But Igor wasn’t interested in Mickey’s lies anymore. The chord had to be cut. “The only reason I called you was for an alibi. I called to say goodbye, Mickey. Dmitry Medlov, Anatoly Medlov, and Gabriel fucking Medlov. These aren’t the kind of men that you piss on and then call it rain.”
“Igor, listen to me,” Mickey said, hearing the phone click. “Igor!” he screamed into the phone. “Ungrateful son of a bitch.” Dropping his hand from his ear, Mickey threw his head back and turned around, remembering someone else was in the room. He turned to size the man up, determine if he’d be the type to run to the tabloids, but what he saw was his own end.
Boris had silently stood up and stealthily inched across the room. Now he was standing right behind Mickey, steam billowing up around his sweaty, muscular body, a syringe in his hand.
“What the fu…”
“It’s okay,” Boris interrupted. “Relax.” A faux-sympathetic frown crossed his face. “Goodbyes are never easy.”
Mickey glanced down at the syringe, heart skipping a beat. “What the fuck are you going to do with that?” he asked, stepping back and looking toward the door. He calculated his ability to push his way out in hopes that someone might come to help him.
Boris raised the syringe in his right hand. “This is a hot dose, courtesy of the Medlov men.” He took a step toward Mickey.
Mickey had done a bump of cocaine here and there, but this was insane. He could picture the headlines now. Famed sports promoter found dead in sauna of apparent overdose. Hell no! “Come any closer, and I’ll fucking scream,” Mickey warned as he attempted to call 911.
“If you don’t put the phone down, I’m going to just shoot you,” Boris promised, tapping the gun under his towel.
Mickey lowered his phone. “If you don’t put the syringe down, I’m going to kick your ass.” It was an idle threat. Clearly Mickey was no competition for a trained assassin, but he had lasted this long on his words, he had to try to use them one more time.
Boris shrugged indifferent to Mickey’s idle chatter. “That would be your prerogative, my friend. But one way or the other, this is going into your fucking arm. I’ve got orders. And there are no two ways about it.”
Mickey put up a hand of caution. Sweat dripped down his face as he searched for a bargaining chip. There was none. “Look, I don’t know what Colt told you.”
“It doesn’t matter what Colt told us. Colt is dead,” Boris said, eyes dark and determined.
“I can pay you,” Mickey said voice strained. “I’m rich.”
Boris grinned. Marks always said the same thing. “So am I. Let’s get this over with, alright? I don’t have all day.”
Darting for the door in a last attempt to save his own life, Mickey felt Boris snatch him backward by his silver thick head of hair. Pushing a knee behind the man’s weak leg, Boris brought him down to the floor and punched him in the throat. Disoriented, Mickey dropped the phone and tried to get up, but Boris put all of his weight on the man as he shot the needle into the fat veins of Mickey’s weak little arm.
“You shouldn’t have missed arm day at the gym, my friend,” Boris said, rising from his kneeling position.
Mickey felt the surge of drugs run through his system and knew that it was all over. “You’ll never get away with this,” he gasped, eyes rolling.
“We already did, Mr. Shelton,” Boris said, grabbing Mickey. He dragged him back across the room, and picked him up. As he did, the man’s towel fell from his waist, leaving him naked.
“Shit!” Boris cursed. “The last thing I wanted to see was a dead man’s pecker.” He wrapped the towel around the man as best he could and placed him back on the bench.
Breathing hard, he wiped his face and nodded toward the man. “Like I said, no two ways about it.”
***
The Medlov Compound
The Solarium
6:30 p.m.
It had been a long day, full of highs and lows. But in just a few minutes, it would be time to join the rest of the Medlov family and staff in the main dining hall for a special dinner hosted by Royal to celebrate the many successes that had been accomplished over the last few weeks, including the new baby Anatoly and Renee were expecting, the reunion of Dmitry and Anil, and most importantly the recovery of Anastaysia.
Everyone had something to celebrate. As a family, anyone’s loss was everyone’s loss. Anyone’s gain was everyone’s gain. They had learned that as a collective, and it only brought them closer together.
Anatoly had been changed more than anyone. He sat around the men of his family and his friends, drinking a cocktail and recapping the weeks’ events with a new perspective on life.
Before this all started, he was just a shell of a man still living in the haunted halls of his past, but through struggle and sacrifice, he obtained the one thing that money could not buy – peace.
“I can smell the food from down here,” Gabriel said, ready to eat. He leaned against the bar with a tumbler of scotch wearing a black suit, white crisp shirt and loafers. Rubbing a hand inside his jacket, he felt his stomach growl. “Valeriya wouldn’t let me eat after lunch. Said it would ruin my appetite.”
“Doubt that,” Vasily joked. He was suffering from an empty stomach as well. “It seems the women are extremely happy now. Happy wife, happy life.” Also dressed in a suit, he flipped through the messages on his phone. “Maybe now, we can get settled in and start to focus on the new factory.”
Gabriel huffed. “Don’t remind me. We’ve got a meeting with EDGE board next week to discuss the number of jobs we’ll be bringing to Memphis.”
“Is Royal still pissed that she won’t be the CEO?” Anatoly asked Gabriel.
“Shooting me daggers every chance she gets,” Gabriel smirked. “I told her that she can run things from behind the scenes, but you know her, it’s either all or nothing.”
Anatoly raised a brow. “She wouldn’t be Royal if she allowed anything less.” He had to admit that her constant mothering was nice. “It feels good, though, to have a mother like her.”
Gabriel glanced up quickly. He had never heard him refer to Royal as such considering their closeness in age, but it was apparent that they all had that type of relationship with her. “If you said that to her, she might cry.”
“She might,” Anatoly admitted. “But come on, I’d never say it.”
“Royal cries?” Anil asked amazed. His eyes bucked. “She seems like the type who makes you cry.” There was still so much to learn about his new family. He found each person to be incredible in their own right, and he hoped to carve out his own space soon enough.
“Oh, she does that too,” Gabriel joked. “My best advice to you is to never get on her bad side. Those four women are like God’s wrath incarnate.”
“My thoughts exactly,” Vasily said, taking a swig of his drink. “The Medlov Women’s Council is more dangerous than we are, and that’s saying a lot. Shit, by next year they’ll be on the FBI’s terror watch list.”
Gabriel laughed. “Marat told me how Renee cut that chick’s hand off. I think Lilly wanted to kill her, but Renee felt justice had been served. I imagine it would break her little heart to find out Boris put a chamber in her head five minutes after they ran up to see Anatoly.”
Everyone laughed.
“They’ll learn how the game is played soon enough,” Anatoly said, still proud of his wife for taking up for him. It was sort of a turn on.
“Oh, they know how the game is played. I just think they’re going to rewrite the rules,” Gabriel quipped.
Dmitry was in the corner on the phone. He had one more piece of business to handle before the festivities began, and he couldn’t let his wife know that he was breaking her rule of working when they were supposed to be healing.
With his back turned to everyone, he had the cell phone pressed against his ear. The person on the other end eventually picked up after several rings.
“Yes,” Popov answered, standing in the middle of an underg
round opiate lab in China. The bright halogen lights shine down on the thousands of pills being produced and sorted by a small contingent of workers.
“Popov,” Dmitry said, eye twitching. “You’re a hard man to reach.”
“Well, you know, I’m always on the go, Czar Medlov.” He pulled his hand from the large pile of pills and stepped away from the Chinese guards watching him. “How can I help you?”
“Funny, I would have expected that question to be asked a week ago when your man, Ryan Colt, was holding my son’s sister hostage.”
Popov’s head dropped. “I wasn’t aware. I’ll reach out to him immediately and make sure that she’s returned.”
Dmitry hated more than anything to be dicked around. Inhaling a deep breath, he clenched his wide jaw. “Popov, I’m certain that you are aware that the situation has been handled.”
“How could I? I’m in China.” Popov glanced around the factory. “Surely you don’t think I would come against one of my own over a girl?”
“No, of course not. Not over a girl, but definitely over fifty million dollars.” Dmitry looked at his watch. “Did you not think that a man of my means wouldn’t know that you were the one who sent the guards? Ryan Colt was a middle man, a nothing. When I showed up to collect the girl, your men were waiting on us.”
“I’m certain that is not true,” Popov denied.
“I’m certain that it is,” Dmitry said, voice oddly serene, considering the situation. He ran a hand over the row of African Violets on the shelf admiring his wife’s green thumb and talent for making things beautiful. “I’m not a man who believes in an eye for an eye. People have used that tactic for a millennium, and you know what? It yields little effect. If it didn’t, I wouldn’t be a billionaire. One group of people war with another for decades, centuries, and they need guns to do that. My personal philosophy is a bit different. You take a man’s eye, he comes back and take yours, you take his arm, he comes back and takes yours. But if you take a man’s head, thereby cutting him down, you also have his eye and can do with it what you will. The point, Popov, is that the man doesn’t come back.”
Popov felt a chill in the air. This was not even a veiled threat that Dmitry was giving, which meant the tables had turned. “Whatever has happened, why don’t you give me a number, and I’ll satisfy it.”
“A number?” Dmitry asked. “You want to pay me?”
“Yes, you can have the fifty million and whatever number you feel satisfies your troubles.”
Andretti, Popov’s number two man, walked up to his boss, interrupting his conversation. “Boss, they say they need to talk to us both.”
“One minute,” Popov snapped, holding up his finger.
Dmitry continued. “I’ve heard you can’t put a price on family.” He turned and watched the men he had groomed and raised talking behind him. “I believe that. But I’m a sensible man. I’m a business man. And my number is four million, five hundred thousand dollars.”
Popov was confused. It was a very low number. He was expecting something much higher. There had to be a catch. “That’s it?”
Dmitry shrugged. “That’s what it cost me to pay the Chinese Triad to handle what I’m too busy to handle myself. I sent the money this morning. Once it was in the bank, they said they’d take care of things. You know, get me my fucking head so that I can scoop out your eye.” He laughed. “I said was a low number as well, but evidently, your competition wants you out of the heroin business and was willing to offer the Triads more per job. Now, I’m not into drugs and while they offered me a cut to get rid of you, I declined. I told them to consider it a favor.”
Popov gripped the phone, spitting as he spoke. “You listen to me…”
Dmitry cut him off. His hand had been played and he had managed a checkmate yet again. “You’re in no position to negotiate, Popov. I will say this, no one fucks with my family and lives to talk about it. You and Andretti enjoy your evening,” he said, hanging up the phone.
Popov turned around slowly, hearing the clicking of guns behind him. Andretti’s hands were already up. Popov swallowed down his fear, willing to face his end with a certain amount of dignity. “It’s not over!” he screamed as the firing squad unloaded on him. Bullet by bullet he and his man were cut down to the ground, left to bleed out in dank little factory half way around the globe.
Anatoly walked over to his father as he put his phone away. “Everything okay?” he asked, sure that something had just gone down by the coloring of his father’s face.
Dmitry rolled his shoulders. “Everything is perfect.” He put his hand on his son’s back. “Now, let’s have a toast before we go and dine with our beautiful wives and children and eat until we pass out.” He walked back over to the circle of men and picked up a tumbler of vodka. “Everyone gather around.”
Anatoly, Anil, Gabriel and Vasily circled around Dmitry in their suits and the intoxicating ambience of the solarium with its view of the grounds outside, the hundreds of plants and flowers inside and the white lights that danced around the room. It was a perfect place to begin their celebration.
Dmitry raised his glass. “Few are as lucky as I am. I have fine sons. The ones that some special woman sacrificed and gave birth to and some who came to me through this business and our family and have become more than I ever hoped for. Regardless, the men around in this room are the future of our family, and the protectors of our way of life. Through you, we have accomplished much, but our greatest victory will always be our capacity to love. So, here’s to family. May ours grow in number and love for all the days that we dwell on this earth.”
“Here, here,” the men said collectively.
“One last thing,” Anatoly said, surprising everyone because he never gave toasts. He held his glass high and looked over at his brother. “Here is to new beginnings and new relationships. May they last forever.”
“Forever!” Dmitry said, as they all joined in and toasted.
Smiles and hugs were the order of the evening. Love and family the purpose of their strength. The Medlov men, whether by name or by charge, were in agreement, and they knew the world would bow at their feet…for now.
THE END
Books by the Author
CURRENT BOOK LIST
The Lonely Heart Series
The Ugly Girlfriend (2010)
Finding Opa (2010)
The Grunt 1 (2011)
The Contingency Plan (2012)
Highness 1 (2015)
The Grunt 2 (2016)
The Medlov Crime Family Series
Dmitry’s Closet (2010)
Dmitry’s Royal Flush: Rise of the Queen (2010)
Anatoly Medlov: Complete Reign (2011)
Saving Anya (2012)
The Medlov Men Series
Vasily’s Revenge (2014)
Gabriel’s Regret: Book 1 & 2 (2016)
Anatoly’s Retribution: Book One (2017)
Anatoly’s Retribution: Book Two (2017)
The Agosto Family Series
Ivy’s Twisted Vine (2008)
The World in Reverse (2013)
The Chronicles of Young Dmitry Medlov:
Volume 1-7 (separate short stories)
Seeking Santa (Short Story)
UPCOMING BOOKS
The Lonely Heart Series:
Highness 2
Red & Blu
Gracie’s Dirty Little Secret
The Grunt 3: Gavin
The Chronicles of Young Dmitry Medlov:
Volume 8-12
The Agosto Series:
Wicker Men
The Medlov Men Series:
Dmitry’s Redemption (The Complete Book)
Contact the Author
Official Author Website
www.latriviawelchbooks.com
Official Email
[email protected]
Official Twitter
www.twitter.com/LatriviaWelch
Official Blog
www.latriviawelchblog.com
Please “Like” Latrivia on Facebook
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About the Author
L atrivia Welch (formerly Latrivia Nelson) is a USA TODAY, Amazon and National Bestselling Author of interracial romance and interracial romantic suspense novels. She divides her life into three professions: author, CEO of Welch Public Relations and CEO of RiverHouse Publishing, LLC. Based out of Memphis, TN, she is considered one of the founders of the bw/wm romantic suspense genre. Latrivia is married to the love of her life, Bruce Welch, and is the mother of 2.5 beautiful children. She has penned over 20 novels under the Latrivia Nelson brand. This is her second book under the brand Latrivia Welch. Visit her website at www.latriviawelchbooks.com to learn more.
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