Dmitry's Closet Nelson, S. (best reads TXT) 📖

purchased a few houses up and down the highway as far up as Knoxville. We’ll use them as safe houses to push the product out to the east coast safely.”

“These men. Are they going to secure the way up to Knoxville?”

“Yes,” Dmitry said calmly. “That is their singular pur-pose.”

“When?” one of the men asked, looking at the file.

“As soon they arrive, we’ll begin sending them out in shifts,” Dmitry said, walking to the door. “This group of ten that they are sending will be our newest muscle. They’re all professionals with military, drug trafficking, munitions trafficking experience. They didn’t come cheap, but New York has loaned them out to us for a while. So, go home and spend time with your families. We should not be concerned about all of this. We have capable men handling it all, and we can go home to our families and spend time with them in peace.”

Wewas a term that was never used by Dmitry. They looked up at him curiously. We? Who was we? Dmitry had no family. He had sworn when he became the boss of to uphold all codes of the Vory v Zakone ensuring purity at the highest level for the organization.

He had never so much as even hinted at a lover being a significant other. He treated women like jewelry, discarding them ona whim. Now he spoke of family? Everyone automatically thought of the beautiful black girl that he had thrown the party for the night before. Could it be the Boss Medlov had softened over the years? Had his tyrannical reign over Memphis started to come to a slow end?

They also thought of how kind he had been to their now dead friend. One bullet, no torture. Dmitry had to be in love. This was a man who would have walked into the meeting with a steak knife and cut out the man’s entrails.

However intrigued, no one dared say a word to Dmitry; to ask him about his personal life might mean that they would join their departed friend. Instead they nodded in agreement and saw him quietly out followed by his faithful henchman Anatoly. He left the room silently, almost remorseful for the loss. It was strange to see a reaction of any sort coming from a man who had never shownremorse for anything before.

As the door closed, they looked at each other with raised eyebrows but still did not utter one word. Conversa-tions would take place far from this place, far from the corpse lying before them bent over the table in a blood pool.

Chapter 9

The calming change of autumn was welcomed in Mem-phis. The city needed a break from the heat. September was a transition month, mixed with days of smoldering sun and cool breezes.

Royal had adjusted accordingly. Sale pieces were mov-ing fast and being replaced by sweaters and scarves, darker colors and more layers. Also, the clientele for Dmitry’s Closetwas starting to really pick up. Royal had over 2,000 names on her VIP list for special showings of the new diamond collection, special trunk shows and private parties. She had women coming from all over the mid-south to shop and to be seen in the newest prêt-a-porte clothing from the finest French, Russian, Italian, Chinese, English and American designers.

She even had a new billboard on Poplar Avenue that was creating a wave of new inquiries about the shop and the owner. Several local magazines had requested interviews with Dmitry, but he had deferred all media to Royal and insisted that she be the official face of the boutique.

“Royal’s been so much different since that morning she was late for work,” Renée said, hanging the new Diane von Furstenberg dresses that had arrived only hours beforeon the front display.

“I know. I’ve been watching her,” Cory said, looking out for Royal, who stepped out to grab lunch for the trio.

“I wonder what’s it’s like to try to have a relationship with a man like Dmitry?”

“Petrifying, I suppose,” Cory answered absently.

“I mean, he’s beautiful, rich, powerful and sexy. What could be bad about that?”

“Trying to figure out how he got to be so rich and po-werful.”

“What do you think it really is?” Renée asked,setting down the dress. “I think its drugs.”

“I think it’s a combination of all sorts of organized crime,” Cory said,checking his hair in the mirror.

“Do you think that she knows what he really does?”

“No.” Cory turned to her. “But we should tell her. Don’t you think? I mean, we’re supposed to be her friends for goodness sake.” His southern accent came out more when he tried to be so flamboyantly gay.

“How in the hell do you broach a subject like that?” Renée huffed. “This woman is still our boss and our friend. What are you trying to do…hurt her?”

“Save her,” Cory said, over emphasizing the “s” sound. “Royal’s a great girl. It’d be a damned shame to watch her go up in the smoke of Dmitry’s fire.”

“It’d be a shame to watch us walked out the front door of this place if we crossed the line with her too.”

“Royal would never fire us,” Cory said sternly.

“Get real. She’d make one comment to Dmitry, and we’d both be gone.”

“You think she’d talk to Dmitry about something that we’ve said to her?”

“Of course. You white boys are so freaking territorial; as soon as she said something he’d give us the boot.”

Cory ignored her snide remark. “He does look territori-al.”

“All of you do.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re one of those black women who think all white men look alike.”

“I know that they all don’t look alike. You don’t look at damn thing like Dmitry. He’s sort of dreamy, while you’re sort of… I don’t know. Peculiar. You could be cute if you wanted to, but the jeans are so tight, I can’t focus on your face.”

“Dreamy, huh? No, I don’t get that from him. He seems, dark and sadistic to me. Maybe it’s the creepy bodyguards, the obscene amounts of money he spends