Red Dirt Blues
David K Wilson
Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Chapter 62
Chapter 63
Chapter 64
Chapter 65
Chapter 66
Chapter 67
Chapter 68
Thank you for reading
Also by David K. Wilson:
Acknowledgments
About the Author
1
The beautiful woman with long, jet black hair quietly rifled through the files stuffed in the bottom drawer of the mahogany desk, trying not to rouse the suspicions of the Russian mobster tied to the bed in the other room.
“Where are you, kitten?” the Russian sing-songed.
“Just one more minute, sexy,” the woman purred back in Russian.
Anton Petrov, the bound mobster in the other room, relaxed back in his bed as best as one can while being tied spread-eagle. As he lay in wait, he began to marvel in gratitude at how his entire night had changed just because he decided to have one more drink. One of Anton’s many duties was managing Kozel’s, a swank nightclub located on the edge of Moscow City and next door to Anton’s high-rise apartment building. It was a place where Russian dignitaries, high-powered businessmen, and visiting celebrities often gathered. While he had a brutal reputation, Anton still lived under the shadow of his brother, the notorious crime boss Viktor Petrov. Kozel’s was the place where Anton could be king. He often held court at his VIP booth, separated from the masses by red velvet ropes and two giant bodyguards, and positioned on a riser so he could look down on his kingdom. The raised platform also made sure everyone in the bar was able to see the short hairy man in a snakeskin jacket.
He had nearly left earlier but was cajoled into one more drink by a jovial group of visiting Polish businessmen who had dealings with Anton’s brother. He had been instructed to keep the men entertained and Anton had seen to it that their vodka glasses were never empty. The decision to have one more drink with them was the best decision he had ever made. Because that’s when he saw her. She was sitting at the bar alone and, just as importantly, gazing directly at him. Even though he was constantly surrounded by Russian models, the exotic beauty of this woman immediately caught his attention. She had full lips, high cheekbones and beautiful, seductive eyes that captured his attention and immediately fueled his desire. When their gaze locked, she smiled flirtatiously. Encouraged, Anton immediately forgot about the Polish businessmen. He called a waiter over and ordered a glass of champagne for the woman, with instructions to also invite her to his table. Even though he was no prize catch, he had money. And power. And that was enough for many of the young ladies that frequented the bar. In fact, so many women had been seduced by his money and power (or more than willing to accept his money for a few hours of their time), that he had fooled himself into believing they actually found him attractive.
He watched the woman accept the glass of champagne and then nod in understanding as the waiter extended the invitation to join the bar’s owner. She looked at Anton, winked at him, then stood to walk over. He was now able to see more of her and unconsciously let out a loud gasp in appreciation. Her deep-cut, red evening gown showed off her svelte, athletic body. A slit cut all the way up to her right hip, revealing every inch of her perfectly-toned leg…and a little bit more. She walked with confidence but remained approachable. By the time she reached the table, Anton was barely able to muster a greeting.
Her seductive charms quickly unarmed him and they began their flirtatious dance. Her name was Khristina and she was visiting from Prague. She was friendly and flirty. Incredibly sexual but not intimidating. And very open to Anton’s clumsy advances. In less than an hour, they had moved their dance to his penthouse apartment. And before he knew it, she had undressed him to his underwear, blindfolded him and bound him to the bed, promising him unimaginable pleasure.
She doesn’t know how good my imagination is, he thought to himself.
She had excused herself to prepare something special and he now waited with eager anticipation.
However, Khristina clearly had other things on her mind as she looked around the giant penthouse living room.
2
From the sleek, modern furniture to the original artwork, the place reeked of money. And was clearly put together by an interior decorator, not the short, round slob of a man in the next room. The floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the spectacular skyline of Moscow City. Postmodern glass buildings outlined in brilliant blue and red lights jutted high into the night sky, looking like a breathtaking metropolis of the future. But she wasn’t paying attention to the view. She was looking at the large, built-in bookshelf behind the desk. Binders, notepads and books were carelessly stacked on each shelf so precariously that removing any item would send the entire structure crumbling to the floor. It was the only area of the living room that wasn’t perfectly staged so Jade knew it was the area used the most and where she would most likely find what she was looking for.
Catching a glimpse of her reflection in one of the many glass sculptures in the room, she couldn’t help but smile in appreciation of how she looked. She made a stunning Russian supermodel. Certainly good enough to attract the attention of Antov Petrov, the younger brother of the most notorious Russian crime boss in Moscow.
Antov’s well-known love for beautiful women and his oversized ego were his Achilles’ Heel and she was able to take advantage of them with little effort. It took less than an hour of pretending to be interested in his boring stories and laughing at his obnoxious jokes, before he invited her up to his penthouse apartment.
Promising a night he’d never forget (and truly meaning it), she had bound him spread-eagle to his four-post, king-size bed then covered his eyes with a necktie.
With Antov happily restrained, she was able to search his apartment with ease, stoking his fire with an occasional “I’m nearly ready!” But she was running out of places to look.
Anton playfully struggled with the ties that bound him, counting his blessing and anticipating the night in front of him. Khristina was not only more beautiful than any Russian woman he had ever seen, bu
t she actually seemed interested in him. When he had first put his hand on her bare thigh, she didn’t flinch. And when she pushed his roaming hand away, she promised she’d let him touch her everywhere before the night was through.
What in the world could she be doing? he wondered. Was she putting on a sexy costume? Her handbag wasn’t big enough to hold anything too elaborate. Or was she preparing some kind of makeshift sex toy? Whatever it was, he felt certain it would be worth the wait.
“I promise it will be worth the wait, my tiger,” Khristina purred from the other room, repeating his thoughts.
Anton settled back in the bed and resigned himself to waiting patiently. It was what he did best. Being the younger brother of Viktor Petrov, he had grown used to waiting. Waiting for permission. Waiting for orders. Waiting for the all-clear. There had been a time when he was feared and respected. His violent temper was almost legendary. But when his brother took charge he had learned to keep it in check. Now his temper could have broader implications. Attacking the wrong man at the wrong time could jeopardize business deals and criminal alliances. So now he played host to drunk businessmen and waited for his brother’s orders.
But for all the waiting, he never complained. It was a life that had afforded him many luxuries. Like his penthouse apartment. And the ability to spend ludicrous amounts of money on women in order to lure them back to the penthouse apartment. Still, even though he was a Vor—the Russian equivalent of a “made man” in the Sicilian mafia—he knew everyone thought of him as a joke. He was the mladshiy brat. The little brother. But Viktor protected him. Not just because they were siblings. It was because of Anton’s loyalty. The Russian Bratva was filled with backstabbers and liars. Anton knew Viktor was the only person he could truly trust and that made him more valuable than anything else.
The sound of glass shattering startled Anton.
“What was that?” Anton yelled out.
His instinct was to check on the sound and he struggled with the bindings a little harder. They were more secure than he had originally thought.
“Just a champagne glass. I’ll clean it up.”
“Clean it later. I am growing restless.”
“You’re not being a bad boy, are you?” Khristina teased.
He could tell she had walked into the bedroom and was instantly reminded of why he was restrained. It was enough to lull him back into a state of happy and helpless lust.
“I’m just getting out a few toys for us,” she explained in a very sultry voice.
“If you need toys, I have plenty,” he said. “In the drawer by the bed. And the top shelf in the closet. Also, the top drawer of the dresser by the window.”
“Oh, I have something special in mind,” Khristina replied. “I promise you won’t be disappointed.”
She grabbed Anton’s discarded shirt from the pile of clothes on the floor and walked back into the office, clearly disgusted by her bound comrade. She had cut herself on the broken glass and used the shirt to wipe the blood from the gash on the palm of her hand. Finding a pair of scissors, she quietly cut off a portion of one of the sleeves and created a makeshift bandage that she wrapped around her hand before returning to the bookshelf and removing a blue binder.
“Come on. Where are you hiding it?” she muttered under her breath…in perfect English.
3
Anton continued to wait patiently, a million dirty thoughts dancing in his head like X-rated sugar plum fairies. Then he heard the clack of high heels walk into the room and he caught his breath in anticipation.
“Anton, we have a bit of a problem,” Khristina said matter-of-factly.
Anton was confused. For one, she didn’t sound very sexy at all. But more importantly, she wasn’t speaking Russian. In fact, it seemed to be perfect English. But the confusion soon turned into arousal and a dirty grin spread across his face.
“Ohhh. Role play,” he said in Russian before clearing his voice and speaking broken English in his heavy Russian accent. “You will not get what you look for, American scum.”
He quickly broke character to clarify the situation.
“I’m assuming you’re supposed to be an American spy or something?” he asked in Russian.
He could feel Khristina sit down on the bed next to him, but instead of a light, teasing touch, she yanked the tie that had been doubling as a blindfold off of his face. Anton squinted to focus. He was confused. Khristina wasn’t dressed as a sexy spy. In fact, she was still wearing the same dress she had on earlier.
“Where is it, Anton?” she asked again in English.
He was distracted by the bandage on Jade’s hand.
“Is that my shirt?”
She ignored him.
“The goat, Anton.”
He returned his focus to the task at hand. If she was willing to continue the role play, he was game. He answered her in his Russian-accented English.
“Right between my legs, you capitalist swine.”
Khristina shook her head.
“No,” she said impatiently. “Where’s the goat?”
More confused than ever, Anton broke character again.
“I feel like I need to know the scene to do this properly,” he said. “Maybe we just go over the basic scenario then I promise not to interrupt anymore.”
“I need the goat, Anton.”
Anton nodded, pretending to understand and resuming his character.
“Yes. And I have goat that you cannot have. So, ha-HA!”
Khristina, standing over Anton, smiled.
“Tell me where the goat is,” she demanded.
“You will never get goat. You must torture first. Possibly with what you find in drawer,” he said, motioning to the drawer of his nightstand.
Khristina shook her head and pulled a knife out from behind her back.
“I don’t think you’re taking me seriously, Anton.”
Upon seeing the knife, Anton broke character yet again.
“I think we may need a safe word.”
Khristina traced the tip of the knife down his abdomen to the hem of his boxers.
Anton was beginning to get scared. He pulled on his restrains.
“Khristina?”
“I prefer Jade,” she said.
Anton’s eyes grew wide with fear at the sound of the name. He began to wrestle against the restraints.
“Now we can do this the easy way,” the woman formerly known as Khristina said as she guided the blade further down between his legs.
“Or the hard way.”
Anton could barely breath. He could feel the sweat dripping off his forehead.
“I am so confused and so turned on right now.”
Jade straddled him and put the knife to his throat.
“We’re not playing a game, asshole,” she said. “Your brother took something that didn’t belong to him and I want it back. Now.”
Anton felt the sharp tip of the knife pressing against his skin. He saw the cold fury in Jades’s eyes. Finally, reality started to sink in and his fear started to burn into a defiant anger.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.
“You see? That’s a problem,” Jade said. “Because I don’t believe you. So just tell me where it is and I’ll be quietly on my way.”
Anton quickly glanced at his dresser without thinking then glared at his captor.
“I will tell you nothing,” he growled.
Jade smirked. “You just did.”
She crawled off of Anton and started going through the drawers of the dresser, tossing out clothes and a myriad of odd sex toys. As she looked, Anton began to twist the bedpost where his right hand was tied. After being left spread-eagle too many times by greedy prostitutes, Anton had made the four posts of his bed removable. With just a few twists, they could easily be removed from the bed so he could free himself. With Jade preoccupied by the dresser, he was able to quietly disassemble the right post. As she looked for hidden compartments, he slowly reached to
his nightstand and opened the drawer, grabbing a pistol.
But before he could lift the gun out of the drawer, he felt a sharp pain. He looked down in shock to see the knife Jade had just hurled into his chest.
4
Thirty minutes later, a jet black Jaguar F-Type sped down the M-11, one of Russia’s main highways. Maneuvering between other cars at a high speed, Jade drove calmly and in complete control. She dialed a number on her cell phone and it rang through the car’s speakers.
“You’re early,” a man said on the other end.
It was Donovan Fontaine. The wealthy French baron who had hired Jade. She had worked for him almost exclusively the last several years. Even though he had a reputation as a ruthless pirate who had no qualms getting rid of anything - or anyone - that stood in his way, his assignments were normally cut and dry and her percentage was more generous than most others.
“He didn’t have it,” Jade replied.
“Are you sure?”
“It already shipped,” Jade said coldly.
Red Dirt Blues Page 1
