A feared, revered henchman of the Vory v Zakone, all Vasily had ever known for the last eight years was in this room. He had served the most powerful men in the mafia and his reputation had been nearly flawless doing so. He had killed more men than he cared to count. Done more deals for his bosses then he would ever say. And he had done it all without ever seeking anything in return, except once, and he had learned that lesson painfully.
Quietly, with arms crossed over his wide, cement chest, he listened to chatter on his earpiece of guards around the perimeter checking in while at the same time listening to every detail of his boss, Anatoly Medlov’s game plan.
“Our men in Kiev have a serious advantage,” Anatoly said, sitting back in his chair. He also had a Russian accent and hailed from the grimy streets of Moscow, though no one could tell from the looks of him. He ran a hand through his blonde locks and sighed. “At least until Putin and the UN come to some understanding. Right now, the people who are planning their uprising have been purchasing our munitions in bulk to fight the Ukrainian and Russian army.”
Dmitry, sitting at the head of the large antique table, poured himself another glass of water in his crystal goblet. “Don’t raise the prices,” he ordered. “Right now, we do better to gain their trust. This uprising might not be successful for them, but it won’t go away overnight. To price gouge them now would surely turn them to other means.”
Anatoly rolled his eyes. “But right now we are making 2-1 for every gun sold,” he said, biting his rose-colored lips in frustration. Blue eyes narrowed, he pushed away the IPad. “We stand to make more money off of them now…more than we ever have.”
For Anatoly, everything came down to money, nothing more.
Dmitry raised a hand to quiet his son and tilted his head. He could already see where Anatoly was going. “This problem won’t go away. Our friends in Kiev need to know that we can be trusted with their best interests. Lower the prices and let them know that we are sympathetic to their cause. It will be more profitable in the end.”
“We are not freedom fighters,” Anatoly grunted. “We are businessmen.”
Gabriel, in his normal fashion, listened quietly and neutrally but with a stern glare warned his cousin of challenging Dmitry with such blatant disregard.
Anatoly could feel his cousin’s urging but chose to ignore it.
“Do you actually need to tell me what we are, Anatoly?” Dmitry asked. His deep baritone echoed throughout the room. Placing both of his elbows on the table, he clasped his large hands together to relieve some growing agitation. “What do you know of wars, really? You’re a young man, who has never had to walk through city streets that were lined with dead bodies. For people who depend on our guns to stay alive, we are nothing if not freedom fighters.”
“I don’t take sides, Father. You taught me that. I focus on the deal. If it makes sense financially, then it is the right thing to do. If we lose money, then I am opposed. My position has been the same for the whole of my life as a Vor.”
Dmitry looked down the table at his ambitious son and sighed. He knew Anatoly’s heart and knew that it would take more than a conversation to change it. “Then I pray you live long enough to see that there is more in life than the immediate bottom line. These things take time.”
“The war will be over soon. Putin’s men are on the border and ready to invade. They won’t last against the entire Russian army.” Anatoly shook his head. “We should make as much money as we can now.”
He had heard enough from his son. “What are your thoughts, Gabriel?” Dmitry asked his nephew.
Gabriel, a mossy green-eyed man nearly as tall as his uncle with ink black hair and his father’s ruggedly handsome face, cracked a smile despite his desire not to be put in the middle of the discussion. His American accent always stuck out in conversations. It was distinctly east coast and wreaking of privileged private schools and Ivy League colleges. “I don’t agree with Anatoly on this. I think we should lower the prices to help them, but I don’t agree with you completely, uncle. No disrespect. We should tell them that the prices will rise after the conflict. However, considering every dollar matters now, we will work with them. We prove our loyalty on the front end, but we also ensure that at some point, we recoup any losses.”
Anatoly, for once, could see logic in his cousin’s reasoning. He flexed his fingers. “He might just be a Medlov after all,” he quipped.
Dmitry raised a brow. “And what will make them stay with us after the conflict, if we tell them that we will raise the prices after the war, even if they lose?”
“The same loyalty that we have shown them, of course,” Gabriel answered with a frown. Was that not obvious?
Dmitry laughed and slapped his hand on the table truly amused. “Good luck with that.” He pushed away his paper file. “Very well. You two will never learn if I don’t let you make your own deals. Do this your way, but if they don’t win, and they don’t come back to us after the conflict, then the both of you will pay any losses out of your own pockets. And based upon these projections in this file, that’s a lot of money. 2-1 is what you said, right Anatoly?”
“That is over two million dollars…American dollars,” Anatoly huffed. “Each quarter.” He looked over at Gabriel as if to tell him that he’d blown it.
“Well, let us hope that you are right,” Dmitry said softly. “Otherwise, you will both be two million dollars lighter every single quarter if you are wrong. We have a deal with people leading a revolution in the 8th largest country in Europe. To fuck it up is unacceptable. You will not learn how to deal with global conflicts on my dime. If you are wise enough to do things your way, then you will be wise enough to pay the consequences if things don’t turn out the way that you predict.” He gave an easy smile. “But I trust your decision. And I have faith that you won’t end up two million dollars poorer…per quarter until you find someone to replace the account.”
“Of course,” Anatoly said, rolling his eyes again. “The old man has figured out a way to make his money no matter what. Do you see this, Gabriel? This is the reward we get for trying to save a dollar for him.”
Dmitry laughed again. “This is the price of being a boss.”
“I never asked to be a boss,” Gabriel said, putting his head in his hands. “You people are unreal. Aren’t you the Czar? Shouldn’t you make the final call?”
Dmitry raised a brow. “It’s your legacy. When I’m dead and gone, you still have to take care of this family. If you have to pay, consider it money going into a long-term savings account.”
“Oh, well that’s comforting, considering how many children the Medlov men seem to put out a year, by the time you die, we’ll be in debt,” Gabriel said under his breath.
Pulling out his phone, Anatoly checked his email and then huffed. “Shit,” he said, grabbing the remote for the large television across the room. “Looks like there is a problem in New York.”
“What now?” Dmitry asked with a frown.
Turning on the television, Anatoly quickly turned to a cable network where breaking news from Attica flashed across the screen. A woman stood in front of a burning wall of the prison reporting that Russian mob boss Leo Rasputin had broken out of prison and a national manhunt led by US Marshalls was underway.
Stepping out of the shadows, Vasily walked over to the television and listened carefully. His brow furrowed and heat started to form under his perfectly pressed collar. “Boss,” he said, turning back to Anatoly with concern.
Anatoly wiped his face and then stood up. He walked over to his father, leaned down and whispered something in his ear, leaving the rest of the men puzzled.
Dmitry listened and nodded his head. “Vasily, you may take your leave.”
“Thank you,” Vasily said, gratefully.
“How long will you need?” Anatoly asked. His tone was amazingly filled with unease.
“At most two days. I’ll know more when I get there,” Vasily said, pointing at one of his other men. “Bori
s will watch over you while I’m gone.”
Boris quickly took his boss’s lead. “I’m ready,” he assured him.
“Call us should you need anything? Stop by the house. Get what you need from the safe,” Anatoly said, looking at his watch. “Do you need a plane?”
“Yes, boss,” Vasily answered, walking to the door. “I appreciate this.”
“There is no need to thank us. You are family,” Dmitry reminded.
Nodding, Vasily put his code into the padlocked door and unlocked it.
Within minutes, he was up the private elevator and onto the main floor of the restaurant with the rest of the crowds of people, who were eating, dancing and laughing. He moved quickly through the huddles of clueless masses, making sure to be careful not to let anyone brush past the guns in the holsters under his arms as they swarmed the corridor.
As the hostess opened the front door for him, he stepped out into the night air, entering an abrupt and welcomed silence of night. There in the front on the cobblestone street a black S-class Mercedes Benz waited on him. The driver nodded and opened the back door for him.
“Where to sir?” the driver asked as Vasily stepped inside.
“Back to the compound,” Vasily said, looking at his watch. Each moment was precious. He had to hurry.
Chapter Two
Jackson, MS
Cleveland’s Bar
The heavy rains of a hot summer’s night didn’t seem to keep people out of the small back road bar that Lilly worked in on Saturdays. It was packed way past fire code with every blue collar worker in the area ordering a beer and unwinding after a long day at the job.
Country music played on the jukebox; people played pool and others drank and played darts. In the seedy corners, couples kissed and hugged while a few argued over the news. In all, it truly was an average Saturday of normal proportions. .
In a pair of worn sneakers, short shorts that showed the pockets from the bottoms and a white t-shirt that put her large bosom on display with the word Cleveland across the back in fire engine red, Lilly ran in between tables serving up big mugs of beer on tap and typical pub crawl food while swatting hands that tried desperately to feel her up.
“I hate my life,” she said, resting against the bar while the bartender, Logan, loaded up her round wooden tray again. She stepped back a millimeter and wiped the front of her clothes were a beer had spilled on the bar and was dripping off the side. “Great!” she cursed. “That’s just great.”
“Well, sweetheart, things could always be worse,” Logan said, with a trace of humor in his lusty hazel eyes. “Give me a kiss. It might make you feel better,” he said, reaching over the bar to grab her face jokingly.
“In your dreams, Logan,” Lilly said, snatching back. “Everyone knows that you’re a pig.”
“A reputation that I don’t deserve,” Logan explained with a toothy grin. He gave her a suggestive wink, one that he had given her every night since the first night that she’d started working there. Unfortunately, his country boy good looks didn’t work on her, nor did the Wrangler jeans, the Timberland boots or his signature pearly white t-shirt that showed off his meaty, former football playing pecks.
“A reputation that you’ve worked hard to uphold from what I’ve heard,” she said as she picked up her tray. The moisture below the tray from the wet bar made her fingers slip slightly. Still, she gripped it tightly.
“Well, I’d turn in my card for you, Lilly you Northern Belle,” he promised. “I’d marry you at the chapel on Saturday, and give you a bunch of babies on Sunday morning, darlin’.”
“Pity your momma doesn’t like black women,” Lilly snickered. “I don’t believe that I’m the right shade to be Mrs. Mosby.”
“It’s the twentieth century,” Logan said, hitting his broad chest. “I can change.”
“Twenty-first century,” Lilly corrected. “You are about a hundred years behind as is the rest of this shit hole.” She joked with him, but she meant it wholeheartedly. She absolutely abhorred Jackson, Mississippi.
Logan laughed. “It’s that kind of attitude that’s gonna keep you single, Lilly.”
“Single isn’t a bad thing in comparison to a bad relationship. Trust me,” she said with a wry smile.
In his normal chauvinistic fashion, he watched her backside as she walked away. Licking his lips, he shook his head. “Damn, girl.”
Lilly walked over to her normal guys who worked for the railroad and put their drinks on the table, when she noticed the news on the television above them. A flash of Attica Prison drew her attention.
“How ya doing there, good looking,” Greg said, taking his glass off the tray. “I’ve been dreaming about this drink all damn day. Dear God, Lilly. You are a life saver.”
Normally, Lilly would have had a quirky comeback, but at the moment, she was paralyzed. Staring at the television as the words Leo Rasputin flashed across the ticker below a reporter, she broke out in a cold sweat.
“Something wrong?” Greg asked, noticing her sudden change.
The room began to swim.
Lilly swallowed down a fleeting breath. Her heart thudded in her chest. “Just…the damn news.” She tried to laugh, but it came across with the same nervousness as her broken face. “I’ll be right back, boys,” she said, nearly falling over her own feet.
It was as if she were walking in a fog. With hands shaking, he found her way back to the bar. “Hey Logan. I need to go,” she said, palms flat on the wet bar, forgetting its stickiness.
“What?” He frowned. “I’m already short. Lisa won’t be here for another hour.”
“I’m sorry,” Lilly said absently before she darted to the back. “I’ve got to go.”
Logan was quickly behind her. “What’s going on? What’s wrong?” He grabbed her arm and swung her around. “Jeez, you’re shaking like a leaf. What happened back there? Greg say something to you. I’ll beat his ass.”
Lilly looked away. “No. It’s not Greg. I just need to go, Logan. And I need to go right now.”
Seeing that she was clearly in no state to serve his customers, he let her arm go. “Well, is there anything that I can do?”
“No,” she said, grabbing her purse out of her locker. “I appreciate it.”
“Well, can you at least tell me what’s going on?”
“Just felt sick all of a sudden. Like I ate something. It just hit me,” she lied.
“Something here?” He probed.
Lilly felt her stomach cramp. “I’m going to be sick,” she said, running toward the employee restroom. Closing the door behind her, she fell on her knees in front of the toilet.
Logan could hear her throwing up as he pressed his head to the door. All suspicion quailed, he put his hand on the door in the truest of sympathy. “Get better. Do you need me to drive you home?”
Wiping her mouth, Lilly held on to the cool seat of the toilet. “No, I’ll be fine. I’m just going to slip out the back door and head home, okay?”
“Yeah, sure. No worries,” Logan said, still unsure if he should leave her alone. “Call me if you need anything.”
“Okay,” Lilly said, wiping tears from her eyes. She tried to still her quivering voice.
Getting up off her knees and flushing the toilet, she looked at herself in the mirror above the sink. Suddenly, she had gone pale, despite her warm brown skin.
It only took one man’s name to do her in.
Running water in the sink, she washed her face to cool her burning cheeks and pulled her hair down out of the two ponytails. Digging for a brush in her purse, she quickly combed her hair down and grabbed her keys. She had to get a handle on herself now.
***
When Leo came out of his deep sleep, he realized that he was no longer in the helicopter used to help him escape the prison but in a dark room in a real bed, something that he had been denied for many years. His body was absorbed by the softness of the mattress.
He relished in its comfort until finally fully aw
ake, he sat up in the bed and looked around. It took a minute for his eyes to adjust to the pitch blackness.
Focusing on the light coming from under the door and the moonlight coming from the window, he stood up still in his prison uniform and went to the door.
After many years of being told what to do every second of his life, he felt nervous about simply opening the door on his own. A wave of distrust came over him, and he put his head on the door to listen to the muffled voices on the other side.
The echo of deep, laughing Russian accents calmed him.
Finally opening the door, his eyes squinted at the overwhelming light on the other side of the dark room. He walked slowly out, cautiously looking around.
As he emerged, his men stopped talking and stood up.
One of his closest men before the arrests was standing only feet away from him.
“Boss,” Aleksi said with a nervous smile. “You finally got up. We thought that you’d sleep all night.”
Leo looked around at all his men. There wasn’t a face in the room that he didn’t recognize making him feel as though he was at a reunion of sorts. “Yes, I’m finally awake,” he said, scratching his stubbly beard. The next thing he would do would be to get a good shave from a barber, but for now…. “Where are we?” he asked.
“Ottawa,” Aleski explained. “Canada.”
“Is there another Ottawa?” Leo asked sarcastically.
Aleski shrugged his shoulders. He didn’t know. “We had to get you out of the country, ASAP. You’re all over the news. Police are looking everywhere. Your face is all over the television. We smuggled you here in a box when you were dropped off by the warden’s men.”
Leo smiled and rolled large arm in a circular motion. “Explains the soreness. I feel like I was hit by a truck.” He walked over to the table and looked down at all the food that had been prepared. There was plenty of meat, potatoes, cabbage and beer. “This for me?” he asked, mouth watering and stomach growling.
Scandalous Heroes Box Set Page 79
