“No need to thank anyone,” Royal said, sitting her down on the bed. “I think that to keep them from going straight to hell, Dmitry and the boys have to do one good deed a year. It’s written in blood somewhere.”
They both laughed, breaking the tension.
“Are your children alright?” Royal asked, looking towards the door that led to their room. “Where they injured in anyway? If so, I can call a doctor and have him look them over. It won’t be any trouble.”
“Physically, they are alright, but emotionally, there is going to be a lot of work to be done to help them heal after this,” Ivy said, wiping her face. “The most traumatic thing that ever happened to them before this was seeing their old dog, Henry, have a heat stroke.” She was grateful for that fact at the moment.
“Just be there for them as much as possible. I have three children. One little girl and two twin baby boys. My oldest recently went through a very traumatic event that we are still helping her cope with. There are nightmares - terrible ones. Then the mood swings can be a bit much. I can tell you from experience that no one is ever the same after you dangle their lives in front of them. I don’t care if it’s a child or an adult. But reassurance goes a long way.” Royal stopped herself, feeling that she had said too much. It was always hard to deal with outsiders. She was never sure of what to say or how to say it.
“Can I ask you a question?” Ivy knitted her fingers together.
Royal thought that she had been answering her questions. “Yes,” she answered hesitantly.
“Has my husband been working for your husband?” Ivy’s voice trembled.
Royal shrugged. “Who’s to say? A lot of men work for my husband.”
“A lot of men aren’t cops,” Ivy replied. Her disappointment showed. “He’s a good man.” She tried to wrap her mind around what she suspected. “Everything that I’ve ever known of him has been good. But if we’re here…”
Royal stopped her with a raised hand. Her diamond ring sparkled across the room. “I want to help you. I really do, but my husband’s business is just that. His. I can’t nor do I try to control it. If you feel in your heart that your husband is a good man, then no one should be able to tell you any different. And he must care, otherwise, he wouldn’t be here doing whatever he’s doing to keep you safe.”
Ivy needed more of an explanation than that, but she could tell that she wouldn’t get it from Royal. “I appreciate that.” Giving up on the subject, she clutched the clothes in her hand. “I better go and get dressed.”
“Get some rest,” Royal said, standing up as well. “I’m sure they will send Agosto up before long. And in the morning, please consider having breakfast with me and my family. I’m sure that being around them will put to rest any worries that you might have. We’re not monsters. Just people, just like you.”
Ivy truly doubted that but did not lead on. “I’d be honored to,” she said, standing at the doorway of the restroom. “For what’s it’s worth, I’m glad that you’re alive.”
“Thank you,” Royal said with a smile. “I’m glad that we’re both here instead of the alternative.”
Walking out of the room, Royal closed the door behind her. Quietly, she made her way down the hall, a guard waiting on her as she got to the stairway. On the way down, she saw Nicola coming up.
Exhausted and still in the same soiled clothes that he arrived in, he still was courteous enough to step to the side and bow his head slightly. “Mrs. Medlov,” he said, face unreadable. The smell of alcohol permeated from his skin. Bags swelled under his tired brown eyes and his stubbly, five o’clock shadow raised above his square jaw. But even his dishevelment, he still was a picture of raw beauty.
Royal stopped a step above him. “How are you?” she asked, voice low.
Twisting up his wide mouth, he bit his lip. “I could be better.” Then he shrugged at a thought. “I could be worse.”
“Your wife is very sweet,” she said with a smile. “Make sure to tend to her carefully.”
“You don’t have to worry about that.” He saw her eyes run down to his hand, clasping the bottle he had taken from the solarium.
“I’m glad that you all are alright. Do have a good night,” she said, turning to her bodyguard. “Get him some fresh clothes and bring them up.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Nicola interrupted.
“Do it,” Royal said abruptly. Her demeanor changed quickly. Remembering herself, she relaxed her shoulders and smiled. “Now, please.” Her voice was softer with the last bit but not any less of an order.
The bodyguard nodded but did not speak. The unease in his face was evident. Standing behind her, he pushed on the earpiece in his ear and spoke in Russian.
Nicola smirked. “I see that you’ve managed to acclimate to your husband’s way of doing things.”
Royal didn’t smile now. “It’s the only way to do things, Mr. Agosto. A bit of advice. You might want to as well. These waters are a lot harder to negotiate than you’re used to.”
Nicola didn’t speak. Rolling his neck, he took a swig straight from the bottle. “Thanks for the advice,” he said, acutely aware of her meaning.
“We’ll see you tomorrow. Do try and get some rest. I’m sure that you need it,” Royal said, suddenly stoic and rigid. Stepping down past him, she slipped her hands into her pockets and headed quietly to the other side of her large house, bodyguard in tow. One would have thought that the man wasn’t there behind her looming like a dark shadow. It took years of practice for such a thing not to bother a person. It took years of being watched and followed so often that one just learned to ignore it, to appreciate it, to count on it. And what time of enemies lurked outside to call for such a thing. The answer was sobering.
Nicola watched her as she went on her way and thought back to when she was just a young, clueless shop girl completely inept and over her pretty, little head. Now, she was regal, in-control and confident in her more-than-distinguished position. Other women in the underworld wanted to be her. They probably mimicked themselves after her. Bosses sought out women who looked like her just so they could be more like her husband.
And she did not flinch in the limelight. It was as if she barely noticed it.
He imagined that it was due to years of seeing more than her share of a world that just as dark as it was powerful. Every luxury afforded her was paid with the life of someone else, and she had learned to accept that fact.
In truth, he didn’t want to see his wife lose her innocence that way. Royal, while extremely beautiful, was jaded now - a shell of the woman that she could have been had she not been introduced to a life where crime was a constant. Yet, even in the depths of her underworld existence, she still was safer than his wife. Her children were safer than his. The man following behind Royal and the many others strategically placed around her palatial home with fully-automatic weapons and till-death loyalty ensured that because of her name, she would always be protected, always be made to walk above the blood, bones and bodies of her husband’s victims, so that she’d never have to feel the reality of who he really was.
It was that protection that he sought. It was that assurance that he needed. It was security that he was about to trade his entire life for…and it was worth it.
Headed up the stairs, he slowly came to grips with his new life. Whatever he was before this, he was no longer. All justifications for honor had gone. There was only one reality and that was that he had to keep his family safe.
Knocking on the door, he waited.
Ivy answered quickly. Changed into clean clothes and bathed, she looked more relaxed. The frantic worry in her eyes had gone. Lighting up when she saw his face, she wrapped her arms around him and held him tight, as if she had not seen him just thirty minutes before.
“Are you okay? I was worried,” she said, pulling him into the room.
She was worried about him. After she was ostracized in the community she had worked her ass off to help, after she was fired from the
job that she had worked in since college to become a partner, after she was shot at, house burned and children nearly murdered, she was still worried about him.
He closed the door and cupped her face in his large, dirty hands. “Baby,” was the only word that he could muster before he found her lips and kissed her gently. The taste of her warm mouth was always its own sweet medicine for him. He relished in it, one slow evolution at a time. Picking her up off the floor, he carried her to the bed and laid her down on the softness of the pillows Rubbing his hands through her hair, he nuzzled his nose in the smell of it, let his fingers run through its silkiness.
Her eyes closed tight as she melted into him. Pushing his shirt up, she snatched it off his body and raked her nails over the stubble on his chest. Exasperated, she opened her legs as he pushed down in between them. A thick, engorged erection waited on her, pushing through his shorts, begging to be satisfied.
Nicola pulled her shirt up and bent to kiss her slightly bulging stomach. The roundness of it was so perfect and brown. Thank God that there were no bruises, no harm to his growing child. I’ll keep you safe, he thought to himself. Placing his mouth over her belly button, he slowly caressed her before he helped her out of the clothes that she had just put on. Her perfect brown tips of her aching, rigid nipples pressed against his hot skin. The smell of smoke and sweat still lingered on his skin. Paying no mind, she kissed his neck and sucked on the lobe of his ear.
He growled, slipping a digit in between her thighs, happy to find her moist. The sudden penetration made her back arch.
“Nicky,” she whispered.
“I love you,” he said, kissing her breasts. Holding one in his hand, he carefully and softly massaged her. “I love you so much, baby. I’ll do anything to protect you.”
Ivy rubbed a hand through his hair and felt tears on his breasts. He buried his head there in the fullness of her bosom as he fondled her.
“I know,” she said, pulling his head to see his face. She nodded at him. “And I’m so grateful for it.”
“Grateful,” he frowned. “Oh, baby, you deserve so much more.” Tears flowed down his cheeks. The pain swelled up in his chest, making it hard to speak. “I’ve never in my entire life known anyone more deserving of a good life. You just don’t know how special you are…how wonderful you are. You and my children are my world. I don’t exist without you.” He kissed her again, this time deeper. “I don’t exist…” he whispered in a raspy voice.
Ivy pulled down his shorts quickly. The feel of him lying on top of her so close that she could feel his heartbeat soothed her. “Let me make you feel better,” she said, crying as well. “It’s the only thing I know to do right now. It’s all that I have to offer, but let me. Please let me.”
Her hands glided over his muscular back, down the valley of ripples and his dark, tan olive skin. Cupping his buttocks, she felt him push inside of her. He was trembling as he entered. Raising up on his knees, he rested his upper body on his elbows to look at her. Grabbing her thigh, he pushed deeper and let out a moan. Eyes closing, he rested his head in the curve of her neck.
His wife. His beautiful, loving wife. She was still here, still his even after all that they had gone through. He was blessed, not lucky.
“Can you feel me?” she asked, holding him tight.
“Yes,” he answered quickly, flexing his powerful hips. “All of you.” He moved slowly in and out of her, forgetting the world around him for just a moment. The heady mix of love and sorrow fills the room, and they are now one just as they had been many times before. His breath is ragged and voice harsh as he feels himself grown harder inside of her. The silky feel of her body closing around him is intoxicating, paralyzing. Unable to escape the ecstasy of her touch, he realizes that he is as much hers as she is his, and that fact is the only thing that heals the gaping wound in his bleeding heart. All he had ever wanted was this woman, this temple, this joy. And as long as he had her, he could survive anything.
“This will always be your home. Not some building or some geographic location on a map,” she said into his ear. Sinking her nails into his skin, she stole his attention. “Right here, in me. For as long as I have breath, this is your home, Nicola. No where else and with no one else on this earth.”
His large, naked body covered hers completely, but it was her body that hid him from all that mattered. “For better or worse until death does us part, so help me God,” he said, raising his head to look at her. His hazel-brown eyes burned through her with a passion that she hadn’t seen in years.
“Till death do us part. So help us God,” Ivy said, raising her plump lips to his wet mouth.
While still connected in the darkness with only the fireplace to illuminate their illicit actions, they kissed slowly like the first time that they had met many years ago on the couch of his good friend’s house, when she was just a college girl and he was just a young, lost man. He kissed her until the room began to spin around him and the sound of her moans took over like a hypnotizing melody. His kissed her until her tongue was woven around his own, and he could taste the sweetness of her words and the truth of her promises.
***
What was left of the burned down structure of the Agosto’s formerly historic home was being hosed down with gallons upon gallons of water by the Memphis Fire Department. A sea of blue lights lit up the area. Police swarmed the neighborhood, interviewing scared neighbors who told terrifying stories of a shoot-out only meant for large-scale Hollywood productions. Cops walked the area with dogs and flashlights. News reporters stood on the perimeter in clear view of the crime scene reporting on the missing or dead family that lived inside. They connected without verification of the police department the slew of murders, bombings, and drive-by shootings that had taken place all over the city that night back to the Baby Boys case.
Suddenly, the question was raised about Sgt. Agosto’s innocence. Had he truly been wrong in his attack on the dead DeMario Washington or was Ivy’s profession of his innocence and her assertion that bad people plotting on them true? In the late hours of the night, as ambulances picked up dead bodies, the public opinion began to sway.
Ivy’s interview promo was aired every break with people logging on to their computers to discuss the case on their social media outlets, while others called into the radio stations.
Ivy’s parent stood outside the house crying and demanding answers with their friends who had rushed to the scene as soon as they had heard the news. The Security Squad that had snatched away Agosto’s badge and gun combed the area, while other detectives from several special investigative units took as much evidence as they could find. Stepping over hundreds of shells out on the lawn, crime scene investigators quartered off large areas to start to find clues.
Getting out of his unmarked squad car in the middle of the fiasco, Director Amway headed toward the house dressed in his uniform. Immediately, reporters ran his way, but officers blocked them from passing as cameras flashed and followed him, screaming out for a statement.
“Director! Director!” They all shouted. “What does the Memphis Police Department have to say about the string of murders and bombings? What happened to Nicola Agosto? Was his family murdered? What is the Memphis Police Department going to do?”
He covered his face from the flashing lights and stayed behind the crime scene line. Uninterested in speaking with the media, he let his public information officer take the lead, blocking the media from getting a direct quote from her boss.
A large huddle of officers in uniform and SWAT gear waited on him. Director Magnelli was in the middle of the huddle, giving orders and sending out squad cars to look for any possible signs of the Agosto family.
“Where are we?” Amway said, as the officers moved out of his way. He looked over at Magnelli in surprise. “What are you doing here? You should be with your wife?”
“A lot of good that will do,” Magnelli said, eyes red from crying over his dead daughter. He looked like death warmed over in a p
air of jeans and MPD t-shirt with worn leather loafers. “We need to find whoever is responsible for this, and I can’t help at the fucking morgue.”
“I’m with you,” Amway said, not pushing the issue. “I’m sorry for your loss. I really am. We’ve got several cars on your house. No one will get to your wife or any other member of your family. We’re looking for your son right now.”
“I saw that. I appreciate it,” Magnelli said, shining the light on the map of the area. “We have officers saturating the area. We’ve called in those who are off duty. Investigators are out knocking on doors. Everyone is on full-alert. Johnson is in the hospital being treated for his burns and cuts. Steele is dressed and on the streets with a few guys. Ferris is under protective custody.”
“Good.” Amway clapped his hands together. “Alright men. I want confirmation of who is in that house. Agosto had four kids and a wife. If they are dead, I want to know. If they are gone, I want to know where they are. Put a cop on every corner if you have to. Activate all cameras. Find out how useful the Blue Crush system is. Since it’s open season on us, we’re going to return the favor. Pick up any motherfucker that remotely looks at you wrong. I want every lead followed-up on and every stone turned over. I don't care if we have to fill the jail to capacity, we’ll borrow space at the penitentiary. This shit ends now. We need answers, and we need them tonight. Let’s send a message that this town still belongs to us.”
29
Early morning crept through the heavily curtained windows of the bedroom where Nicola and Ivy lay asleep. The fireplace was still on and the silence of the room was peaceful and serene. Their boys were crowded around them, hugging them tightly, safely curled under their parents unharmed and out of danger.
Rolling over, Nicola’s eyes popped open to the sound of gunshot ringing in his ears. Jumping up in a cold sweat, he reached for a weapon, but there was none. Suddenly, he realized the gunshot was actually a knock at the door. He looked over at his family, resting and let out a deep breath. Just a nightmare. Calming his beating heart, he pulled himself to the end of the bed and pushed his feet down into the carpet and walked to the door.
The World in Reverse Page 32
