The Chronicles of Young Dmitry Medlov: Book One

by Latrivia Nelson

  The bastard of bastards.

  Fury encapsulated him. Grabbing another bottle of vodka from the bar, he quickly uncorked it and down the contents.

  Normally he was against drinking heavily, but today…

  Fuck it.

  Fuck Smirnov.

  Fuck the world.

  The front door opened and closed again. Davyd looked around the room confused and then at Dmitry who was nearly naked except for his boxer shorts.

  “I need some jeans, a hoodie, some boots and a gun,” Dmitry ordered. His eyes were hooded. “Is Ivan on the way or what?”

  “He said that he’d be here in thirty minutes.”

  “Good,” Dmitry said, looking at his bodyguard. “Should I get in the habit of repeating my own fucking orders now?”

  The man standing beside Davyd quickly shook his head. “No, boss. I heard you.” He left the room, headed to the concierge to get Dmitry a new wardrobe without another word.

  Davyd reached under his coat and passed Dmitry his side arm.

  “Will this do?” Davyd asked, passing him a .45 caliber, black, unmarked pistol.

  Dmitry took the gun and inspected it. “For now, but I’m going to need something a lot bigger. We’re arms dealers. So find me a real fucking gun…something that kills in double digits.”

  Davyd nodded. “Do you want to talk?”

  “Not until he arrives,” Dmitry said, looking around his room.

  ***

  It took less than twenty minutes for Ivan to get to the hotel and even then he felt that he was moving in slow motion. Racing through the city in a silver Lamborghini under the fall of night, he sped from the farm to his brother without knowing what urgent matter had him pulled from obscurity into life-or-death need. However, unlike others, he didn’t need a reason. When Davyd called, he dropped everything and headed out.

  While he drove, he wondered if the meeting with Smirnov had gone awry. Or in Dmitry’s normal way, had he managed to charm even the head of the Vory? He wondered a million things, but for once, even after planning his brother’s demise, he prayed that nothing had harmed him.

  At that moment, in the dark, he wanted to take back the words he had spoken to Arie. In theory, the plan sounded flawless, but in reality, the idea of Dmitry being in peril made him sick to his stomach. After all, Dmitry was all that he had, and even though he hadn’t been much of a brother or a father for that matter, he had still been there for him his entire life, which was more than anyone else had ever done.

  Frantic inside, Ivan pulled up to the front of the hotel, hopped out of his car and threw his keys at the valet, who barely caught them, as he looked at Ivan’s unbelievable size or the weapons that he didn’t bother to hide.

  Like an angry tyrant, he came barreling through the lobby in dark denim pants and a black button down with the nickel plated guns under his arms in their brown leather holsters brandished for all to see.

  People looked on at the towering monster as he passed by them tattooed from the top of his neck to the tips of his fingers. Women moved out of his way. The help stood to the side.

  But one unfortunate businessman who stood with his back to Ivan, in the middle of the hallway reading a newspaper was pushed by his head out of Ivan’s way and onto the ground as he headed towards the elevators.

  “Move the fuck out of the way, you pussy,” Ivan barked as the man’s body violently hit the floor.

  Dazed, the man looked around the floor for his glasses and tried to figure out what had just happened to him.

  Ivan stepped over him, crushing his glasses under his boot and went into the elevator where a couple quickly stepped back out and let him go up alone.

  For once, Ivan had done as his brother instructed and came alone. Carrying a duffle bag with him and smoking a cigarette, he arrived at the fourth floor to be greeted by the bodyguards standing post at the door.

  “Where the fuck is my brat?” Ivan asked as they opened the doors of the suite for him.

  “Inside,” one of them said, moving out of the way.

  “Close the doors. Kill anyone who tries to come inside,” Ivan said, looking around the disheveled hotel room.

  Davyd rounded the corner with a drink in his right hand. He looked up at Ivan and raised his brow. “He’s in his bedroom. He wants to talk to you alone.”

  “Who did this?” Ivan asked, knowing that Dmitry hated for anything to be out of order.

  “He did.” Davyd answered. “He won’t talk to anyone. Says that he waiting on you.”

  Ivan put out his cigarette on the end table beside him and sucked his teeth. “Where’s his room?”

  “Down the hall to your right,” Davyd said, walking to the bar. He sat at the only bar stool that hadn’t been knocked over by Dmitry and took a deep breath. “He is undone,” he said gloomily.

  “Good,” Ivan said without a second thought as he disappeared out of the room.

  ***

  Dmitry sat on the edge of his bed in the dark looking out of the window with a blank stare on his face. The curtains had been pulled so that he could see the full moon and in his hand, he clenched a glass of vodka. Beside him on the bed sat two chrome Glocks.

  Ivan walked into the room and looked around. It too had been destroyed. Ivan had only seen his brother ransack a room once before. The night their mother had been killed. His brother was the quiet, calm type. He wasn’t one for theatrics. He didn’t think well in disorganization. It irritated him.

  “I take it that the meeting didn’t go well,” Ivan said, walking over to the chair in the corner across from Dmitry. He sat down and grabbed the empty bottle on the nightstand and looked at it.

  “The meeting went fine,” Dmitry answered, putting his fingers over his lips. He pointed out to the balcony and stood up. Ivan followed, dropping the duffle bag at the edge of the bed. Once they were outside, Dmitry closed the balcony doors behind him and then pushed a chair up against the handles. Running his hands around the edges of the door, he felt around for bugs. Pulling a small black gadget from behind the light above them, he dropped it on the ground and crushed it under his boot.

  Ivan knew exactly what he was doing and picked up the flower pots and threw them over the edge, watching them fall several stories before they splattered on the concrete below.

  “I hate bugs,” Ivan said with a smirk.

  “Da, da. This place is infested,” Dmitry answered warily.

  “Am I free to talk?” Ivan asked, looking around the small patio space.

  “Yeah,” Dmitry said, resting his hands on the black, wrought-iron railing. He looked over the city with new eyes.

  Ivan stood beside his brother and placed his hands on the cold railing and gripped the metal. “What is really going on around here? This place is a fucking mess. Did you get into something with Smirnov’s people?”

  “Not yet.”

  “So, are we picking a fight?” Ivan asked, sucking his teeth.

  “Do you ever think about our mother?” Dmitry asked, taking his eyes off the scenery.

  Ivan was taken aback. “Of course I think about her.” He looked into his brother’s tired eyes.

  “If there was some way to avenge her, would you?”

  “What is this about? You haven’t brought up our mat in years.”

  “Only because it was too painful to discuss.”

  “Why do you look like shit all of a sudden? You’re in jeans and a t-shirt. What the fuck? I haven’t seen you out of a suit since this shit went down.” Ivan squinted. “What happened?”

  Dmitry let go a deep sigh. “Smirnov happened. I went up to meet with him, and I had this bad feeling the entire time, because of the way the little hotel manager girl looked at me earlier…like she knew something.”

  “Was it an ambush?”

  Dmitry smirked. “He’s our father, Ivan.”

  “What?”

  Dmitry shook his head. “Boss Evgeny Smirnov is either my father or yours and his brother is either my father or yours
or some variation of that fucked up combination. And our mother…our mother was their whore.”

  Ivan was lost for words. He clenched his wide, square jaw.

  The space was too small to move too far. Stepping back just a few inches, he tilted his head and looked at his brother again. Did he just hear him right?

  “He didn’t care, Ivan. He…” Dmitry swallowed hard and looked away from his brother, who was now fighting a million emotions. “Our mat was just one of his whores, a play thing. We were a mistake. Two fucking mistakes. He all but called her a dumb cunt. He said Kirill knew, too. Catherine knew. God only knows who else. We were a joke. Up until this very moment. If you ask me, he never thought that we’d make it this far. But Catherine put us in a position to really get even. She had done business with Smirnov before but he double-crossed her, and evidently she was too powerful to just kill. So, she did the only thing she could do to get back at him. She gave me everything.”

  Ivan cleared his throat and cocked a brow. Running his sweaty hands down his pants, he adjusted to the news. “What are we going to do about it?” he asked in a low voice.

  “This isn’t about business anymore,” Dmitry answered. He walked over to his brother and held his pale face in his hands. Looking into his eyes, he whispered. “Our whole life we said that if we ever got a chance we would do something about what happened to our mother. And now we have that chance, but in order to do it, we’re going to have to put everything and everyone on the line. Is it worth it to you?”

  Ivan frowned. “How can you ask me that?”

  “I have to ask you. It’s your life, too. I know that I’ve been a shitty father and even shittier brother, but you’re still my blood. And I love you.”

  Ivan became uncomfortable at the acknowledgement of his brother’s true feelings. True, it had always been understood but to verbalize it now was disconcerting. He tried to pull away, but Dmitry held him.

  “Tell me that you’ll stand with me, brat. I need you,” Dmitry pleaded. “We’re about to wage war…serious war.”

  “Why do you think that you have to ask?” Ivan answered, looking into his brother’s eyes with a stone glare.

  Wrapping his arms around Ivan, Dmitry hugged him sincerely. “We’re going to take everything from him…everything. And we’re going to kill anyone who isn’t with us…or we’re going to die trying. I’m going to make him pay for what he did to you and mat.”

  “It’s worth it…isn’t it?” Ivan wiped his face and pulled together his fleeting composure. Shaking off his sudden melancholy, he bottled up his emotions, just as he had done a hundred times before.

  “It’s the only thing that is worth this,” Dmitry said, convinced that this was the only path to take.

  They both turned and took one last look at the beautiful lights of the city and the bustling night life.

  “Prague will never be the same after this,” Ivan said with a grin.

  “Neither will we,” Dmitry lamented.

  Chapter Six

  A few hours after his meeting, Ivan pulled up to the dark barn where his team waited and parked his car near a large, overgrown oak tree. House music played, low and unnoticed on his radio. He turned off the lights that shined bright across a baron field and rested his head back against the leather seat.

  Staring out of the window with his hands clasping the steering wheel, he gazed into nothingness, dwelling on the news that had just been thrown on him like hot, scalding grease.

  His father was a boss who had pimped his mother. And he was a byproduct of a sex session that meant less than nothing. He was not born out of love or even admiration but pure unadulterated lust.

  More than likely, he had been conceived during a tasteless act that had included more than one man. His father’s swimmers were just faster and more triumphant than the others, nothing to brag about or be the least bit proud of. He was trick baby.

  In his mind, Ivan had always imagined that his father was some powerful man who had fallen in love with his mother but lost contact with her because of some ill-gotten fate.

  Often, he had daydreamed about a stranger searching the earth, looking for his mother and finally finding him, taking care of him, loving him. However, it had never occurred to him that he was really just a mistake. Kids didn’t like to think like that.

  But now he was a grown man and he knew the truth finally. It only drew his fire deeper down into his soul, made him angrier, darker and more determined to destroy anything that got in his path.

  This news also made him look at his brother in a different light. Sure, Dmitry had mourned Catherine’s old ass. In fact, Dmitry had shed a tear, but it was only because she had been the first woman who had actually been kind to him.

  She had been the mother that Dmitry had never had. Ivan envied that relationship in truth. He wanted Catherine for himself or someone like her. He wanted a woman to dote over him, shower him with gifts and attention, give him a fortune and then die so that he could get on with his life. She had been kind enough to at least do that. And when she couldn’t fight Evgeny herself, so she put his son in place to do it for her after her death.

  “Smart bitch,” he said aloud.

  It had killed Dmitry to know that he was the only one who wasn’t in on the joke, but like a Medlov always did, they would get the last laugh.

  A tap on the window made Ivan look up.

  Arie.

  She bit her fiery red lips and pushed her small exposed breasts against the cold glass in an attempt to draw him out.

  It worked.

  Pushed to by the depths of his anger, he turned off the car and stepped out. Towering over both her and the car, he looked down at her with gleaming blue eyes in the darkness and grabbed her with one hand by her small neck.

  The beat of her heart pulsed in his fingers. Yanking her up to him, nearly cutting off her air supply as he pulled up over two feet in the air, he felt her legs clasp around his upper torso.

  “What took you so long?” she asked, hissing a kiss to his cold mouth.

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he allowed his hands to pull at her black cargo pants until they were just low enough for him to stick his icy hands down into the heat of her bottom.

  The contact made her cream. Having waited for too long, she undulated her hips back and forth, urging him to stick a greedy digit into her slick womb. He did so quickly, biting her neck as he pressed his body up against the car for balance.

  Her black hair, ripe with the odor from the dank barn, brushed against him as she cradled his chiseled face in her hands. Kissing him deeply on his wide, heart-shaped mouth, she tasted the vodka that lingered on his long tongue. It snaked into her mouth and lapped against her flesh while the jingle of his belt being unclasped interrupted the quiet of the night.

  As soon as his pants were down to his knees, Ivan slid lower in a crouching position, muscles rigid and bulging in both his legs and arms.

  Like sitting on a chair, she managed to first crawl up him to finishing undressing her lower body and then lower herself onto his exposed, pulsing manhood.

  A long moan escaped her mouth. “Ahh,” she exclaimed.

  Rock hard, he pumped one jolting push through her sensitive flesh, pushing her down its length with his strong hand on her back. He grunted, saying something under his breath.

  She winced at first, taking all twelve inches into her little body, but then grinded hard and fast against the pressure of his shaft, mouth open, moans leaping from her diaphragm.

  Ivan was like a drug to her. Devastating from head to toe, stronger than any man she had ever seen, Arie enjoyed the pleasure pain that he gave her each and every time that screwed like wild animals. She could always count on him to be unforgiving in his methods, bruising her body every time that they connected, but that was what she enjoyed. Pure unadulterated sex.

  Only, Ivan did not have it in him to treat her as vile as he wanted. Normally, he would have slapped her, pulled her in angry positions, fucked her like a
dirty whore.

  But flashes of his mother continued to torture his mind and wound his libido.

  Consumed by his thoughts, his hard pumps became slow and sensual, a feeling she had not experienced with him before.

  Looking up into his eyes, she was confused. But he would not give her an explanation. It was simply not in Ivan to do. Instead, he slid down to the cold ground, ignoring the discomfort, and let her ride him.

  His strong hand grabbed a hold of her boney waist. Lips pursed, eyes hooded, he stared at her like he was seeing her for the first time. Her body pushed against his hard, hot chest, connecting them and creating more heat. His hand raced over her, touching her, exploring her, but he no longer was brutal.