top of the windshield. Davyd dropped the phone, opened the driver’s door, pushed the young man out and put the car in drive. He didn’t have much room, but he mowed down the trees on the side of the road and prayed that he didn’t kill both he and Anya trying to get them to safety.
The black SUV followed, shooting out the side view mirrors and further mangling the car. Anya cried out for her daddy as the car dropped down a five-foot deep incline that tilted the car and turned it over. Landing with a metal-bending impact, it slid into the clearing of an open, muddy field.
Still dazed, Davyd kicked the shattered windshield out with his boot and pulled Anya out of the car that was now leaking oil and gas. With blood covering his face, he stumbled, disoriented out in the open, holding Anya tight, praying for a way to save the young girl.
“Davyd, I’m scared! Please take me home! I want my mommy and daddy!” Anya pleaded with blood covering her forehead.
Davyd finally heard the SUV behind them pushing down the hill. He turned to see the men come barreling off the side of the incline as well. They landed better, but clearly ruined their vehicle.
Davyd set Anya down. He rubbed her face and kissed her forehead. The blood from her face transferred to his lips. “Run, Anya. Run as hard as you can for as long as you can and don’t look back,” he growled. He gave her a small gun. “All you have to do is pull the trigger. The first person you see, you shoot. It won’t be me, Anya. I won’t be coming for you. Trust no one. Just shoot to kill and run.”
“No,” Anya cried. “I can’t leave you, Davyd.” She trembled like a leaf in fear. Her eyes were wide with terror, but obediently, she took the heavy chrome gun in her hands. The cold steal frightened her more. Never in her life had she held a gun. It was awkward to carry and it felt strange in her little fingers.
Davyd knew that he didn’t have much time. “I love you, little girl. That has been enough for me. I love you. Now run. Run hard and fast. Remember to defend yourself.” Tears formed in his eyes.
“I love you too, Davyd,” she said sincerely.
He turned her around toward the expansive field and hit her muddy bottom.
“Run!” he screamed. “Run fast!”
She did as he ordered. Running as fast as her little legs would take her in her navy blue uniform dress and torn tights, without a coat in the freezing cold, she splashed in mud and sprinted through the knee-high grass.
Davyd turned around to hold them off, hoping it would be enough time to give Anya a fighting chance. Shooting another round, he made it count, hitting one man square in the middle of his eyes. He shot another as h
e saw him come over the hill. He dropped to one knee and took aim again, but the men hidden in the bushes took him out without effort.
Three shots hit him in his chest. One hit him in the head. He didn’t even feel it. His body hit the ground, blue eyes opened and empty. Blood mingled with mud and grass. As a gusty wind passed over, his body lay limp and defeated.
Davyd was gone.
Anya heard the shots but did as he had ordered her. She ran as hard as she could, still crying and trembling. But it was not fast enough or far enough. A helicopter flew over her, pushing her little body down in the marsh, and then ropes fell down to the ground. Two men scaled down in black fatigues, and ran over with guns pointed to collect her.
The taller of the two men hit the ground first. When Anya saw him, she got down on her knees and crawled into a large bushy area, hoping that he would not spot her.
He ran over and pulled through the prickly brush to pull her out. As soon as he saw her bright blue eyes, she lifted the gun from her side and pulled back the trigger. The gun shot pushed her body back into the brush a little more. And the stunned man fell where he stood.
Crawling and crying, she tried to get away, but the other man was quickly on top of her. She turned on her stomach and tried to shoot again, but the man wrestled the gun out of her hand.
She fought hard, biting the shorter man on the hand in between his thumb and index finger, through his glove.
“Ahh!,” he winced in an English accent. “Come here you little bitch!” he screamed as he threw her gun away from them.
“I want my daddy!” she screamed and kicked. “Let me go!”
The man snatched her up in the air by the arm and roughly stuck a needle in her neck. Nearly immediately, her little legs stopped kicking and her fifty pound body went limp.
Shocked that she had managed to kill one of his men, he looked back at his partner but opted to leave him. His remaining counterparts, he and Anya scaled back up the ropes to the helicopter and disappeared in the distance.
***
Dmitry pulled up with six carloads of men to the site on the road where a fight had obviously taken place. The driver was still lying on the side of the road with a bullet in his head. The evidence include the many skid marks, glass and bullet casing along the road, and the trees were broken from where a path had been made by the vehicles.
Reluctantly, Dmitry ran through the brush, his men moving beside him to the five foot drop where the real battle had taken place. Accessing every clue quickly, he looked out in the clearing and saw Davyd. An immediate rush went through him. Jumping down into the brush, he landed on his feet and broke out in a run towards his friend’s body. While some of the other men combed the area for Anya, a few men followed him.
“Who do you think did this?” Stepan asked as he looked down at Davyd’s corpse and frowned. It was hard to believe that the man was gone. He had just fixed coffee for him. He had lived in the same house with him for years for goodness sake. Now this? It was senseless.
Dmitry bent down and looked at the wounds. “This was a professional hit,” he said, sticking his fingers in the entry point. He stood up, brushed himself off and looked around the clearing again. “The driver’s dead. Davyd’s dead and Anya is gone. It was a kidnapping. They got what they came for.”
“We found a body here. Doesn’t make since though. Davyd was shot over here,” one of the men said, walking back from where Anya had been abducted. “There is also a gun over there.”
Dmitry looked back and forth and raised his brow. “Anya must have shot him. Davyd gave her a gun to defend herself when he knew that he couldn’t.”
The cold winds ripped through the valley and the men wrapped themselves in their coats, all but Dmitry who could no longer feel anything at all.
“Should we get the police involved?” Stepan asked.
“For face sake, I imagine and to make sure that we are always in front of any Intel,” Dmitry said, holding back his emotions. “But we have to do this our way. Get everyone, I mean every single solitary soul at my house, lined up downstairs. We start interrogations there and work our way out,” Dmitry said, motioning for his men. “Don’t touch anything here. Stepan, you head back to the chateau with me. Everyone else stays here. I want you to look for clues, go talk to the people. Someone had to see something.”
“We should get you out of the cold,” Stepan said, looking at his boss in his pajamas.
“What do I care about the cold?” Dmitry growled. “For all I know my daughter could be somewhere freezing to death,” he said, walking through the mud in his leather loafers.
Grinding his teeth, he looked up at the perfect blue sky and heaved a heavy sigh. While the world seemed that all was well, he knew that he was now standing at the gates of hell, and he was more than willing to step inside as long as it meant bringing his daughter back safely.
Chapter 3
Memphis, TN
A quarter after midnight, Anatoly sat with a group of mafia heads from Vegas in the back of Mother Russia restaurant discussing a possible relationship in the very near future.
The Colgnetti family was relatively young, but they were coming up out west. All they needed was a good weapons connection, and everyone who was anyone knew that Anatoly Medlov was the man to see.
Anatoly poured himself another shot of vodka and placed his large shoulders over the sides of the leather booth, waiting to get the meat of the conversation, but as his father had taught him over the years, a certain amount of finesse was needed. First, you talked, entertained, got to know each other. Then you moved on to the deal. His father had called it relationship building. Anatoly called it bullshit.
The appointed leader, Toni Colgnetti, a distinctively attractive Italian man in his mid-twenties with a heavy muscular build, dark brooding brown eyes and locks of curly black hair, finally reached down beside him and pulled up a titanium briefcase to place on the table between them.
Anatoly could tell by the way that the man carried himself that he was a lady’s man as well as an alpha male, used to drawing the attention of the opposite sex with his genetic charms and controlling his men with his earnestness and hunger. Oddly enough, he reminded Anatoly of his father in a way with his enchanting duality. But he could also tell that Toni’s good looks had likely led to jealousy, deceit and now war. It was a path that most men in his position were forced to take.
The Intel from the streets said that Toni was quiet, pragmatic and a man of his word. The only problem was that he was in the middle of taking over territory that belonged for a long time to Johnny Pescetti. This territory issue was headed towards a war for the two families and while Pescetti had a tie with a huge New York family back home, which meant that he could get access to weapons, Toni couldn’t get his hands on a sling shot. Long term, the firepower he was seeking would determine which family stayed and which family took a long dirt nap on the outskirts of Vegas.
Same story.
Different family.
Anatoly’s eye twitched at the thought.
Now, here they were doing what they did best, preparing for blood lust. The formalities were in place. He understood that relationship-building was a tricky business. The clients wanted to get to know you, understand your way of doing business, see if you were truly as respected as people said. So, he entertained the two-hour meeting even though, normally, he would have cut it short at thirty. But now…finally…things were coming to a head. He wanted to see just how much power these boys had amassed, and if it was enough to blow his skirt up, then they would grow to be good friends. And maybe later, once a relationship was built, he could give Toni a few pointers in how to keep his pretty little head.
“This is what I’m proposing,” Toni said, unlocking the briefcase.
Vasily stepped forward out of the shadows with his hand on his gun. He watched Toni’s every move, while his men watched everyone else. Gritting his teeth, he snarled as Toni’s hand went toward the clasps of the case.
&
nbsp; Toni quickly moved his hand. “Where’s the trust?” he chuckled nervously.
“You earn trust around here,” Anatoly said softly. “You can’t buy it.” He nodded, indicating that Toni could slowly open the case.
Toni stilled his quivering stomach. “Well, I don’t want to buy your respect. I want to buy a shit load of semi-automatics that will blow the Pescetti crew back to the stone ages.” He turned the briefcase full of money around towards Anatoly. “And that should about do it.” He swallowed hard.
“I’d say so.” Anatoly counted the money without touching it. His eyes gazed over the case and then he nodded at Vasily to step back into the shadows for the moment. “There is only one golden rule. We never trade at the same time. You pay today. You pick up tomorrow.”
“We’ll be in town,” Toni assured.
Anatoly had to smirk at his ignorance. “No need. We don’t carry product in town. It will be shipped to your restaurant tomorrow via an 18-wheeler driven by a cowboy named Leroy from Texas. He’ll pull up to the back of your place, and your men will unload. It’s just that simple.”
“So you want me to just leave 2.4 million dollars with you tonight with the hopes that I’ll get a delivery tomorrow?” Toni clenched his jaw. Did this guy think that he was a pussy or something?
“Who has trust issues now? The terms are simple enough. I won’t explain them again. It’s your call, Mr. Colgnetti. As I said, respect is earned. That goes both ways. We do this every day, Monday through Saturday and twice on Sunday. If you want to get in on it and keep your men safe, be my guest. If you are hesitant, then by all means take your little briefcase of coins with you and find someone else who can supply you with clean, untraceable weapons. I don’t’ really give a fuck.”
Saving Anya Page 3