“What are the odds of that shit?” Gabriel said aloud, flabbergasted by the idea.
Dmitry had been around much longer than these boys. Nothing surprised him anymore. “There are no coincidences in this life. Be glad you saw her. Now, we can do something about it.”
Dmitry had spoken to Anatoly on many occasions about his only sister and two brothers back in Moscow. It was a very touchy subject , rife with bad memories and unresolved issues. Still, they could not get down to the bottom of this mystery without them.
He raised a brow at his son and tried to appeal to his reasoning. “You need to call your brothers and find out if they have seen her before we start a war in Miami. It’s not that I don’t trust you. Needless to say, that I trust you very much. You are my son, and I love you. If your sister is here, we’ll find her.” He paused and took a breath. “However, if she’s at home, avoiding your calls, and you saw someone else in the club last night, then we’re spinning our wheels for nothing. Colt still must pay for the spiked drink, no doubt. But I don’t want us chasing a ghost.”
Anatoly had not spoken to his brothers since he left his mother’s funeral. Immanuil was now working for the Russian Army, out of contact with everyone, and Arseny was a teacher at a local community college.
The only person to call was the one who had given him the most grief.
Arseny. The name gave him stomach gripes.
Rolling his eyes, Anatoly reached over on the night stand and picked up his phone. “He probably won’t answer,” he said, looking at the screen of his phone light up with a photo he had taken of Renee and Alexandria. Running his thumb over the screen, he typed in his code. It was time to put away his pride and deal with Arseny.
“If he doesn’t answer, we’ll send someone over to make him,” Dmitry assured, eye twitching. “But you must call. It’s imperative.”
On his private cell, Anatoly had a very short contact list with people he called every day and people he called rarely, but only one number on his phone was never used – the one belonging to his brother, Arseny.
The phone rang several times before Arseny picked up. He recognized the number, but didn’t care to hear the voice of the person on the other end.
“Hello,” Arseny answered, forcefully pushing a breath from his lungs.
It was already off to a bad start.
“It’s Anatoly.” He stood up and moved past his father and brother, clutching the phone to his ear. “I’m trying to get in touch with Anastaysia. Have you seen her?”
“No, she’s not here.”
Anatoly needed him to be less cryptic. “Is she at work?”
“Da,” Arseny answered, angered that his brother wouldn’t speak in his native tongue. Maybe he was too good for that as well now.
Anatoly’s shoulder’s relaxed as he exhaled a sigh of relief. So, she was back in Moscow. Maybe this all had just been a big misunderstanding, and he had worried for nothing. Maybe it was just the drugs that made him think he saw Anastaysia.
Arseny retracted his statement a few seconds later, considering it wasn’t fully accurate.
“Well…technically yes, she’s at work. She took a job with a mission in Haiti about six months ago. I haven’t spoken to her over the phone since she arrived there, but we get letters.”
Anatoly’s silent celebration stopped abruptly. “When did you get the last letter?” His heart hit the bottom of his stomach, making him nauseous.
“We get them once a month. A new one should be arriving any day.” He scribbled something on the paper in front of him and put down his pen, irritated that Anatoly had interrupted him.
Anatoly’s voice strained. “Does she send pictures with the letters?”
“No, why?” He pushed the stack of papers he was grading away from him on the kitchen table and picked up his cup of coffee. “Does she not send you any?” He wasn’t surprised. Anastaysia found his lifestyle as detestable as he did. Anatoly was a heathen, a gangster, and a thug. Nothing to be proud of, despite his financial wealth.
“No, I’ve never gotten a letter,” Anatoly said, trying to keep his cool with his short-sighted sibling. “Are they typed or written?”
“Typed.” Arseny became concerned by Anatoly’s tone.
“And that didn’t concern you at all?” Anatoly groaned. Why did Arseny have to be such a half-wit?
“No, it didn’t bother me. Why? What’s wrong?” Arseny wasn’t a suspicious man. When Anastaysia told him that she was going with a missionary group from her church and showed him the pamphlet, he never questioned the legitimacy of the program. Church groups traveled around the world all the time. “Has something happened?” he asked when Anatoly fell silent.
Anatoly knew he couldn’t tell his brother much at this point. It might get back to the wrong people if he went to church asking questions. It might even get Arseny killed to clean up the mess, and as much as he hated him, he still didn’t want him dead. “I’m not sure yet. I’ll let you know if I hear something.” His voice dropped an octave. “Will you do the same? Please, call me immediately, if she calls you. It’s important.”
Arseny was about to reply with something smug, but the last time his brother asked him to do something and he didn’t, it changed their entire lives. “I will.”
“Spasiba,” Anatoly said, hanging up the phone. .
Staring at the painting on the wall of a large oak tree in a field of red flowers under a stormy sky, Anatoly lowered his hands to his sides and cleared his throat. It was suddenly hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to stand.
Dmitry knew it was bad news. “What did he say?” he asked, dropping his head.
Anatoly’s voice was flat, void of hope. He kept his eyes on the tree in the painting. He repeated Arseny’s words barely above a whisper. “She’s working with a missionary in Haiti. Typed letters are sent. No photos. The letters come once a month. But she doesn’t call. She’s been gone over six months and that stupid, self-righteous idiot didn’t think anything of it.” He knew exactly what that meant - so did everyone else in the room.
Colt had her. And he had been pimping her for months.
The quiet chaos of Anatoly’s words in the silent room was too loud for everyone. They all were frozen into position, thinking of how they could help. Yet again, a family member had been put in harm’s way, and yet again it was up to them to fix it.
Even with the sun shining into the beautiful bedroom through the panoramic windows facing the backyard, Anatoly felt a dark storm looming like the one in the painting he stared at. He balled up his fist and tensed his body. All he wanted to do at that moment was kill. He wanted to…
“Motherfucker!” he screamed suddenly, grabbing the painting with both hands. He snatched it off the wall, yanking the nails and drywall with it.
Anil jumped back as Anatoly threw it on the ground and stomped through the $15,000 original work of art, broke the wooden frames with his bare hands and then picked up the twisted pieces and hurled it across the room, knocking over the lamp and IV stand.
“FUCK!” Anatoly screamed aloud to the top of his lungs.
The veins in his thick neck protruded out. Blood ran down his hands from where the nails had stuck in his delicate flesh. Breathing hard, wide chest expanding as he fought for air, tears streaming down his face, he ran his fist into the wall, wanting but not feeling any pain. He pulled his fist back out and crumbled to the ground on his knees.
A long inhalation was followed by a scream.
Sobbing aloud, he covered his face, transferring the blood from his hand to his cheeks and lips. His long blonde hair fell over his shoulders and tattoos across the top of his back. “Anastaysia,” he moaned in emotional anguish. “I’m sorry! I’m so fucking sorry.”
Dmitry let Anatoly get it all out first, then stood up and walked over to him. He had to be strong for him, keep him uplifted. He helped his son up off the floor and brought him back to the bed.
“We will find her,” Dmitry promised.
> “I’ll help,” Anil said, flanking Dmitry.
“We’ll kill them all,” Gabriel promised in a calm almost serene voice. He knew what his cousin was feeling, a deep sorrow, helplessness, fury. .
Vasily didn’t speak. Sitting in the chair with eyes full of rage, he gripped the end of the chair, nearly breaking it. Over the years, he and Anatoly had been through hell and back together, come up through the ranks together, even attended Anatoly’s mother’s funeral together. Seeing him like this made him want to kill indiscriminately.
Anatoly stopped his tears and quickly as they had started. He hadn’t meant to make a scene. Body trembling, he wiped his face, and bowed his head, leaning his elbows on his knees. “I was forced to leave her once when she was a baby. I won’t lose her again. I won’t.” He shook his head emphatically.
“Miami’s big, but it’s not that big. Give us a few hours, and we’ll give you some real answers,” Vasily assured.
Anatoly was grateful to have them here now. He knew this couldn’t be done without them.
“The videos are probably in a police evidence locker right now or being reviewed by the detectives assigned to the case.” Gabriel had not always been a mobster. Once, in another life, he had been a DEA agent. “It won’t be long before any images they have of Anatoly are plastered all over the television. Every cop in the city is going to be looking for him. So, we need to be extremely careful.”
“We need to find out who has been assigned to that case,” Dmitry said, looking over at Vasily. “Make some calls.”
“Consider it done,” Vasily answered quickly.
Dmitry had heard enough. It was time to act. “Look at me,” he told his son, lifting his chin with his index finger.
Anatoly was ashamed, but he looked up at his father.
“Use that anger; don’t let it consume you.” He looked around the room at the men, waiting to follow his direction. “Let’s get everyone together downstairs now.”
Vasily went to the door to open it, as he did, a barrage of heels could be heard clicking on the hardwood floor of the hallway. “The women are coming.” He said it more for Anatoly to hurry and pull himself together.
“Escort everyone downstairs, but Renee. We’ll give them some time to talk alone,” Dmitry said, walking with Gabriel and Anil toward the door. He stopped at the threshold. “Anatoly, do you need anything?” he asked as the other men went on without him.
“No,” he said, using the bedsheet to wipe his face. He cleared his throat again. “I’ll be fine.”
“We’ll be downstairs waiting,” Dmitry said, closing the door. As he stepped into the hallway, Renee ran up to him. “Is he okay?” her eyes were red and wild from crying, her clothes soiled with blood.
Dmitry ignored her physical state. “He needs you,” he said, tapping her shoulder. “We’ll talk after.”
Alone in the hallway, after Gabriel grabbed Valeriya and Vasily grabbed Lilly, Royal stopped in her tracks. She had been occupied earlier with Renee and didn’t realize that Anil was here in the house. Seeing him up close and personal was astonishing. Shocked, she ran a hand over her collarbone. God, he really did look just like his father, even more so than their own children.
Dmitry walked toward her with his son and stopped. He could see her amazement and her pain. He was ready to deal with both. “Anil, this is my better half, Royal. Royal, this is my son, Anil.”
Anil looked down at the beautiful woman and smiled bashfully. His father had great taste. It seemed that everyone here did. “Nice to meet you,” he said, offering a hand.
Royal looked at his large hand, an exact replica of her husband’s, and then trailed her gaze back up to his face. “Nice to finally meet you, Anil,” she said, finally slipping her hand into his. “We’ve been anxious to come to this point.”
Anil cocked a brow at the Hope-like diamond on her hand. That would pay for undergraduate and medical school. He noticed the scar on her neck as well. That was from a blade. It did little to take away from her striking beauty, but it did raise a lot of questions.
Royal saw the look in his eyes. It was the same look everyone gave her when they saw the scar, but she was no longer ashamed. Ivan was dead, and she was alive.
“Why don’t we take our little reunion downstairs,” Dmitry said, motioning for them to move down the hall.
“Yes, let’s do that,” Royal said, looking past them toward Renee’s bedroom. The door was closed. Renee had already gone inside with Anatoly. “Is he alright, baby? We heard screaming.”
“No, he’s not alright.” Dmitry said, taking a deep breath. “We can talk downstairs.”
***
Renee looked around the room confused. What in the hell had happened. The painting that she had just bought was mangled on the floor and her lamp busted. Walking slowly over to Anatoly, she stepped over the shards of wood.
“Ana, baby, what’s going on?” she asked softly.
He raised his head and wiped a hand over his mouth. “Sorry, baby. I know you liked that painting.”
“What has happened?” she asked, kneeling in between his legs. She looked at the smeared blood on his arms and hands. “Baby, what’s wrong?” They all had heard the screams. She was walking up the stairs when the echoes of his strained voice traveled down to her. After that, she had broken out in a run to get to him. Taking his hand in hers, she kissed his tattooed knuckles.
Anatoly brushed his hand against her cheek. “Last night, I shot up a club, but it wasn’t because I was high. It was because I thought I saw my sister.”
Renee frowned. “Anastaysia?”
He nodded. “It was her. A man named Ryan Colt is pimping her out.” He swallowed hard, a tear dropped to his cheek.
Renee quickly wiped it. Rising from her kneeling position, she sat beside him on the bed.
Anatoly saw the blood splattered across her pajamas. “Are you alright?”
“It’s not mine,” she said, shaking her head. “Don’t worry about that now.” She moved his hair from his face. “What can I do to help you?”
Anatoly’s voice was nasally. “Send Alexandria to Memphis. I can’t risk anything happening to her.”
The nanny was with her now. Renee had sent them to the other side of the house to the craft room to play away from all the ruckus.
“I’ll send her today,” she said softly.
“I need you to go too,” he said, knowing she would protest.
“Oh no, I’m not leaving you. Whatever we have to do, we do it together.” Her voice was different from before. There was no judgement, no hesitation.
He looked up into her eyes and knew something had happened. “You were right. Every woman I have loved or touched has ended up dead. If you think I would risk anything happening to you…”
Renee cut him off. “Baby, I’m sorry for being a bitch. I’m sorry for being unreasonable. I’m sorry for it all. I can’t do anything about what happened in the past. I can’t even change what I said to you last week, let alone what you did with someone a thousand years ago. I was stupid. I know that now. It won’t happen again. But with that being said, I will not leave your side. Royal, I and the other ladies too. We have our council. Peaches and Nadei are already here. We can help you. We will help you.” She leaned into him and kissed his cheek. “Whatever happens, I’m here.”
Renee’s declaration somehow gave him the strength that he didn’t have only a few minutes ago. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Now, how did you get the blood on your clothes?” he asked, circling back.
Renee rested her head on his shoulder.
Wrapping his arm around her, Anatoly kissed the crown of her head.
Renee looked over at the painting and smiled. She knew exactly what rage like that felt like. “A woman named Rebecca slipped you a mickey last night. A guy named Ryan Colt paid her to do it.”
Ryan Colt. Anatoly rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I know,” he said, barely above a whisper.
“You kicked her ass,” Anatoly said, closing his eyes as he inhaled the scent of tea tree in her hair. He didn’t like the idea of her fighting while she was pregnant, but what was done, was done.
Renee cocked her head. For once, she wasn’t predictable. “I cut her hand off. The same one she slipped the drugs in with. I made Marat and Boris hold her down on the desk in the study and I used Dmitry’s knife to cut off her hand, so she would never be allowed to hurt or kill someone again to make a quick buck.”
Anatoly’s eyes shot open. Slowly turning to her, he looked at his wife for a second time. Her hair was wild atop her head, eyes red from crying. She wasn’t kidding. She had actually cut off someone’s hand.
Damn.
Renee didn’t look away from his gaze. “I didn’t do it to impress you. I did it, because no one hurts my family and gets away with it. No one takes my husband away from me. It’s either us or them, Ana.”
Anatoly licked his lips and nodded. “You’re right.” He didn’t want to encourage his sweet wife to be a cold-hearted killer, but he couldn’t deny the pride he felt for her taking up for him. It was humbling.
Opening up to her, he tried to use the words to express his emotions instead of destroying another painting. His body trembled at the thought of what he was going to do. “I will turn this city upside down, if I have to, to get my sister back. It won’t be pretty,” he confessed. “And when I get my fucking hands on that suka, Ryan Colt, and anyone associated with him, anyone who knows him, anyone who ever…did business with him, I’m going to kill them all. I’m going to send them from this world screaming.”
“I know,” Renee said, pulling his face to her. She pressed her forehead against his and inhaled his ragged breaths. “It’s either us or them, baby.”
Anatoly's Retribution Page 8
