Vasily's Revenge: The Complete Story (The Medlov Men Book 1) (13 page)

Vasily knew that he had to find Lilly and keep her safe. He also knew that all those years of waiting to get even with Leo had finally come to head. Whatever Lilly had done or had not done, didn’t matter. What did matter was that he had to protect what was his. 

Part  2

Chapter 13

10 years earlier (2004)

Metropolitan Correctional Center

150 Park Row

New York, NY 10007

The overcast, dark gray skies, thick pollution-filled air and smell of impending rain added to the ominous task that Yakov had been assigned today.  He had to go where no self-respecting Vor wanted to go, a place more contemptible than the four corners of any coffin but just as final for most.  It was a place so dreaded that many tattoo had been created about it. 

J.A.I.L. 

Those four little letters when strung together sucked the life out of men like Yakov, and while many, including him, had done a stint or two there, no one ever wanted to go back, not even to visit.

Word had come to him through his boss sleazy, overweight,
overpaid
lawyer just this morning before dawn that his presences was requested. He was resting in his small apartment on the waterfront of Brighton Beach with three high-end escorts he had picked up the night before at the Rasputin Super Club when the phone startled him out of a peaceful slumber.

Still drunk, he had answered his cell phone quickly, knowing something had to be wrong. 

“Da,” he had croaked, scratching the blonde stubble growing back on his meaty, tattooed chest. 

“Be at 150 Park Row by 3:00 today. Don’t be late,” the man had ordered gruffly before hanging up.

Yakov had hung up the phone and crawled over the women to get out of the bed and start his day even before the sun rose.

Now at 2:34 p.m. he pulled into a parking spot right in front of the building he was supposed to be at by three.

Blind luck to find the parking spot.

In every other way, he was not so lucky today. 

Angry yellow cabs whizzed past him laying on their horns in the thick rush hour traffic; bikers jumped from the street to the sidewalk as pedestrians moved in flocks up and down the avenue, and he could feel the strain starting to form in the ventricles of his heart at the thought of entering into the fox’s lair.   

Getting out of his Yukon Denali, he pulled off his gun belt and threw it under the driver’s seat.  There was no way he could bring it inside of a law enforcement installation, but out here in the
real
world, there was no way  he was going anywhere without it. 

Pulling his black suit jacket off the passenger seat, he slipped it on, feeling bare without his gun holster under his arms.  After a quick pat down of his pockets, he slammed the door, checked his hair in the window and hit the alarm.

As he entered through the revolving doors of the heavily secured building, he left behind the grueling summer heat. The lobby was cold, and sterile. Three guards in gray polyester pants, blue blazers with red embroidered writing and white cotton button downs stood at the security checkpoint waiting on him.  

Yakov knew the drill all too well.  He didn’t need any directions. 

Pulling his keys and wallet out of his pockets, he threw them in the clear acrylic box and passed it to one of the security guards to put on the conveyor belt before taking off his shoes. 

“Before you ask, no I don’t have any contraband, weapons, dangerous or illegal items,” he snarled. 

The female guard rolled her eyes at him as she lifted a brow.  “Raise your hands for me. Legs apart,” she said as she ran the wand over him before he could walk through the metal detector.

Yakov knew that wasn’t policy – to be wanded before any metal was even detected.  It was just another way to fuck with him. Still, he complied. 

Stretching his arms, he was given the
once-over
by a middle-aged, heavy-set woman who obviously had smoked most of her life based upon the lines around her weathered mouth.   

He could feel eyes on him from every direction – from the guards walking up and down the back of the lobby, the many cameras in every corner, the drug dogs a few feet away, and especially the three assholes right beside him. They were looking at his tattoos on his neck and hands, sizing him up, expecting trouble.

I’d love to give it to you
, Yakov thought.  

“What’s your business here today?” a man sitting on a high stool at the end of the conveyor belt asked when Yakov walked over to collect his things. He looked at Yakov like he was trash and turned up his nose like he stunk. 

“Going to see an inmate,” Yakov answered as evenly as possible.  He scanned the room again out of habit.

“Going to see a friend of yours?” the man sneered, giving him his wallet back.  Before Yakov could answer, he pointed at the bank of elevators a few feet away.  “Press six.  Be prepared to show your identification as soon as you get off.  They will clear you up there. If not, you’ll be sent back down here and escorted out.”

“
Spasiba
,” Yakov said, cutting his eyes at the man.  How he would love to meet him in a dark alleyway. 

“You’re welcome,” the man said dismissively as he waved over the next man in line. “Over here, chief.”

Twenty minutes and three pat downs later, a frustrated and sweaty Yakov was sitting in a booth waiting for his boss.

Leo was escorted into the room by two large guards.  He was wearing a frightful orange jumpsuit and handcuffs around his wrists - a sight that made Yakov do a double take.  Plopping down on the chair, he sucked his teeth and winked at Yakov.

They both picked up their phone at the same time.

“I’m surprised that they let you in,” Leo said, looking around.  His face wore his outward disgust that he had been reduced to such a shabby situation.  “These motherfuckers are the worse.  A bunch of bitches with badges.”  He made sure the guard could hear him. “They wouldn’t be shit on the street.”

“What about everyone else? Anyone giving you trouble?” Yakov asked concerned.

“No one is that stupid,” Leo yawned.  “They’d be dead before they could think it.”

Yakov tilted his head in discomfort.  There were more cops in this place than he’d ever been around in his entire life. “Maybe we should…speak in Russian, da.”

That was worth a chuckle.  “Won’t matter. They speak that too. I swear, these bastards speak Aramaic,” Leo said, pushing up closer to the table.  His chair made an annoyingly loud noise as it dragged across the linoleum.   He put his elbows down and turned up his lips. “I’m glad you’re here.  It really is a pleasant surprise and just in time.   I’ve been worried about my wife.”  Leo smiled, as if she was the light of his life.  “How is my baby?”

“Not holding up well,” Yakov said, face tightening. “Or at least from what I’ve heard.” 

“Those fucking Feds are making her testify.  They’ve scared her into it.”  His eye twitched. “Go to her.  Tell her that I love her, and I understand and tell her that everything will be okay.  My lawyer is certain that I’ll be out soon.  Make sure she has everything that she needs, until I get home, and that …” Leo paused dramatically and put his head down to keep from laughing.  “Tell her that I love her very much.”

“She loves you too, boss. I’m sure of it,” Yakov said in his most sincere voice, certain that the Feds were recording the entire conversation.  “It will be okay.  She’ll be there waiting for you when you get out of here.”

He looked back up at Yakov and narrowed his gaze.  “We just got married, eh.  She and I should be off honeymooning or making babies.  Instead, these sons of whores have me locked in this place like a rat in a can, and they are waiting to put me on the stove, Yakov.”  Leo’s chest expanded in pure rage.  “They won’t break me.  No one will.  No matter what.  But in the meantime, I need you to watch over my angel.”  His gray eyes gleamed with malice. 

Yakov nodded. “You know that I will, boss.” He ran a hand through his blonde curls, giving away his one nervous tick, but lucky that no one was there to notice it.

Leo put it on thick.  “She’s all I got in this fucking country.”

“I know,” Yakov said, taking a deep breath. 

Shaking his head, Leo managed to push out a tear.  “You’re my
brat
. I love you. You know that, right?  I mean, I can always count on you, and that means the world to me.”

“Absolutely,” Yakov whispered, phone pressed tightly to his ear.

Leo wiped his face and cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, I can’t sit here and cry in front of you like a fucking
suka
.  So, I’m gonna go.  Thanks for coming to see me.  It won’t be forgotten.”  He hung up the phone and stood up.  A wry smile of smug contentment crossed his lips as the guards approached to escort him back to his cell. 

With his marching orders, Yakov stood up and straightened his suit.  Leo had just made it abundantly clear.  He wanted his wife Lilly dead ASAP, and he wanted Yakov to do it.

***

The Feds had offered Lilly everything but a new soul to get her to testify against Leo, but in return they had done a piss poor job of protecting her.  Instead of taking her to a new location until the trial was over, she had opted to have security at her Manhattan home.  Strangely enough, no one from the U.S. Attorney’s office had any qualms about it.  They gave her the standard speech about her safety being in danger and when she pushed, they threw up their hands, had her sign a waiver and posted three field guys at her house. 

    The three agents -were posted downstairs, while Lilly spent all of her time upstairs in her bedroom.  Most days, it was impossible just to get out of the bed, but sometimes, she would make herself actually pack, a thing that was going to happen one way or another. Plus, it gave her something to do outside of regretting her existence.

     At seven o’clock that evening as the muted sun began to hide behind the horizon of puffy clouds, the men downstairs settled in for the evening.  It was the night before Lilly was going to testify before the grand jury, so a few additional men had been put in charge of watching the perimeter.  But since all had gone well for the last six weeks, without one disturbance and Leo was still under lock and key, the level of intensity had all but gone away.  At least, for everyone except Lilly.

Sitting up in her room in the dark, curled up in the bed looking out of the window, she waited.  She knew her husband and knew that he would not let what she was doing to him go without retribution. However, running before the deed was done, would ensure his release.  She had to do this- had to see it completely through, and if she lived through it, then she would run to the ends of the earth.

A strain was pulling in her chest from her racing heart down into her rigid spine.  It was hard to breathe as she laid curled in the fetal position, still unable to move.  Paralyzed by her own fear, she allowed hot tears to run down the side of her face onto the comforter.  A quiet chaos was running wild in her mind, from one bad thought to another.  The senses were a powerful thing.   She could hear Leo’s raised voice, feel the weight of his large hand against her face, see Vasily fly forward and hit the ground with blood spilling from his mouth.

A rap of knuckles on her bedroom door, made her move just a centimeter.  An agent opened the door and looked in her.

“You alright there, Mrs. Rasputin?” he asked with a thick Boston accent.

“Yes,” Lilly croaked out without taking her eyes off the window. “I’m fine.”

“I’ve got dinner for you,” he said, lifting up a plate. “It’s the falafel you ordered from Mohammad’s spot down the street.”

“Set it down, please,” Lilly said, swallowing down a sob.  “I’ll get it later.”  God in heaven knew that she couldn’t eat anything right now. If she tried, she just might hurl it right back up.

The man frowned.  “Hey, you alright?”  He stepped into the dark room.  “You seem awfully sad.  Don’t worry.  You’ll be safe.  We won’t let anything happen to you.”

Carefully and cautiously, he walked over to the bed and leaned down in front of her.  She looked up into his eyes and tried to smile. Her voice was nasally.  “Thank you, Agent Sheldon.  I appreciate your kind words, but I’m afraid that is just not true.”

Agent Sheldon was an Irish, redheaded muscular man in his mid- 40s with a serious buzz cut and piercing green eyes.  Boasting a gold wedding ring and smelling of family, he gave Lilly the feeling that he was a great dad to someone.   

“You’re doing the right thing, you know,” he said, wiping a tear from her face.  “Most wives just turn their heads and ignore what their husbands do in this kind of lifestyle, but you chose to testify, even when no one could make you.  It takes an honest and special person to do that.”

Lilly sniffed and raised her head just a little. “I’m not noble,” she said in a matter-of-fact tone. “I’m only doing it, because I want Leo to rot in hell for what he did to someone I cared about, someone who will never have any justice or revenge.”

Agent Sheldon nodded. “Well, you’re doing it, regardless of the reason.  That’s all that matters.”  He set the plate beside her on the nightstand.  “When you’re feeling up to it, eat something, will you?  You need all your strength for in the morning.”

“I will.  Promise,” she answered, pulling the covers over her shoulders.  “I just took a sleeping pill.  I’m going to rest for a while, then I’ll get up and eat.  Thank you.”