Everything in Life Comes Full-Circle
T his last week had been the absolute best of Anatoly’s life. After genuinely opening up to Renee for the first time, it seemed that all the weight of his transgressions had been lifted, and he was allowed to just be himself. Renee, in turn, had been in the best mood as well. They had talked until dawn nearly every night, telling each other nearly everything, joking and kidding, sharing and crying. The result had been the mystical ability to move forward as a family. Now, they both had hope and a better respect for each other.
Anatoly had done as he had promised. A day after their mutual melt down, he had moved them to a rented property on the exclusive little enclave of Star Island that their lawyer and realtor was now haggling with the owners to purchase.
“You look great,” Renee said as Anatoly emerged from their bathroom.
She was sitting on the bed brushing through Alexandria’s hair and watching the news.
She had been following the hurricane in fear that they might be hit, but thankfully it had changed course. Unfortunately for those in its path, it was currently tearing up the East Coast instead of Miami-Dade. She’d have to cut a check to donate to their recovery efforts.
“Thank you.” Anatoly winked at her. She looked tempting in her little pink pajamas. After he got home tonight, he’d make sure to take them off and spend some more time in bed with her.
“Are you sure that you don’t want to go with me?” he asked one last time.
Renee shrugged. It was a nice gesture, but not very timely. “Clubs aren’t my thing. Plus, anything could happen in one of those places. I can’t risk it with the baby.”
Alexandria grinned sheepishly. “Mommy is going to get huge,” she taunted. “And I’m going to be a big sister.”
“Yes, you are. That’s a big responsibility,” Anatoly said, proud that his daughter was so happy with their new addition. “Are you ready?”
“I’m always ready,” Alexandria said as her mother moved her head to part her hair and make another ponytail.
Tonight was the big party at The Tide, and he had good news to give to Anil. The DNA test came back verifying what they already knew. He was a Medlov. After this, Anatoly knew that things would change for his little brother. Life would be a series of good experiences instead of struggling to get by, and his mother had already been placed in one of the best care facilities in the city, so that would no longer be an issue.
He walked up to the mirror in the corner and looked at himself. What could he say? There was never a reason to put on a suit. This was the best he could do. In dark denim jeans that covered black boots and a gray T-shirt, he was about as dressed up as he could manage.
Instead of wearing his normal man-bun, he let his blonde hair down and trimmed up his burly beard.
“Nervous?” Renee asked.
“No.” Anatoly turned around. “Just anxious to get over with it.” Truthfully, he was a little nervous and excited to see his baby brother again. He liked Anil and his ability not to take himself too seriously.
“You’ll do fine,” Renee assured.
“Nothing for me to do, so I’m sure I will.” He kissed the top of both Renee and Alexandria’s head and headed downstairs were his men were ready to take him to The Tide.
***
Anastaysia crawled out of the back of the black Hummer limousine that they were all packed inside like sardines and straightened her shimmery silver dress. They were supposed to be on their best behavior tonight, servicing clients and making Ryan Colt look good. She’d do her best. This was the first time since she had arrived in Miami that she’d been allowed out of the mansion. Smelling the fresh air and being around people felt good – even a bit normal.
“Follow me, ladies,” Ryan ordered from the sidewalk. He was in one of his moods today. During the long lecture at the house, he had threatened their lives if they didn’t perform. “I want you smiling, pleasing and fucking tonight. Don’t make the clients unhappy. If you do, I’ll personally see to it that you don’t walk for a week, because I’ll impale you on this fucking broom.” He threw the broom in his hand down on the floor in front of them to make his point.
No one was going to test him. They had overheard his discussion with the guards expressing how important this gig was for their business. To try to push him at this event could literally cost them their lives.
The bouncer outside the club, guarding the red velvet rope of people lined up down the street, opened the door for Ryan and let him and his entourage inside.
Inside the club, the lights were dim, making it hard to see the person in front of her, but Anastaysia followed carefully, trying to focus over the roar of the jam-packed crowd. The music blasted in her ears, people screamed and laughed wearing everything from designer dresses to showgirl costumes; the DJ played Skrillex, and strobe lights danced across the large dance floor. On one of the long, bare walls, a projector played music videos and the other flashed real-time pictures of the crowd.
“Hey, baby, you want to dance?” a drunk man screamed, pulling at Anastaysia.
She smiled congenially, but pulled away, making sure not to get separated from the group.
They were led to a dressing room in the back where the guard, Clover, locked the door behind them and stood in front of it.
Ryan, in rather a good mood now that they had arrived, stood up on a chair and addressed his ladies like a coach before a football game. Pulling at his tailored black suit, he gave a toothy, arrogant smile.
“I know what you’re thinking. Many of you have not seen the outside world in a long time. Some of you are just excited. Some of you are trying to figure out if this is your opportunity to simply disappear into the crowd and find your way back home.” He shook his head and put up his index finger in protest. “Don’t get any ideas. All of you are required to wear the bracelet that Clover is going to attach to your wrist. It monitors your heartbeat. If you remove it, once Clover put it on, it will alert me, and then I will find you. Once I find you, I will broom you.” He smiled devilishly. “Don’t disappoint me ladies. Pinch those nipples, put some condoms in your purse and follow our guards up to the VIP lounge to entertain our guests. If you do a good job, I’ll reward you with something special tomorrow.”
He jumped down off the chair and straightened his suit again, while Clover attached the bracelets to each woman.
When they were all wired for sound and ready to head out, the door opened and they headed upstairs to the exclusive VIP section. There was a giant of a bouncer waiting for them. He removed the red velvet rope and allowed them to pass through to the hungry rich men waiting.
Anastaysia was one of the last to go through the guarded entry. She locked eyes with the giant bouncer and noticed his warm smile as she approached. He seemed very kind, despite all of the vultures circling tonight.
“Welcome to The Tide,” Anil said to her as he snapped the latch closed.
To Anil, the long-legged blonde looked out of place. Her body looked amazing in that dress, but her eyes said this wasn’t her speed.
“Spasiba,” Anastaysia answered with a grin. She stepped away from him, but not quick enough.
Ryan whirled her around like he was about to dance with her and then yanked him into her. His voice hissed in her ear above the music. “Hey, you’re not here for him,” Ryan said, turning her head toward the men who waited anxiously. “You’re here for them.”
She looked around the upstairs space, several black sectional sofas, pub tables and chairs, a large television, and filled with men and women who appeared a lot happier than she was.
“Go fuck someone who matters,” he bit out, pinching her nipple between his thumb and finger.
Wishing him death, she looked up into his eyes, hers beginning to water, and nodded with a weak smile. Her bottom lipped quivered at the pain he inflicted. Breathing through it, she answered him. “Okay. I’ll have fun,” she said, hoping she hadn’t pissed him off. He has stolen everything from her, but she refused to give him control over her emotions as well.
Ryan let her go, afraid the erection she had just given him would show. “Little Sasha, you vex me.” He looked around to make sure no one had caught on to what he was doing. “Go have fun. Make daddy some fucking money,” he smiled, looking her up and down.
Anastaysia was a prize. She brought in serious money from his fetish crowd and never complained – no matter how grotesque the request. However, it was her absolute disgust with her new profession that brought him so much carnal pleasure. Damn, he loved the unwilling.
Ripping a woman’s innocence and dignity from her was like winning the lottery. There was such a rush when they cried. Such a cloud of pleasure when they were scared out of their minds. The more they fought, the better it was. He had witnessed her pain a hundred times, which only fueled his fire for her. Just last night, he had stormed into their sleeping quarters and made her go down on her bunk mate while he beat both of them with his belt - careful however, not to leave a mark on the places anyone could see. The other girl had cried so loudly, he was forced to choke her out. However, Anastaysia never cried out.
Last week, he did something so unspeakable to her, even he didn’t utter it after. Her tears streamed down her face as he left her in a puddle of her own making, but still she never begged him to stop. Pain brought him the best kind of pleasure. Her pain brought him to climax like no one else but Eddy could.
When whomever was done with her tonight, he’d fuck Anastaysia himself tomorrow and do it in the mirror, so she’d have to watch.
Thinking about her now as he watched her meander over in her silver skin-tight dress and matching stiletto heels, to greet a man sitting on the sofa drinking a cocktail, he almost rubbed himself in public. Like a good little worker, Anastaysia leaned in as the older man whispered something in her ear and pointed toward one of the private lounges attached to the upstairs space. She nodded back in agreement and held his drink as he pushed himself up and led her away.
***
Anatoly hated dance clubs. He owned a few. One in Amsterdam. One in Prague. They were profitable investments. But he never found a reason to just go to one other than for a meeting or to collect money. He could drink at home, where the room was quiet and the people were few. He could listen to music on his iPhone, and there was never a reason to hook up with some random girl. So, going to a loud, noisy box of place to get hammered and meet some see-through bimbo was not very appealing. Maybe he was getting old, but he didn’t really want to be here tonight.
His Range Rover pulled up to the front doors of the club. The one in front of him and behind him also stopped. They all stepped out, eyes glued to them as they secured the sidewalk for their boss, and escorted Anatoly to the front door.
The bouncer already had the door opened. Stepping to the side, he watched on as the men moved past him, setting off the metal detector with entry.
As soon as Anatoly walked inside of the night club, he wanted to turn around and walk out. This fucking place was a joke. Half-naked women bounced around trying to get as much attention as possible, while the guys made a complete fool of themselves on the dance floor, but the drug dealers were making a killing. He spotted at least five hands-exchanges, just trying to get through the front of the crowd to back where his brother was waiting.
“You want a drink, Boss?” one of the guards asked as he leaned over to Anatoly’s hear.
Anatoly waved him off. “Just get me to the VIP area,” he said, rolling his eyes at a group of girls who pulled their shirts up to expose their breasts at him. He was glad in that moment that Renee wasn’t here. She would have lost her shit.
When they got to the top of the stairs of the VIP section, Anil was waiting. As soon as he saw his brother, he lit up with excitement. He quickly unlocked the velvet rope and let Anatoly and his men in. “Hey, I didn’t think you were coming.”
“Sorry, I’m late,” Anatoly apologized. “Did I miss everything?” He hoped that he had.
“No, Klenchvenko just got here. He’s over there in the corner with his promoter and some girls.”
Anatoly glanced over in the corner and saw Klenchvenko, dressed to the nines in a tailored suit and drinking champagne with about six blondes. He turned back to his brother. “I’m sure we can talk later, but I wanted to let you know the test results came back.”
Anil nodded. “Well, what did it say?”
Anatoly smirked. “I’m sorry to inform you, but you’re a Medlov.”
Anil laughed. “That’s great news. I’m glad actually.” He spied his boss looking at him talking to the guest for a longer than normal period of time, but he turned his back to him and ignored him.
“How’s your mother? Is that place what you wanted?”
“It’s everything, man. Thank you, again.” Anil offered his hand.
Anatoly shook it and hit him on his arm. “We’ve got a lot to discuss. My father…our father wants to connect with you and make arrangements to come down next week. That sound good to you?”
“I’d love it. Yeah. Whenever he gets here, I’m ready, man.” Anil’s heart raced. He had been researching Dmitry Medlov since Anatoly visited him. There were hundreds of articles and blogs. All of them touted him as the Underworld Czar and Anatoly as the Underworld prince. It was all so exciting and intriguing. Now, the idea that the man himself was coming to Miami to see him was almost surreal.
“Good. Good. We’ll talk later. For now, let me go over here and talk to this guy,” Anatoly said, nodding at Klenchvenko.
The Klenchvenko entourage was large and in charge. A gaggle of bodyguards, women, trainers and celebrities had made their way over to the VIP of the VIP section to mingle with the defunct heavyweight champion, especially since the announcement had just come out that day that a rematch was in the works.
But the man himself, however dotted upon he was by spectators, was still a very humble human being. As soon as he spotted Anatoly, nearly 50 feet away in the over-crowded space, he stood up from his perch and made his way across the room.
“Dobro pozhalovat' na vecherinku!” Klenchvenko greeted with open arms. He grabbed Anatoly up in a bear hug. “What are you doing here, my friend?”
“Came to see someone,” Anatoly said, noticing the boxer’s face had started to heal up nicely. “This is a good way to announce the new fight.”
“It was already planned according to my agent,” Klenchvenko said, swiping a bottle of champagne off the passing waitress’s tray. “Bring another. This one is for my friend.”
Anatoly hated to break it to Igor, but he didn’t drink champagne. “I’m more of a vodka man.”
“Then this one is all mine.” He winked at the waitress. “Listen, sweetheart, can you bring a bottle of vodka for my friend? Top shelf, none of the cheap shit.”
She nodded and hurried off while Igor walked Anatoly over to his section. “So how long are you going to be in Miami now that we aren’t going to be pummeled by the mother of all hurricanes?”
“I’ve got a place here over on Star Island. So, I’m not sure. But there is another hurricane coming right behind this one. They are thinking it will definitely hit us, so I’ll be gone before then.”
“Dodge the bullet, eh?” They sat down on the sofa, and upon seeing the men who followed Anatoly, the other people moved out of the way to give them some privacy.
Igor crossed his long legs and pushed back in the comfort of the sectional. “My father is doing amazing these days. This is because of you. For the first time in many years, he’s writing again.” His father had been a journalist and poet before he was thrown in the gulags. He remembered a time when all the man did was sit behind a typewriter. It was good to see him working toward being happy again.
“No. You saved your father. Not me.” When Anatoly had told Igor the night of the fight not to mention what he had done for his father, he meant it. Talking in a room full of people wasn’t exactly smart.
“Well, I want to do something for you. This place is much too loud, but I have a yacht docked not too far from here. Before you leave, I want to take you and your friends or family out for a ride and dinner. It’s a show of my appreciation for you.”
***
Ryan was at the bartending station working his magic on the girls. He not only wanted his men to have a good time, he wanted them to have a damn good time. And whores and drugs went together like peas and carrots. However, none of the men wanted to be seen procuring the drugs themselves, so again his services were needed.
“Just drop it down in there. It will dissolve before she can make it upstairs with the tray,” Ryan urged the young female bartender, Rebecca, who was filling the VIP drink orders. He tried to apply just enough charm as to not seem aggressive.
The brown-haired girl moved quickly to fix a martini. Filling the shaker with ice, she glanced around the bar to see if anyone was watching. “I don’t know,” she said hesitantly. “What if it went to the wrong person?” Adding vodka and vermouth to the container, she picked it up and shook it fast. Pouring the contents into a martini glass and adding a garnish, she walked it over to the man waiting a few seats down and took his money. When she came back, Ryan continued his pestering.
“It won’t go to the wrong person,” Ryan assured, carefully hiding his frustration. They were wasting time. He pushed his arm across the bar and slipped her the pill. “Put it in the vodka. It’s going to one of the private lounges, to Hufstedler. He’s a big fat guy, gray hair, in a suit, owns half the fucking football team here. He already told me what he wants. This little pick-me-up makes the Viagra last longer and gives him a nice psychedelic trip. The guy is expecting it, okay. I wouldn’t want to let him down – no pun intended.”
The girl took the pills and sighed. A football team owner was a heavy hitter. If Ryan was starting to have those kinds of clients, she might be able to up her fee in the very near future. While she had done it a thousand times for him at the other club she worked for, this was The Tide. It was supposed to be the new holy grail of night clubs. If she got fired here, she couldn’t get work anywhere.
Her finger pointed at him. “You better make it worth my while, Ryan. I could get fired for this, and I need this job.”
You could get imprisoned for this, he thought to himself. “Don’t I always take care of you, Rebecca?” he asked. “We’re friends. You can trust me.” All lies, but worth saying at the moment.
“Okay. I guess.” Dropping the pill in the bottle of vodka, she handed it off to the unsuspecting waitress waiting down at the end of the bar for her order. Rebecca raised her voice so that the waitress could hear her. “This goes to Hufstedler in the private lounge! It’s his! No one else’s!”
“Yeah, I got it!” The waitress screamed over the crowd as she grabbed another bottle of vodka for her trip. Her feet were aching and her head was pounding, making it very hard to be suspicious.
“Don’t forget,” Rebecca urged one last time.
“Geeze, Becca. I won’t,” the waitress said, walking away.
Rebecca walked back over to Ryan and smirked. “It’s done,” she said, making it clear that he was in her debt.
Pushing up on the polished bar, Ryan gave Rebecca a kiss on the cheek. He gave a wolfish smile. “You’re the best. Stop by the club tomorrow and pick up your cut.”
She glanced over at him as she polished a glass with her cloth. “Oh, you know I will.”
***
While the VIP section on the second floor was much quieter than downstairs where the common people were partying the night away, it still was incredibly loud and extremely crowded upstairs. The base from the house music vibrated in Anatoly’s chest like a tribal drum as he sat quietly in the back of the room with Klenchvenko, watching all the people as they moved about, proud in their importance, laughing and taking selfies, dancing and drinking.
One would have easily thought that Klenchvenko had won the recent fighting match instead of lost it. It was consoling to Anatoly on many levels, knowing what a kind man Igor appeared to be in person.
But just as the crowd watched every move Klenchvenko made, they too watched Anatoly. His mysterious allure caught the eye over every available and unavailable woman. Who was the handsome, blonde man who seemed so close to the former champ? Was he true to the wedding ring he wore on his hand? They raised their brows and drinks to him, tried to wave him over so that they speak with him, but Anatoly stayed put.
While beautiful, the women did not impress Anatoly in the least. He had only one desire tonight – to go home to his wife and child after speaking with Anil a little longer when his shift ended. Still, he tried not to be a stick in the mud. He smiled occasionally, shook hands with people as they presented themselves to Klenchvenko and held idle conversation.
“You know what I mean, right?” Klenchvenko asked, hitting Anatoly’s arm as he chuckled.
“Right,” Anatoly answered, completely clueless as to what Igor was talking about.
Klenchvenko was like a king holding court. People gathered around him, following on the man’s every jumbled word, striving to be the best kiss-asses they could be. They were nodding and agreeing, sharing their own points of view and overall boring the shit out of Anatoly. He checked his watch again and ran a hand through his hair.
“You alright?” Klenchvenko asked, noticing Anatoly’s growing agitation.
“Fine,” Anatoly answered. “Don’t worry about me. This is your party. You’re the man of the hour. I never do well in crowds.” It was simply a part of his lifestyle, to keep his head on a swivel always vigilant.
Klenchvenko wanted more than anything to make sure that Anatoly had a great time. He owed this man so much, it was the least that he could do. Seeing one of the VIP waitress assigned to his party, slip through the crowd and head toward the private lounges with bottles of vodka on her tray, he called out for her.
“Eh!” Klenchvenko yelled, raising up off the sofa.
The waitress stopped and looked toward him as did everyone else. Oh gracious, what now?
Klenchvenko waved her over, eyeing the spirits on her tray. “Bring a bottle for my friend. We’ve been waiting long enough.”
She protested immediately. Rebecca had just told her that this bottle was for one of the other guests. “Sorry, Mr. Klenchvenko. This is for the other…”
Klenchvenko wasn’t hearing it. Like Anatoly said, it was his party. Plus, he didn’t like to be told no by a waitress. Was she really going to show him out in front of all of his friends? “Bring it to me, young lady,” he ordered, his eyes narrowed at her protest.
Now put on the spot, the waitress obeyed and gave him the bottle. She’d just go back and get another one instead of pissing off the one man in the party who management insisted be catered to all night. “Can I get anything else for you?” she asked, bending down to offer the vodka to the defunct champ.
“Net,” Klenchvenko said, giving her a hundred-dollar bill for her troubles. He saw her face light up with the tip. “Keep them coming and your tips will be plentiful, pretty girl.”
“Thank you,” she said, excusing herself as she tucked the money in the pocket of her mini-skirt.
Klenchvenko turned toward Anatoly with a wide grin. He offered the chilled bottle of vodka as a small token. “This is for you, and only you. Enjoy.”
Anatoly took the bottle gratefully. Getting through this sober might not have been possible. He took a big swig straight to the head and pushed back into the sofa.
***
Anastaysia heaved a great, exhausted sigh. Raising from between the fat man’s legs, she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and smoothed her hair. They had been at it for quite a while, but evidently, the old man’s piping didn’t work very well. Every time he got fully engorged, he lost his erection and they had to start back at ground zero. To have him finally finish, wet in his own pleasure, was somehow a relief for her.
“Were you pleased, my love?” she asked, reaching for the wet wipes in her purse. She hated asking that question, but Ryan insisted.
“Very,” the man said, standing up from the sofa. He tucked his dress shirt down in his pants after buttoning up.
The VIP private lounges were small rooms with television, small couches, dim lights and fish tanks cut in the wall to give view to the rafters of the general area downstairs. One of the finer amenities were that the rooms were soundproof, minus the music piped in for the guests’ entertainment. But even with the extra layer of privacy, the fat man could not enjoy Anastaysia the way he wanted.
“I’m glad that you had a good time,” Anastaysia said, cleaning herself off. She had turned her back to him, hoping he would disappear back out into the crowd and leave her alone. “Until next time.”
“Well, I was told through a friend that I could keep you all night.” His eyes narrowed on her well-sculpted backside. “So, I had plans to take you home with me. The wife is gone to Aspen for the month. Daddy is all alone.”
Anastaysia tried to hold back the need to roll her eyes. She had hoped to pick a man who would be done with her after the lounge. Going back to the man’s home meant if he had certain fetishes, no one would be there to stop him if things got rough. But what could she do?
“I’ll be happy to go back with you,” she said with a fake smile as she reapplied her make up. Walking to the door, she put her hand on the knob, quietly urging him to go out with her instead of sitting in this little room in such close proximity.
“Good. Well, sit down. There is no rush, is there? Let’s have a drink first and then we can get out of here. I have a car waiting outside,” he said, uninterested in mingling with the other big wigs out in the common area. The music made his head spin at nearly sixty and the strobe lights made him feel like he was on the verge of epileptic shock.
Anastaysia sat back down beside him and took the glass of vodka and cranberry he made her. “Cheers,” she toasted.
***
The room was starting to spin out of control, like he was experiencing a severe case of vertigo. Vision blurring, Anatoly pushed up to the end of the sofa and planted his face in his hands. What the hell was happening? His mouth was dry, throat on fire, and the lights…the fucking lights were dancing around him.
“You have too much to drink, my friend?” Klenchvenko asked Anatoly.
Anatoly barely heard him. He glanced over, eyes red, and smacked his lips together. “I can handle my vodka.” His speech slurred as he tried to focus on Klenchvenko’s face. It was morphing into a wave of colors.
Marat was in the far corner, not far from his boss. As soon as he saw Anatoly’s head bob, he pushed past the crowd to get to him.
“Boss,” he said, dropping to his knee in front of Anatoly. “Are you okay?”
Anatoly tried to speak. “Drugs,” he said, blinking hard. “I think I’ve been…”
Marat waved over one of his men. “Go and get boss a bottle of water. Make sure the seal has not been broken.” He turned back to Anatoly and grabbed his face.
“What’s wrong with him?” Klenchvenko asked, growing concerned. He waved off his friends. “Give him some room. Back up!”
Marat grabbed the bottle of vodka sitting beside Anatoly’s foot and held it up to his face. It was too dark to really see if anything was in the bottom of it, but there was no other sensible explanation. When another guard ran over to see to Anatoly, Marat shoved the bottle in the man’s chest. “Take this and guard it with your life. I need to know what was in it.”
Klenchvenko was so drunk until he could barely process what Marat was saying. “I gave him a brand-new bottle,” he said, hoping that they didn’t think he had drugged him. “I promise. It was a brand-new bottle,” he repeated.
Anatoly tried to stand. “Help me to my feet,” he ordered, holding himself up on Marat’s shoulder.
“Maybe you should sit,” Marat pleaded, “until we get some water in you. It will dilute whatever you ingested.”
Anatoly sat back down reluctantly. His fingers were tingling now and his heartbeat was racing, making it hard to draw a breath.
Anil saw his brother from across the room and left his post. Running to him, he looked toward Marat. “What happened? Is he okay?”
“He’s been drugged,” Marat said, moving out of the way.
Anil took his brother’s arm and put two fingers on his wrist to check his pulse. “Jesus,” he gasped. “Lay him down.”
Klenchvenko stood up and helped them rest Anatoly back on the sofa. The guard brought a bottle of water as he had been ordered as the crowds began to notice the commotion and turn their attention to them.
“Drink this,” Anil ordered Anatoly. He turned back to his brother’s guards. “Bring more bottles. We need to cool him down. His core is burning up.”
“Get some more fucking water over here!” Klenchvenko yelled. He snatched off his suit jacket and bent by Anatoly. “Stay with us. Shit. I’m so sorry, man.”
Anatoly faced the crowd, hating to have become a spectacle. As he glanced toward the stairs, one of the lounge doors opened. A blonde woman in a silver, sparkly dress emerged. Her head was toward the exit. A fat, white man in a suit, followed behind her. Anatoly rubbed a hand across his chest and was about to turn away when the woman turned toward him and looked him dead in his eyes.
“Anastaysia?” Anatoly gasped, trying to sit up.
“Don’t move,” Anil said, trying to hold him down.
Anastaysia’s blue eyes widened. Her mouth flew open. Could it be? “Anatoly,” she said, stepping toward him.
Ryan saw the exchange from where he was sitting. All night, he had seen the young man with his bodyguards chummed up with Klenchvenko, and a few times even thought to offer his wares for entertainment. But what did the man know of Anastaysia? He had never set up a date for them. Then it hit him. The blonde hair, the blue eyes, the sudden recognition. Fear ripped through him. He jumped up, Clover right behind him, and ran to Anastaysia.
“Let’s go now,” Ryan said, grabbing her roughly by the arm.
Anastaysia tried to pull away. “No,” she snapped. “Anatoly!” she screamed. But the music was too loud and all the attention was focused on her brother. Ryan snatched her to him and shoved her into Clover’s arms.
“Get the bitch out of here now!” Ryan ordered.
“But she’s supposed to go with me,” the fat man protested.
“Not tonight,” Ryan said, following shortly behind Clover.
Anatoly knew that he had been drugged, but he also knew that the woman across the room was his sister. “Anastaysia!” he screamed again.
Anil thought Anatoly was hallucinating, so did Marat. “It’s the drugs,” Anil explained. “They make you see things.”
Anatoly pushed up again, this time freeing himself from his brother and Marat. “Stop that fucking woman!” he pointed. “Stop her now!”
Ryan was already headed down the stairs behind Clover, who had picked Anastaysia up and was pushing through the mob of people dancing below. They moved as fast as they could, trying to flee the club before Anastaysia could get to the mysterious man who had recognized her.
“What woman?” Marat asked, looking across the room.
“The blonde in the silver dress. That’s my sister. Stop her!” Anatoly said, jumping up.
His men turned to run after the woman, curious if their boss was seeing things. They had seen no one. Anatoly followed after Anastaysia, fumbling over his own feet. He got to the stairs and looked out over the crowd. After a few hectic scans of the crowd, he spotted her in the clutches of Clover. They were only a few feet from the front door. He could see her fight, trying to get away. He had to save her.
“Stop!” Anatoly screamed. He barreled down the stairs, pushing people out of his way, knocking people to the ground. He stepped over them, stepped on some of them. “STOP!” he screamed again.
When he got to the bottom of the stairwell, the crowd was thick. He pushed past them, his men helped. “Move out of my way!” Disoriented, he squinted and held his head. Everything was spinning out of control. The music assailed his scenes, the lights blinded him.
“We don’t see this woman, Boss,” Marat said, throwing two partygoers out of the way.
Anatoly could not explain the urgency or even comprehend the chance encounter, but he knew that the woman was his sister. He pushed harder through the crowd, knocking over two girls who tried to dance on him, punching a man who protested him knocking over the girls.
“Fuck you, man,” one man yelled, stepping in front of Anatoly.
Anatoly had one mission – to get to the front door. When the stranger put his hand on his chest, he grabbed with both hands and twisted it backward making the man fall to his knees. He then kicked the man square in the chest, sending him falling back. “Anastaysia!” he screamed wildly.
Feeling like he was getting nowhere fast, he reached down into the holster on his leg, pulled out his gun and shot up in the air.
POP! POP! POP!
The crowd screamed, fearing it was another Orlando slaughter. People rushed toward the doors in a stampede, knocking each other over to get out. The glass doors exploded as the people pushed out, falling over each other to get to safety.
“What the fuck?” Anil ran toward his brother. “Anatoly!”
“Get him out of here!” Marat said, pulling Anatoly’s arm down. “Boss!” His eyes were wild. He couldn’t believe Anatoly could make such a stupid mistake.
“Get to my sister!” Anatoly said as people rushed past them, hitting their shoulders and nearly knocking them over. Still Anatoly fought against the tide of the crowd. “Anastaysia!”
Making his way outside, Anatoly looked around frantically for her, but she was gone, cloaked in the darkness and hundreds of scared people. One of Anatoly’s guards drove up to the curb. Marat grabbed his boss and shoved him in the back.
“No! I’m not going. Get my sister!” Anatoly ordered.
“We can’t. We have to get you out of here or you’ll end up in jail. If she’s in Miami, we’ll find her. I promise!” Marat screamed. He turned back for Anil, knowing that Dmitry would not approve of leaving his other son behind.
“Anil, let’s go!” Marat screamed, pushing people out of his way. He grabbed Anil’s arm and got his attention. “You have to come with us!” The screams of the crowd were deafening. Time was running out.
“I can’t just…” Anil looked around at the utter chaos in disbelief. What in the hell had just happened? He held his head in confusion. “This is my job. I need to get order.”
“Fuck your job! Don’t talk. Just move,” Marat ordered, pushing Anil in the car. He looked around to see who was watching them. “We have to go now!”
They sped off into the night with the rest of the cars that fought for an inch of the road. Tires screeched, mingled with the roar of the frantic people and the sound of police sirens coming toward the club. People dashed out into the street, running together to flee the scene while others cowered in the alleyways, afraid of more possible gun fire. In a daze, Anatoly mumbled his sister’s name and gazed out of the window. He had been so close. How had he failed. Crumbling over, he passed out on the seat.
Anil pulled him up and put his head up against the back of the seat. “He needs to go to the hospital.”
“He can’t. He just shot up a fucking club,” Marat scowled. Pulling out his phone, he wiped a hand over his face. “I need to call the boss.”
***
Ryan sat in the back of his car with Anastaysia while Clover drove through the streets of South Beach. His mind raced, trying to figure out how they had landed in the clutches of a Russian mobster.
Anastaysia sat beside him crying, mouth bloody from Ryan’s brutal hand earlier as he fought to cram her in the back of the car. Her makeup ran down her face, a mangled mess of black mascara and foundation made her look like a clown.
“Who was that man to you?” Ryan asked, voice trembling.
Anastaysia didn’t say a word. Her defiance to him was more evident now than ever. She relished in his fear, fed off it with much enjoyment.
Reaching over, he slapped her in the eye. “Who was he to you?” he asked again.
She turned to him, clenching her jaw with her nostrils flared and smiled. “He’s my brother.”
Ryan’s entire body trembled. “Your brother?” he asked.
“Yes, my brother, Anatoly,” she said, unafraid of his retribution at this point.
Clover looked back at his boss through the rearview mirror with a warning glare. “He had Russian bodyguards with Vory v Zakone marks on them.” He turned toward the expressway and flipped on the wipers to fend off the sudden rain. “They called him Medlov, Boss.” It didn’t take a genius to know that the woman in the back of the car had more power than she led on to have. He also knew they were not equipped to handle the Russian mafia, especially since they were holding as a prisoner the sister of a Russian mobster.
Ryan pushed back in his seat and threw his head into the headrest. He had heard of the Medlov men and only through stories and rumors heard of their treachery. What he didn’t understand was how Anastaysia had been recruited in Moscow by people who didn’t know who her brother was.
“Fuck,” he said, pulling out his phone. “Clover, don’t take us back to the house in South Beach. It’s too hot. Take us to the drop house.” Dialing a number, he looked back over at Anastaysia. “Don’t you say a fucking word.”
She turned from him, staring out the window with new hope.
A man answered on the other end of the phone. “It’s late. This better be important.”
Ryan would say so. “I bought girls from you that were supposed to be clean. No families with money. No children. No husbands. No ties that could be traced.”
“And we provided all of that. It’s what we do,” the man insisted.
“Well, how in the living hell did I come to acquire the sister of Anatoly Medlov?” Ryan asked.
The man was quiet for a moment. “As in Anatoly Medlov, the son of Dmitry Medlov?”
“I fucking guess,” Ryan spat sarcastically. He threw up a hand. “He shot up a club just a second ago trying to get to her. You told me she was just some poor maid from Kapotnya. I want my money back. I want you to take this bitch and get me my money back!”
The man’s voice was calm and cool. “Are you sure it was Anatoly Medlov’s sister?”
“YES,” Ryan answered quickly.
“Then lose this number,” the man said, hanging up the phone abruptly.
“Hello! Hello!!” Ryan screamed into the phone as Anastaysia grinned. He threw the phone to the front seat. “Motherfucker!” This wasn’t his fault!
Clover shook his head. They were deep in the shit now. If their contact had done what he thought he had done, they were on their own. Still, he drove quietly, planning his own departure when the time was right. Ryan was the boss, he would let him take the fall for this.
Ryan turned to Anastaysia just in time to see her smile. “What? You think that asshole is going to save you?” He snaked up beside her, hissing in her ear. “Do you think that changes anything?” His words were bigger than his bark at the moment. Anastaysia was his only bargaining chip. If he killed her or got rid of her before he could access the situation, he might be signing his own death warrant.
For the first time since she had arrived in Miami, Anastaysia was no longer afraid. All of those prayers had been heard. God had not forsaken her. Hope was restored. Her eyes were clear and bright, the heroine had flushed from her veins in all of the hysteria and finally she was thinking straight. She turned to him and looked him in his eyes. “My brother is not a forgiving man. You can kill me, if you like. You can sell me off, but he’s seen your face Mr. Ryan Colt. And he will hunt you to the ends of the earth, and he will kill you slowly and painfully.” She swallowed hard and sat up straight. “I think that changes everything.”
TO BE CONTINUED…