“Partly,” Dmitry answered. His left eye twitched. He turned to the old men to give them an explanation. “I had no choice but to kill Alexei, but it was not over money – not really.”
“You’ll have to do better than that,” Erik said, interrupting as he tried to sway the room. “You have more money than anyone else on this council, especially more than the Popov family. So, how did money become a reason to kill your own brat?”
Dmitry licked his lips. “Alexei knew that one of his subordinates was holding my son’s sister hostage. Instead of offering her to me as a kindness, he told his lackey to charge me $50 million for her. This man, Ryan Colt, had turned her from a quiet little mouse where he found her in a church in Kopotnya to a whore in Miami where he was allowing abominable things to happen to her. Even after he found out who she was to me, he would…cooperate.”
Anatoly bristled at the brutal memory, turning crimson red in the face but refusing to speak. His breaths heaved in his chest to the point where Gabriel had to put a hand on his shoulder to calm him.
“So,” Dmitry continued, tapping his fingers on the table, “after I had to go to Miami to get her myself with my son and others to kill this Ryan Colt, I knew that Alexei will not admit to his wrongdoing, but instead go after my family, my boys and my livelihood. I just made the first move. After all, I did not get where I am in this life, sitting on the sidelines waiting for shit to happen,” he said, motioning toward Gabriel and Anatoly. “While he was in China doing a drug deal, I had him killed. It was that or allow him to kill one of mine or me. He had already broken one code. What was to prevent him from breaking another.”
Pushka sat up in his chair and eyed Erik Popov. “Let’s not forget, drugs in China mainland are mine – as divided by this council. If Alexei was there, he was encroaching on my territory. I pay a fucking arm and a leg for distribution.” Anger started to boil in the middle-aged man. “How long have you been making money over there under my nose, brat? For that matter, who else are you infringing upon?”
Erik shook his head. “Wait. Wait.” He looked around the table at the men. “To my knowledge, we have never done business in China. Our business is with cars and credit cards in London along with our joint businesses in Russia and Kyrgyzstan, you know that,” he lied.
No one was convinced. It was known that Alexander Popov was against drugs and did not want the family involved in the business, but it was also known that Alexei and Erik were eager to move away from his father’s old-world philosophy and were not truly hurt by his passing recently.
“We are at an impasse, it seems,” Geni Belyakov finally spoke up, tired of the argument. Years of experience had taught him this was not going anywhere. His voice croaked as he handed down his verdict. “There are several major offenses here. Alexei Popov was never to cross another member of the council in such a way, especially when it comes to family and money. It is forbidden. Dmitry Medlov was never to kill a member of the council. It is forbidden. Erik Popov was never to try to assassinate a member of the council. It is forbidden.”
“What isn’t fucking forbidden with you people?” Erik snapped. His father might have bowed down to these old, archaic beliefs, but he did not.
“Do not disrespect the council,” Dmitry growled to Erik. “Your issue is with me. If you continue, your issue will be with all of us.”
“Oh, you haven’t seen my issue,” Erik promised, turning back to Dmitry. “If you think you were worried about my brother, you should really be shitting in your pants over what I’m going to do to you, to your fucking sons behind you, to that black bitch of a wife of yours and those half-breed brats.”
Dmitry smiled, the hate gleaming from his pores. Clenching his square jaw, he kept his voice event. “Call the council to a vote, Andros,” he said, pearly white teeth showing. “Because the Medlov family officially declares war on the Popov family as of now.”
“And the Popov family accepts,” Erik answered, ready to escalate things immediately.
The room went silent. Some were very aware of Dmitry’s skill at war and his ability to strategized but others would need teaching. Andros and Geni, however, were not in the dark on their young friend. This feud would be an epic bloodbath that they wanted no part of.
Andros called the vote, but before that he made his position and the rules clear. “There will be no blood spilled in my previous city of St. Petersburg. The consequence of such action will be death for the entire family who transgresses. As for myself, I recuse my family of the war. We shall take no place in it.”
“Neither will the Belyakov family,” Geni agreed.
“That leaves us with eight out of the ten families who have not taken a position. Who else will recuse themselves from the war between Erik Popov and Dmitry Medlov, unable to join either side with resources of any sort until its end?” Andros asked looking around.
Maksim Gruzinsky raised his hand first. “I want no part in this from this day until this war ends. My family has too many irons in the fire,” he said apologetically to Dmitry, whom he regarded with much respect. “And we have too much loyalty to Alexander Popov; God rest his soul.” He would not comment on his feelings toward his wayward sons.
Surprisingly, Lev Yakushev, one of Erik’s truest friends raised his hands as well. “I concur. This is not something that my family wishes to engage in. I’m sorry, Erik.”
Erik snarled at him. “Coward. You hate the Medlov family as much as I do.”
Lev shook his head. “Not as much,” he said honestly, turning his gaze toward Dmitry. “I admit, his presence on this council at times has been a burden, but I do not wish to war with him, not over your dead brother.”
Andros continued before they got too down in the weeds. “That is six men total who have stated their sides or neutrality. Who will stand by Erik Popov?”
Both Oleg Rabinovich and Renat Sherkov raised their hands for Erik for everyone to see. Silently, they landed their deadly gazes on Dmitry.
“That is two families with Erik Popov.” Andros nodded toward the secretary. “Who will stand by Dmitry Medlov?”
Both Simeon Kurdin and Pushka Kovelenko raised their hands, giving Erik and his allies the same deathly scowl. “We are with our brother, Dmitry,” Simeon said with a smirk. All the heated rhetoric was lost on him. He was a man of action.
“That makes ten, if I can count,” Erik said sarcastically. He batted his eyes toward Dmitry.
“Then it is settled. The council will not convene again with these parties who are active until the war is settled. As in prison rules, the first man to die loses.” That was a direct snub at Erik Popov. Andros moved through the next part quickly, almost irritated by the situation. He signed a document placed in front of him by the secretary. Scribbling his name, he didn’t bother to look across the table at the men. “Each party who had agreed to neutrality can have no further contact upon leaving St. Petersburg with the warring families or thereby forfeits their seat and their property. And both the Popov and Medlov families must turn over the rights to all their illegal territories as per our charter until the war ends before the end of the business day. The man who dies, or both men if that be the case, will forfeit all properties upon his death to the council and lose his seat for his family at the table. The man who wins will retain his assets and a share of the loser’s assets. All agreed say Aye; all opposed say Nay.”
The entire council agreed. “Aye.”
“The Ayes have it.” Andros stood from the table, leaving his plate of food to be thrown away. He turned to one of his aides in the corner of the room. “Bring the uneaten food up to my suite.” As a man who came from the gutter of Moscow, he had always shied away from wasting food, even though he was now a multi-billionaire.
“Yes, sir,” the aid said, walking up to the table to whisper a message to his boss.
Andros leaned over to listen, then nodded. “I’ll be there in just a minute,” he said as the chatter started to rise. “Gentlemen,” he said, raising
his voice slightly. “Please leave the city within 12 hours unless you have voted neutral. God bless you and may he keep one of you.” Leaving the younger men to their business, both Andros and Geni excused themselves with their guards in tow without any further pleasantries.
But Dmitry stayed behind. He had one final thing to say to Erik Popov before departing, and it was not meant to be heard by the old men.
Standing slowly from his chair, Dmitry leaned over the table toward Erik as the others exited. Slowly blinking, the vein in the middle of his head thudded with blood like an angry river. He refused to scream at Erik, to raise his voice and show his true emotion. Instead, he gave the man some pearls of wisdom. “You dare threaten my family in my face and think your pathetic grand posturing is going to save you. You think these little boys who voted to stay with you are going to save you? A hundred to one they cut and run before we really get to the real war.” His face tightened around his words. “I’m going to rip your fucking soul out your asshole, Erik, and then I’m going to shove it down these two suka’s throats who foolishly stand beside you. On my soul, to God, you will regret the day you ever crossed my path. When I’m done, there will be no traces of a Popov anywhere, ever again.”
Erik grinned. “I don’t think so my friend. I’m not my brother. Hiding my hand after throwing a rock is my style. You should be worried about your own family.”
Anatoly approached Dmitry to help his father with his coat, but Dmitry snatched away and pointed across the table man at the room, nearly touching him. “I’m not going to throw a rock at you, my friend. I’m going to throw the whole fucking world.”
Gabriel approached the table to pull Dmitry back, but he snatched away from him as well with laser sights on Erik’s throat, thinking of that moment at biting a piece of his jugular out. “Do you hear me?” Dmitry asked, hitting the table with such force it knocked the vase in the middle, and the glasses around it to the floor. Like an earthquake the room rattled and Erik instinctively jumped back.
Dmitry’s nostril’s flared, eyes beaming with enough heat to singe. “I’m going to fuck you up!” he screamed, standing up straight.
“We’ll see,” Erik taunted as he got his wits about him again. “But if I were you, I would watch my back every step to the airport.”
“If I were you, I wouldn’t even go back to London,” Dmitry snarled.
The smug grin on Erik’s face quickly dropped. How did that son of a bitch know he had been in London?
Putting a hand on Dmitry’s shoulder, Gabriel pulled his uncle’s attention from his adversary. “Not here,” he said, ignoring Erik. “This bitch is just full of talk. He wants to get you wound up, so you do something stupid.”
“Da, da, papa,” Anatoly said, fighting the urge to come across the table as well. “We go now. We’ll see him later.”
Dmitry looked down and saw that his wound was leaking as he walked out of the door. Slipping on his jacket, he advanced toward the elevator with some men following and some taking the emergency stairwell.
Simeon stood holding the elevator door open for him. As Dmitry, Gabriel and Anatoly stepped inside, he let go of the button and straightened his jacket. “You almost let him get under your skin, eh?”
“No, I let the others see how scary he is. He jumped, because he’s a bitch, scared of doing his own dirty work,” Dmitry said, eyes straight forward. “A man can’t hold a line if he can’t even hold his composure.”
“And you wanted to kill him,” Simeon jibbed.
“Very much,” Dmitry nodded with a grin on his face. “I thought about it, but it wasn’t worth it, yet.”
“Well, let’s get you back to your family, so we can plan adequately.” Simeon looked at his watch. “I promised your wife, I would visit as soon as I returned. I would hate to disappoint her.”
Dmitry looked down at Simeon. “How did she look? Was she…okay?”
Simeon turned up his lip. “She was worried. They all were, but they are safe.”
“Well, let’s get back to them. Mind if we hitch a ride back on your jet?” Dmitry asked. The other one is headed back to the states.
“Not at all,” Simeon said as the elevator doors opened. “What are friends for?”
Two Days Later
The Royal Chateau
Siberia, Russia
“Kids stop running through the house!” Royal screamed, picking up Maxim’s jacket from the living room floor. Cursing under her breath, she sat down on the sofa and turned the television back on. She had been trying to focus on something – anything all day. But her mind was racing about where Dmitry could be.
Crawling under the chenille throw, she wiped a tear from her face before it could fall. It had been too long. Where was he? Flipping through the channels, she threw down the remote and stood up. Pacing, she tried to remember if Dmitry had ever accidently said something that might help her pinpoint where he could be.
“Are you okay?” Valeriya asked, looking down from the wooden balcony above.
Royal looked up at her friend. “No,” she said, bottom lip trembling.
“Want to talk about it?” Valeriya offered.
“No,” Royal said, shaking her head frantically. “I just want my fucking husband. I want to know he’s alright. I want a call…” Tears started to stream down her face again. Wiping them quickly, she put up her hand. “I’m sorry. I just…I need a minute.” Darting from the living room up the flight of stairs that led to the bedrooms of the house, Royal ran into the master bedroom and closed the door. Walking into the large bathroom, she stood looking at herself in the mirror.
“I can’t be this weak,” she admonished herself. “I have to be stronger than this.” Flashes of Dmitry’s bloody body on the concrete flashed in her mind. She could hear her own screams in her head, feel the heat on her skin as bullets whizzed past her. Putting a hand on her head, she paced back and forth until without explanation she went to the drawer and pulled out a pair of long, sharp scissors.
Grabbing her hair and pulling it down from the ponytail roughly, she leaned over the sink and began to cut right below her ear. Long black strands fell into the black sink bowl and onto the floor. With each movement of the shears, she found herself feeling better. It felt like she was shedding her fear, her doubts, her pain. She cut until it was all gone – all the bullshit.
Standing up straight, face covered in a stream of tears, hair cut off, she dropped the scissors on the marble floor and stared at herself again, this time with blankness until the door knob went to turn.
“I’m in here,” Royal called out, trying to wipe away her tears and the makeup smudges under her eyes. The knob turned again. “I said, I’m in here. Who is it? Anya!” she snatched the door open to see Dmitry staring back at her.
“Dmitry!” she screamed his name, crashing into his chest.
“Baby,” Dmitry said, holding her tight, despite the pain. He kissed her forehead and hugged her as close as he could get her, taking her scent in, feeling her hot skin.
“I thought I would never see you again,” she cried. “I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry for everything.”
“You shouldn’t be apologizing to me.” He pulled her out of the bathroom into the bedroom. “I should be apologizing to you.”
“For what?” she asked, wiping her face and sniffling.
“Being away from you made me realize that I was stupid for giving you a hard time, because you wanted a baby.” Dmitry made her sit with him on the bed. “I was selfish.”
“No, I was selfish,” she said, cutting him off. “You are right. There is so much happening, and I just…” She exhaled a breath. “I was…”
Dmitry watched his fretful wife in her new short hair, standing in front of him in her black tights and white tank top, breasts bulging out of her bra, discarded strands of hair stuck to her arms, beautiful brown skin glistening. Her vulnerability was driving him insane. It begged out from her aura to be taken. She wanted to be free of worry and only he could free her
from it.
Pulling her to him, he kissed her mouth, drowning out any doubt he had placed in her head before. He searched instead as he sucked on her tongue for a way to forgiveness. She tasted of honey and truth and sunshine and everything good he had ever witnessed in his life. He made her feel like he was floating.
Royal kissed him back, gleeful to have him near her again. He smelled of sandalwood, felt like chiseled muscle. “Does it hurt?” she asked, avoiding his chest.
“No.” Dmitry kissed her deeper, pulling at her pants to get them off. “I’m high as a fucking kite right now on pain pills. I shouldn’t feel anything for at least an hour. That should give me long enough.”
Royal’s eyes closed. “Time to do what?” she asked as his mouth trailed a kiss down her neck, making her smile.
He finally managed to get her pants and panties completely off. “Time to make a baby,” he said, looking up into her eyes as she crawled on top of him. “Do you still want to?” He hoped and prayed she would say yes.
Royal didn’t know what to say. Yes, she really wanted to, but did they need to? “What about all of this? All the things we are dealing with?”
Dmitry ran a hand under her shirt and placed his cool palm over her stomach. “You and my children may be all that is left when this is over.”
Royal opened her mouth to say something but found nothing would come out. She had never heard him be so direct about death before. “I can’t live without you, Dmitry. So, don’t you dare go anywhere.”
“I can’t live without you,” Dmitry whispered. He swallowed hard. “Let me make up for the other night, eh. Let me give you my child.” He licked his lips. “I want to.”
The words made her sex constrict, unable to fight his virile request.
Coming to him, Royal unbuckled his pants and pulled them off as he slipped back in the bed, pushing up against the headboard. With his blue dress shirt still on, she crawled on top of him and felt as he guided his hard shaft into the wetness of her body.
Dmitry's Redemption: Book One (The Medlov Men 7) Page 24
