Gabriel's Regret: Book 1 (The Medlov Men Series 2) (3 page)

Gabriel looked down at the floor and shook his head.
Why did she have to threaten him now on top of everything?
He turned slowly to her.  “You might have forgotten who I am, so please do not put me in a position to remind you.”  His tone was different now. It reeked of finality.  “You leave this house with
my child
, I’ll find you. I swear it on your life.  My mother did that to my father.
You know that, because I told you
.  I refuse to allow you to do that to me.”  He adjusted the bag on his large shoulder. “Now, we’ll talk about this like adults when I get back.  Then you can do whatever the hell you want to do.  Until then, you are to stay here under my uncle’s supervision.  Don’t call me. Don’t text me.”

“I hate you!” she screamed, picking up a crystal candlestick holder and throwing it across the room.  The shards hit the floor and shattered into pieces.  “I hate the day that I ever laid eyes on you. You’re a fucking asshole!”

Fist gripping the doorknob, body leaning across the threshold, he refused to look back. “Yeah, well…same to you princess,” he said, walking out of the door and slamming it shut behind him.

Chapter One

When duty calls…

The Beverly Hills Hotel

Beverly Hills, California

7:00 p.m. PST

The sun was setting on Sunset Boulevard on a Friday evening in the middle of spring. For anyone else, that would be the cue to kick off an unforgettable weekend.  For one man in particular, it was his cue to head home. 

From his private luxury suite, the hues of blue, gold and red on the horizon was a breathtaking view to behold, but one that was completely lost on Gabriel, who was thoroughly consumed with his present duties.  This wasn’t a vacation or a quick getaway to see some woman.  It was business as usual.  Millions of dollars were on the line and his name attached with it. 

With his back to the windows that were heavily guarded by his armed men who walked the perimeter of the enchanting patio with bulky automatic weapons and Bluetooth earpieces, Gabriel sat on the sofa reviewing the documents hand-delivered to him by their Ukrainian client’s US liaison.

Over the years, Gabriel had learned his job well and took great pride in the detail it required.  Being a common thief wasn’t enough for what the Medlov Crime Family did for a living.  It took skill and finesse.  In high-grade weapons trafficking, there was far too much money involved to simply exchange hands like in the movies. It had to be properly laundered with layers of shell companies, lines items and bank transactions.  The good thing was that as a former DEA agent, he had been taught what to look for, how to flag possible fraud and as a Council member of his family’s syndicate, he knew what to do to keep their business from sending up red flags to the government. 

Releasing a sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose and set the papers on the sofa beside him.  “Everything appears to be in order,” Gabriel said, nodding at Allan Roman, a straight-laced businessman who on paper was a generic, Brooks Brothers wearing numbers man and a second-generation trader for his family’s firm, but in fact he was an unsuspecting entrepreneur who had been working in illegal munitions buys for his compatriots back in the Ukraine since he was a freshman in undergrad at UC Berkeley.

Allan sat back in his chair and exhaled.  “Good. I’m very glad that you are pleased with the proposal.  There is the matter of just one more thing.”

It never failed.  There was always one more thing with buyers.  “Yes,” Gabriel said, waiting. 

“With this kind of shipment and considering the current climate in the country, we will need assurance that the weapons will reach our soldiers,” Allan said, opening his computer. 

“What kind of assurance?” Gabriel asked, slightly annoyed. 

“A personal escort,” Allan said, heart skipping a beat as the possible negotiations began. 

Gabriel’s face didn’t change.  His pensive glare stayed on Allan.  “That I can recall the Medlov’s have never misplaced a shipment in the decades that we’ve been in business.  What makes you think that it will happen this time?”

Allan swallowed hard.  He wasn’t sure what type of man that Gabriel Medlov was, but he had heard of the notoriously short temper of his cousin, Anatoly Medlov, during negotiations.  Sometimes, the entire deal went up in smoke and the messenger of bad news with it. But Gabriel had kept a cool head during the entire deal, reading and talking in a low calm baritone that mirrored a man with a reason.  So, he had to push for more, especially with so many people depending on him to get this right.

Allan retracted his last statement.  “Let me be clear.  We are not questioning your competence at all.”

Gabriel chuckled. “Well, whose competence are you questioning, if not ours,” he asked, picking up the water bottle on the table and taking a sip.   Uncrossing his legs, he looked at his watch, indicating this meeting had nearly reached the end of its time for him.

“Our soldiers are in the middle of a war with not only Russian soldiers, but also Nazi separatists and sympathizers in the government.  We are being attacked on all sides.”

“I’m aware of this,” Gabriel said coolly.  “This is not the first civil war that we’ve been outsourced for. We’ve basically had a hand in all of them since the fall of the USSR.  What’s your point?  Why do you need a personal escort now?”

Allan tried to speak with reason and get the man to understand their vulnerable state. His voice trembled mildly, although he tried hard to hide it. “We are consolidating many of our resources within the country to finance our munitions buys, and if we are compromised during the drop of these supplies and they fall into enemy hands, then we are at a serious disadvantage and face the very real possibility of losing this war.”

Sounded like an operational issue to Gabriel.  “I can sympathize with your situation, but I doubt our delivery tactics will be a problem.  Our men deliver the products where we first agreed.  When they arrive, and it changes hands, it’s your responsibility to make sure that they don’t fall into the wrong hands.”

Allan’s face contorted into a frown. He needed this favor.  “Gabriel, is it possible to request a private escort from you?  The Medlov name resonates on all sides of the war.  Ukrainian government officials respect you as well as the Russian military.  The Nazi separatists, however, do not respect you because you won’t do business with them. This is a known thing, even in our country.”

“We don’t do business with the Nazis,” Gabriel reiterated, “But I don’t understand what that has to do with the price of tea in China.”

Allan removed his glasses and sank his shoulders. “Even though they have no respect for you, they fear you. They know that they cannot go to war with you as well as fight both sides of the battle in the Ukraine.  If your men deliver the product, we have a higher probability of not being sabotaged. We also have a higher probability of not being targeted by government officials. You move with impunity- that is why we do business with you.  However, we do not have such luxuries.”

Gabriel’s back hurt from sitting in the same spot for two hours.  He needed the hotel masseuse to come up and work him over.  Standing up from the sofa casually, he stretched his long arms out wide and yawned. 

Decisions, decisions, decisions. 

Walking over past the piano to the window finally, he stared out at the yellow glow of the sun setting on the horizon and wished to be anywhere else.  He could feel Allan’s eyes staring at his back, hoping for an answer but Gabriel was hesitant.  The reason that the Medlov Crime Family did what they did so well was because they never deviated from their original plan.  Still…

“Let me make a call,” Gabriel said, taking off his cufflinks and pushing his sleeves up on his elbows.  He glanced back at Allan.  “Stay here.”  Pulling out his cell, he made his way to the bedroom.

***

Closing the door behind him, Gabriel went into the marble bathroom and turned on the faucet.  He dipped his large hands under the cool water and splashed it in his face.  “Wake up,” he said aloud, staring at his reflection in the mirror.  His green eyes were red from a long day of business and his stomach growled.  But this deal was a priority of Dmitry Medlov, his uncle and the head of the council.  So, it was the priority for him.

Dialing his cousin back in Memphis, TN, he leaned against the counter and waited.

The phone picked up.  “Is it done?” Anatoly asked, sitting across from his father at a small dinner table in a private room of their restaurant. 

“No,” Gabriel said, exhaling.  Anatoly was so impatient until it was irritating.  “Everything else checks out.  The money is there.  The transactions are ready but now they want a private escort.”

Anatoly frowned and put down his fork. “A what?”

“A private escort,” Gabriel repeated, even though he knew the request was ridiculous.  “They are afraid that the cargo will be hijacked by the Neo-Nazis or the Russians, if it’s not brought into the country by our men.”

“Not our problem,” Anatoly said, looking at his father. 

Dmitry listened on quietly but continued to nibble at his dinner and watch television. 

“What do you think we should do?” Gabriel asked.  After all, Dmitry had made it abundantly clear that they were both liable for this deal.  If they didn’t close it, then they had to find someone else to replace the account, which would not be easy. 

“I think we should tell them to fuck off,” Anatoly said, pushing away from the table.  He could not think with Dmitry eyeballing him.  He stepped out of the room and into the hallway.  His voice lowered.  “But then we’d owe the old man $2,000,000 a quarter until we find someone to replace the account.  We won’t be able to do that this quarter.”

It felt like the weight of the world rested on his broad shoulders.  Gabriel rolled his aching neck and smacked his lips.  “I think they are being paranoid. Maybe even lazy.  If they can’t protect their own shipments, then they can’t expect to win this fucking war in the first place.” Not that it mattered to him one way or another. 

That was enough confirmation for Anatoly.  “Then tell them they are responsible for the shipment, not us.  It’s our job to deliver it to them in the place that we agreed upon a month ago.  Besides, they need us, more than we need them.  Where are they going to get that kind of product on such short notice?  They’ll buy from us anyway, escort or not. Just call them on their bluff and get back on the plane.  This shit is taking too long.  You’ve been there for hours, and we have other things to handle before we head to Prague tomorrow night.”

Gabriel could not agree more.  “Consider it done.”  Hanging up the phone, he stuffed it in his suit pocket and headed back out to the living room.

***

While just as exhausted, Allan perked up on the chair as the doors to the bedroom opened.  He was praying for good news. He needed it now more than ever. 

Gabriel stepped out and took a seat on the sofa.  He pushed up to the edge and crossed his fingers together.  “The most we will do is deliver to the Slovakian/Ukrainian border as we agreed upon when we first started making these deals.  We can have it there the day after tomorrow in the agreed upon place.” He could instantly see the disappointment in Allan’s eyes, so he made the offer just a bit sweeter despite himself.  “But I will double the detail on the shipment.  More men will mean more protection. That’s the best I can do.”  He knew that was a lie.  They could do so much better, but for what? 

Allan conceded.  He was getting more than he had originally bargained for which was a simple drop off by the Medlov’s courier men.  At least having more men would provide some insurance.  He nodded and offered his hand, despite the fact that he felt like he was getting a lot less than a Medlov-caliber deal, which others in the community had raved about.  “Thank you, sir, for trying.”

Gabriel reached across the table and shook his hand.  “My pleasure.”  Pushing back on the sofa, he dreamt of a chilled bottle of vodka.  “Make the final transfer and we’re in business.”

“Done,” Allan said, pushing SEND on his computer. 

Two minutes later as they sat looking at each other, Gabriel’s money guy called him from their bank in Geneva.  “It’s deposited,” the man said quickly.

Gabriel hung up the phone, eyes still on Allan. “The men will see you out.”

Allan stood and packed away his things then was escorted out of the room by Boris, their lead security man, along with a barrage of other lowly security. 

When the living room was finally empty, Gabriel rested his head back on the sofa and closed his eyes.  He just needed a minute to think – to have absolute silence. 

“Boss,” one of the men said, sticking his head in the patio door.

“What?” Gabriel said, not bothering to open his eyes.

“You missed the doctor’s appointment.  Do you still want to get back to Memphis tonight or make arrangements for first thing in the morning?” he asked, hearing the irritation in Gabriel’s voice. However, he had instructed him to keep tabs on things.  They were supposed to be here for a couple of hours, then jump back on a private jet and get back to Memphis for Briggy and the baby’s doctor’s appointment, but the negotiations had gone on longer than he had intended.

“Did she make it to the appointment anyway?” Gabriel asked, feeling his chest tighten.

“Da, she was taken by the men.”

“And?” Gabriel asked, eyes flashing open.

“Everything is fine with the baby,” the guard answered. 

Gabriel twisted his lips and threaded his long fingers together on his chest. That was a bit of good news. “Then we can leave in the morning. Order something for dinner and have a bottle of wine brought up.  Later, make sure the masseuse is here to give me a rub down.”

“Sure thing, boss,” the guard said, getting on his ear piece immediately. 

Hearing the door close quietly, Gabriel closed his eyes again and rested. 

***

After stepping out to talk to Gabriel, Anatoly came back in the room, sat back down in his seat and picked up his fork, ready to finally tear into his meal, but his father’s glare was burning through his concentration. 

“What now?” Anatoly asked, putting the fork down again. It clinked on the plate as he looked over at him.

“I didn’t say anything,” Dmitry said, blue prisms sparkling. 

“What do you want to say?” Anatoly asked, knowing already that it was nothing he wanted to hear.