Ivan stood behind Royal with his Glock field knife against her neck. The serrated edge flirted with her life line. He still had a smile on his sweaty face, enjoying every minute of the girl’s torture.
Royal was shaking and naked. Her body had small cuts on it that had been carved by Dmitry’s insane sibling. She would barely speak, angering Ivan, who wanted more than anything to hear the fear in her sweet, innocent voice.
Ivan rubbed his free hand in her wounds, making her cry out. “She is something else,” hesaid, rubbing her stomach. “She begged me not to fuck her. Told me she was pregnant. What a trip, huh? Looks like the baby got to know Uncle Ivan a little better. We were practically head to head. By the way, I think it’s a girl.”
Dmitry pointed the gun at Ivan. His heart raced. If he missed, even an inch, he would kill Royal. All of this would be for nothing.
Royal sobbed. Her long hair wrapped around her and mingled in her salty tears and bloody face.
“This is between you and me, not her,” Dmitry said, voice unbelievably calm.
“No, what just happened is more so between your little black bitch and me,” he laughed. “It’s good man. Really good. I’ll give her that.”
Dmitry moved closer, trying to get a better shot.
Ivan cut her neck slightly. “Don’t do it. I’ll slice her open, and I’ll enjoy it.”
Royal cried again. The pain paralyzed her. Blood trickled down her collar bone onto his large tattooed arm.
Dmitry stopped.
“Okay. I’m not moving. Just don’t hurt her.”
“I don’t know, brother. I had thought about killing her, but I may keep her for a while. Afterwards, I could sell her. Get a few bucks.”
Dmitry kept his eyes on Royal. She was starting to fade. She would faint at any moment. Her weak body was only held up by Ivan’s strong grip around her waist.
“Royal, stay with me, baby,” Dmitry said soothingly. “Don’t give up.”
Ivan snickered and kissed her head.
“Is this how it felt when you killed my wife?” Ivan asked suddenly. “Did you feel this empowered before you slit Ari’sthroat. It’s something, isn’t it? The power that women give you over them is priceless. You couldn’t pay me not to kill her.”
“Take me, Ivan. Kill me. Just let her go.”
“You were already supposed to be dead. I paid all that fucking money to make sure that you burned alive or was shot to death.” He shook his head. “Can’t find good help these days. Now, I’ll have to kill you and her myself.”
“Start with me,” Dmitry said, putting the gun down. “Start with me. Let her go. She’s so weak, she can barely stand. She doesn’t deserve this.”
“Oh but she does. She wants it.” Ivan grabbed Royal’s breast. “She needs it after being with you.” He licked the side of her face.
“I don’t have anything. No gun. Please just take the knife from her neck.”
Ivan watched his brother for a minute then ran his hand down the side of Royal’s body. He enjoyed watching Dmitry in so much pain, having never seen the depths of him before. All he had to do was mention her name, and Dmitry cringed like he had been shot by a thousand bullets. The man who was once made of stone had turned to dust before him.
“Tell him how good it was, Royal,” Ivan ordered, pressing the knife against her neck. “Tell him it was the best that you’ve ever had.” He ran his hand down her inner thigh.
Royal closed her eyes. “Only you, Dmitry,” she said in a whisper. She felt the knife as it cut into her throat for her disobedience. The taste of iron filled her mouth.
She heard Dmitry as he screamed her name.
“ROYAL!”
Ivan stepped back as Royal’s tired, feeble body hit the floor beside the bed. He laughed loud and hearty, enjoying himself immensely.
Dmitry pulled the knife from his side pocket and charged towards his brother, screaming and groaning in agony. Ivan ducked. Catching his brother in the waist, he picked him up and carried him a few feet from Royal’s body. Dmitry buried the knife into Ivan shoulder. He tore through the flesh until is stuck in his bone.
The two men fell into the table and slid on the floor.
Dmitry screamed out in pain, pulled Ivan’s knife from his leg and rolled over. He was resigned to dying but not before Ivan. Not for what he had done to Royal.
Ivan pulled the long dagger from his shoulder and screamed.
“You fucking rat bastard!” Ivan screamed.
To their feet, they were again, moving around like angry wolves. Their eyes were planted on each other, shoulders hunched, knives pointed.
Dmitry felt the warm blood running down his leg.
Ivan felt the blood gushing from his shoulder.
Dmitry didn’t wait. He stepped in and with a swift, stiff arm felt his knife cut Ivan across the chest, long and wide. He moved back out and swung with his balled-up fist, making contact with Ivan’s ear. He knocked him off balance,dazing him.
Ivan swung and stuck the knife in Dmitry’s chest, then pushed him up against the wall. Blood painted the both of them.
Dmitry screamed and head butted Ivan, then kicked him in the groin. As he bent over, Dmitry kicked him in the stomach and sent him backwards. Pulling the knife out of his own chest, he threw it right into Ivan’s chest. There was a minute of shock.
Stunned and dazed, Ivan found the gun. Dmitry ducked beside the bed and pulled Royal’s limp body to safety. He covered her, wanting badly to die with her or live with her but do neither without her. Bullets whizzed over the two of them as he held her tight.
Ivan stood up and spit on the ground. He wheezed as his lungs slowly collapsed.
“Son of a ball-headed bitch,” he said, coughing up blood. “I’ll be damned if I die without taking your selfish, worthless, genocide-fueling ass with me. Trust me. The world will be better for it.”
Pointing the gun, he heard shots ring out behind him, through him. His body jolted forward and large bloody holes filledhis chest. Sticking his shaking fingers in the wounds, he fell forward on the bed dropping his gun.
Cory and Anatoly stood behind Ivan in the doorway. Anatoly pointed a large chrome Desert Eagle .50AE pistol at his back. He had finally gotten what he most wanted, to kill his murdering bastard of an uncle.
“Hurry, Dmitry. Agosto is on the way. He still thinks you’re dead. If you go now, you can get out of here undetected,” Cory said, looking down the hall.
Anatoly ran over to help his father, but he stopped by the bed and looked away. “Shit,” he said with tears in his eyes. “What did he do to her?”
Dmitry had dressed her wound and was applying pressure to her neck. He finally stood up with Royal’s bloody wilted body in his hands.
“Oh no,” Cory said, limping towards them, holding his bloody wound from the gun fight.
“Nothing matters anymore,” Dmitry said, watching Anatoly grab a sheet and cover her.
Cory walked over and felt her neck. “She’s still got a little pulse. We can get her to the emergency room, but we have to go now.”
Anatoly touched her arm. “I’ll take her to the hospital. You have to go, Papa.”
“I have to stay by her side.” Dmitry shook his head in despair.
“You have to go.” Anatoly knew it was the only choice. “Go, papa.”
“The bag is downstairs. The plane is waiting.” Cory touched his arm. “There is no more that you can do here. We’ll take good care of her.”
“She won’t live,” Dmitry said crying. “She’s dead because of me. My wife. My child.”
Anatoly took Royal from his father’s arms. “Cory take him now, before he goes mad.”
Cory guided Dmitry out of the house into the Tahoe and drove off, leaving his son and the woman that he loved behind. The police could be heard in the distance approaching the mansion, and he felt like nothing more than turning himself in for the guilt that he carried in his broken heart.
“I am failure,” he said, sittin
g back in his seat.
“You prevailed,” Cory said, passing the police officers.
“I escaped. I am escape artist. That is all.”
“Even if you gave yourself up, there is nothing more you can do for Royal. She will live or die without your control.”
“Turn back,” Dmitry said softly. “Sync up with Anatoly, if he has already headed to hospital.”
“Excuse me?”
“Turn back. She will live or die, and I will be there for her as she was for me. The rest of my fate can be determined later.”
“If I turn back, you could go to jail, Dmitry, for a very long time.”
“I have almost one billion dollars. If I can’t get a lawyer who will get me out, what good is my money?”
“Are you sure?”
“I couldn’t be surer.” Dmitry wiped his tired eyes. “Hurry. Please.”
The Thieves' Code
A thief is bound by the Code to:
1. Forsake his relatives--mother, father, brothers, sisters...
2. Not have a family of his own -- no wife, no children; this does not however, preclude him from having a lover.
3. Never, under any circumstances work, no matter how much difficulty this brings. Live only on means gleaned from thievery.
4. Help other thieves -- both by moral and material support, utilizing the commune of thieves.
5. Keep secret information about the whereabouts of accomplices (i.e. dens, districts, hideouts, safe apartments, etc.).
6. In unavoidable situations (if a thief is under investigation) to take the blame for someone else's crime; this buys the other person time of freedom.
7. Demand a convocation of inquiry for the purpose of resolving disputes in the event of a conflict between oneself and other thieves or between thieves.
8. If necessary, participate in such inquiries.
9. Carry out the punishment of the offending thief as decided by the convocation.
10. Not resist carrying out the decision of punishing the offending thief who is found guilty, with punishment determined by the convocation.
11. Have good command of the thieves' jargon ("Fehnay").
12. Not gamble without being able to cover losses.
13. Teach the trade to young beginners.
14. Have, if possible, informants from the rank and file of thieves.
15. Not lose your reasoning ability when using alcohol.
16. Have nothing to do with the authorities (particularly with the ITU [Correctional Labor Authority]), not participate in public activities, nor join any community organizations.
17. Not take weapons from the hands of authorities; not serve in the military.
18. Make good on promises given to other thieves.
Chapter 28
There was complete media frenzy behind the bomb attack on Mother Russiaand the Medlov compound. Outlets from across the nation stood outside of the gates of Dmitry’s home discussing the murder of a young shopkeeper and the attempted assassination of a millionaire of questionable character with alleged ties to the Vory v Zakone by his crime boss brother, Ivan Medlov, who headed the Memphis Medlov Organized Crime Family.
Obviously, the media had it all wrong, which was good for the men who had survived the attack and for his son, who was now the head of the family, but it was not good for his most apparent and haunting dilemma.
For nearly 15 years, Dmitry avoided his name ever making one newspapers regarding his possible connections to the mafia, and now his face was splashed across CNN, MSNBC and Fox News along with newspapers nationwide. He had no choice. He had to leave.
Three months had passed and although the house repaired and the restaurant rebuilt, there were several undercover investigations going on by the MPD, FBI, ICE, DEA and the IRS. Dmitry was embattled, yet none of his worries outweighed the pain he felt for Royal.
He sat in the back of the limo as it escorted him now to the private airstrip,where he had made arrangements to fly to Prague to his new luxury villa that awaited him with a full staff and a newer life.
He also had purchased two large storefronts in the middle of Prague 1 district, where he had already started a new restaurant and an upscale clothing store called Royal Flush, just as he had promised her.
A staff had already been picked and both would be open within the week. Besides, he had done everything that he could here. Dmitry’s Closet and Mother Russiabelonged to Anatoly now. There was nothing more to fix, no more reason to linger.
“What are you thinking about?” Royal asked, taking off her shades.
Dmitry put his hand on her knee and sighed. “You. This is big move so early in your recovery. I’m not sure that you even need to be out of the bed.”
“I’m ready.” She rubbed her growing stomach. “I think we both are. This place is just a memory now. It’s time to move and time for you to stop treating me like I’m made of glass.”
The diamonds sparkled from her neck. Dmitry had purchased a three-million dollar diamond necklace, designed specifically to cover the large knife mark that Ivan had left when he tried to claim her life.
“Prague is a good change. Somewhere new where no one knows me or you,” she said confidently. “I can feel it. Everything is going to be fine.”
Dmitry raised his brow. “They know me, but there is no need to worry. I won’t be bossin Czech Republic. I’ll be shop keeper like you.”
“Well, we’ll finally have something in common.”
The limo stopped on the airstrip and the driver opened the door.
“Mrs. Medlov,” he said, offering his hand.
“Umm, I never get tired of hearing that name,” Royal said, taking his hand and smiling.
“Good, because you’re going to hear it for the rest of your life.” Dmitry stepped out after her.
There was not one cloud in the sky, and spring had brought fresh clean air, warm weatherand unexplainable beauty. Memphis was wonderful that way, always offering all four seasons in full. Royal would miss that.
As soon as the sun hit Royal’s necklace, it lit up the airstrip. Dmitry smiled. No matter where she went for the rest of her days, he would make sure that her lifestyle reflected her name. She would live like a queen. He would see to it.
“Are you sure that you’re ready to leave this all behind?” he asked, straightening his linen suit.
He stood beside her taller and more hauntingly beautiful than ever. His blonde hair brandished streaks of new gray. His eyes wore lines beside them where talons of life had clawed at his face in the middle of sleepless nights. But his heart was warm and content. The love he now possessed radiated past the physical and transformed him into something one could only admire.
“Everyone already thinks that I’m dead thanks to Cory and your doctor,” Royal said as their bodyguards escorted them. “I might as well start a new life.”
He stole a look athis wife. Strong. Beautiful. Resilient. She had stood by him until her end. She had endured the sins of his life with more dignity than even he could, and she had done so at his expense with no blame.
I owe you everything, he thought to himself. It was a recurring though lately. His existence was no longer complete without her.
He grabbed her hand and led her to their private jet.
This was the end of their stories apart and the beginning of their one lifetogether. God only knew what was in store.
Dmitry had been by Royal’s side the entire time of her recovery. Every time that she woke, he was there to take care of her – feed her, bathe her, dress her, read to her. Every need had been met. Every promise kept. He did so with little to no sleep. He barely ate. He never stopped worrying.
He paid the coroner, doctors, lawyers, police and the local judges millions to stay out of jail and out of court – to keep his secret of Royal’s survival.
All that he cared for was herhealth. It had been his dedication that kept her and his blooming daughter alive.
And it had been New York and Moscow
that had come in to help the transition go smoothly. He had their blessings and therefore their protection. Men came in droves from across the world. They replenished the ranks and worked faithfully under the Medlov Family’s newest boss.
Upon her recovery, Dmitry and Royal were married in their home with only Cory and Anatoly to witness a quaint,private ceremony. She could never again call her adopted family or see Renée but the trade was worth it. She wished them all well.
Royal had known no pain after that horrible night with Ivan and no greater pleasure than being married to a man that seemed to live to provide her complete happiness.
For weeks after Ivan’s attack, Royal had been displaced. The transfusions, the pain pills, the nightmares overwhelmed her. For weeks, she could feel his large hands on her body, his tongue in her mouth, his scent on her skin. She remembered the thrust of his hips and the cut of his blade. But with her healing, resolve had come. Ivan’s death had been retribution for his crimes against her.
Royal looked up just in time to see Dmitrylean over and kiss her lips softly.
“Let’s get the hell out of here, Mrs. Medlov.”
She and her entourage boarded and relaxed as the stewardess seated them and prepared the passengers for takeoff.
Quietly, Dmitry sent Anatoly a text. It simply read, “From a father to a son, thank you.”
Anatoly smiled as he read it. He sped through the streets of Memphis in his father’s old Mercedes-Benz with a new lease on life and a new woman in the passenger seat.
“Good Luck, Papa,” he texted back. “I hope that you enjoy your new boring life cooking borscht and chasing brats.”
Dmitry's Closet Page 29