The World in Reverse (33 page)

Knocking on the door, he waited.

Ivy answered quickly.  Changed into clean clothes and bathed, she looked more relaxed.  The frantic worry in her eyes had gone.  Lighting up when she saw his face, she wrapped her arms around him and held him tight, as if she had not seen him just thirty minutes before.

“Are you okay?  I was worried,” she said, pulling him into the room.

She was worried about him.
After she was ostracized in the community she had worked her ass off to help, after she was fired from the job that she had worked in since college to become a partner, after she was shot at, house burned and children nearly murdered,
she was still worried about him
. 

He closed the door and cupped her face in his large, dirty hands.  “Baby,” was the only word that he could muster before he found her lips and kissed her gently.  The taste of her warm mouth was always its own sweet med
icine for him.  He relished in it, one slow evolution at a time.  Picking her up off the floor, he carried her to the bed and laid her down on the softness of the pillows  Rubbing his hands through her hair, he nuzzled his nose in the smell of it, let his fingers run through its silkiness. 

Her eyes closed tight as she melted into him.  Pushing his shirt up, she snatched it off his body and raked her nails over the stubble on his chest.  Exasperated, she opened her legs as he pushed down in between them.  A thick, e
ngorged erection waited on her, pushing through his shorts, begging to be satisfied. 

Nicola pulled her shirt up and bent to kiss her
slightly bulging stomach. The roundness of it was so perfect and brown.  Thank God that there were no bruises, no harm to his growing child. 
I’ll keep you safe
, he thought to himself. Placing his mouth over her belly button, he slowly caressed her before he helped her out of the clothes that she had just put on.  Her perfect brown tips of her aching, rigid nipples pressed against his hot skin.  The smell of smoke and sweat still lingered on his skin.  Paying no mind, she kissed his neck and sucked on the lobe of his ear.

He growled, slipping a digit in between her thighs, happy to find her moist.  The sudden penetration made her back arch. 

“Nicky,” she whispered.

“I love you,” he said, kissing her breasts.  Holding one in his hand, he carefully and softly massaged her.  “I love you so much, baby.  I’ll do anything to protect you.”

Ivy rubbed a hand through his hair and felt tears on his breasts.  He buried his head there in the fullness of her bosom as he fondled her. 

“I know,” she said, pulling his head to see his face.  She nodded at him.  “And I’m so grateful for it.”

“Grateful,” he frowned. “Oh, baby, you deserve so much more.”  Tears flowed down his cheeks.  The pain swelled up in his chest, making it hard to speak. “I’ve never in my entire life known anyone more deserving of a good life.  You just don’t know how special you are…how wonderful you are.  You and my children are my world.  I don’t exist without you.”  He kissed her again, this time deeper.  “I don’t exist…” he whispered in a raspy voice.

Ivy pulled down his shorts quickly.  The feel of him lying on top of her so close that she could feel his heartbeat soothed her.  “Let me make you feel better,” she said, crying as well.  “It’s the only thing I know to do right now. It’s all that I have to offer, but let me. Please let me.”

Her hands glided over his muscular back, down the valley of ripples and his dark, tan olive skin.  Cupping his buttocks, she felt him push inside of her.  He was trembling as he entered.  Raising up on his knees, he rested his upper body on his elbows to look at her.  Grabbing her thigh, he pushed deeper and let out a moan.  Eyes closing, he rested his head in the curve of her neck. 

His wife.  His beautiful, loving wife.  She was still here, still his even after all that they had gone through. He was blessed, not lucky.

“Can you feel me?” she asked, holding him tight.

“Yes,” he answered quickly, flexing his powerful hips.  “All of you.”  He moved slowly in and out of her, forgetting the world around him for just a moment.  The heady mix of love and sorrow fills the room, and they are now one just as they had been many times before.  His breath is ragged and voice harsh as he feels himself grown harder inside of her.  The silky feel of her body closing around him is intox
icating, paralyzing. Unable to escape the ecstasy of her touch, he realizes that he is as much hers as she is his, and that fact is the only thing that heals the gaping wound in his bleeding heart.  All he had ever wanted was this woman, this temple, this joy.  And as long as he had her, he could survive anything. 

“This will always be your home.  Not some building or some geographic location on a map,” she said into his ear.  Sinking her nails into his skin, she stole his attention.  “Right here, in me.  For as long as I have breath, this is your home, Nicola.  No where else and with no one else on this earth.”

His large, naked body covered hers completely, but it was her body that hid him from all that mattered.  “For better or worse until death does us part, so help me God,” he said, raising his head to look at her.  His hazel-brown eyes burned through her with a passion that she hadn’t seen in years. 

“Till death do us part.  So help us God,” Ivy said, raising her plump lips to his wet mouth. 

While still connected in the darkness with only the fireplace to illuminate their illicit actions, they kissed slowly like the first time that they had met many years ago on the couch of his good friend’s house, when she was just a college girl and he was just a young, lost man.  He kissed her until the room began to spin  around him and the sound of her moans took over like a hypnotizing melody.  His kissed her until her tongue was woven around his own, and he could taste the sweetness of her words and the truth of her promises.

***

What was left of the burned down structure of the Agosto’s formerly historic home was being hosed down with gallons upon gallons of water by the Memphis Fire Department. A sea of blue lights lit up the area.  Police swarmed the neighborhood, interviewing scared neighbors who told terrifying stories of a shoot-out only meant for large-scale Hollywood productions. Cops walked the area with dogs and flashlights. News reporters stood on the perimeter in clear view of the crime scene reporting on the missing or dead family that lived inside. They connected without verification of the police department the slew of murders, bombings, and drive-by shootings that had taken place all over the city that night back to the Baby Boys case. 

Suddenly, the question was raised about Sgt. Agosto’s innocence.  Had he truly been wrong in his attack on the dead DeMario Washington or was Ivy’s profession of his innocence and her assertion that bad people plotting on them true?  In the late hours of the night, as amb
ulances picked up dead bodies, the public opinion began to sway. 

Ivy’s interview promo was aired every break with people logging on to their computers to discuss the case on their social media outlets, while others called into the radio stations. 

Ivy’s parent stood outside the house crying and demanding answers with their friends who had rushed to the scene as soon as they had heard the news. The Security Squad that had snatched away Agosto’s badge and gun combed the area, while other detectives from several special investigative units took as much  evidence as they could find.  Stepping over hundreds of shells out on the lawn, crime scene investigators quartered off large areas to start to find clues.  

Getting out of his unmarked squad car in the middle of the fiasco, Director Amway headed toward the house dressed in his uniform.  Immediately, reporters ran his way, but officers blocked them from passing as cameras flashed and followed him, screaming out for a stat
ement.

“Director!  Director!” They all shouted.  “What does the Memphis Police Department have to say about the string of murders and bombings?  What happened to Nicola Agosto?  Was his family murdered?  What is the Me
mphis Police Department going to do?”

He covered his face from the flashing lights and stayed behind the crime scene line.  Uni
nterested in speaking with the media, he let his public information officer take the lead, blocking the media from getting a direct quote from her boss. 

A large huddle of officers in uniform and SWAT gear waited on him.  Director Magnelli was in the middle of the huddle, giving orders and sending out squad cars to look for any possible signs of the Agosto family.

“Where are we?” Amway said, as the officers moved out of his way.  He looked over at Magnelli in surprise.  “What are you doing here?  You should be with your wife?”

“A lot of good that will do,” Magnelli said, eyes red from crying over his dead daughter.  He looked like death warmed over in a pair of jeans and MPD t-shirt with worn leather loa
fers.  “We need to find whoever is responsible for this, and I can’t help at the fucking morgue.”

“I’m with you,” Amway said, not pushing the issue. “I’m sorry for your loss.  I really am.  We’ve got several cars on your house.  No one will get to your wife or any other member of your family.  We’re looking for your son right now.”

“I saw that. I appreciate it,” Magnelli said, shining the light on the map of the area.  “We have officers saturating the area.  We’ve called in those who are off duty.  Investigators are out knocking on doors.  Everyone is on full-alert.  Johnson is in the hospital being treated for his burns and cuts.  Steele is dressed and on the streets with a few guys.  Ferris is under protective custody.”

“Good.” Amway clapped his hands together. “Alright men.  I want confirmation of who is in that house.  Agosto had four kids and a wife.  If they are dead, I want to know.  If they are gone, I want to know where they are.  Put a cop on every corner if you have to.  Activate all ca
meras.  Find out how useful the Blue Crush system is.  Since it’s open season on us, we’re going to return the favor.  Pick up any motherfucker that remotely looks at you wrong.  I want every lead followed-up on and every stone turned over.  I don't care if we have to fill the jail to capacity, we’ll borrow space at the penitentiary.  This shit ends now.  We need answers, and we need them tonight. Let’s send a message that this town still belongs to us.”

29

Early morning crept through the heavily curtained windows of the bedroom where Nicola and Ivy lay asleep. The fireplace was still on and the silence of the room was peaceful and serene. Their boys were crowded around them, hugging them tightly, safely curled under their parents unharmed and out of danger. 

Rolling over, Nicola’s eyes popped open to the sound of gunshot ringing in his ears.  Jum
ping up in a cold sweat, he reached for a weapon, but there was none.  Suddenly, he realized the gunshot was actually a knock at the door. He looked over at his family, resting and let out a deep breath. 
Just a nightmare. 
Calming his beating heart, he pulled himself to the end of the bed and pushed his feet down into the carpet and walked to the door.

Boris was standing with a change of clothes for Nicola and the children.  “Boss said for your family to meet him downstairs in thirty minutes.”  He passed him the clothes.  “Don’t be late,” he said, walking off.

Nicola closed the door and leaned his head against the wall.  Ivy slipped her hand from under the pillow and looked at him.  “Good morning,” she said, voice groggy.  Before he could respond, she jumped up from the bed and headed to the bathroom.

Morning sickness.
He couldn’t be happier to see it coming.  It meant that she was still pregnant, still healthy and carrying his child. 

Putting down the clothes, Nicola followed her to the bathroom dutifully and bent over her to hold her hair as she threw up in the fine porcelain receptacle. 

“Let it out,” he said, rubbing her back.

Ivy wiped her mouth and flushed the toilet.  “I should probably get something on my sto
mach. I’m sure the baby is hungry.”

“So are you.  I’ll get the kids dressed.  You just lay down until we’re ready,” he said, helping her stand.  “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” she said, holding her stomach.  “Nothing I’m not used to.”  Going to the double sink, she grabbed her toothbrush and ran the water.  “I’ll help you get them up.”

“Baby, you should rest,” he insisted.  He knew that she had to be weak after losing all of her nutrients.  He didn’t want her sick the entire day, especially before the flight. 

“No, I want to help,” she said, looking at him in the mirror.  “I’ll be fine. I promise.  We don’t have much time.”  She willed herself to pull herself together.

Twenty-five minutes later, Boris was back at the door waiting for them.  Escorting them quietly through the hallway, he heard one of the twin boys ask about the guns under his arms.  Ivy quickly hushed him and grabbed his hand.  Taking them downstairs, he led them to the informal dining area where Dmitry sat reading a newspaper.  Royal sat beside him, talking to a beautiful little girl who had a peachy hue and startling blue eyes like her father.  Gabriel sat at the other end of the table, also reading a paper and flipping through his iPad. 

The long dinner table was covered with flowers, fruit, biscuits, sausage, eggs, pancakes, and several other pastries.  The aroma of freshly brewed coffee filled the room. It was a perfect way to start the day.  As soon as the family entered the room, Dmitry put down his newspaper and stood.  Walking over to Ivy, he took her hand in his own and smiled.

“Mrs. Agosto, how are you this morning?” he asked, escorting her to a chair near him.  He pulled out a seat and waited for her to sit.

“Fine, thank you,” she muttered, looking back at her husband. 

Nearly speechless, she took in his monstrous size.  He was easily seven feet tall and ama
zingly beautiful - too handsome to be a criminal and far too nice.  He wore a tailored, crisp black shirt and black slacks.  Evidently, he was an early riser.  Nodding at Royal, who was also dressed in a black simple dress that only brought more attention to her tall, statuesque frame and fine jewelry, she felt completely underdressed.

“Did you sleep well?” Royal asked as a maid poured her more coffee. 

“I did,” Ivy answered quickly.  Dmitry pushed up her seat to the table and patted her back.  “Agosto, please have a seat with your wife,” he said, going back to his chair at the head of the table.

“And kids come over here.  Aren’t you go
rgeous,” Royal said, standing to receive the children.  She admired each of them, running her hand through their delicious black curly locks. 

The children introduced themselves to the girl who watched the boys carefully.  Royal couldn’t help but notice the child’s serious demeanor. Ivy drank in her beauty and her poise.  The girl couldn’t be anymore than six, yet she behaved like an adult.  Offering the boys a hand, she introduced herself as Anya Medlov then quickly went back to her brea
kfast. 

Ivy wondered what could have happened to the girl to make her so ice cold, but she woul
dn't dare ask. Then there was the other man at the end of the table, who nodded at her but did not address her directly.  Quietly, he ate his food with a blond woman at his side.  He barely spoke to her either.  Instead, he immersed himself in work and occasionally gave a courteous smile.  But he too was incredibly tall. His dark hair contrasted with Dmitry’s but he looked so much like him until, she had to ask.

“Who is he?” Ivy whispered to Dmitry, fee
ling unusually comfortable with the man.

“He is my nephew, Gabriel.  He’s a bit put off today, but he’ll be fine.  And that is Briggy, his girlfriend.  We’re all one big family here.”  Dmitry watched Royal make his plate and then took it from her.  “Thank you, sweetheart.”

“You’re welcome,” Royal replied. 

“Well, we appreciate your hospitality,” Ivy said, looking over at Royal. “I slept like a rock in that cozy bed.  And the kids slept well too.  You’re really too kind.”

“It’s the least that we could do considering how much you’ve been…put out,” Dmitry said, looking over the children. He tried to use his words carefully.  “Please, enjoy breakfast.  There is plenty.”

Settling down for breakfast, the initial shock finally wore off.  Nicola and Dmitry spoke briefly about the news and the coverage regar
ding the attack, while Royal and Ivy spoke about the babies.  There were no awkward silences or moments, instead the morning flowed like clockwork.  Royal continued to play the gracious hostess, while Dmitry played the gentleman.  Ivy nearly forgot that she was having breakfast with a notorious crime boss and his family. Instead, they were just Nicola’s friends. 

When breakfast was over, Gabriel stood and walked over to Nicola.  Wiping his eyes, he adjusted the guns holstered under his bulging biceps.  “We have to get your family to the plane,” he said, looking at his watch. 

Nicola looked over at Ivy and rubbed her back. “We don’t have anything to take with us.  We’re ready when you are.” He hated that his wife had to go away, but what else could he do. 

Royal walked over to Ivy and hugged her. “Take care.  Good luck with baby number five.”

“You too,” Ivy said, feeling as though she had made a friend.  “Thank you again.”

“Again, there is no need to thank us,” Royal said, motioning for her daughter. “I have to get upstairs and check on the children, so this is good bye for me, but I’m sure that we’ll be seeing each other again.” Glancing over at Nicola as her daughter took her hand, Royal nodded. “Mr. Agosto.”

“Mrs. Medlov,” Nicola said as professionally as possible. He didn’t even pretend that the relationship that Ivy was building with Royal carried over to him and Dmitry.  From here on, it would be strictly business. 

Dmitry cracked a smile at Ivy.  He found her to be a breath of fresh air - so innocent and so caring.  She was everything that he’d heard she was.  Royal had gone on for quite some time the night before about the woman and her desire to see the family care for.  “Don’t worry, Mrs. Agosto.  When you return, your home will be restored.” He could feel his wife looking at him in approval. 

Ivy smiled at the thought. Somehow hearing him say the words, made it true. 

Four other heavily armed guards met the family and Gabriel in the foyer and escorted them out in the bright morning sun to a convoy of black Range Rovers with tinted windows parked right outside the house.  Loading them up, they headed out to take Ivy and the kids to a plane on the outskirts of town in Millington to be flown to Miami where Nicola’s family would be waiting.

When they were gone, Dmitry found Royal upstairs feeding the children with Briggy and a nanny.  She looked up from doting on her son to watch her husband as he played with her daughter.  “What plans do you have for Agosto?” she asked.

Dmitry raised a brow. “Why do I have to have plans?” he asked, cutting his eyes at her.

“Because you always do,” Royal said, putting down the baby’s snack.  She rocked her son gently.  “Do this without any intention of receiving anything in return, Dmitry.”

He turned and looked at her.  “Why should I?” he asked, putting his daughter on his lap. 

“Because you can,” she said seriously.  “Because there is no need to turn everyone from their paths to suit you and your personal interests.”

“Isn’t not turning him in your personal i
nterest?” he asked with a hint of sarcasm in his deep baritone Russian voice. 

“I have nothing to gain from just helping them.  There is not a personal interest i
nvolved,” she said, rolling her eyes.  “It’s just after what nearly happened to Anya, maybe this is God’s way of giving us an opportunity to pay it forward.”

“Of course there is a personal interest for you. You like her.  You want to save her,” Dmitry said, rubbing through his daughter’s hair while she played with her doll.  She li
stened quietly, holding on to her father’s every word. 

“Just think about it,” Royal said, refusing to argue the point.  “It’s worth a thought. This is an entire family that you’re playing with,” she stabbed. 

Dmitry didn’t like her choice of words. “I don’t play.”

“No, darling, you don’t lose,” she said, pu
tting the bottle back in her son’s mouth.  “Now enough of this.  We need to talk about Anatoly’s wedding.  Where is he anyway?”

“Busy,” Dmitry answered without further explanation.

***

Ferris was shocked when he was told that despite him being in protective custody, he still had to be escorted to the police headquarters to answer questions about DeMario Washington.  One would have thought that considering his home had been bombed and shot up that the investigation would have leaned toward other people - anyone but him.  But Johnson had insisted. 

With his legs wrapped in gauze, Johnson sat in the interrogation room in shorts and black t-shirt, shield wrapped in a single black band out of respect for Carmen’s death, patiently waiting on Ferris to arrive.  Steele sat on the other side of the booth, watching with Magnelli.

“This isn’t a good idea,” Steele said, pacing the room.  “Johnson is holding on by a very thin string.”

“Aren’t we all?” Magnelli said, rubbing his temples.  “But Johnson says that it’s worth it. So, we need to speak with Ferris.”

“Let me do it,” Steele begged.

“No.” Magnelli said shortly. 

Steele knew that Magnelli was not thinking clearly. How could he considering his own tragedy. “I’m not worried about Ferris. I’m worried about Johnson screwing this up by doing something monumentally stupid,” she said, leaning against the glass and looking at him.  There was no way that she was going to leak that they had found those files, but she knew that they were close - too close to risk it. 

“If he can get any information out of him, then it’s worth it,” Magnelli said, sipping his coffee.  His voice was flat and void of all life as was his eyes. 

She turned to look at him. He hadn’t slept a wink and it showed. Walking over she touched his shoulder.  No words could express her sorrow for his loss.  His only daughter was dead and his son was missing.  But here he was pushing forward with the investigation.  “If there is anything that I can do…” she whi
spered.

Magnelli touched her hand. “Just do your job,” he said, coldly. 

She removed her hand quickly and went back to the glass just in time to see Ferris enter the room.

Johnson looked up from the table and stood. “Councilman Ferris,” he said, offering his hand.  “Thanks for coming in.”

“I can’t say that I’m happy to be here,” Ferris said, looking around the small box of a room.  “What is this about?”

“It won’t take long. I’m sorry to drag you out but we were hoping that maybe you could shed some light on the situation with DeMario yesterday, since you were the last one to see him alive.”  He pulled out Ferris’s chair.  “Would you like some coffee.”

“There is no need for pleasantries, Johnson. I’ve had quite enough of them already this morning.  Ask your questions so that I can go.” He sat down and rolled his eyes.

Johnson looked at the glass and ran his sweaty hands down his shorts.  “Okay,” he said, grabbing his notepad and pushing the button to start the recording of the tape.  “Did you know DeMario Washington before the attack on his life by Sgt. Agosto?”

“No,” Ferris answered curtly.

“Are you in anyway linked to the Baby Boys murders?” Johnson asked, looking Ferris in the eye. 

“What the hell kind of questions are these?  Yes, of course I’m connected. I’m leading the public’s interest in demanding the Memphis Police Department find the murderer responsible for four deaths,” Ferris snarled.