Vasily knew just who to speak with in Moscow about the matter. “I will have an answer for you by tomorrow morning, Boss. I think I know who we need to approach first.”
“Good.” Dmitry eyed Vasily. “After the meeting, you might want to check your room. I had something left up there for you.” He repressed his grin but Anatoly did not.
“For me?” Vasily asked, curiously. “Yeah, it will help you get things done a little faster over the next week.”
“Or slow him down,” Anatoly quipped.
Oblivious as to what they were talking about, Vasily still accepted it graciously. “Well, thank you in advance.”
“She’s here, Boss,” Nadei said, coming back through the door.
“Bring her in. We have a lot to discuss,” Dmitry said, hesitant but agreeable with Royal that Valeriya should go back with them to Ukraine. She and her army might be just the edge he needed in the extraction, but more importantly, if she lived through this, she could be very valuable to him with the U.S. Ambassador.
***
As Vasily emerged from the meeting and headed toward his own private chambers to find what was waiting on him, Nadei sat waiting on the stairs that led to Vasily’s quarters with his hands laced together and his head dipped. Dmitry’s speech during the meeting about loyalty and responsibility had jolted him to his core, and although he did a good job of hiding it, the situation with Briggy was killing him inside.
He had to take matters into his own hands, but not without some direction first. The only person that he could confide in was Vasily, a man who was not known for being one of many words, but seemed to be full of wisdom.
Standing up as his captain approached, Nadei stepped toward him anxiously. “Boss Vasily,” he said, wiping his sweaty palms over his jeans.
Looking up from his hand full of papers, the calm and collected Vasily halted and appraised Nadei with a frown. “Is something wrong?”
“Yes, I need to talk to you,” Nadei said, looking around to make sure that no one heard him. He stepped in closer. “It’s of a personal nature.”
Personal wasn’t a priority for Vasily right now. “Can it wait?” he asked, slipping his cell phone in his back pocket. The look on Nadei’s face told him that the answer was no. So, without another word, he motioned toward the stairwell. “Come up to my room. We can talk there.”
“I appreciate it,” Nadei said, following behind Vasily as he led. Quietly, he followed his liege to the portion of the mansion designated for the members of council – large suites with full amenities and extravagant designs, completely unlike Briggy’s side of the house where the guests were allowed to stay in much smaller rooms.
Vasily really didn’t have the time to entertain Nadei, but normally Nadei didn’t ask to be entertained. It gave cause to be concerned, especially in light of his recent actions. He imagined that the run-in with Anatoly earlier this morning had shaken him up, but the severity of his failure had brought this all down on him, nothing else.
When they arrived to his private quarters, two guards stood beside the double doors as expected. Leaving Nadei outside for a moment, Vasily pulled out his key, unlocked the door and stepped inside, expecting to find, if nothing else, a very large new gun or something, but instead a brown-eyed girl in flower-print dress was sitting on his bed with his sleeping son. His mouth dropped open at the sight of her, bright and beautiful as a summer breeze.
Putting her finger up to her lips, Lilly smiled at him. “Shh, don’t wake Dylan,” she whispered, cuddled beside her son while he slept.
“One second,” he mouthed. Sticking his head out of the door, he looked over at Nadei. “Wait here. I’ll be a minute.” He wanted to send Nadei away, but he was a man of his word and would give him the time he requested, but first…
He closed the door and walked up the bed as his wife inched off the side and leaped into his embrace. Silently, he held her petite body, kissing her lush lips and deep brown skin over and over again.
She smelled enchanting. She felt even better. He couldn’t get enough of her and couldn’t believe that she was really here.
“Damn, I’m so glad to see you,” he whispered into her ear.
With her arms wrapped around him, she whispered. “Dmitry sent for us, said to come straight away. Is everything okay?”
He looked into his wife’s hazel eyes and felt a flutter somewhere beneath his Teflon exterior. “Everything is perfect now.” He had left her at home to make sure that he didn’t get distracted, but what he found once he arrived in Prague was that being without his family just distracted him more. He was grateful that without explanation Dmitry understood.
“I need to speak with one of my men very briefly, then I’ll be right back,” he said, kissing her one last time. His lips trailed over her cheek. The things he planned to do to her later would be legendary.
“Hurry,” she said as he lowered her back down onto the bed. Giggling, she nestled back down by Dylan.
Vasily snatched the door open and motioned for Nadei to come inside. They walked past his family and out to the balcony, closing the window doors behind them.
“Okay, you’ve got three minutes,” Vasily said, more anxious to get this over with now.
Nadei knew he was intruding and tried to find a way to explain as best as possible. The seconds ticked by before he took a deep breath and said it. “I was assigned to Briggy when she went to Fiji six months ago, a little less than six months ago. Gabriel was supposed to meet her there, but cancelled because he said something had come up. The two of them got into an argument, and then she said she wanted to go out on the town, but Gabriel called and ordered us to keep her there on the yacht. So, she decided to get drunk. She came out on the deck where we were and offered us drinks. She insisted we drink with her. We did. I had too much. At some point, I blacked out. I remember taking her to her room, because she couldn’t walk without falling and then…”
Vasily’s eyes were wide with shock. “Then fucking what?” Was he really about to tell him what he thought he was about to? His face contorted in confusion.
“I woke up the next morning in her bed. I tried to talk to her about it, but she said that if I said a word to anyone, she would say that I raped her. Shortly after that I was pulled off of guarding her and sent here to take care of some other business for Gabriel, and I have not seen her since. Until this morning.”
“Say the fucking words,” Vasily ordered.
“I think she’s carrying my child,” Nadei confessed.
Vasily walked to the banister of the balcony and looked out over the grounds. “Who else knows?”
“No one,” Nadei said, standing still. “I went to her today, demanding that she tell me the truth, but she wouldn’t. Said it was best if we never talked about it again. She threatened me again with saying that I raped her, but I didn’t.”
Vasily closed his eyes and felt the wind blow past him. He had been here before, only it was in his own life. And he would have accused Nadei of using his past against him to gain an ally, but he knew that the man couldn’t possibly know his past because he wasn’t in Memphis when it happened.
“I cannot keep a secret from my captain. So, I’m asking you, what should I do?” Nadei asked, voice breaking under the weight of his sin. At this point, he would dive off the balcony if ordered.
“If anyone finds out, the men will kill you,” Vasily warned. He stood up and walked over to face Nadei. “If Anatoly finds out, he will kill you and Briggy. If Dmitry finds out…You don’t even want to know what he will do.”
“So what should I do?” Nadei asked.
“What you should have done was kept your dick in your pants. What you should have done was never violate your boss’s girlfriend, even if she is a whore. What you should have done was put a bullet in your head the moment you figured out that kid was yours, but you didn’t. Did you?” Vasily tried to ramp down his voice, scared that it might carry across the grounds and grab the attention of a guard.
/> “I should have,” Nadei agreed. “But I didn’t. I fucked up.”
“You fucked up again,” Vasily reminded.
“Tell me what to do, and I’ll do it,” Nadei pleaded.
“You can’t keep a secret from your captain, but I am your captain. Anatoly has too much on his plate right now. Telling him about the shit that happened between you and that woman will only pull his attention away from getting Gabriel back.” Vasily shook his head in disgust. This was a complete cluster fuck. “Let me handle it.”
Nadei wasn’t sure what that meant, but he was afraid to ask. He had done what he needed to do, cleared his conscience. The rest was up to Vasily. It was clear by the scowl on his boss’s face that he did not approve in any way of what had happened, and it was possible that in the end he might turn on him, but that was a gamble that he’d have to take.
“Go do what the boss instructed you to do. Keep your head in this. Once Gabriel is back, we will figure out what is best. For now, keep your fucking mouth shut,” Vasily ordered. He pointed a finger. “And keep your dick in your pants. You fuck anyone’s wife in here, mine included, and I’ll gut your ass out on the lawn and set you on fire.”
Nadei bowed his head. “Thank you, Boss.”
“Don’t thank me, yet. I haven’t figured out what to do with you. Now, get out of here,” Vasily said, rolling his eyes.
Chapter Six
Send a Message They Can Understand…
Outskirts of Donetsk, Ukraine
Right of Donetsk Training Camp
For several miles, there was nothing in view but trees, flat baron lands, tall barbed-wired fences, wild dogs, and one very secure training camp. By 4 a.m. every Monday through Friday, headlights of tattered vehicles moved down the highway and careened off to the small strip that led up to one of the military installations that were “off the books” for the Ukrainian government, simply because it wasn’t run by the government officially.
The Right for Donetsk was not sanctioned by the government, only sub-contracted to fight the war with Russia, specifically when there was a need for direct action. When they weren’t being utilized for that purpose, they were left alone to do their own business – a hybrid mix of military training and Nazi brainwashing of young men and women. Some called them patriots for their efforts, other called them terrorists. Either way, they existed and thrived in the shadows.
This morning, the sun was on the horizon, slowly rising into view, as a Jeep of Neo-Nazi trainees drove up the long, winding gravel road to the front gate of the training camp. No one got into the camp without checking in first. It was a necessary protocol to keep everyone safe, and to keep outsiders outside.
With their gear in bags and breakfast in their laps, the young men rolled down the windows to greet the sentry.
On cue, the guard in the small, dusty shack stepped out in his army fatigues and looked into the vehicle.
“Where’s Stas,” the young driver asked, leaning over his friend to speak to the guard as he turned down the radio.
“Stas is sick,” the guard answered. The scowl on his face and a scar across his cheek through his lip suggested that he was not one to be trifled with. “Let me see your identification.” He eyed the men suspiciously, keeping his hand on his rifle.
Pulling out their cards, they passed them to the guard for him to inspect and waited for him to lift the gate.
“Are you new?” the driver asked, looking closer at the man’s lapel to see his last name.
“Are you?” the guard asked facetiously. Passing the identification cards back to the men, he looked toward the back of the vehicle. “Pop the trunk.”
Rolling his eyes, the driver hit the button to raise his trunk. “We’re going to be late,” he complained. Frowning at his friend, he shook his head. “Who is this guy?” he asked with a huff.
“Don’t cause trouble with him. He’ll hold us up longer,” the passenger whispered.
Ignoring the man’s complaint, the guard went to the back and inspected the compartment very briefly.
“Come on, man. We come here every day. I’m pretty sure we’re the last ones to show up for training. Let us pass, eh? We’re in enough trouble,” the driver pleaded. Traffic back in town had slowed them down and now they’d have to answer to their lieutenant for the tardiness.
Slamming the trunk closed, the guard walked back to the side of the Jeep and smirked at the men. “Okay, I’ll let you go,” he said, pulling his sidearm, a pistol with a suppressed end that he pointed at them.
“Whoa,” the passenger said, raising both of his hands. “We don’t want any trouble…”
Before he said another word, the guard pulled the trigger four times, hitting each man in the head before they knew what was happening. Four bullets, four men, no need to waste any ammunition.
The driver’s bloody head hit the steering wheel and landed flatly on the horn. Quickly another man came from behind the shack and ran over to the driver’s door. Pulling the body out, he drug it to the back of the shed while the guard drove the car over to the side and parked it.
Keying up as he got off the truck, Marat nodded at his other team member. “All is clear. Signal green,” he said into the radio. Throwing an envelope in the guard shack for whomever came looking later, he moved quickly into the fields.
“Signal green,” the voice over the radio answered.
A few seconds later, off in the distance, one of Marat’s men set off a detonator that caused a ripple of explosions in the center of the camp. The first one was at the main headquarters. A loud explosion was followed by several others, then a large plume of smoke shot up in the air as the building crumbled. The second was at the chow hall. The third hit the armory and the last hit the garage housing all of the camp’s vehicles.
As Marat and his man moved off in the distance to rendezvous with the other three men, he looked back at the destruction in satisfaction. He loved blowing shit up, especially Nazi shit.
They had been watching the camp since yesterday, planning and plotting their attack. There was a lot of activity, but nothing out of the ordinary. This particular camp was for recruits over the age of 18. They were a volunteer battalion that focused more on hand-to-hand combat, fighting in formations and other basic training. Per Dmitry’s instruction, they were to make sure that no children were being trained on the site like the ones outside of Kiev. There was none, so they moved forward.
Under cover of the previous night, two of Marat’s men snuck onto the camp and planted the military-grade bombs, after two others scouted the area with infrared and heat seekers to make sure Gabriel was not being held there. To their disappointment, he was not. The rest was just a matter setting things up to make sure the attack happened smoothly, like killing the guards at the gate, drugging the dog and scrambling cell phone use right before the bombs were set to go off.
Everything had happened just as it should, now they had to regroup and move to the next site, which was scheduled to be hit in 30 minutes in the same manner. After this morning, they expected for each of the other attacks to be more difficult, because the Nazis would know that someone was coming for them, but it didn’t matter. Whether the Right for Donetsk knew it or not, Dmitry Medlov had given the order, so it was going to happen.
***
15 years ago
Manhattan, NYC
Day After Christmas
A young, very impressionable Gabriel listened from the living room of his mother’s Manhattan penthouse as his mother and father screamed at each other in the library. It had gone on for 30 minutes now – high pitched screams, low-baritone growls and the occasional thrown vase or glass. He had come home from school for the break two weeks ago and expected to spend time with his mother as planned, but when he arrived in the car from the airport only the butler was there to greet him and not even a small Christmas tree had been set up.
To make the house festive, Gabriel had gone shopping with the maids while they were out getting supplies for
the house and purchased a tree and all the fixings, then put it up with the janitor and the door man after hours. They had even shared a beer with him even though he was underage. The next few days after that, he spent reading books and meandering around Manhattan on foot to keep himself occupied.
Right before Christmas, word finally reached him that his mother was in Senegal somewhere in between Thies and Dakar helping women who had been displaced. She was supposed to be back on Christmas Eve, but her flight delays had caused her to arrive in New York only a few hours ago.
His father, a man who hated to acknowledge that there even was a God, had shown up to give him a small gift on Christmas night, only to discover that Gabriel had spent the Christian holiday alone. Infuriated with Emma, Ivan stayed with him at the penthouse that night, opened gifts with him before doing a few lines of cocaine, downing eggnog and finally falling asleep the next morning in front of the television while watching It’s A Wonderful Life.
When his mother finally came in, Ivan popped up from the sofa in the sunroom and immediately went on the attack. He accused her of being a bad mother and treating his seed like “leper”. There were also other “choice words” but Gabriel tried to not hear them.
Emma resented Ivan’s statements, or at least it appeared that she did when she spat on his shoe, too short to reach his face. Ivan had looked at his shiny shoe and then back at Emma like he wanted to slap her, but Gabriel knew that he never would.
His father didn’t respect women – save one. Emma Hutton was on his very short untouchable list, and her name remained there permanently because she was the mother of his child.
Ordered to leave them, Gabriel found his way to the tree in the living room where he sat waiting for them to cease their debate over his child rearing and retreat to their corners of the world the way they always did.
Ivan did not disappoint. Bolting out of the library, slamming the door behind him, he stormed out of the apartment without a word to him. He did, however, stop just long enough to pull Emma’s self-portrait down from on top of the fireplace and throw it into the fire. With one glance toward Gabriel, he grabbed his keys and left.
Gabriel's Regret: Book Two (The Medlov Men 3) Page 12
