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

the Peabody only weeks ago. They know something and they must be close to producing evidence.”

“How can we be sure that they are not his?”

“They are not.” Ivan snapped. He would not give away his sources. “All of us are being watched. Maybe even now. I’m sure that New York would want to end the investigation here and not allow it to end up at their front door. This is how we will couch our ambush to them when they become concerned about their white knight.”

“So how do you suggest we give him over? His lawyers will find a way to have him out by night fall should the police, federal or local, pick him up. Plus, he has moles.”

“I’ve set up shop in quite a few places since I’ve been here. But I made one house very special. It’s full of under aged girls, prostituted out for the most depraved sex possible.” He licked his lips and grinned like a chess cat. Many of the girls at the house had been used for his own pleasure on tortured nights when he would visit. “It’s a cash cow, and the house is in Dmitry’s name. No one knows about it. The girls are drugged day and night. The oldest of them is only seventeen. All we need to do is somehow turn this information over to the cops. He’ll be faced with hard time. That will give us time to shut down his other operations and set up our own.”

“So what are you waiting for?” Max asked. “If this is all that we need to do.”

“I am waiting for the right time. When he returns, we’ll set it up. I’ll need your help for that.”

“If that doesn’t work?” Nicolai asked. “After all, it is his house. We cannot be sure that he doesn’t already know that it’s there. You underestimate your brother and you definitely underestimate the reach of the Vor…”

“If all else fails, we kill him.” Ivan said, rolling his eyes. “No elaborate plan. We just fucking kill him.”

“Just kill him?” Nicolai laughed. “How many have tried that? Numerous men. They are all dead. And I am not talking about good deaths. Their body parts are all over this city.”

“I am his brother. His blood. If there is a man who knows how to get to him, I do. Plus, he and I have an unsettled score.” Ivan took a shot of vodka and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Don’t shit your pants, ladies. I don’t need your help for this. I do it myself, but when I do it, I take his place, his house, his life. I have given you three plans that can go on simultaneously. One of them will work.”

“Okay. What for us if you succeed…same percentage? Still there is no reason yet for us to consider joining with you.” Nicolai didn’t want to change one dictator for another. It was fruitless.

“More. A lot more. There will be less of us to deal with. If I kill him, you kill the remaining council. That shouldn’t be too hard to do, considering that they hold on to his every word. They won’t know what to do without him. We will usher in a new era for the Medlov family – one where we make all the money.” He looked around. His hooded dark eyes gazed over them. “Agreed?”

“Agreed,” the men said, looking at each other.

“Good,” Ivan chucked. He raised his drink and toasted the men, mocking them inwardly. They were backstabbing, disloyal servants who had no right to be called Vory v Zakone. He would make them paybut not before Dmitry. It was all that he could think of anymore.

He had waited for his big brother to rise just to make his fall harder. The fury showed on his stone face. He looked off in the distance, thinking of his own wife and her bloody, limp body.

Dmitry deserved death, but it would not just be enough for him to suffer. His brother’s sins would be revisited upon Royal also. Ivan ached to have her. The revenge would not be complete until he had ravaged her sweet little body in such a way that it would kill Dmitry dead without the use of a weapon.

Chapter 20

Two weeks had passed quickly. This was the last night that Royal would spend in Moscow. Her trip had been the most surreal experience of her existence. Dmitry had finally done as he promised and taken her on a grand private tour of the Red Square, the Kremlin, the Cathedrals, downtown Moscow, great five-star restaurants for fine cuisine, shopping sprees at the best boutiques, a walk in the snow-filled park, and he had topped the vacation off by sending her to a real fashion show.

Gostiny Dvor’s atrium was packed the night before New Year’s Eve. The 18thcentury architectural gem was filled with fashion aficionados speaking many different languages all at the same time. They huddled together in their packs, smiling, laughing and networking. People wore high fashion by designers that she knew well and some that she had never heard of before.

Waiters and waitresses bounced around the room with food and champagne; a live ban played a hip, Russia techno tune. And Royal had a natural high from simply being there. She tried desperately not to look like a deer in headlights. She only spoke English. Many of the people in the room spoke many languages and had a lot more to talk about than Memphis.

The notion was overwhelming to her that somehow even in all of her glamorized clothing, she was poorest woman ofculture in the room. However, at that moment, she did not care. She was just excited to be there.

Her black cocktail bag rattled on her arm. It was her cell phone. Reaching into her purse, she was grateful to see that it was Dmitry taking time to give her a call.

“Hello.” She moved to the corner to hear him better.

“How is you