Gabriel's Regret: Book 1 (The Medlov Men Series 2)

by Latrivia Welch

  Allan held the phone.

  “Are you there?” Alexei asked.

  “I’ll make sure everything is ready in Slovakia,” Allan said, staring blankly across the room.

  “I trust you, brother. Don’t worry so much,” Alexei said with a smile.

  “I wish I had your faith, brother. Take care.” Allan hung up the phone and poured a glass of the scotch. Hitting the button on his desk, he dimmed the lights.

  Chapter Two

  Something to Prove…

  While Gabriel was always able to enjoy the luxury of a decadent life as a boss, there was no amount of money that took away the predicaments inconvenience of traveling. Everyone had to deal with it, no matter if one was flying commercial or private, especially someone who was watched by every government entity in the country and the enemy of every other crime syndicate who wanted to be number one in weapons trafficking.

  Even with a $100,000,000 jet, there were many arrangements that had to be made before Gabriel could actually depart. His team had to coordinate with Memphis, pack his things; and then with a very extravagant convoy of SUVs and speed bikes that only drew more attention; he had to be escorted from the Beverly Hills Hotel through chaotic Los Angles traffic to Crystal Airport.

  To top off the logistical nightmare of flying, Dmitry had certain rules that made the process even slower, like inspecting the plane for bombs with trained dogs, double checking the flight crew to make sure an agent or assassin wasn’t aboard posing as one of their own or hiding away and restocking food and beverages each time they landed to ensure that nothing had been poisoned. It was never an easy thing to be reminded of one’s mortality on a constant basis, but it was as much part of the job as the million-dollar deals, the beautiful women and the unchecked power.

  He remembered a time when it all excited him – the attention, the entourage, the glamour. But the luster soon faded into indifference with the many trips around the world. And eventually the large metal edifice became just another home, another office, another construct designed to carry out his family’s will. In this, he had learned one invaluable lesson – man’s attention could never be held long with simple materialistic pleasures no matter how grand they were.

  As soon as the large convoy arrived to the airport, he jumped out of the SUV and almost sprinted up the steel staircase into the plane, making a B-line for his favorite white leather recliner right in front of the flat screen television where he could catch up on the episodes he had missed of his favorite shows.

  Quickly, he kicked off his loafers, wiggled his toes and rolled his neck. Damn, that felt good. What would be even better was a drink.

  “I hope your trip was pleasant,” the blonde Russian stewardess said, approaching from the back of the plane, cocktail in hand, made special just for him. Making her way to him, she leaned into his personal space as she passed him his drink and gave a cool grin.

  A trace of humor laced his quirky smile as he dragged his lazy gaze from her ample bosom to her sparkling eyes. “The only thing pleasant about this trip…is getting to see you, Diana.” He gently took the tumbler from her hands and winked at her, “and heading home, of course.”

  “Of course,” she replied, completely immune to his charms. “Well, I’m glad that I could provide some pleasure in your trip. I’ve also prepared the bedroom just in case you need to take a nap.” She stood back up and turned to watch the bodyguards as they filed onto the plane. Scanning each one, she tapped the armrest with her long sculpted nails. “Let me know if you need anything else,” she said, suddenly distant.

  Gabriel put the crystal tumbler to his mouth and smirked as he turned and looked out of the window at the clear blue skies. “I will. Thank you,” he said, knowing that their moment was over as quickly as it had begun. Diana was now focused on the second part of her job, which was securing the airplane and all of its passengers – a job she took far more seriously than she ever did flirting with the likes of him.

  There were always two beautiful stewardesses working the flights, tempting Gabriel every time that they bent down to pick up plate or offered a beverage. They always wore the same blue tailored slacks and classy, white silk tops, hair pulled in a bun, eyes twinkling, and lipstick flawless. But the thing that always drew more attention than their perfectly curved bottoms or long legs were the shiny Smith and Wesson handguns in the leather holders under their arms.

  Coincidentally, more dangerous than beautiful, these two angels had very dirty wings and had served in the Russian armed forces before coming to work for the Czar. The rumor mill said that they were Special Forces, but in truth, no one really knew what their specialty was – assassins or actresses. They were a beautiful enigma whose story was only known by their boss, who had hand-picked them and kept them on his private payroll.

  Maybe it was the mystery that fueled his curiosity, but on many occasions, he had played with the idea of asking one of the dream girls, as they had been dubbed behind their backs, out on a date, especially when they were off in some secluded locale half-way around the world with no one else to play with, but ultimately, he had passed on that adventure.

  Dmitry said that the men could look all they wanted to at the dream girls, but don’t touch and don’t make them uncomfortable. It was laughable really – an underworld boss who did not believe in sexual harassment. Still, if Dmitry said that they were untouchable, who was he to say otherwise?

  Dismissing thoughts of Diana, he pulled down his woodgrain seat tray, placed his laptop on top of it and opened it to find countless emails waiting on a reply – all of them marked URGENT. Great. Even if he were 50,000 feet in the atmosphere, work would still find him.

  Taking off his shades, he grabbed the remote from the seat pocket, turned on the flat screen and started reading and returning messages as his six-member bodyguard team settled in for the flight. He drowned out the sound of them as he focused on his work.

  Clutching a half-eaten Hot Pocket® in his tattooed hand, Boris hunkered down in a seat directly across from Gabriel and threw his suit jacket over the chair beside him. His long legs spread out as he adjusted loudly in the seat to get ready for takeoff. “We’ll be in Memphis in four hours, boss,” Boris said, taking a bite of his lunch. With his mouth still full, he continued, “Do you need to make any stops before we go back to the compound?” He wiped his face and waved at Diane for a drink.

  Gabriel knew exactly what Boris meant but unfortunately with a full schedule there would be no time for that. He had to get back to the house and report in. Without looking up from his computer, he answered under his breath. “No stops today.” He paused with his finger on the ENTER button. “Have we heard from our men? Is the shipment on the way?”

  Boris brushed crumbs from his lap. “Which one? We’ve done three this week.”

  Gabriel took his eyes off the monitor and looked over at his bodyguard, watching him cram the rest of the sandwich into his mouth. “The Ukraine shipment. I promised extra men on the detail. Did you take care of that?”

  “I made the call at 8:00 p.m. Los Angeles time yesterday, so 5:00 a.m. in Prague. The men were already getting the shipment ready at the warehouse. They called in a few more men who will meet them at the Slovakian border and deliver the shipment on time to the Ukrainian border with a double detail. It’s like clockwork, already taken care of.”

  “And they will still arrive on time?” Gabriel didn’t understand why this particular shipment was weighing so heavily on him, but it was.

  “Tonight at seven o’clock their time.” He looked at his watch. “Noon for us. By the time you get to Memphis, the deal will be complete. So you can relax, boss. Like I said, it’s taken care of.”

  “Then I’ll start to relax at 12:30 this afternoon,” Gabriel said, returning back to his work.

  His cell phone made a distinctive ding, indicating he had a text. Putting his code in, now made extra-long after his fight with Briggy about his infidelities, he found that Sasha- no last name needed -
in Bucharest, Romania was thinking of him. It was seven o’clock in the evening there on a Saturday night, and she was feeling quite frisky and lonely. With the sun setting on the horizon behind her, she sent a creative and quite complicated selfie of herself naked in only black stilettos and a diamond necklace perched on a lounge chair by the large pool in her villa, showing all of her better assets. Her note was just as alluring as the picture. If you were here right now, you could rub me down.

  Zooming in to get a better view of her impeccable landing strip, he licked his lips. Thank God for high resolution photos. Damn, girl. Sasha knew exactly how to make a man want to forget his priorities. About two months ago, he was there doing business with some very seedy types and was introduced to her in an underground club, literally under the city. Out of nowhere, she brought him a drink and licked the side of his face while he was talking to the buyer then walked away. After the deal was complete, he found her by the bar, waiting on him. The rest was history.

  He texted back. If I were there right now, I’d be in between those gorgeous thighs. TTYL.

  ***

  Somewhere between sending urgent emails and watching DVR episodes of his favorite shows, Gabriel nestled into his headrest and fell into a deep dreamless sleep on the short flight. It wasn’t hard to do these days, considering that he was always exhausted.

  “Wake up, sleepyhead,” Diane whispered into his ear.

  Gabriel’s eyes flashed open and focused on her. “Are we already there?” He looked around him, wondering how long he had been out. Everyone was awake and alert but him.

  “We are here,” she said, rising up. Taking the throw off of him, she folded it in her arms. “You might want to get your shoes. We’ll be landing very soon.”

  He looked at his watch and shot straight up in his seat. “Fuck my shoes.” As Boris came out of the restroom, he motioned for him to come quickly. “Is the deal complete or what?” he asked, slipping his feet into his loafers.

  Boris sat beside him and put on his seat belt. “Da, da, Boss. The men delivered with an hour to spare. They are already headed back to Prague.”

  Gabriel didn’t understand. “How did they have an hour to spare?”

  “The Ukrainians got to Slovakia earlier than expected. Said they had a window of opportunity to get across the border without being detected or some shit. So Yuri and the extra men brought the shipment to the checkpoint early, considering they had already paid in advance, and off they went.”

  So it was done. Gabriel gave a sigh of relief. “Good,” he said, sitting back in his seat. “That’s good news. Good job.” It was like a weight had been suddenly lifted from his shoulders.

  He looked out the window in awe at the images on the ground that came into view as the clouds subsided and knew that it wouldn’t be long before he was back in front of his liege. Landing in Memphis was always surreal – like Alice going down the rabbit hole and ending up in some new and odd little world. It was strange to him that the Medlov family had ended up here in this little music box of a place instead of one of the global meccas they did business in any day of the week.

  However, strategy was something that was not often understood by the outside eye. Dmitry had chosen Memphis well before he was in the picture because of one simple thing. Intermodal transportation. They were traffickers with as much need for air, road, train and water mobility as any other business. This place had it all with cheap legislators and even cheaper labor.

  There were also other parts of the city he appreciated, like their world famous BBQ, thick southern girls, who knew better than most how to misbehave and their basketball team. It was all so lazy and simple, like watching the tide come in from a hammock on the beach. Everything just rolled here at its own pace, except for the crime. But then again, they were criminals.

  There was something foul in the air. As Gabriel stepped of the plane in Memphis, he could smell it mingling with the heat and humidity that plagued the bluff city during this time of year. He squinted behind his shades as he ducked into the black SUV waiting on him on the tarmac and slipped into the cool comfort of the leather interior. The door closed behind him quickly as the men scurried to get him loaded and secure. As soon as Boris jumped into the passenger seat, they sped off in their convoy, headed to Medlov Compound.

  The air blasted in his direction as he kept his gazed focused out of the window. Hearing the distinct ding of his phone, designated for Briggy, Gabriel rolled his eyes and chose not to read it. Tightness stretched across his chest as he strained for breath. He remembered a time that coming home to her was not a chore at all. With butterflies and anticipation, he would greet her with gifts and kisses, holding her tight and whispering soft words in her ear. Now, he felt something closer to nausea at the thought of having to deal with her. Another ding.

  Strangely enough, while he hated coming back to Briggy, he did enjoy coming back to the family. Being a Vor was rewarding, more rewarding than he had ever imagine. He had two families now, his biological family and his crime family.

  The Vory v Zakone was an old construct that was around well before Gabriel had been born. His father had been a Vor. His uncle and grandfather as well. Each of them carried a legacy of murder, survival and domination with them that was known both inside and outside of the underworld. Dmitry had learned that sticking to the code, while respected, was a red flag when moving through society, especially when one had acquired a considerable amount of wealth.

  A man that never married, never acknowledged children and never involved himself in legitimate business was someone who could easily be identified as a threat by the authorities. But well-educated, non-marked business men could go where tattooed villains could not. They could sit with heads of state, impact legislation, walk into a bank without people thinking it was a stick up and be completely accepted in all circles. They were also harder to convict and harder to follow. Jurors always loved a hard luck story of a man who had come from nothing and made something out of himself. So, Dmitry had decided that his men all over the world would learn to blend. True, he still had men who came out of the Russian gulags and needed work, and he took them in educated or not. But he trained them with special skills and taught them how to not only manipulate their environments but also prosper in them.

  It had proven to be a successful formula. The men felt empowered and important, therefore they offered their undying loyalty to the family. The business grew larger and larger each year, and the family became more powerful.

  Then there was the biological family. This dynamic was much more complicated. Dmitry loved his wife, Royal and he loved his children. Anatoly, no matter how crass to the outside world, treated his wife, Renee, like a queen and adored his daughter. The men who followed him did the same. Dmitry didn’t stand for violence against the women, and he didn’t stand for disrespect. He said that would be the downfall of the organization, not an ambitious federal agent, not more powerful syndicate, but a woman. And so, his rule was for the men who led the council, if no one else, was to keep their women happy. Happy women didn’t turn states evidence or set up ambushes. Outside of the women, the men were extremely close. Dmitry served not only as the head of the family but also like a father to him. Over time, Anatoly had become more of a brother to him than a cousin. And considering that they were all they had, they valued each other’s opinions and respected their position. This was something very new to him.

  Gabriel hadn’t come from a happy family. Every memory of his mother, Emma, involved her work, and often he thought she loved the Free Rite and their work to help third-world women more than she ever loved him. He had spent his youth away in a school in upstate Connecticut. Visits were sparse and normally the only family that did visit was his father. In terms of affection, she had never dated that he knew of and she never married, even though she was daughter of a British countess. She died when he was 21 of cancer, clutching a picture of her mother and whispering nonsense while gazing up at the ceiling of a Fifth Avenue pentho
use bedroom with no one with her but him and the nurse.

  Ivan hadn’t been much better, in terms of building familial relationships. He was in and out of his life, calling and visiting as much as he could. When he did give him fatherly advice, it was always something unsettling and hardly ever useful. Ivan had been married once to a woman, whom he hardly spoke of and even though he got the feeling that his father might have loved her, Ivan never confirmed it. Instead, they spent their years, the few that they had together, at odds over his decision to become an agent. When they were not fighting about that, they spent their time watching soccer and discussing women. Ivan always felt like he was a ridiculous romantic. He would laugh if he saw him now, chasing skirts and knocking up maids.

  How would he ever be able to conform into a loving husband? It seemed preposterous. What did he really know about love anyway? No woman had ever truly loved him. And yet, he was expected to know what to do. Money didn’t buy that. He felt like he was wandering in the dark with his hands reached out looking for answers in a sea of deceit.

  He had discovered that one night while with Briggy. She had confessed that she wanted to marry him, that she wanted a life with him. And he was almost about to give it to her, until he broached the conversation about her past relationship with Anatoly. He had seen it in her face – that twisted look of indecision. She lied to him, pleading that she only loved him, but that night while wrapped in his arms after he had made love to her in their bed, she had whispered Anatoly’s name in her sleep.

  No one could help what they dreamt. He could admit that, but he couldn’t ignore the thoughts lurking in the back of his mind, poisoning every good thing that they had once built together. He couldn’t ignore how she looked at his cousin when he entered a room or how hurt she had seemed when Anatoly and Renee had the baby. Whether he wanted to admit it or not, he was standing in for his cousin. And he was tired of standing in, he was tired of being a fucking beta to the other alphas in the house. Even Briggy had referenced it in their fight a month ago in her bedroom. She thought that he was just a joke.