Anatoly's Retribution: Book Two

by Latrivia Welch

  Another idea crossed Anatoly’s mind. “Does the island have an emergency plan? Maybe something on their website about hurricane evacuations. If there is, we can use that against Colt.”

  Vasily went to the computer behind the desk to find out. Going to the Key Biscayne website, he found it. “Bingo,” he said, printing off the PDF.

  Dmitry walked with his son to the corner. Lowering his voice, he turned from the rest of the group. “We don’t know what’s going to happen tonight. So, go and say your goodbyes to your wife before she loads on the plane. Of course, she was pissed when I told her that she couldn’t stay, but with Popov involved and this fucking hurricane on our heels, we can’t take any chances.”

  ***

  Renee shoved the last of her belongings in her Louis Vuitton bag and wiped tears from her eyes. She had given strong protest earlier about her having to leave Anatoly, but Dmitry wouldn’t hear it. He insisted along with Royal and Lilly that she be ready to leave within the hour to head back to Memphis.

  “Get down from there,” she ordered Anatoly’s German Shepherd, Lady Bell, who had started to nod in the center of the bed.

  With the storm raging, Renee had sent the guards out to get the dogs and bring them in, but Lady Bell was spoiled. She didn’t just want to be in the house like the other dogs, she wanted to be with her.

  Lady Bell raised her head, but then dipped it back down into the softness of the comforter, ignoring her mother.

  “You’re going to get…in trouble,” Renee sniffed, zipping her luggage. Sitting on the edge of the bed, she cupped her face in her hands and took a deep breath. Lady Bell got up from her warm spot and went to nuzzle beside Renee’s arm, making her lift it so that she could lick the side of her face.

  “Thank you,” Renee said, hugging the large animal. “I love you, too.”

  Hearing the knob twist, Renee darted up. Anatoly opened the door, shirtless and wet with only a pair of khakis and his boots on.

  “Oh God,” Renee said, going to him. She hugged him tight. “I thought I wasn’t going to see you before they sent me away.”

  “You have to go,” Anatoly said, kissing her cheek. He could smell Lady Bell all over her. Rubbing her back, his voice crooned into softness. “It’s not safe here. You have to think of the baby. We both do.” No matter how vengeful he felt toward Ryan Colt, he was not willing to sacrifice his wife and child.

  “I told you I wouldn’t leave your side,” Renee said, stepping back. “Don’t make me out of a liar.” Her eyes were red, but she refused to cry no matter how worried she was. He didn’t need that right now. He had to focus.

  “You’re always by my side,” Anatoly assured. “But things are getting more and more complicated. I can focus better if I do this alone.”

  Renee understood. “Then I’ll go.”

  “Baby…”

  Renee cut him off. She put her hand on his bare chest and gently caressed it. “I don’t mean it like that. I mean, I’ll do whatever it takes to help you stay strong.” Walking over to the dresser, she pulled out a fresh T-shirt for him. Glancing over her shoulder, she smiled. “You’ll be happy to know the news is saying that they don’t have an official description of the shooter from the club.” Kneeling, she pulled open the bottom drawer and retrieved a pair of jeans. “They just said they were looking for a blonde haired, blue-eyed man that stood around six feet tall in his late twenties. That’s half of Miami.” Walking his clothes back over to him, she placed the clothes gently in his hands.

  Anatoly was grateful for the dry clothes and the good news. “I couldn’t have done any of this without you.” Lady Bell brushed up against his leg, begging for his attention, but his eyes were fixed on his wife.

  Walking past him to the door, she opened it for the guards to come in and get her luggage to take down to the SUV. A man came in, ducking his head sure of his interruption, and grabbed her personal belongings and the dog and then left.

  When they were alone again, Anatoly pulled her to him and kissed her lips, slowly, passionately, as if it were the first time that they had ever touched or the last time that they ever would. He inhaled her scent and felt her lush hot skin against his own, draining himself of all emotion and emptying it into her for safe keeping. Finally releasing her, he stepped back.

  “I love you,” he said, voice low.

  “Oh, Ana, I love you too.” Renee smiled and walked away before a tear could drop or she accidentally said anything that might weaken his resolve.

  ***

  After two torturous days of being in the same clothes, Clover allowed Anastaysia to finally clean herself up in the bedroom she was confined to upstairs. It was like standing in the rain. The oversized square stainless-steel shower head sent powerful streams of hot water cascading over her entire body at one time.

  Rubbing the lemon-scented soap over her arms, she tried to enjoy the brief moment of normalcy and ignore the pain of heroin withdrawal.

  After getting high for months, her skin was starting to crawl, and the spots were dancing through her vision, without it. But she had a plan, and in withdrawal or not, it was time to make her move.

  She still had Ryan Colt’s keys, which meant she still had a chance to getting out of this place alive. It was the only car here and without it, they didn’t have a chance of catching her. On top of that, Clover was the only other person in the house outside of Ryan, and since last night, he had been in the bedroom with her, watching her every move.

  Turning off the shower, she stepped out and reached for one of the thick dark purple towels on the rack. The tile was cold against her feet. Moving over to the counter, she leaned over it and put her finger to her busted lip. Ryan had done a number on her last night, but Clover was a man and if she didn’t know anything else, after her time working for Ryan Colt, she knew men.

  Wrapping the towel around her body mid-breast, she came out of the bathroom to find Clover sitting in the chair in the corner fumbling with his phone. As soon as he saw her damp and half-naked, he sat up a little.

  “What’s wrong with your phone?” she asked, pushing a strand of long blonde hair behind her ear.

  “Can’t get a signal,” Clover said, eyeing her body.

  She smiled at him sheepishly and went to a drawer across the room to look for something clean to wear. Feeling his eyes behind her, she dropped her towel and arched her back. “All that is in here is man clothes,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at him.

  Just as she suspected, he was watching.

  “I guess you’ll have to make it work,” Clover said, trying not to make his thoughts obvious.

  Anastaysia pulled out an oversized shirt and slipped it over her body. She made sure to do it slow and seductively to completely disarm her captor.

  “Hey, Clover,” she said, barely above a whisper.

  “Yeah,” Clover said, licking his lips and watching her backside.

  “I really need a hit. It’s been two days.” She turned and eyeballed him. “Do you have anything on you?”

  Clover stood up and walked over to the door to make sure it was locked. “I got a little something on me, but it won’t be free.” He knew Ryan was downstairs trying to make a deal with Anastaysia’s family. It wouldn’t be long before she was traded, and all of this would be a distant memory. So, whatever he was going to get, he’d better get it now.

  Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a syringe. “I always keep something on me just in case one of you ladies have a fit out in the street.”

  Anastaysia eyed the needle like it was the key to her salvation. Walking over to him, she invaded his private space. Clover was a big man, very muscular, very solid, but she had handled bigger and meaner. Without shame, she reached over and cupped his growing erection. “You give me, I’ll give you.” Grabbing him by his belt buckle, she led him to the bed. “We’ve never been together, have we? You had a taste of every other girl in Ryan’s stable, but you never…”

  “I don’t normally like blo
ndes,” Clover said, pushing her on the bed. He watched her turn around and open her legs, making him form an instant hard on. “But you know, beggars can be choosers.”

  Anastaysia stuck out her arm. “Hook me up, and then I’ll show you why you should have loved blondes.” Her eyes were convincing, hiding her true intention behind her blue irises.

  “You have to pay before you can play, now,” Clover smirked.

  “It’s going to be hard to do my job if you don’t give me my medicine,” Anastaysia reasoned. “But if you do, I’ll let you do whatever you want, wherever you want.”

  Clover reasoned quietly. What would be the harm in giving her the fix beforehand? It would only make her more cooperative. “Tie off,” he said, offering his belt.

  Anastaysia was quick. Pulling the belt from his slacks, she wrapped it around her tiny arm and beat at her veins until she found one that hadn’t been ruined. Licking her lips, she looked up at Clover anxiously. “Do me the honors,” she said, scratching her nose with her free hand.

  Clover hated heroin. He had never tried it in his life, but it seemed to keep Ryan’s women compliant, so he had to swear by it. He yanked her arm to him as she pointed toward the vein and leaned into her to slide the needle into her skinny arm.

  “You’re missing it,” Anastaysia panted, grabbing his hand. “Let me do it.”

  Normally, he would have protested, but considering the circumstances, he let her have at it. Still leaning over, he watched as she took the needle in her hand and aimed it for the vein. “You have to do it like this,” Anastaysia instructed, as he moved closer.

  Taking a deep breath, Anastaysia stuck the needle down in her vein and threw her head back. Letting out a seductive moan, she opened her legs wider and pushed the heroin into her veins.

  “Take your clothes off. I want to fuck you now,” Anastaysia ordered in a husky whisper.

  Clover was hot, red hot. Reaching for his buckle on his pants, he tried to kick off his shoes. When he placed a hand on the bed beside her to keep his balance, Anastaysia pulled him to her. “Are you going to do me right hard, baby?”

  “Hell yes,” Clover said, oblivious to the fact that she had ripped the needle from her arm and pulled the plunger back.

  Anastaysia’s eyes began to roll. “Come here, then. Let me feel you,” she said, arching her back. She had to act quickly before the effects of the drugs kicked in, and she was left paralyzed by its potent power.

  Clover suffered immediately from tunnel vision. With the door locked, his boss busy downstairs and Anastaysia high as a kite, he could let his guard down a little. Plus, getting his rocks off may take the edge off their situation. As he dropped his pants and exposed his pulsing shaft, Anastaysia pulled him into her and kissed his lips. He angled her bottom and lifted his hips preparing to thrust inside of her when suddenly Anastaysia reached back and with all the strength she could muster stabbed the needle into Clover’s temple.

  The shock on his face was only rivaled by the pain. He tried to reach for the needle, but she fought with him, suffering blows to the ribs as she tried to get away. Anastaysia held on tight, pulling out the needle to stab him in his neck repeatedly until the large man dropped down beside the bed to cradle his wounds.

  There was no time to waste. Reaching under the pillow on the bed, she grabbed the keys and headed out of the bedroom toward the stairs that led to the garage. Her feet barely made a sound on the floor. With blood across the oversized shirt she wore, she clutched the keys and inched down the stairwell, when she got to the bottom step, her heart skipped a beat. Only a few more feet and…

  “Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Ryan asked, flipping the light on to illuminate the entryway. He stood up from his chair in the dark corner and walked toward her.

  Anastaysia froze as she heard the heavy footfalls of the guards Popov had sent while she was upstairs.

  “What have you been up to?” Ryan asked with a half grin. Grabbing her shirt he looked up toward the staircase. It was clear that the blood wasn’t hers and the only other person upstairs was Clover.

  “You sneaky little bitch. What did you think, you were going to escape?”

  Anastaysia shrugged. “I didn’t know we had company,” she said, looking around at the men.

  Ryan grabbed her by the collar of the shirt and yanked her up on her tip toes. “There is no escaping me and there is no saving you…or haven’t you figured that out yet?”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Hell to Pay…

  R yan could feel the electricity in the air choking out any chance of him remaining calm. The intensity of his predicament had the hair on his arms standing on end and his stomach in knots. The Medlov family had agreed to his terms too easily – no push back, no arguments, no threats. Even he understood that such a thing wasn’t likely in the kidnapping business.

  Men like Anatoly and Dmitry, who were used to the world bowing at their feet, didn’t take threats lightly, nor did they entertain demands without repercussions. Something was brewing, and it wasn’t just the storm coming in from the ocean.

  However, Popov felt as though he was doing his part by providing the men and his home for Ryan’s protection until the exchange was made, so outside of those provisions, he was on his own.

  Lambs for the slaughter, Ryan thought to himself.

  While he had twenty men posted around the mansion for his protection, he was still certain by the tone of Dmitry Medlov that it wouldn’t be enough. And if he didn’t get the money as planned, he knew Popov’s guards would turn from defenders to henchmen – ready to take his head in exchange for the fifty-million-dollar ransom. Plus, if things couldn’t get more complicated, he was down an ally since this entire debacle began.

  “Let me go!” Anastaysia screamed as she struggled to free her hands from the rope Ryan used to tie her to the bedpost. Her fingers were starting to turn blue.

  Stepping on Clover’s dead body with her bare feet, she shrieked and climbed back into the bed.

  “Shut the fuck up!” Ryan ordered with another powerful slap. He grabbed her beaten red face in both hands and gripped her into position. “Try another stunt like that, you little bitch, and I’ll deliver you to your brother missing a fucking eye.” Breathing hard, he clenched his teeth and grinded them together.

  Blinking fast, Anastaysia moaned. She yanked away from him and sat back on the edge of the bed. The roaring storm outside drew her attention. Glancing over at the three large windows in the bedroom, she sniffled and brought herself to an abrupt silence.

  “You’ve been nothing but trouble,” Ryan raged, stepping over his compatriot’s corpse. “If my neck wasn’t on the line, I’d beat you to a bloody pulp and tie you to a tree outside for the hurricane to finish you off.”

  Anastaysia closed her eyes and balled up her fists. She could feel her brother close now, all she had to do was stay alive. It was unfortunate that her plan had not worked, but at least she had rid Ryan of one less ally.

  Ryan walked across the room and looked out the windows. The storm was getting worse by the hour. It might be better to move up the time for the transfer or else this might be all for naught.

  “I don’t have the time to play with you anymore. Stay here and be quiet or else,” he said, headed toward the bedroom door. Before he could get to it, the lights flickered and shut off.

  The eerie darkness wrapped around the house quickly. “Is it them?” he screamed running down the hall. He arrived at the landing to the second floor and looked down stairs to the guard posted at the base. “Is it them?” he asked again, his voice carrying in the silence of the house.

  “No,” the guard answered, turning to look up at Ryan’s dark silhouette. “It’s the storm.”

  “How the fuck are we going to know what’s going on outside without power?” Ryan screamed as though it was the guard’s fault that he was ill prepared. He stammered quickly down the stairs, holding on to the alabaster wood railing.

  How the fuck co
uld you not anticipate the power going out in a hurricane, the guard said to himself. Shrugging, he got on his radio and turned from Ryan. “How are we looking?”

  “All the power is out over the island,” a man said on the radio as he stepped out on the second-floor balcony. “But there is no sign of the Medlovs.”

  “Copy that,” the guard answered. When Ryan arrived at the bottom of the stairs, he reported the same to him. “Like I said, it’s the power.”

  Within a few minutes, the automatic transfer switch signaled the generator to start, and the power came back on, but not at full intensity. The lights were dim, the power sluggish, and with hours if not days to be holed up in the worst possible location, things were not looking good.

  As soon as the lights popped back on, Ryan rushed with his men to take a look at the generator in the garage. The new question, however, was how long would the machine last?

  Popov was hardly ever in Miami during hurricane season, and the mansion had full insurance, so no one was sure if the generator would sustain them if conditions worsened. They did, however, find a secondary generator, a much smaller contraption, boxed up in the garage’s corner.

  Ryan felt it best to bring it in just in case they needed it, to keep their cell phones and surveillance equipment charged separately from everything else. But his suggestion was not embraced by the other men.

  “Get that generator up and working already!” he screamed at Vic, one of Popov’s men, who was struggling to pull the machine from the garage into the main house just in case the garage was damaged by the storm.

  “This isn’t smart,” Vic protested as another man came over to help him. He stood up and snatched off his suit jacket.

  “Why in the hell not?” Ryan asked, hearing the loud crack of a palm tree outside. He went to the garage door and snatched it open, wind and rain pushing its way through the entry. Glaring up at the trees with squinting eyes, he managed to see the tall palm tree swaying like feathers in the wind. “Shit! That thing isn’t going to hold up long. I just fucking know it!” He slammed the door shut, wiping water from his face, and brought his attention back to the engine. “What is a secondary generator good for if not for storms?” Glaring at Vic, he snarled another order. “Bring it in.”