Scandalous Heroes Box Set

by Latrivia Nelson

  Leo rubbed his jaw in contemplation. “Let go of her?” he asked, pushing her body against the banister as if he would push her over. “Here?” He pushed her harder and she screamed. “Or here?” He almost smiled at the reaction on Vasily’s face.

  As half of Lilly’s body dangled over the edge of the railing, Vasily went for the gun in his holster at lightning fast speed.

  Pointing it at Leo’s head with his finger on the trigger, he heard the distinctive click of a weapon behind him.

  “Don’t do this,” Yakov begged, gun pointed. His friend had pushed his hand, leaving him no choice but to protect his boss.

  “You throw her over, I pull this trigger and Yakov pulls his. Three people die. Won’t be the first three; won’t be the last. It’s that simple,” Vasily said without blinking. His greenish-blue eyes were intense under dark lashes and arched brows. “I really don’t give a fuck if I live or die as long as I take you with me. But one thing is for sure, if you push her over that railing, you’re next.”

  Lilly screamed out, crying for her life and looking down three floors at the daunting marble floor beneath. Her two-carat diamond necklace broke and fell below as Leo squeezed her neck. There was no doubt that if he pushed her over, she would fall to her death.

  Pushing her hands against the railing to keep from going over, she struggled. “Please, Leo. Don’t do this? I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry, just please let me go!”

  Vasily gripped the gun tighter, a bead of sweat forming at his left temple. “I’m waiting,” he bit out.

  Leo calculated the impending risk. In all the time that he had had Vasily under his employ, he’d never known him to bluff. This was not an idle threat, nor was it a good situation for him.

  Yakov’s hand shook, not because he was afraid to kill, but because he didn’t want to kill the person in front of him. “Vasily, think of what you’re doing,” he said in a calm voice.

  “I am thinking,” Vasily said, not taking his eyes off of Leo.

  Leo wasn’t exactly anxious to end his life over a woman that he’d only met the year before. And there was no way that he wanted to be shot by one of his own men. There was no honorable death in that. He’d be the laughing stock of the Vory v Zakone in New York.

  Snatching her back over the banister, he threw her on the floor against the wall.

  Vasily looked down at her and reached for her again. “Come with me,” he said softly. “Don’t stay here and put up with this shit.”

  Lilly looked at his hand and started to cry. She wanted to leave more than anything, but she was afraid. Where would they go? Where would they hide from a man like Leo Rasputin? He was everywhere and knew everyone. He would find them and kill them.

  Vasily’s face was awash with disappointment and rejection as he watched her recoil away from him.

  Leo laughed, already acutely aware of the outcome. “You see, you’re the only one here who doesn’t know his place.” He put his index finger over his lips as he gave a crooked smile. “But let me remind you.”

  Suddenly, a gun went off behind him as a man, who had gone unseen the entire confrontation, standing in a few feet back from the four of them in the hallway released a round that went straight through Vasily’s back.

  It seemed as though time slowed down.

  As the bullet exited his chest, Vasily dropped to his knees and looked across at Lilly one last time. Falling forward on the carpet, blood splattering out of his mouth, he finally released his gun.

  As Vasily wheezed a gurgling violent last breath, Leo spit on his open wound and kicked the gun across the floor. “Get this peace of shit out of here,” he said, stepping over him.

  Even as the light faded from Vasily’s eyes, he could hear Lilly’s screams. She cried as Leo drug her down the stairs out of the view of the man who had tried and failed to protect her.

  Chapter One

  Ten Years Later

  Attica Correctional Facility

  Attica, New York

  Under a picturesque evening sky of the sun preparing for a triumphant setting on the now bluish, gold horizon, a small group of brooding men were released from the strong holds of their ironclad cells into the patchy, muddied, over-run recreational grounds of the Attica maximum security correctional facility for their daily one-hour walk in the yard.

  With armed guards up on the risers holding binoculars, serrated barbwire covering the tops of the mountainous white-washed walls and additional men walking the perimeter with weapons and radios, there was not an ounce of freedom or opportunity in the fresh air.

  Still the group of prisoners walked in the yard, huddled together, taking in the macabre view and laughing quietly like it was another carefree day at the beach.

  Despite the system’s best efforts, not much could affect Leo Rasputin or the men of the Rasputin Organized Crime Family. None of the men of the family were related, but they were in all ways relatives. They trusted no one who did not wear their tattoos or did not do crime with them. They only held sacred the laws of their governing body, the Vory v Zakone, and despite the warden’s efforts to break them, they feared no man, recognized no government and took no prisoners.

  In fact, it was their basic tenants on life that had kept them secluded from other prisoners for quite some time.

  Nearly six months ago, a bloody, murderous riot in the mess hall started by another prison gang and aimed at the assassination of the Rasputin leader, Leo, had left them with no choice but to revert back to the savage creatures that they were. Never had such carnage been recorded in the Attica walls since the riot of 1971, an event that made history and set new rules for prisons across the country. After that, the Rasputin men became historic figures in their own right. No more was there a question of who was the deadliest sect on the yard.

  The warden, a simple man with Christian values and small stature, had developed a plan after that to get Leo under control. Only nothing about the plan had worked. Confining him to solitary did nothing. Taking away his privileges and visitors did nothing.

  And threatening Leo had done only one thing. Piss him off.

  Most of the guards were too scared to truly aggress him, and none of the other prisoners would dare go near them.

  Very recently, pissing Leo off had led to a strange order of events, including the warden’s 21-year old daughter being in a nearly life-threatening car wreck, his home being set on fire in the middle of the night and his grandmother, who was in a retirement home in Montana, being found in Las Vegas four days later in a hotel tied to a bed with a note that simply said checkmate. And all of the events happened within one week of the warden simply ordering that Leo be roughed up.

  Now, there was only the final solution left.

  There were no more answers for the new warden, who had only recently taken over after the death of the hard nose warden before him, who had in fact taken over after the 1971 riots. There was no proof that Leo was responsible for what had happened outside of the prison walls to his family, no end in sight to what could happen and no time for a transfer. The warden had to handle things now.

  Staring out of his window through elegant drapes, dark wooden blinds and bullet proof glass, Warden C. W. Stowe sipped on his gourmet green tea, watched the men whom he loathed more than Satan himself walk the grounds, and waited patiently as Frédéric Chopin’s Nocturne in E-flat major, Op. 9, No. 2 played in the background.

  In prison blues that clung to his muscular wide body, the ruggedly attractive, Leo looked up at the warden’s window from the walking trail and spit as he smoked on his cigarette. “Fucking suka. I know that he’s looking at me. I can feel it.”

  “No matter, boss,” one of his lieutenants, Igor said, stretching his sleeve-tattooed arms around and rotating his head in circular motion as they walked. Igor was a red-head with a splash of freckles on his deceptively innocent face but tall and broad with an athletic form that explained why so much damage had been done to the mess hall. Armed with an elementary education and sti
ll unable to read or speak much English, Igor was all brawn and no brains.

  “What are you doing?” Leo asked with a frown.

  “I’m getting ready. Don’t want to pull muscle,” Igor explained.

  “Put your arms down,” Leo ordered, swatting at him. “You look like an idiot.”

  “I just want to be…”

  “Igor…” Leo warned, pointing a sharp, thick index finger at him. “Now is not the time.”

  Igor tucked his head and dropped his arms.

  Oleg, Leo’s second-in-charge, put his hand on his little brother’s shoulder and snickered. “Patience, Igor. You’ll get your chance.”

  When the men made their way around the walking trail to the east side of the wall, they stopped abruptly.

  “Was it here or over there?” Igor asked, looking around.

  “Here,” Leo answered sternly. “Don’t move a muscle.”

  Noticing something was off about the huddle, one of the guards approached cautiously. “Hey,” he said, holding on to his asp baton. “Move it along. Keep walking. You only got a few minutes out here anyway before you’re sent back to your cage.”

  “I have one fucking hour in this yard every day!” Leo screamed in a raised voice. His anger was unmistakable. “And I’ve only used ten minutes of my time. You dumb bastards don’t know the difference between ten minutes and sixty?”

  “Keep talking, jack off! And we’re only going to cut your time shorter,” the guard promised. “Now, keep it moving!”

  Suddenly the guard stopped as a siren went off above them and guards around the walls began to rally. He looked up in disbelief and heard what sounded like missiles scudding through the air right before a powerful explosion erupted dead in the center of the fortified wall.

  Debris shattered outward in every angle along with a plume of smoke and fire.

  “Holy shit!” the guard screamed as he hit the ground and covered his head.

  Out of the blast zone by only a few feet, Leo stood with his men untouched. “Whose time is being cut short now?” he asked the man as he winked. “Send your warden my regards!”

  Gunshots rang out in the yard as more brick was blown from the wall and a missile was launched into the grounds. Hard hitting machine guns specially fitted for the fixed-wing aircraft were let loose on the guards. Their bodies flew off the balconies with gaping holes in them and covered in blood. Bullet holes the size of half dollars filled the side of the prison, while the men in the aircraft laid cover from both sides of the helicopter’s open doors.

  The wind picked up under the helicopter and dust and dirt swirled about on the ground, making it hard to see anyone. All of Leo’s small crew of five looked up as a ladder was thrown from the helicopter down to them.

  “One at a time,” Oleg said to everyone. He turned to his best friend. “Boss, you first.”

  Grabbing Oleg by the back of the neck, Leo pushed their heads together. “Thieves-in-Law,” he said before he released him.

  “Thieves-in-Law!” Oleg said, urging him to climb the ladder to the helicopter. “Hurry, we don’t have much time.”

  As quickly as his strong arms could carry him and his legs could push off from one rung to the other, Leo moved up into the helicopter, praying to miss the flying bullets and hoping not to get caught. There would never be another opportunity like this one. He had to take it. He had to succeed no matter the odds.

  One of the men on the gun on the right side of the helicopter, helped him in and locked him in a seat.

  “Help my men up!” Leo screamed as the shooting continued in both directions.

  “No sir. Just you,” the man screamed back as he leaned in and touched the pilot. “Let’s move out!”

  The helicopters made a sharp left and moved quickly toward the trees in the distance.

  “What the fuck do you mean just me?” Leo screamed, trying to unlock himself from the seat. “My men are back there!”

  Quickly, the gunman put his hand over Leo’s hand forcefully. “The warden said just you!” He narrowed his eyes and snarled. “Don’t look a fucking gift horse in the mouth.”

  Leo was in disbelief. If his men could not go then neither could he. His mind had already processed the idea of jumping out of the helicopters back down on the ground. Broken bones would be better than stabbing his men in the back. But the gunman must have also seen his intentions and been prepared for them. Reaching into the side compartment of his pants, he pulled out a needle.

  “Hold him down,” the gunman said to the other man on the other side of the helicopter.

  They both jumped with all their weight onto Leo to hold him down while one of them stuck a needle into his neck.

  “Ahh!” Leo screamed. “You motherfuckers. I’m going to kill both of you…all of you!”

  “There. That should hold him over for a few hours,” one of the men said, getting to his feet.

  When he was released, Leo immediately felt the effects. Heat rushed through his body, coursing through his veins like venom. Then suddenly everything blurred. Reaching for his seatbelt one last time, he lost consciousness as the aircraft moved quickly away from the prison.

  Memphis, TN

  Mother Russia Restaurant

  In the authentic Russian restaurant known for its infamous history of crime and crime lords through the years, a packed house of curious visitors willing to pay top dollar sat in the main hall enjoying delicious, customary eastern bloc cuisine like Blinchik, Kulebiaka, Chicken Tabaka and Golden Osetra caviar, sampling a variety of vodkas and listening to a Russian folk band flown in from Moscow as they sang the popular folk song Dark Eyes.

  Lined with expensive green and red intricate rugs flown from St. Petersburg and elaborate paintings from Moscow, the showplace had made the cover of many magazines. Tiffany stained-glass windows, dark hardwood floors, tall ceilings painted in gold with elegantly carved wooden walls and gold-embossed cherubs, red leather booths and tables topped with white linen and candles in golden globes made Mother Russia a unique work of art and a one-of-a-kind eating experience, but it was the owner who made it truly unforgettable.

  Dmitry Medlov, a quiet, seven-foot billionaire who had made an excessive amount of front page newspapers himself over the years, had long since retreated to a quiet and very private life hidden behind an entourage of protective bodyguards, but he still gave appearance daily when he popped by his restaurant, usually to go to the secluded rooms in the back for lunch or dinner.

  Sightings were always posted on Facebook. People begged for selfies as he passed by or snapped clandestine photos with their phones while they were supposed to be enjoying their meal.

  Everyone once in a while, he even stopped by a few tables just to say a friendly Allo, which was hello in his native Russian language, always shocking his patrons to a point of no words. They stared at him in awe of both his dramatic size and unsettling beauty. Women felt overwhelmed. Men felt under achieved and sometimes flat out ugly.

  It was as if Michelangelo himself had carved the man’s face out of stone and painted it the most beautiful shades of flawless tanned skin, brilliantly honey gold blond hair, startlingly crystal blue eyes and wide, pink lips covering pearly white teeth. And no one could deny his signature smell, an intoxicating and no doubt customized sandalwood, subdued cinnamon and mint. Like a drug, when he passed a woman, she was left with her eyes closed and mouth open, chomping at the bit for just one more interaction.

  However, there was never any more than one sighting of the giant by most. Dmitry kept a schedule that could never be truly pinpointed. His head of security saw to than to ensure he and his family’s safety.

  However, no matter how low key he tried to be, he, his son and his empire were still the topic of polite and impolite conversation in the city of Memphis. The Medlov Organized Crime Family had chosen this small metro to settle down in for good and could not be uprooted even by the most persistent of law enforcement agencies. Because no one could ever prove a case against him,
he had become a thing of urban legend, making it unclear if the stories were true or not.

  What most people did not recognize, despite the evidence before them, was that the stories were not only true but also very much watered down. The gory details of their real underworld dealings were never revealed to the public, because Dmitry never left a witness to tell the story.

  Dmitry Medlov and the Medlov Crime Family were not only the most powerful Russian mafia group in the country, they were also the most deadly. However, because of their legitimate business ties and their governmental influence, they had also become known as untouchable.

  And tonight, while couples paid unforgiveable prices to dine at their infamous restaurant, pop the question and celebrate promotions, the real men behind the vast empire met in the bowels of the building in a reinforced steel basement to talk about their international trafficking.

  The small council was a select group of men in the Medlov Crime Family, who met quarterly to discuss the inner workings of a multinational gun and jewels trafficking business. Among them was Dmitry Medlov, his son Anatoly Medlov and his nephew, Gabriel Medlov.

  While sipping vodka and mulling over digital files that showed seven-digit dividends, they mapped out how the deals that they were working on would be planned out for the upcoming quarter.

  In the corner, watching their every move and every move that happened on the floors above them through a closed-circuit camera system embedded into the wall was their most trusted bodyguard and head of security, Vasily Kavlov.

  Vasily was a quiet man of questionable origins, one of the many reasons that he’d become more like family to the Medlov’s than a simple captain. He was shorter than the seven-foot Czar, but a few feet taller than his immediate boss, Anatoly. However, his body builder physique was no less menacing. He had a prison build from years of working in the gym not only to maintain his size but also to strengthen his lungs, which had been punctured over ten years ago by Leo Rasputin’s bodyguard.

  Women always noticed him, despite how invisible, he tried to be. With a pensive stare, tanned skin, a low black haircut that he’d recently grown and symmetrically attractive features, Vasily was by all accounts attractive. However, not once was he ever seen with a woman. His black-as-night past only made him more alluring, but even when advanced, he never showed interest.