Anatoly Medlov: Complete Reign

by Latrivia S. Nelson

  Anatoly stopped her. “Are you hot?” he asked adjusting his vents towards her.

  “Sort of?”

  “Turn up the air,” he ordered to the driver as his voice rose. He turned to her and smed. “Better to leave the windows up, eh.”

  Nodding, she took her hand off the console. “So where are we going again?”

  “A fellow restaurant owner of mine owns the best place in Little Havana for good Cuban food. We’re going to pay him a visit, and I’m going to set the bar for you in Cuban cuisine, just in case a Cuban restaurant ever did open in Memphis or you relocate.”

  The car stopped abruptly on Calle Ocho.

  In front of a small restaurant hidden under huge yellow awnings and decorated with bright colors and palm trees, the mystery of Cuban cuisine awaited. Instantly, the doors were opened by Vasily and his men as they waited for the couple to get out.

  “Here we are, La Pequeña Habana,” Anatoly said, stepping out and offering his hand to Destiny.

  She looked up at him with greedy need. His blue eyes sparkled under the street light. He looked heavenly with his bold blonde locks and startling blue eyes. He smelled richer than any man she’d ever known and his firm hand felt masculine and safe with the softness of his fingers tickling her and the worn-down calluses of his strong grip bracing her.

  Destiny could not deny herself the utter lavishness of the man’s clandestine lifestyle. As she followed him inside the closed restaurant, she realized what it might have been like to really be his woman. Suddenly, being a cop didn’t seem so exciting.

  The white shuttered doors opened for them and they were greeted by two beautiful Cuban women in sundresses, who offered Anatoly several cigars on a platter.

  Destiny took in the marvelous interior. The building was airy and exotic. Large ceiling fans rotated above up in the beams of vaulted ceilings. In corners were mini palm trees rooted in large, elaborate pots. Cuban music played on the stereo system, pictures of Cuba hung on the walls along with famous Cuban-Americans like Desi Arnaz, Nona Gaye, Andy Garcia, Cachao López and Oscar Hijuelos. In a nutshell, she felt as though she had stepped into a different world.

  Dimmed receding lights cast a glow over the space and made the marble floors gleam, indicating their recent moppng. Each table was covered in white, crisp cloths and decorated with beautiful candle-lit lamps. Modern and vintage woodwork on the walls and bar gave it a truly Latin feel.

  They were quickly escorted to a large booth covered with small appetizers and drinks. “After you,” Anatoly said, allowing her to sit.

  He sat across from her and took off his suit jacket to reveal rippled muscles under a soft, cotton t-shirt. Tattoos colored both of his arms and hands.

  “Care if I smoke?” he asked as he thought of Victoria.

  “No,” Destiny said, looking around. hIs the placed closed on a Thursday night or something?”

  Anatoly looked around. “Well, it’s closed to the public for tonight.” He winked at her. “But there is another party right over there.” He motioned to the back, where a large, balding man in a white suit sat with three women surrounding him and bodyguards standing guard behind him.

  “He looks unsavory,” Destiny said, turning back around to Anatoly. “You know him?”

  “No, but I know that he knows my father. I should probably go and say hello, eh?” He lit his cigar and took a puff. “In a minute.” Looking at the fine tobacco, he shook his head. “There is nothing better than a good Cuban cigar.”

  She laughed. “Is that a real Cuban or is it made here at one of the local shops by a native Cuban?”

  “It’s straight from Old Havana,” a man answered as he strode over.

  Anatoly smiled. “Good to see you,” he said with a grin. “This is my dear friend, Diego. The coolest Cuban Jew I know.” He stood up and they embraced each other.

  Diego was a short, stocky man who wore black dress pants and white button down. Deep tanned with a bright smile and pure white hair, he looked over at Destiny and gently smiled.

  “How are you?” he asked, bowing. “I am Diego. And you are?”

  “Destiny Palmer,” she replied intrigued.

  “Well, I hope that you enjoy my restaurant, Ms. Palmer. Are you here visiting Miami?”

  “No, we’re just here for dinner,” Anatoly interjected.

  Diego nodded and looked oddly at Anatoly. “Well, enjoy. I’m going to step out for just awhile, and I’ll be back later. However, I did tell the cooking staff that you’d be back there to make up a special meal for your guests.”

  Anatoly smiled. “It’s always good to have someone you can count on. Thank you, Diego.”

  “You’re very welcome.” He put his hand on the young man’s shoulder before he departed. “Make sure to tell you father hello for me.”

  “I will,” Anatoly said, sitting back down. “Now, where were we?” he asked Destiny, sticking his cigar back in his mouth. “Okay. I want you to taste a little bit of everything. Just sample it all, but not too much, because I don’t want you too full before the main course.”

  Destiny laughed as she looked at all the food. “I’m supposed to not get full?”

  “Exactly,” he said as Vasily leaned into his ear to whisper something to him. He looked over at the fat man again and nodded. “Now if you’d excuse me,” he said, standing back up. “I’m going to the kitchen and do what I do best, and I’ll be back in just a bit.”

  “Okay,” she said, picking up her spoon to taste the Moors and Christian in the blue, porcelain bowl in front of her.

  ***

  Within minutes, Anatoly appeared from the kitchen in a white apron carrying a platter of food. He stopped at the table in the back with the mystery man first.

  The man looked up at Anatoly with surprise in his face. “It’s good to see,” the man said, waving away the women and bodyguards, who quickly dismissed themselves.

  “It’s good to see you too, brat.” Anatoly set the platter down on the table and took a seat across from him. Sighing, he wiped his tired eyes. “So, how are you after the surgery?”

  “Doing better. Thank you. The doctor said I had three bleeding ulcers. Plus, the heart isn’t doing too well. I guess that I should consider losing a little weight, eh?” The man chuckled. Sweat poured down his shiny head.

  Anatoly smirked. “I’m glad that you’re doing better and that you’re out of the house.” Anatoly yawned. “So, after all of that, you’re here with three young women drinking vodka and smoking cigars?”

  The fat man laughed. “It is okay. I am stronger than the doctors know.” He tapped his chest. “I am Vor, after all.”

  Anatoly nodded. “That you are.” He looked at the platter. “Where are my manners? I fixed this for you.” He took the silver tongs and placed the food on the man’s plate. “My very own version of the Cuban tamale just for you.”

  Anatoly narrowed his eyes on him.

  “Just for me?” the man asked, looking at the food strangely.

  Anatoly smiled. “Funny story. We’ve been looking over the numbers for our good Anti-Castro friends who purchase a great deal of product from us for their cause. And one thing that we have noticed is that since we put you in charge, while the inventory has gone up, the revenue hasn’t. Plus, a few of the shipments were light.”

  The man swallowed hard. But Anatoly continued in a light voice with a pleasant smile.

  “I had a few people look into your purchases and income over the last year. It’s seems that everyone is in a recession accept you.”

  “Now, wait just a minute, Anatoly. This is not what it seems.”

  Anatoly raised his hand. “Please, let me finish. From what we have discovered, you bought a beautiful new place in South Beach, two new Bentleand a few new mistresses on our dime. Then there is the matter of your three children in private school and one away at boarding school.”

  “I’m sure that you’ll also see that I have created new revenue streams in the last year to be able to
do those things.” He wiped the sweat from his brow.

  “Well, the last shipment that we set up to transport with you was a fake. We paid you to send our product to us, and we painstakingly counted each piece of inventory to make sure that we were not accusing a fellow brother of something that was not true. And you know what? It was short.”

  The man tried to interrupt, but Anatoly put his finger over his lip and motioned for him to be silent. He continued in a low vice. “Obviously, we must respect you, brat. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be here. And you know who I am. Don’t you?”

  “Da, you are Boss Medlov.”

  Anatoly smiled. “But who am I?”

  “You are Czar.”

  Anatoly smiled sheepishly. In a whisper, he said words with reverence. “I am Czar, which means that I don’t move a finger. But I have moved it for you. And I am here with my date to dine with you even though you have failed me.”

  The man sat up in his seat, dragging his chair as he did so. “Tell me what I must do, and I will do it.”

  Anatoly pointed at his food. Then he placed a tamale in front of the man. “I’ll have just a few bites here before I take them over to my date. Now, I just want you to eat with me.” Anatoly waved the smoke rising from the food. “Smell that. It’s amazing.”

  The man picked up his fork.

  Anatoly watched. “I made yours very special.” He smiled. “It has specially bred, super hot, killer Habanera with my three-alarm chili sauce.”

  Shaking the man put the fork back down.

  Anatoly shook his head. “Do not offend me again by denying a simple request to dine with me. Please continue.”

  The man felt his food nearly leap to his throat. With the fork to his mouth, he eyed the young man, who sat back in his chair with his legs crossed. “I do not wish to go this way,” he said solemnly.

  “Well, you love to eat.” Anatoly pointed at the man’s heavy size. “You love to drink.” Anatoly pointed at the large bottle of vodka. “You love to smoke.” Anatoly pointed at the cigar. “It’s only right that you go in style and reminded of the family that you tried to fuck and the people that you surely fucked with their shorted product. Look at it this way. You can die with or without a knife stuck in your abdomen. You can die rest assured that your family is still safe, and that you had one last mediv> r you can run home, and I can come for you later tonight with family sleeping.”

  The man put the fork to his mouth. The heat singed his lips.

  Anatoly smiled. “You’ll want to do that in big portions. Otherwise, I’m afraid it will be more tortuous than it has to be.”

  The man could barely swallow the hot tamale. He cringed. His eyes watered and steamed from the pepper. But bravely, he took another large bite. The pain consumed him. His own tongue boiled and blistered. Dropping the fork, he grabbed the side of the table coughed. Dark blood ran from the burned sides of his mouth.

  “It doesn’t pay to be greedy does it, brat? It’s the very greed that has brought you down,” he said with a smile.

  Anatoly looked back to see Destiny obliviously sampling the appetizers with her back turned to them. He turned back quickly to the man and smiled. “One more bite for the road. I don’t have all night.”

  The fat man gasped suddenly and grabbed his left side. Leaning back in the chair, eyes averted to the ceiling fan high in the rafters, he moaned, unable to talk due to his mouth burning on fire, then dropped his fork.

  Anatoly moved his napkin and screamed. “Shit! Vasily, call 911. Igor is having heart attack!”

  Destiny quickly turned from her food to see the man staring up in the air and holding his heart.

  “Oh my goodness,” she said, scooting from her chair. She quickly ran over to him, but Anatoly knew that Igor was already dead.

  “Why is he bleeding?” Destiny asked, signaling for Vasily to help her get him on the ground.

  “Ulcers,” Anatoly answered. “He said that he could handle them. He eats this food all the time.”

  “Help me lay him down. Is someone on the phone with the 911?” Destiny screamed out.

  “Da, the hostess is calling now,” Vasily said, struggling to get the fat man on the ground. He looked up at his boss, who stood watching the entire event play out.

  “What are you doing?” Anatoly asked, standing beside the body.

  “Checking his heart.” She placed her head on his chest. She could hear nothing. As she went to open his mouth, she saw the blood and winced away. The guy could have HIV. “He doesn’t have a pulse.”

  “The ambulance is on the way,” the hostess screamed, running from her podium. The other hostess stood petrified in place, staring at the dead man.

  “I need to administer CPR,” Destiny said, adjusting his head to ar his air waves. She put her finger to his neck to check once more for a pulse.

  Anatoly smirked at how her mouth would burn, but he allowed her to try. She did so, mouth burning, lips on fire from the transfer of the pepper, until the paramedic arrived.

  They announced Igor dead on site.

  After he was bagged and loaded on to the ambulance, Anatoly walked back inside the restaurant and sat down at the booth across from Destiny.

  “I just don’t understand why a man would eat such deadly, hot peppers knowing that he had a heart condition,” she said, applying cool, wet paper towels to her singed mouth.

  “People just don’t take their health seriously these days,” Anatoly said, tasting the cold appetizers. He shook his head. “You did all that you could do, Destiny. And it was a lot more than we could have done. I don’t even know CPR.” He re-lit his cigar and had Vasily bring over his plate of tamales. Carefully, he stuck his knife into his and tasted it.

  Savoring the taste, he continued, “You were my witness for goodness sake. You saw that the man just keeled over after eating his tamales. I’m sure that the autopsy will show that he must have been very ill to have a heart attack just like that.” He snapped his fingers together. “Life is short.”

  Destiny looked up at him in disgust. “I want to leave,” she said, grabbing her purse.

  Anatoly nodded and tasted one more bite of his food. “Okay. I take you one more place, and then we’re on the plane out of here before it gets too late.”

  “I want to go home now,” she insisted.

  Anatoly stood up and touched her bare shoulder. “Please, give me change. This is not my fault. Allow me to take you one more place, and then we can go. And if you never want to go on another date with me, I will understand.” He looked over at his bodyguard. “Vasily, make sure that the car is out front. We’re leaving.” He turned to Destiny. “Do you want to take any of this to go?”

  “No,” she said emphatically. “I don’t see how you can eat after a scene like that. The man had blood coming from his rectum.”

  “I have very strong stomach.”

  Chapter Eleven

  South Beach, FL

  Destiny had never been to South Beach, but she had seen countless shows on its upscale neighborhoods. Half an hour after trying to revive a dead gangster on a Cuban restaurant floor, she was being escorted through the private mansions of a South Beach community and silently asking herself why she had volunteered for this job.

  She was sure that Agosto would be insane with anger when she returned, but she only hoped that he would also see that she was capable of going further than anyone had before her.

  Hands clasped together, she looked out of the window as she debated how far she was willing to go. Harrison, her boyfriend, had been furious when she took the assignment, but in a way, this was his fault. He had gone undercover several times, and each time, he had been rewarded with promotion after promotion for a job well done. But because she was a woman, her department hardly ever put too much faith in what she could accomplish. She wanted more than anything to prove them wrong.

  Anatoly looked over at her and smiled. “I’m taking you to party,” he said smiling. “Something to cheer you up.”

&n
bsp; She looked over at him and tried to smile. “It’s that apparent, huh?”

  “Oh, yeah,” he laughed. “But trust me. Where we’re going, you’re going to have fun—just you and me.” He slipped his hand in hers.

  When they arrived at the gated mansion on Michigan Avenue, luxury cars lined the street. Their car was parked in the garage, and they were escorted through the back of the house.

  Beautiful women and attractive men danced, laughed and talked all around them. Each of them knew Anatoly. They hugged and kissed him, shook Destiny’s hand and raised their drinks to salute them.

  Anatoly kept his hand tightly around Destiny’s in the crowd, shielding her from too much attention and letting everyone know that they were together. She actually felt safe with him, allowing herself to get closer, to move into his hard, muscular body.