Dmitry's Royal Flush: Rise of the Queen (14 page)

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Anatoly shifted gears and tore through the streets of Prague on his cell phone. One of his contacts said that he had spotted Victoria at a restaurant in Prague 1.

If he rushed, he could get to her and deal with the bitch himself. How could his father just allow her to leave unharmed? How could Royal allow her to leave after all that had happened to her? He shook his head in disgust.

Soft. Stupid
. The both of them were. They had gotten so wrapped up in their little fairy tale until they couldn't even deal with reality anymore.

He hadn't figured out what he would do just yet, but he figured that an eye for an eye would just about make them even. It had to be done for Anya if for no one else. He pulled up to the front of his fathers restaurant, where a young man stood waiting.

As soon as he saw Anatoly, he ran over to the car.

"Boss, you want us to take of? This is small shit. One of us can do it. I can do it. It would be honor," he said in a Russian accent, leaning over into the window of Anatoly's car.

"No, it's personal. I'll take care of it. You got my shit?"

"
Da
," he handed Anatoly a small vile. "It was just made… for you."

"For her," Anatoly said nodding. "She's still eating?"

"Over at the PlzeHská restaurant at Municipal House. She's eating outside."

"
Spasibo, brat
," Anatoly said, speeding off.

The sun gleamed through his curly strands of hair as the wind ripped through the windows of his Bentley. Someone could have mistaken the young man for a model or an actor, but Anatoly was what he was. A killer. The thought of the act of killing her itched through him now. He wanted to peel the skin from her bones for the blatant disrespect she had shown his family.

However, he wasn't sure exactly what he was going to do to her. He would play it by ear. Pulling quickly on to Republiky, he parked outside of the Municipal House and slipped on his Aviator shades.

People were out in droves. Tourist stood outside taking pictures and laughing in the square. Business people walked up and down Republiky Street pasted to their cell phones as small taxi cabs sped by.

Anatoly couldn't blend. His splendor stood out among the crowd. Women watched him as he passed, eyed him as he approached. He was his father's son. Beautiful.

Clutching his keys in his hands, he walked down the sidewalk to the tables lined up on the walkway outside the building and found Victoria there eating with her back turned from him. He smiled a little. From afar, she seemed harmless. Attractive.

A waitress batted her eyes at him as he sailed by with a cool swagger that hid his inner rage. He licked his lips and slid into the chair across from her abruptly, startling her on purpose.

"You should have taken Davyd's advice and left Prague before noon," he said with a clever smile. He revealed the deep dimple in his left cheek. "Instead you lunch like you're on fucking vacation."

Victoria looked up stunned. "Anatoly? What are you doing here? What happened to your hair?" She put down her fork and wiped her face with her napkin.

"I was looking for you," his deep baritone voice carried. He ignored her second question.

"Why?" her heart stopped.

"Unfinished business," he raised his eyebrows. "You have been very bad girl, Victoria."

She looked into his eyes and saw the malice. Instantly, she stood up to leave, but he grabbed her wrist and yanked her back down to the table.

"Where you going?" his jaw clenched. "Don't make scene. It's not nice."

She sat back down and looked around. No one had seen her. She wanted to scream out, but fear gripped her.

"Mistress Medlov told me to leave. I left. It's finished now," she explained in a hushed tone. "I don't know what you want with me, but… "

Anatoly let go of her arm and pulled her drink over to him. "What is this?" he looked down in the glass.

"Wine," she felt her bruised wrist. Running her soft fingers over her delicate skin, she rolled her eyes at him.

"Chardonnay? What year?" He reached into his pocket and pulled out a vile.

She watched him as he opened it and dropped the white contents into the glass, then swirled it around. He pushed it back over to her and motioned for her to drink it.

"I'm doing you the courtesy of not sneaking it to you like fucking snake. Now drink it."

Tears ran down her eyes. "No."

"Drink."

"No!" she snapped.

He reached across the table to her face. She shrieked away but felt his cold hand wipe the tear from her cheek.

"Drink it," he said softly with a soothing look in his eyes. She heard the gun click under the table. "Drink it… or else."

With shaking hands, she picked the glass up and put it to her pouty lips. Then finally while looking into his cold eyes, she drank it.

He put his index finger on the bottom of the glass and pushed to make sure that she drank all the contents. Then, he took the glass from her, checked the bottom of it and stood up.

She flinched, scared of what he might do to her. This was all supposed to be over. She had learned her lesson. She was out of a job, receiving a poor review and headed home—flat busted broke. She had spent most of her money on blow and shopping. What else did he want from her?

Looking down at the table, she wondered what she had just ingested. Cocaine? Oxycotin? Maybe something worse? Poison?

He stood beside her and tapped the table as he stared at the crown of her head.

"Alright, lets go," he said, grabbing her by her arm. He threw down money on the table and picked up her bags.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked struggling. Her tips toes brushed the ground as he nearly lifted her from it. "Let go of me!"

People looked at the odd couple as they made their way to his car. Anatoly never uttered a word, but without much of a struggle, he guided her roughly to the car.

"Get in." After throwing her inside, he slammed the door behind her, put her bags in the trunk and pulled off into the streets.

Victoria began to feel the heat rise from her stomach up into her chest. She laid her head back on the white leather seat and looked out of the window as they passed through the city at warp speed.

"Where are you taking me, you son of a bitch?" Her speech had already begun to slur.

"Somewhere
quiet
," he answered, focused on the road.

Flashes of light and dizziness overtook her. "Are you going to rape me?" she asked with tears in her eyes. "That's such a fucked up thing to do."

"Don't flatter yourself," he smirked. "I'm not animal. Well, not that kind of animal."

"Are you going to kill me then?" A warm sensation started to rip through her veins.

"I don't know. Do you deserve to die?"

"No," she whispered. "Pull this car over and let me go," she tried to open the door, even as Anatoly sped through the streets.

He hit the lock button and looked over at her. "Don't try anything stupid with me. I'm not my father. I'll speed up and throw your ass out when we cross the bridge. They won't find you until next week."

She swallowed hard and removed her hand from the door. It felt as if they were moving at the speed of light. And the growl in his voice made her believe him. No. She wouldn't test him. She feared him.

They pulled quickly into a gated community, a private drive and then into the garage of a large, modern condo. The garage door closed, and the dark space lit up.

Anatoly unlocked the doors and went quickly over to her side to the help her out. As he opened the door of the car, she nearly fell down. He grabbed her firmly, and she landed on his chest. Looking up at him, she lost herself in his eyes.

He was more beautiful than she remembered. His muscles were rock hard under his shirt, his cologne tantalizing like his fathers, his eyes a strange deep blue, his perfectly chiseled square jaw clinched and his wide full mouth was only inches from hers. He watched her under thick lashes that flapped like wings. She couldn't tell if he was angry or crazy. His eyes had no depth to them.

"You're stumbling. Can you feel it yet?" he asked, grabbing her by her arm and yanking her around the car and up the concrete stairs to a door.

"Yes," she said, nearly falling over again.

There was something strange about the man. While there was obvious impending danger for her, she felt a reserve on his part, like he might be attracted to her, concerned about harming her. However, she couldn't be sure, hence the fear.

Whatever he had made her drink continued to blur her vision more. Grabbing the railing, she tucked her head and took a deep breath. Before she could rest her racing heart, he caught her by her waist and helped her up the stairs. She felt his groin on her butt, but he was not aroused, just focused.

Hitting a code on the alarm next to the door, he opened it and pulled her inside.

She looked around confused. This was a house. His house? He set his keys on the counter and motioned for her to follow him. She did so hesitantly.

The clicks of her heals tapped against the walnut woods floors as she slowly moved through the large space to a sitting room where she fell back against the couch.

Anatoly looked over at her drunken state and smirked. He stood looking out the window with his fists in his pockets.

She watched his muscular back filling out his cotton shirt from his broad shoulders to his long torso to the nice fitting jeans that outlined the muscular curve of his body. He finally turned around and looked at her.

"Do you know who we are?" he asked. Her eyes fluttered. "You're the Medlov's."

"But do you know
who
we are?"

"No."

"Do you know what we do?"

"No."

He sucked in his breath and pulled his hands out of his pockets.

"You really should not have fucked with my stepmother."

"I know," she looked around the room. It was starting to get dim. "I said I was sorry. What is it with you people and theatrics?"

"What do you think I ought to do with you?"

"I don't know," she snapped.

"Here the thing. I don't know which one of the two options that I have to use. I did at first but not now. So, I'm asking your opinion. What do
you think
that
I
should do with
you
?"

"I've had a knife pulled on me, a poker shoved at me. I've been kicked out in the rain, drugged and kidnapped," she shook her head. "What else can be done? I'm really getting tired of this shit. So, do want you want to and stop fucking around with me already."

Anatoly paused for a minute. He liked her fight at least, but she needed to be taught a lesson for crossing the line. Plus, he wanted to see how far she could be pushed.

"Alright," he said, bending down.

She followed him with her eyes.

He raised his pants leg slightly and pulled out his gun. Cocking it, he pointed it at her.

She looked on speechless. Maybe she should not have spoken so quickly. The breath in her lungs caught in her throat, and the tears began to form. She clinched the pillows beside her and sat silent awaiting the shot.

Anatoly raised his brow, clicked off the safety and pulled the trigger three times. The silencer kept the noise down, but it didn't matter. The room was nearly sound proof, which was why he had led her there.

One shot. Two shots. Three shots. Bullets raced from the gun. The power of the small weapon was steadied in his hand.

Planted against the back of the couch, her eyes peered at him, unblinking and desperate. She finally took a breath, finally let go of the pillows, finally let the tears fall down her cheeks.

She was still alive. The bullets had barely missed her, rang into the wall removing chunks of drywall, leaving plugs in a three-point crown around her head.

"Now, do you want to continue to talk to me like that or do you want to live,
eh
?" he lowered his gun and waited for her give a smart reply. There was none.

"I want to live," she whispered.

Anatoly took a seat across the room from her and laid the gun on the table beside him. He respected that she hadn't screamed, respected that she hadn't begged. He did like her, even though he hated himself for it. He liked her when he first laid eyes on her. Liked her when he saw her around the house. Liked her when he left his fathers today headed to kidnap her. Liked her in her perfect little outfit with her perfect little deep chocolate features.

Needless to say, Royal would be pissed, but there was something about Victoria that he found to be interesting—interesting enough not to kill yet and interesting enough to utilize.

"You should be disoriented enough that you won't remember how to get back here. If you aren't that disoriented, you still don't bring your ass back here. You understand?"

"Yes."

"Alright. This is how it's going to be for you, Victoria. You need job, you need to get out of city safe, and you're trouble with my family, which means you're as good as dead. My father would have nothing to do with you, but I see your purpose, even if they don't."

"My purpose?"

Anatoly ignored her. "You plan to do back to D.C. tomorrow, today?"

"Yes. Tomorrow."

"Cancel. You're going to Memphis with me along with a few other stops. You're in my debt now, because I didn't slice your throat or sell you to dealer the way that you deserve. You're going to do some business for me, and you'll do it until I tell you otherwise." He pointed her as he talked, eyeing her with a menacing glare.

"Like I told your father. I'm not some fucking whore," she said, scared but still unwilling to back down.

"Relax. Like I told you. I'm an animal, but I'm not that kind. Plus, you were willing to be whore less than a day ago. Humping on my fathers leg like a grubby little bitch. Why are so sensitive now?"

"You jealous? Look, okay, I had the hots for your father. Get over it. There were a hundred before him. It wasn't about his looks, although it helped. It was about money. I'm sure you understand that concept though. Mistress Medlov seemed uninterested. I thought it would be easy. I fucked up. Obviously. Look at where I am. So what do you want from me now?"