Anatoly's Retribution: Book One (The Medlov Men 5)

by Latrivia Welch

  Which was why it did matter to him if she was alone in the courtyard…

  The snow crunched under his boot as he stepped out of the door of the complex and into the square. The sun was starting to peak out over the horizon of heavy dark clouds and the wind gusts ripped passed his face like sharpened blades.

  Despite what Arseny had reported just a minute ago, there were no other children playing about. She was alone, or nearly alone, as he had feared.

  There with her back to the entrance of the complex, she sat on the rickety swing, both little gloved hands grasping the braided metal, looking up at a stranger as he gently stroked her blonde ponytails.

  Just the sight of the man infuriated Anatoly. What sane adult male would touch a little girl left alone on a swing set? Something was wrong. He could feel it deep in his gut.

  Quietly, Anatoly made his way to the two of them, although it was hard to go undetected in the snow. He kept his movements light and held his breath.

  The stranger was talking in a low, easy baritone to Anastaysia as he pushed her swing, but the acoustics of the boxed-in concrete yard made it much easier to cipher what he was saying.

  “Why don’t you come up to my apartment? I have more candy there,” the man said with a filthy, yellow-stained smile on his face. His eyes gleamed with malice. “We can have a cup of hot cocoa, and I can show you my collection of…” The man’s voice trailed off as he caught on to the fact that he was being watched.

  Slowly, he turned away from the girl to see Anatoly behind him.

  Oh shit.

  Standing in a khaki trench coat with a multi-colored sweater, loose fitting jeans and a raging bald spot, the stranger adjusted his thick-rimmed glasses and nodded toward the teenager with a nervous smile.

  Without ever having said a word to Anatoly, he knew exactly who the boy was – a local drug dealer known for being a lone wolf who was unusually brutal when he had to be. What he didn’t realize was that this young thug knew the young girl he had been eyeing and fantasizing about for weeks.

  This could be a problem, the man thought, realizing that he had possibly met his match.

  Anatoly didn’t nod back. Instead, he spat on the ground and zeroed in on the man. Fucking suka. He knew about this sleazy little shit bag. He had just gotten out of jail, serving a stint for selling kiddy porn, and was a known pedophile.

  To Anatoly, this was the worst kind of person, preying on those who could not protect themselves. Now, it seemed the man aimed to prey on his sister.

  Anatoly’s voice boomed. “Anastaysia, come here,” he ordered motioning toward himself. He could literally hear his own heartbeat in his ears as his anger ramped up at the thought of what the man might have done to his sister, if left alone.

  “Am I in trouble?” she asked, gripping the gold-wrapped chocolates in her pocket. The look on Anatoly’s face told her that she was, but what had she done wrong?

  Anatoly smiled at his sister, so sweet and innocent, and felt the paternal instinct in him begin to rear its ugly head.

  “Of course, you’re not in trouble,” Anatoly said, noticing something glistening on her ponytail.

  Grabbing her ponytail, he pulled her closer to examine the clear sticky substance laced in her hair. Could it be what he thought it was?

  “Ouch,” Anastaysia protested. “What are you doing?”

  Anatoly’s head popped up as his face turned red. “You sick son of a bitch,” he growled at the man. “Anastaysia, go inside, right now.” Walking past her, he pointed at the guy, who had turned and began to walk away. “Hey! Hey you!”

  The stranger stopped and reluctantly turned around. “Can I help you with something?”

  Anatoly was not going to let him get away today.

  Closing the distance between them, he lunged toward the man and grabbed him by the collar. Snatching the man, he pushed him against the cold surface of the apartment building’s exterior wall.

  “Hey, I don’t want any trouble,” the man said, throwing up his hands in surrender. His eyes told the story that his lips would not dare utter. “What’s your problem, man? I was just talking to the girl.”

  “To my sister!” Anatoly yelled in his face. His nostrils flared as he clenched his jaw. “To my baby sister!” Trembling with anger, Anatoly pushed the man harder into the brick. “You rubbed cum into my baby sister’s hair, and you want to tell me that you were just talking to her, eh? Well, I’m just talking to you.”

  It was evident to the man that denying what he had done to the girl would not work. Anatoly had the evidence on his hands. It was also evident that the boy meant him harm, so he tried to level with him, appeal to his sense of reason before he beat the shit out of him.

  The stranger nodded in defeat. “I didn’t know she was your sister. I swear.”

  Like that mattered. Anatoly pushed him harder against the wall, knocking the wind out of the pedophile.

  When he saw Anatoly was beyond words, he continued. “I’ll stay away from her. I swear.”

  But they were far beyond a point of restraint.

  Pulling the gun from the small of his back in one fluid motion, Anatoly put the barrel in the bastard’s eye, pressing it against his eye ball.

  This just got real.

  Suddenly the smug predator went from being completely oblivious of the situation to vomiting his confession.

  “I’m sorry, man. I’ve got a problem. I just can’t help myself. Okay. I’m sick. I’m sick. I know it, man. I’m fucking sick. Just let me go, and you’ll never see me again.”

  Anatoly’s right eye flinched. “You like touching little girls, huh?” It amazed him how sick some of these fuckers were. They all needed one thing – extermination.

  “I’m sorry, man. I’m really sorry.” The man could see the inevitable approaching as Anatoly cocked the hammer back on his .45 caliber pistol. His mind raced, trying to find the right words to calm the boy down.

  “You’re sorry?” Anatoly asked, stepping back and lowering the gun. His voice calmed. “Really?”

  “Yes, I am sorry,” the man said, wiping his tears. He was so afraid until he was certain that he had pissed himself. Taking a deep breath, he prepared to bargain with Anatoly. Surely the young man would take payment or something for his mistake. Surely, he had something to offer.

  Anatoly took a deep breath and relaxed his tense shoulders.

  “Yeah, well, fuck your sorry.” Anatoly aimed at the man’s genitals and pulled the trigger, shattering his pelvis and blowing a hole right through his balls.

  Blood ran down the man’s legs as he dropped to his knees in agonizing pain. The screams were stifling, but Anatoly couldn’t hear them.

  “Scream!” Anatoly yelled. “No one is coming, you sick fuck.”

  Blinded by his tears and choking on his own breaths, the man grabbed his bleeding injury and looked up at Anatoly in disbelief. “Please, don’t,” he begged, seeing his life flash before his eyes. Was it possible that this would be his end? He could not wrap his mind around it.

  “You don’t want to do this. Just let me go. You’ll never see me again,” the man begged in his last-ditch effort. He prayed that the gunshot was all that he’d have to endure. Even if he had lost his manhood, it was better than losing his life.

  “Oh, I do want to do this…more than you know,” Anatoly seethed. He stood above his wounded target, triumphant in his attack. “See, you’re just trying to figure out a way to save your miserable life, but me…” Anatoly smiled deviously. “I am enjoying this.”

  “I’ve got money in my apartment. I’ll pay you. Just please let me go,” the man bargained.

  “Thanks for letting me know.”

  Anatoly swallowed hard and suddenly could only see red. A cold gust of wind ripped through his lungs and before he could catch himself, he instinctively pulled the trigger and shot the man dead square in the middle of his forehead.

  The back of the pedophile’s head exploded as the bullet ripped through his frontal
lobe and exited out the back of his brain. Eyes bright with shock, he hit the ground with a thud, dead before he could blink. He slid back against the wall, hands splayed out beside his fat, limp body. His coat flew open to reveal an unzipped fly and poetic justice.

  The silence of the courtyard returned and Anatoly was alone listening to the sounds of the city as it kept moving even after his irrevocable sin.

  I’ve just done murder, Anatoly mused, looking at the man.

  It was not as bad as he had imagined, but maybe that was because he had exacted death on someone who deserved it. And maybe it was because he was a natural-born killer, much like the man his father had been described as to him by his mother. Either way, he didn’t run from it, and it didn’t frighten him.

  Conversely and in great fear, Anastaysia screamed, ignorant to what had really transpired, oblivious to the fact that she had just been victimized and that her brother had just defended her honor.

  Turning, she ran with tears in her eyes toward the entrance of the building and disappeared behind the metal door.

  Walking up to look down into the man’s fading eyes, Anatoly pointed his smoking gun and shot him one more time in the balls. He observed the tender flesh, exposed and mingled in the man’s pants, and felt a warm sensation rush over him.

  “Now, you’ll stay away,” Anatoly said, spitting on the man. He kept his gaze on his first kill a second longer, feeling more powerful at that moment than he had ever felt in his entire life.

  Alas, he was baptized in blood.

  ***

  When Anastaysia came running through the front door of their shabby apartment with hot tears in her eyes, Anatoly’s mother, Alexandria, had already arrived home from work and was washing dishes.

  Hearing her daughter’s cry for help, she turned from the sink to rush to her aide.

  “What is it?” Alexandria asked, dropping to her knees and palming her daughter’s reddened face. “What happened?”

  Impulsively, she searched the child for wounds.

  Arseny and Immanuil came running from the back bedroom to see what had happened as well. Confused, they watched on as their sister screamed and their mother tried to pull an answer from her.

  “Anatoly…” Anastaysia said on bated breath. She pointed a trembling finger toward the door like at any moment someone would come barreling through it.

  Oh God!

  “What happened to your brother?” Immediately, Alexandria thought the worse. Someone had killed him. Someone had finally killed him. Her heart dropped into her stomach. “Is he dead?” she asked, eyes watering.

  “NO! He just shot a man,” Anastaysia explained, straining to breathe. Her eyes blinked hard, but she could not believe what she had just witnessed. She wanted to pry the memory from her mind, but it was there indelibly etched for all eternity.

  “Where?” her mother asked, shaking her. “Who did he shoot?” She prayed it had not been one of Dmitry’s enemies.

  Snot and tears mingled on the girl’s saintly face. “In the courtyard. A man gave me some candy and was playing with my hair and then Anatoly came out and shot him.” She drew in a deep breath and continued to cry. “Why did he do that, Mama?” She begged for an explanation.

  The clueless girl could not put the pieces together, but before she could finish her sentence her mother had. She felt the wetness of something slick and slimy on her daughter’s ponytail and pulled her hand away. “Oh my God!” she exclaimed, disgusted by what she knew the man had done.

  “Why did he kill him?” Anastaysia asked again. Anatoly had always been her knight in shining armor, but suddenly, he was a monster.

  Rubbing her trembling hands on her denim apron, Alexandria closed her eyes briefly and stilled her beating heart. Now was not the time to fall apart. Her babies needed her. “Go take a shower and wash your hair,” she ordered her daughter. “Wash it twice like a good girl.”

  “Why?” Anastaysia cried.

  “Go! Now!” her mother snapped. She didn’t have the strength to explain what had just happened to her and what could have happened if her brother had not been there to save her.

  With half a granola bar hanging from his mouth, Arseny stepped out of the door to see Anatoly approaching from down the hall. “He’s coming,” he warned his mother.

  With a slow stride and little urgency, the blonde protector made his way into the apartment and slammed the door behind him. Wiping sweat from his face, Anatoly looked at his mother and saw what he dreaded the most - disappointment.

  “What have you done, Anatoly?” Alexandria asked, snatching him by the arm. “You shot him? Why could you have not just beat him up or something? Did anyone see you? Do you know what could happen if anyone saw you?”

  Anatoly voice barely rose above a whisper. He threw up a hand to silence her rambling. “I know, Mama. I know.” The act itself had not scared him, but on the way back up to the apartment the idea of the consequences did.

  “You’ve already had far too many run ins with the police here. This will be just one more reason for them to kill you,” she said, nearly hysterical. “They could put you away for the rest of your life, Anatoly!”

  “Let me figure that out. For now, you should probably tend to Anastaysia.” Anger started to boil again. “He put semen in her hair.”

  “I know!” She clasped her hands together while tears formed again in the corner of her eyes. She looked over at her younger sons and sucked in a breath. “Go to your room,” she ordered in a stern voice. “I need to talk to your brother alone.”

  “Why?” Arseny snapped, inside feeling guilty for not going to get his sister and watching her like Anatoly had asked. This was all his fault.

  “Go, dammit!” Anatoly screamed at them. “Stop asking so many questions!” He scowled at Arseny but avoided making eye contact with Immanuil.

  Arseny could feel Anatoly’s contempt for him without saying a word. “Come on,” Arseny said, snatching his little brother’s arm. “Leave them to it.”

  When they were alone, Alexandria went to the kitchen window and looked out toward the courtyard. While she couldn’t see the swing set from her vantage point, she knew that someone else had to have witnessed the murder. Someone had to have called it in by now. She had to protect her boy, get him out of this place.

  “You can’t stay here,” she said, running to the fireplace in the living room.

  Removing a loose brick by the mantle, she pulled out a wad of dirty money. “It’s not much, but it will help you.”

  “Ma, what are you doing?” Anatoly asked, watching her frantically move about like she had lost her mind.

  “Take this,” she said, shoving the money in his chest.

  “No,” he protested, frowning.. “You need that money to take care of you and the kids.” Besides, he knew of another place that he could look for cash now that the pedophile was dead.

  “Take it.” Her eyes demanded that he not argue. Running back to the kitchen, she pulled out black garbage bags from under their sink. Slamming the cabinet door, she rose back up and took a deep breath. The room began to spin. “You don’t have time to think, Anatoly,” she said, wiping frustrated tears. “You have to go.”

  “Go where?” he asked as she shoved him down the hall toward the bedroom he shared with his two brothers. He walked into the room and stopped her by placing both hands on her frail shoulders.

  He could feel her trembling under his touch, afraid for him and his future. “There is no place to go. I’m staying here. I’ll face the music, if I have to, but leaving you is not an option.”

  “You have to go!” she screamed at him, already seeing the defiance in his eyes.

  “You can’t raise this family without me!” Anatoly snapped. “Tell me that I’m lying.”

  “I am the mother. I am the parent, not you!” Her eyes watered at the thought of losing her baby so suddenly. God, she wasn’t ready. Her voice broke into a thousand pieces along with her heart. “Now, you will leave this house before
the police come and drag you out. I won’t watch it. Do you hear me?”

  Arseny and Immanuil watched on from their jumbled-up bunk beds in confusion and fear. Where was their brother going and for how long?

  Arseny tried to scowl, to fight the tears welling up in the sides of his eyes with misplaced anger, but his bottom lip started to quiver and his feelings began to show.

  Anatoly walked over to the bunk bed and ran a loving hand over the top of Arseny’s head. “Don’t cry,” he said under his breath. Even then, he knew that he was serving as an example to his siblings and must maintain a certain amount of decorum, regardless of the situation.

  However, Anatoly’s kindness only made his brother more embarrassed about his tears. “I’m not…” Arseny pushed his face down in his pillow, unable to accept that he had caused all of this. If he could have, he would have taken it back, but even he was old enough to understand that nothing about their new unforeseeable circumstance was fixable.

  “Mama, where is Anatoly going? What happened?” Immanuil asked, voice raising an octave. He grabbed his big brother’s hand and gripped it with all his might, quietly begging him to stay. “Where are you going, Anatoly?”

  Anatoly couldn’t answer, because he didn’t know. This entire situation was quickly getting out of control. How could she even suggest him leaving this place? “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, putting his foot down.

  “You are!” Alexandria took a deep breath and started to frantically gather her son’s things. Every second counted. It would only be a matter of time before the police were knocking at her door. “You are going to your father in the United States. He can keep you safe there. He can help you figure this out.” It was her only true hope and her son’s only option. She had never asked Dmitry for one thing, never once used his name for personal gain. As far as she was concerned, he owed her now.

  Anatoly scoffed at the ridiculous prospect. He ran a hand through his hair and then balled up his fists. Watching her rush around the room only made him more agitated. “Are you insane? I’ve never even met the man. I have no idea where he is. For all I know he’s a figment of your imagination, Mama.” In his mind, that is all Dmitry Medlov was…a figment…something to tell during bedtime stories when he was a boy. Dmitry was no more real than the boogey man or Santa Claus.