Dmitry's Redemption: Book One (The Medlov Men 7)

by Latrivia Welch

  Anatoly stood in the corner, leaning against the entryway, dying for a cigarette. He glanced over at his father with a brooding glare, angry that someone had gotten the better of them. “How is he?” he asked the doctor.

  Turning off the sink, the doctor wiped his hands with a towel folded neatly beside him. “He’ll live,” he said in a Russian accent. The doctor had been highly regarded in Mother Russia, but his credentials didn’t exactly transfer when he came to America – forced to flee during the fall of the USSR for his involvement with the less-than-reputable clients. Walking back over to look at his patient as his nurse worked quickly, he picked up a syringe and inserted medication into Dmitry’s IV. “This will calm him for now, but he’ll need constant pain management for a few weeks.”

  “So, he’s going to be high as a kite while the rest of us are forced to make it through this shit sober,” Gabriel quipped, walking in with his guards.

  Anatoly glanced up. “You have any problems getting over here?”

  “Oh, it’s a mad house out there, right now.” Gabriel placed his weapon on a table in the corner and walked over to get a better look at his uncle. He swallowed hard at the sight of him, a dark thought crossed his mind before he glanced back up at Anatoly and continued his conversation. “One thing is for sure. We can’t stay here. It’s too hot right now.”

  “When can he travel?” Anatoly asked, walking over to the window and peeking out of the dark blinds.

  After applying the gauze, the doctor helped the nurse lift him enough to wrap his wounds with dressing. Grunting as he worked, he answered the question. “He should not travel at all, but if he must, wait until tomorrow.” They laid Dmitry back down on the table. “For now, you need to keep him in a cool place, cover him up to prevent shock and watch him carefully.”

  “I doubt he’ll go into shock. He’s been shot before,” Anatoly said flatly. “It’s not like he’s new to this.”

  Spitting out the bit, Dmitry exhaled a short breath and moaned. “I can fucking hear you.”

  The doctor turned to Anatoly. “Not that kind of shock, genius.”

  Anatoly winked at the old man and reached into his pocket to pull out a fist full of hundred-dollar bills. “How much do we owe you, doc?”

  “It’s on the house,” the doctor said, dropping a bag full of pain meds at Anatoly’s feet. “Keep him hydrated.”

  “I will,” Anatoly offered his hand. “Spasiba.”

  The doctor huffed. “Radi boga.” Shaking Anatoly’s hand, he looked over his shoulder. “Good luck, my friend. I’ll see you when you return.”

  “Spasiba,” Dmitry managed, feeling the drugs already kicking in. Boris quickly wheeled in one of the hospital beds from the warehouse, and he and Gabriel helped him transfer slowly over to it.

  “Shit, you weigh a ton,” Gabriel quipped, glad his uncle was at least able to have a sensible conversation.

  “Or maybe you’re a light weight,” Dmitry mumbled before he passed back out.

  Gabriel rose up from his uncle and looked at Boris. “What? It’s back day.” Rolling his eyes, he walked over to speak with Anatoly privately while Boris escorted the doctor and his assistant back out of the building. He tried to keep it light as he talked to others, but with his cousin, he showed the anger just below the surface. Lowering his voice to keep from stirring his uncle, he turned his back to him. “You find out who the fuck is responsible for this shit, yet?”

  Anatoly sucked his teeth. “The shooter is dead. I took care of it myself.”

  “I heard on the radio. You shot the bastard on Beale Street.”

  “But who hired him. He was obviously a hitman, but he wasn’t local, wasn’t familiar either.” Anatoly shook his head in bafflement. “We’ve got so many fucking enemies, I don’t know where to begin.”

  “How about the most recent…then work our way back.”

  “That will take fucking forever. I’ll be sending my kids off to college before we finish that list. Net. There has to be some other way. I’ve already been on the line with St. Petersburg.”

  “You used the special line?” Gabriel asked concerned.

  “I did everything strictly according to plan,” Anatoly assured. Scratching his brow, he calmed down. “I’m waiting on a call back.” But at the moment, another thought was weighing heavily on him. “How was Renee and Alexandria and Anastaysia…all of them?”

  Gabriel nodded. “Scared but okay. Vasily will make sure they are briefed on the plane. We got them out with 10 seconds to spare. There were absolutely no problems.”

  “Problems or not, she’s going to hate me for sending her alone,” Anatoly worried about his pregnant wife. “If she goes into labor on that plane, I’m going to….” His chest swelled with anger. Unable to finish his sentence, he balled up his fists.

  “She won’t have the baby. Don’t worry. She’s got a plane full of women with her who, I’m sure, will cater to her every need. And the sooner we get the old man up and moving, we can head to them.” Gabriel leaned against the counter, changing the subject as he slapped a mosquito buzzing around his ear. “Do you have an extra shirt around here? I don’t’ know if you’ve noticed, but I’m sort of…half-naked.”

  Pulling up to the back of the building after he had circled the block a couple times, Marat jumped out of the stolen Honda accord and threw the keys to the guard who came out of the dock door to meet him. “Lower the docking bay and get the entire fucking car inside,” he said, quickly running into the building with the security folder still tucked under his arm.

  Breezing past the guards, he walked up to Boris and handed him the folder. “See if you find out if there are any off-sight surveillance equipment our boy in the valley needs to hack associated with the hospice center.”

  “Alright,” Boris said, taking the folder.

  “Where are the bosses?” He looked around the multiple rooms but didn’t see anyone.

  “In the kitchen. They just finished working on Boss Dmitry. He’s not looking too good right now. We won’t be able to move until tomorrow.”

  Marat nodded and straightened his suit before walking into the kitchen. As soon as he crossed the threshold, he saw Dmitry passed out in a hospital bed beside a metal table in the middle of the floor and Gabriel and Anatoly over in the corner talking.

  Anatoly looked over. “You get the surveillance?”

  Marat held up the spy’s purse. “I’ve got a little more than that. Can you come to the dock for a minute?”

  Gabriel frowned. “Why?”

  Marat placed the purse beside Gabriel’s gun. “I’ve got the nurse from the hospice center in the trunk of the car.”

  “Alive?” Anatoly asked.

  “No…no. She’s dead, sir.” He reached into her purse and pulled out her Beretta, complete with a Trident suppressor. “But you were right about her. She wasn’t right, either extremely into the second amendment or a hitter. I didn’t have time to search her for tattoos, but if we can get a picture of her face sent over to our team for facial recognition, we might be able to find out who she’s working for.”

  Gabriel smiled. “I think our list just got smaller.”

  Hours later, after the sun had set and things had settled down, Anatoly hung up his non-traceable phone from a very informative call. “Dead bitch is not Georgia but Nadia Butina. She’s a Russian national based out of London and a hitter for the…”

  Gabriel finished his sentence. “The Popov Crime family syndicate.” It just did not make any sense. “You think Alexei is still salty over Miami? I know Ryan Colt was his boy, but not important enough to go to war over.”

  Anatoly couldn’t connect the dots either. “Lower-level men get popped all the time out here. Why is Ryan Colt so important? Alexei would be out of his mind to send a hitter to kill a Czar over an errand boy. It’s a cardinal fucking sin to kill a council member.”

  Dmitry shifted in his bed as the potency of his IV wore off and answered the question neither one of them could. �
�Alexei did not send anyone, anywhere.” He licked his cracked lips and wished for water. “He’s dead.”

  Anatoly and Gabriel both turned to Dmitry for an explanation with an incredulous, open-mouth grimace.

  “I’m sorry, what?” Gabriel asked, walking over to stand by Dmitry’s bed. “Maybe I heard you wrong, because it sounded like you said he’s dead.”

  “How would he be dead, and it not be international news?” Anatoly asked. “Papa, are you feeling okay?” Maybe he was hallucinating, a common side effect of being shot and then worked on in a filthy warehouse kitchen. He put his hand over his father’s forehead to check his temperature.

  Dmitry cleared his throat and moved his son’s hand. “I’m fine, minus the bullet holes. The reason no one knows is because Erik didn’t want to show weakness. If his brother was reported missing, then it would prove they were extremely vulnerable. Because he could not say who killed him and because he wanted to take over complete power, he kept the information to himself until he was certain he knew who the killer was.” Dmitry grunted again. “I killed him, rather had him killed, while he was in China the same month that we got back from Miami.”

  “You killed one of the sitting members of the international council and didn’t think to mention it?” Anatoly asked frowning. “Why?”

  “Because Ryan Colt was not important, but you two were and he wasn’t just going to allow what happened in Miami to get out where others would find out we took his money and killed his men. I knew he wouldn’t come after me directly. Instead, he would come after one of you, one of your children, someone we loved. That’s just his style. He would always throw a rock and hide his hand when he faced an equal.”

  Anatoly dropped his head. It made sense now, but one thing didn’t. “Why did you not tell us?”

  “I thought I had handled it, but evidently, someone flipped.” Dmitry winced in pain.

  Anatoly’s phone buzzed in his pocket as he tried to digest the information his father had just thrown on them. Turning his back, he answered quickly. “Da,” he said, listening to the caller on the other end. “We can be there in two days.” He listened again. “We have what we need but thank you.” Hanging up the phone, he turned to his cousin and father. “The international council has convened a meeting regarding your attack in St. Petersburg day after tomorrow. Everyone will be there, including Erik Popov.”

  Gabriel raised a brow. Things were getting more and more interesting by the minute. “Oh, great. Maybe we can all go out and have drinks…you know before we kill each other.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Irkutsk

  Siberia, Russia

  27 hours after leaving Memphis

  A t the crack of a golden dawn, after a long haul that spanned across the globe, the Medlov family finally landed in the ageless city of Irkutsk, the de-facto capital of Eastern Siberia. All of them were tired of flying and ready to put their feet on solid ground – it did not matter where that ground was now. With nothing else to do but think on their journey, heated frustrations and endless worries that plagued the group at the start of their trip had dissipated to anxiousness. Anxiousness had eventually turned to sadness, and sadness finally lulled into glib acceptance. Now, everyone was curious to see their new home, unsure if it would even accommodate such a large party of over 50 people, including staff and guards, but very grateful that they were all together instead of being further separated.

  Outside of the family’s jet, the distinct sounds of powerful plane engines in neighboring hangars starting up to depart filled the air, along with the takeoff of commercial planes on the adjoining air strip. Men in orange jumpers pulled raggedy carts piled with luggage off other planes, but avoided the area deemed restricted upon the Medlov’s arrival. The order had come directly from the control tower. No unauthorized persons could come near the Medlov family jet. Anyone who tried would be shot on sight, no questions asked. Guards with trained bomb dogs sniffed each vehicle while awaiting the arriving party as a secondary precaution to the perimeter hold. When the guards were certain it was safe after all of their checks, they gave the word.

  “The perimeter is secure. You may unboard the package. Over.” A guard spoke into his earpiece from below the plane with his machine gun slung muzzle downward in front of him.

  The family had been waiting fifteen minutes since landing, giving security time to check the grounds and receive the convoy of vehicles that now waited for them with the headlights on and the back doors of each vehicle open and ready. Not one precaution had been overlooked. Guards dressed in black suits walked around the plane, watching from every direction as the workers locked the stairs into place for the family to exit the plane.

  “Copy that. Unboarding will begin immediately,” the lead stewardess, Diana, answered, speaking into her earpiece before nodding toward the stewardess at the rear of the plane. “If you would excuse me, little one,” she spoke softly to Konstantin as she sidestepped him while he played with his plastic solider toys on the floor.

  “Put your toys away now,” Anya ordered her brother, offering him a bag to slip the litter of green figures into.

  Konstantin looked up, snarling at his sister. “Can’t you see I’m busy?”

  Anya swatted at him. “Can’t you see, you’re in the way.”

  “Enough,” Royal said absently, used to her children fighting. “Put your toys away like your sister said, Konstantin. Behave or else.” Her stern voice made the boy move quickly, shoving the toys into the bag while shooting daggers at Anya for getting him in trouble.

  Royal watched Diana as she walked passed her, grateful for a team of loyal female guards who were not only competent but warm. The woman had been with them for many years, but she always remained extremely professional. Always kind, always direct, always hypervigilant with her head on a swivel, the stewardess never spoke out of turn or stepped out of her place.

  Diana’s background was an enigma, as they rarely spoke about anything more than what Royal wanted the plane to be stocked with for trips or décor changes. But Dmitry had told Royal once that Diana was beautifully dangerous, capable of more destruction than any man he knew, and that’s why he had hired her. At first, Royal thought her husband was brushing her off, giving an inflated explanation of the woman because she was attractive.

  Now, Royal understood everything more clearly. During the flight, she never saw Diana or the other stewardess sleep. They watched over the family constantly – reassuring the children and catering to the adults. They took special care with Renee to ensure her flight was comfortable considering she was so late in her pregnancy, checking her blood pressure and giving her more pillows to help her aching back. They fixed the kids’ favorite meals and made sure they took their vitamins. But when everyone else was asleep, they inventoried the arsenal in the back room, counting down to the very last bullet and discussing how to protect the children in the event of an attack. They discussed everything from emergency landings to responsibilities of who would guard the passengers. In essence, they offered friendship through action instead of babbling sentiment. It was never spoken – not even once…ever, but Royal was certain, Diana would die for her and her family.

  With her Smith and Wesson M & P Shield pistols tucked in her holster, the six-foot blonde wearing her normal soft white blouse and navy-blue slacks made her way to the door of the plane. As she did so, the younger stewardess, a girl of barely 25, cocked her M4A1 assault rifle with a stone-faced of seriousness.

  Diane pulled one of the weapons from her holster after opening the door and stepped out tactically into the morning air, ready to receive any gunfire from a sniper that might be intended for the family. After a few minutes out of view from the family, she returned and motioned for the family to file in line.

  Vasily stood first, ready to protect the family as best he could. Anil followed, wishing someone would give him a damn gun. After that, the women of the family with Royal and her children first, were escorted to the door.

/>   It had to be said, just in case, there would be no later. Royal stopped at Diane and smiled. “Thank you.” Her voice was soft but full of sincerity. “For everything that you have done, I truly appreciate it.”

  Diane smiled. “It is an honor,” she said, Russian accent thick. “No need to thank me. As a mother and a wife, I understand the stress that you have been forced to bare.”

  Royal was taken aback. She had no idea. “You have a family?” Up until now, she did not realize how much she had taken things for granted.

  “Da, a very wonderful one.” Diane beamed with pride but refused to share any more about her personal life, fearing she had already shared too much.

  “So, we are taking you away from them?” Now, Royal felt even worse. In her sudden self-pity, something she normally never allowed herself, she had been blinded to everyone else who was forced away from their loved ones to protect her family. It was a selfish thing that she made a mental note right then not to repeat during this situation.

  “No,” Diane quickly explained, seeing Royal’s guilt. “They understand the demands of my job. If it were not for Dmitry and his very generous pay, we would not have the luxuries that we have. This is just part of it.” Diane was a seasoned security professional with no misconceptions about what her job entailed. She didn’t want to give Royal the wrong idea, plus she’s wasn’t one who liked the attention, preferring always to move behind the scenes.

  Royal pushed a breath out. “Well, will you at least be able to return to them now?”

  “No. The entire crew will stay here, close by, ready to leave only when the family is ready. None of us will go anywhere until that time, no matter how long it takes, no matter the hour.” Diane looked out toward the stairs. This conversation had taken too long. It might cause a security breach. “Go, now. It’s not safe to terry.”

  With Konstantin and Maxim each holding a hand, Royal unboarded the plane, freshly showered and dressed simply in a black suit and red-backed black heels, following closely behind a host of armed guards. “So, this is Siberia,” she said, inhaling fresh air as she looked up into the cloudless morning sky after she made her way down the steel stairwell.