Dmitry's Closet (30 page)

     "Royal, how much do you know about Dmitry?" Royal looked up from the pictures at Agosto. "Why?" Tears started to form again. "Do you ever wonder about where he gets all of his money?"

     "His stocks. His businesses."

     "His whores?" Agosto added.

     "Dmitry is not a pimp," she said, pushing the pictures away. Now, he was just being preposterous.

     "No, not
just
a pimp. That is actually a new niche for him
in Memphis.
Although, I think he runs a group out of Eastern Europe that is heavy into the prostitution. You may want to ask him." Agosto pulled another file out.

     "Dmitry would never."

     "Maybe. He has been tied to money laundering, extortion, drugs trafficking, illegal gambling facilities, nuclear weapons trafficking, precious gems trafficking and a host of other serious crimes globally. We just can't prove it. Everyone who has ever thought about testifying has been murdered. Plus, the way that the Vory v Zakone sets up some of its organized crime syndicate models, you never really can connect the top guys with the soldiers and the ground work."

     "Are you insane? Listen to you. Listen to what you are saying." Royal shook her head.

     "I know it's hard to believe. He seems like a nice guy. Treats you nice. But who would blame him. Look at you."

     "You're lying."

     "No, I'm not. There are only a few other people as major as your man in the Eurasian crime community, and he's worked with and for all of them. He is the true meaning of connected."

     "If that's true, then why would he be out on the streets, just walking around like a normal person? Why in the hell would he be running a restaurant if he's so major?"

     "Many crime families run their illegal businesses out of legitimate business store fronts. Many well-known Russian crime bosses have run them out of restaurants."

     "Dmitry is just a normal guy. I would know," she argued as she beat against her chest. "I live with him each and every day. I would know if he wasn't normal." Tears ran into her mouth.

     "Would you? What's so normal about Dmitry? You're just used to him, used to his lifestyle. In actuality, everything about him screams mafia. Love blinds people."

     "I don't believe you," her voice was hushed.

     He passed her a napkin.

     "We can't prove that he did this, but you wouldn't want him to confirm this for you." He slid a picture of woman with her neck sliced open, lying on a bedroom floor covered in her own blood.

     "Do you know her?"

     "No," Royal said, letting the tears drop down on the paper. The sight instantly brought back thoughts of her sister and the man that she had killed as a child. She wanted to throw up.

     "That is the late
Mrs.
Ari Medlov." Agosto met her con-fused eyes. He nodded. "Not Dmitry's wife. His sister-in-law, Ivan's wife. She was found in New York like this. No one knows why. Everyone thinks Dmitry did it. What a temper, huh? I've heard that he can be a real son-of-a-bitch. You might want to be very careful with him."

     "Why are you showing me all of this? Are you saying that he's a… monster?"

     "Haven't you been listening?" Agosto put the pictures away. "He's the worst kind."

     "I want a lawyer," she said flabbergasted.

     "You have your rights. They were read to you.
I know,
because I did it." Agosto slid a small picture across the table to her. "Do you know this guy?"

     She picked it up and shook her head. "Yes," she said, handing it back to him. "That is Anatoly."

     "Who is he?"

     Royal was about to tell the truth, then she caught herself. Agosto could see it before she began to lie. "He's the butler or something like it. He does everything."

     "Even kill?"

     "I've never seen anyone killed." She snapped. "Have you ever heard of the Vory v Zakone then?"

     "No."

     "He's a member of a very elite organized crime group that has connections globally. Just remember that."

     "I don't believe you," Royal said, looking away.

     "So, you want to end up like Ari Medlov?"

     "No." Royal stood up from the table and walked to the corner. "He's all I have," she said, swallowing hard. "You don't know what that's like."

     "To love someone? Of course, I know what that's like, but I don't think that he loves you. He's using you." Agosto stood up and walked over to her with his hands balled in the pockets of his jeans.

     He was only inches away from her. She turned and looked up at him. Her face was red, puffy and swollen. But Agosto still thought that she was striking.

     "Maybe you should just walk away before it's too late," Agosto quietly urged. "A nice girl like you doesn't deserve to be put through this. Find some new place to start."

     Royal listened as he spoke barely above a whisper. She watched his mouth as it moved. She heard his words, but her thoughts were in a different place.

     "It's not your fault. You just wanted a job. Just wanted a family. Someone to love you. You just picked the wrong guy. He took advantage of you." They made eye contact. He was working her.

     His dark curly hair looked like silk against the contrast of his olive-toned skin. Agosto was a knockout, a little shorter than Dmitry but very well built. His bold Mediterranean features eased her spirit. He wasn't hard to look at or stand by. His cologne wafted up to her nose. He knew his charms worked. He moved closer.

     Tears fell down her cheeks.

     "If you're trying to get me to turn on him, don't. I won't do it."

     "You don't have to turn. Just help us out a little."

     "Help you?" She scoffed. "Help you how?"

     "What's the code to the basement of your shop?"

     "I don't even know that," Royal snapped "Can you get it?" Agosto asked.

     She looked up into his eyes bemused but didn't answer. Agosto almost felt sorry for her situation. He knew that she did not know anything now, but he was certain that if she tried, she could dig far enough to get him what he wanted.

     Plus, Agosto found Royal incredibly attractive. Although he was a married man, he was
still
a man. He knew what he saw in the tub - a fresh, ripe woman vulnerable and beautiful.

     If he didn't have control, he would have kissed her right then—made her feel what it was like to be truly protected. But he did have control, a wife and a strong desire to keep his job. Instead, he smiled at her and whispered, "Get me the code," as he slipped his business card in the back pocket of her jeans. His finger trailed on the denim.

     Just then, Dmitry's attorney barged into the room waving papers and giving directives. The mood instantly changed. Agosto's magical hold on her was broken, and she was suddenly reminded of who waited for her outside of the door. Slovinky demanded in a high-pitched voice that Agosto move away from his client. In a theatric movement, he stood in front of her and wedged his way between the frantic woman and the cop.

     Within minutes, Royal was released and followed her balding, frail Jewish lawyer as he and his team led her to Dmitry, who waited eagerly to have his fiancée back.

     Keeping his distance, Agosto trailed behind them in a slow-paced walk as they darted down the hall. He wanted to keep his eye on Royal, wanted her to know that he was not afraid of them—not afraid to come after her.

     "Are you alright?" Dmitry asked, standing as Royal approached.

     "I'm fine," she pulled away from Dmitry's grasp and looked back at Agosto. He smiled as she did, grateful that she would even acknowledge him at all.

     The two men made eye contact, but Dmitry was too proud to show his true vulnerability, especially in front of his future wife. He scowled at Agosto.

     "Handle him, Slovinky," Dmitry ordered putting a fur coat over Royal's shoulders. "His presence
irritates
me."

     "This
is
a fucking detention center. It's sort of his turf," she bit out, walking off from both he and the lawyer.

     Dmitry sighed and followed with his lawyers in tow.

Chapter 24

     The ride home from the FBI Detention Center was quiet for both Royal and Dmitry. Just like five hours before, the driver pulled into the front driveway of their home and let them out. Only this time they both were very somber.

     Anatoly was waiting for them at the door, sitting on the porch clipping his nails while his men patrolled the perimeter. Royal walked up the stairs of the porch behind Dmitry but did not speak. She simply brushed past Anatoly when the door opened and ran upstairs. Dmitry watched her until she was out of his sight, and then followed his son into the study.

     "Did you call the council?" Dmitry asked, exhausted.
"Dah.
Каждое приходит."

     "Make sure everyone is there, especially Max and Nicolai."

     "Is it true?"

     "Yes it's true."

     The men went inside to talk, but Dmitry did not want to be long. He had a feeling that Royal was on the verge of breaking. She would not tell him what Agosto had said to her in the room, or from what his lawyer had said to him, why the Agosto was so close to her. Instead, she stared out the window and wiped her teary eyes the entire ride.

     "I've taken care of everything that you've asked." Anatoly sat in the chair opposite of his father's desk and crossed his hands. "So, what now?"

     "We wait." Dmitry sat down in his chair.

     "Is Royal alright?"

     It was odd to Dmitry that Anatoly would even ask about her. He never did. He must have seen it too. Dmitry rubbed his temples and tried to control the anger boiling in his chest.

     "No. They burst into the bathroom with her naked pointing their guns and pulled her out."

     "Naked?"

     "No, but the whole time all I could think about was the fact that they were up there with her naked. Did they even give her enough privacy to get dressed or did they stare at her?" He paused in fury.

     "Relax, father. I'm sure that they did not." Anatoly tried to calm him. "You know what I find amazing?"

     "What?"

     "Your brother is plotting to kill you; you face many charges that could have you caged in a jail for life like rat; the council is at each other's throats; we're about to enter into a blood bath, and you are concerned about who has seen the woman upstairs naked."

     Dmitry looked over at Anatoly and frowned.

     "I don't see problem with this," Dmitry said softly. "If it were not for the woman upstairs, I would have already pulled the knife planted firmly in back out and gutted my brother, Max and Nicolai along with anyone else who I thought was a threat to me."

     "Well now, I don't see a problem with that."

     They both smiled at each other. Dmitry sat back and sighed, releasing a little pressure.

∞♥∞

     After talking to his father, Anatoly left the house quickly, and Dmitry headed upstairs to Royal. As he walked down the corridor to his bedroom, a strange nervousness overtook him, like when he was schoolboy. He frowned at the thought. Had this woman taken possession over him so that he was actually nervous? Such a thing had never happened in all of his adult life.

     He walked into the bedroom to find her wildly packing her things. She was trying to leave. She was still crying, but now she was stuffing her Louis Vuitton bags to the brim with clothes. Dmitry instantly noticed that she had taken the engagement ring off and placed it on the night stand.

     He walked over and picked up the ring, while she stumped around him, cutting her eyes at him every few minutes.

     "Why is this off your hand?" he asked, sitting down on her side of the bed. He smoothed the sheets under his palm.

     "Because I accepted it under false pretenses," she snapped, throwing more clothes on the bed.

     "I don't think that you did."

     Royal stopped. Her eyes were wide and wild. "Do you know what I found out today? The man that I was going to marry is murderer, pimp, mafia... psycho." She started to pack again, violently pulling one of the bags to the bedroom door.

     Dmitry watched her as she struggled with the bag.

     "I'm not a pimp." His voice was low and calm. He lacked defense.

     "Then explain those poor, starving girls."

     "They are Ivan's. He's trying to set me up."

     "Oh, well that explains everything," she said sarcastically. "And the dead woman with her throat slit? I suppose that she was just part of the set up too?"

     He was silent. Agosto
had
said too much.

     "And the dead woman?" she asked again. That was the one thing that she hadn't necessarily believed—the only thing. It was far too gruesome to be real. It had been the worst of all the allegations.

     She turned around petrified and looked at him. He was still sitting with the ring in his hand looking completely unmoved by the murder of an innocent woman. Yet, there was arrogance about him now that indicated that he had done it but that there was a reason behind it.

     "Did you do it?" she asked in a near whisper.

     "The question should be
why
...
why did I do it?"

     She dropped the bag and put her hands over her mouth.

     "He said that I would end up like her. Her name was Ari Medlov, you fucking bastard! She was cut from ear to ear. How could you cut her throat like that? What kind of monster are you really?" Tears ran down her cheeks.

     "If you would just let me explain."

     "What kind of a man kills a woman? You're such a hypocrite. Always acting like you're above it all, when you're right in the thick of it."

     "That was a long time ago."

     "But you did kill her?"

     "Yes, I killed her. But the
why
..."

     "Then there is no why! She was a woman, not a man!" she exclaimed. "And you killed her. Now, I'm supposed to just forget it? Ignore it? Have you lost your rabid-ass mind!"