Dmitry's Royal Flush: Rise of the Queen (24 page)

"I've been waiting for two weeks to meet you," the man said, offering his hand. "And finally."

"Finally," Dmitry said, looking around. "So, I've heard that you're retiring."

"
Posle mnogih let
," the man said, tilting his head proudly.

"Well,
Dolgaya zhizn'dlya vas
," Dmitry said, offering his hand.

"You know, this is where the night gets
interesting
. I could walk right out of here and not tell you what's coming, or I can tell you everything, and
you
stand a chance to stay alive."

Dmitry's face did not change. "I'm listening."

"I only tell you this because the man,
my liaison
, has not been paid his final fee, and it is a hefty one. So, I stand to gain something if he were not around to collect. Also, even though he is efficient, he's not Russian. He's a
Pushkin
. Black men still seeking upward mobility," he laughed.

Dmitry did not.

"A black man? His name wouldn't be Dorian would it?" Dmitry asked.

"It would. I'm not sure what he's planning, but I can assure you that it's not going to be good for you."

"No, I don't think that it will be." Dmitry slipped his hands into his pockets. "Well, it was nice to have met you,
but as you said
, you probably shouldn't be here when he arrives."

"Good luck," the man said, waving his men to collect him. "And a pleasure doing business with you."

* * *

Dorian walked through the large crowds in the masquerade ball with his mask, scanning the room for threats. One could never be sure who all was with Dmitry, but he had an idea that his numbers were large tonight. He and his crew of ten slipped into the back when they saw their client leave, smiling from ear to ear and talking to his men. They gave a final nod to each other as they passed.

When they walked into the room, Dorian expected Dmitry to be surprised to see him or at least alert, but Dmitry sat on a lounge chair drinking another glass of vodka and talking to his men with his legs crossed and his jacket open.

His man closed the door behind them when they had all filed in. No need to include the outside world in old world business.

"Dmitry Medlov," Dorian said with a kind of condescending smile. "It's been
what…
years?"

"At least three," Dmitry said, not bothering to stand. "Would you like a drink?" he asked, raising his glass.

"I don't drink. You know that."

"Right." Dmitry put down his glass on the table. "The whole holy man act. Won't drink alcohol. Won't curse. Won't eat certain meats,
which you are missing out on by the way
. But
will
have a married woman up to your hotel room for 37 minutes and 12 seconds." Dmitry clenched his jaw and uncrossed his long legs.

"You are thorough, Dmitry. Always have been… and long winded. So lets keep this short and simple."

"Lets." Dmitry stood up. His men stood with him, guns visible.

"Are we going to continue a war that's older than your beautiful, young wife,
or
are we going to move on?" Dorian asked as his men assembled around him.

"Depends. Have you done anything at all besides speaking with my wife that could endanger my family?"

"No."

"Sure about that?" Dmitry tilted his head. "Nothing at all?"

"No," Dorian answered flatly.

"You know, meetings like this are the kind where someone doesn't leave alive," Dmitry reminded Dorian. He pulled his jacket open to reveal his guns. He was doubly strapped with two desert eagles.

"This is true,
brat
."

"I. Am. Not. Your. Brother." Dmitry said, pointing at him with a heart stopping scowl.

* * *

Royal arrived at the will call and picked up her ticket marked Ms. Stone and headed into the ball. Under dim strobe lights and loud music with people dancing around her, she looked on confused about where to go.

Dorian told her that they would be meeting in a private room. She wondered if she was in the right place. Closing her eyes, she drowned out the music and tried to remember his words, his voice. Then suddenly, she felt a hand on her shoulder. A short man in a Russian uniform smiled at her.

"There in the back, dear," he said, pointing towards the exit sign in the back of the room. "I'm sure they are waiting on you."

She smiled and clenched her fists. Mouthing
thank you
, she slipped through the crowd before Dmitry's men could get to her and ran through the corridor, up the stairs to the back room. Grasping the cold knob, she opened the door and entered.

Dmitry stood on one side with his men and Dorian stood on the opposite side with his. The men at the door looked on confused. Obviously, they were with Dorian.

"Royal," Dmitry said unsurprised. "Come here. I was hoping that you would miss our little party tonight."

She looked over at Dorian.

"Come here!" Dmitry shouted, making her jump. "Now!"

"No," she said, standing at the door. "Dorian promised a truce. If you would just forgive him for the past." Her eyes were wide and naïve.

Dorian smiled. "A truce," he repeated.

"There can be no
truce
," Dmitry said, raising his hand and motioning for her to come to him. "There is no truce."

"Please, Dmitry. Please," she begged. She walked towards the middle of the floor.

"Do you see his unwillingness to compromise?" Dorian taunted, walking toward her.

"Make one more move, Dorian," Dmitry said calmly. "One more."

Dorian stopped in his tracks only inches away from Royal.

Unexpectedly, Dmitry snatched off his jacket. Everyone looked over at him. What did he expect to do? Fight for her? There was more at stake than her honor.

Dmitry pealed out of his white dress shirt to reveal a bomb strapped to his body. It barely covered the many Vory tattoos and the rippling, angry muscles, covered in venom-pumping veins.

The room was a silent roar.

Check mate.

"Recognize anything familiar, Dorian?" Dmitry asked, pulling his knives from his side, ready to do battle.

"No, Dmitry!" Royal said, trying to run towards him. The men stopped her. "What are you doing?"

"This is the kind of man he is, Royal," Dorian explained. "If it cannot be
his
way, it cannot be… period! He would rather kill us all—kill you. He's an animal."

"This is the bomb you placed on my plane to kill
my
family just yesterday," Dmitry explained more for Royal than Dorian. "I have decided… you will not have her, rape her, harm her. I allowed it to happen once. It will not happen ever again. Before she is ruined, I will kill us all. And most of all, you will not have the chance to get to my child!" Dmitry screamed.

"Dmitry… " Royal said confused.

"Do you not realize that you are not safe with this man? He is only committed to the Vory. He always has been. It's why he lied to you about his return. It's why he married you falsely, under a different name, because legally you are not married at all, and he is still within the coveted code that means more to him than
you
. I bought you here to see for yourself, Royal."

Royal looked over at her husband and felt faint. It had never dawned on her that he had staged her death to marry her fraudulently. The pain of the truth stabbed through her like the knives Ivan had used to try to kill her.

"What about the truce?" she asked. She looked over at Dorian for answers.

"He is right about one thing. There can be no truce," Dorian explained. His face changed. He no longer looked trusting. "Because he will never stop and I will never forgive."

"He planted it on our jet, Royal. He plans nothing more than to eliminate our family, and if you are not compliant to eliminate you," Dmitry said, standing strong. "Look around, Dorian. While your men scatter at the very sight of this contraption that you yourself built, my men are ready to die… to stop this now. And we
will
die. I came here to stop you for good. And as much as I love my wife, if I have to take her with me to stop this, I will. You will not have her or my daughter or my son. You will not destroy another life like did with your half-sister, Ari."

Royal put her hands on her head and looked down at the floor. So that was the connection. Ivan's dead wife was Dorian's sister. It would explain why Ivan was sexually fixated with her. It would explain why Dorian wanted her here. It would explain why this had to end, why it would not stop. She sighed.

"I didn't destroy her. You did when sent Ivan to kill me, when you killed her, when you killed your own brother," Dorian shot back.

"So much of a holy man, yet so out for revenge," Dmitry noted. "Hypocrite."

"An eye for an eye, Dmitry," Dorian said. "If it's of any consequence, I have no plans of hurting her. And I think I'll make a fine father."

Falling to her knees, Royal cried out.

"You lied to me, Dmitry. You said you that you would never return," she said on the ground in tears. "Now look at all that you've caused again!"

"I am sorry, my love. I only did this for the family. I had no desire to return."

"Why couldn't you just walk away?"

"Did you think if this deal went down, even if I did not participate that it would not affect our family? This is about him and his vendetta."

"You lied to me," she cried. "You lied!"

Dorian walked over to her. He placed a hand on her exposed shoulder. He felt for the confused woman. She had been doubly deceived.

It was never his intention to form a truce. It was only his intention to expose Dmitry as Ivan had failed to do and take her away from the life that she hated, where she was guarded and unable to even have her own name. Plus, it was an eye for an eye. A wife for a wife. A life for a life.

"I will give you the life that you deserve," he said softly to Royal. "You and your beautiful daughter. I will listen to you. I. Will. Love. You.," he said convincingly. "I will not deny you a full existence. He will. Can't you see that now?"

The sight infuriated Dmitry beyond control. He howled out. "How dare you! I will kill the very thought of you! This is my country! This is my shit! That is my fucking wife! And you, you are not without blame. You have killed, murdered, destroyed no differently than me. Now you feel entitled to my life?" He foamed at the mouth like a mad dog. "The only mistake I ever made was not killing you myself, but I'll rectify it tonight."

Dmitry's men prepared to strike, guns pointed, eyes focused. The other men scurried to the door, some snuck out quietly, running away from a sure detonation.

"I will blow this entire city to high fucking hell, and I will laugh as I do it before I let you take her and destroy her anymore than she has already been harmed by my sick-ass brother, or your whore of sister, or my own sins."

"Ah, now the truth comes out, brother." Dorian laughed. "You are jealous."

"You and Ivan were a monstrosity!" Dmitry screamed. "The both of you! Worthless men who would hide their hand after throwing a rock. Scared little boys, the both of you. Both unworthy of living. Well, one is dead. One is left."

"Stop," Royal cried.

"And you the big bad wolf that never hid anything but his money. How are you so different?"

"When I kill a man, I do it face-to-face. I never hide behind bomb. I never hide my fucking hand."

"But you could so easily hide everything else," Dorian countered. "Even from the woman that you claim to love."

"He's right, Dmitry," Royal cried. "I'm tired of being something that I'm not. You lied. How can I trust again? We are not even married. I am a fraud. This marriage is a fraud. This man has offered me peace. He has offered me a new life. And you would rather kill me than see me happy."

Dorian smiled. He was happy to have her feed in although she was so terribly wrong.

"Royal?" Dmitry whispered her named. "Royal, what are you saying? Do you know what he will do to you? He will destroy you. He will destroy our child, our dreams. I love you. You are my wife. You are my entire world!"

"Lies! All lies!" she screamed.

Still on her knees, she placed her hands firmly on the ground under the bottom of her long, flowing black dress and rocked herself while Dorian looked over at Dmitry, satisfied with how her words had dismantled him. She cried aloud, cried for the pain, cried for the rape, cried for her daughter, cried until she was nearly invisible in the room.

"That's it, motherfucker," Dmitry said, headed for him.

Dorian welcomed it. He braced himself for the rush.

Then sly, curled up on the floor, Royal pulled the gun from under her dress and quickly pulled the trigger. She felt the jerk of the powerful weapon push her backwards. It happened so fast until she was not even certain that she had hit her target. It pained her to look.

Before Dorian could look back down at her, he heard the loud explosion. It was the first of many shots. People dropped around the room in a blink of an eye as men pointed their guns and aimed. The clicks of machinery filled the room. In slow motion, Dorian looked down at his stomach to find blood spewing from his would.

He fell to his knees behind her in dismay. Rubbing his hands over his injury, he collapsed on the hard floor with his eyes focused in on her.

"Hiding you hand is always a bad thing," Royal said, shooting him once more. Blood splattered on her face and across the room.

Around her, bullets whizzed. Again déjà vu. She curled up by the dead man to take cover and looked across the room as her husband attacked Dorians men in a full animalistic rage.

Guns blazing, Dmitry's men ripped through the remainder of Dorians men, while he slaughtered them with his knives, slicing them open with quick wrists movements and angry punches. Dropping the knives, he stood like a mountain in his place, Desert Eagle guns in both hands pumping bullets into the walls, blasting the glass and killing them all.

She saw the satisfaction in his face. The completion of his act was startling. Her husband was a monster, but she loved him. And he had only returned for her. She knew that. She knew him, regardless of what some stranger told her.