Page 1 of Made In America

Prologue

Manhattan, 2008

“Now what? I’m a dead man. I’m going to die.”

“No, you aren’t, Ivan. Trust me, you did the right thing Ivan.” Dante Romanoff attempted to calm his cousin. Things were in motion. It was like it was fate, a destiny none of them could have ever imagined. Certainly not Ivan, who only six months ago was fighting in the desert beside his best friend Commerce and their team of Marines, a Special Operations unit.

Ivan Sokolov looked at his hands. They were shaking, and tainted with blood. Kolikov’s blood. He had killed before, in the heat of battle, his life or the enemies. Why did this feel so different? Why, when Kolikov was nothing but evil? The man was a ruthless, nasty bastard who killed people with an order and a snap of his fingers and for little reason. Locca Kolikov had established a reputation decades ago in a time before Ivan was even able to walk. A Russian mobster for lack of a better term, created an empire here in New York as well as overseas. It was in his teens that Ivan learned of his family’s involvement with these types of families. Their connection to the Russian mob, and that his parent’s store front in Manhattan was also some kind of front for illegal business activities.

He closed his eyes and the anger, and rage pumped through his veins still now an hour later. That man, that vile, manipulative monster deserved to die. It was a long time coming, and Ivan was caught in the middle, a choice he made in an instant would now change his life forever. His family left Moscow years ago. Came to the United States, settled in Brighton Beach. They lived a good life, his father tried hiding the connections to the Russian mob, the made men who forced their demands on him and the family. Separating themselves from the lives of these gangs, and the manipulation of this one man, as well as the other four leaders. Ivan became a U.S. citizen at twenty, and joined the military at twenty-two in order to stay out of trouble and to keep on a straighter track then where he was heading. Now it was all destroyed in one action, one moment, one decision, gone forever.

He killed my family. He killed them all.

“Now do as I say. Take the bag, the money, and get to this address. There’ll be a man waiting for you. Henry is his name, and he will help you while your uncles’ handle Kolikov’s men.” Dante rubbed Ivan’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze.

He had tears in his eyes, and they were filled with emotion. His cousin never showed emotion. No one in their family did. Was Dante saying goodbye forever? Were his emotions telling of Ivan’s destiny? That this would be the last time they saw one another because a hit would be put out on Ivan and he would be dead before he even made it out of the state?

Ivan didn’t feel like crying, or collapsing, he was filled with hatred. It burned so deep to his core, to his soul, and he knew with all his heart, his actions tonight changed the man he was forever. They even changed the order of power within the four families.

“You did what was necessary. What no man, nor soldier was ever able to do. Kolikov deserved to die. He killed your mother, your father and your brother. It was Kolikov or you. Let the families figure things out. I’ll come for you when it is all resolved and you are safe.” Dante continued.

Ivan looked at Dante. A sick, hollow feeling instantly hit his gut. “That time will never exist. By killing a made man, a leader of the Russian mob I’ve placed a bull’s eye on my forehead. It won’t matter why. The higher ups will see it as they like. Me trying to manipulate my way into a higher position, to force the hands of those in true power, out of revenge. I never should have come back. Never should have accepted my father’s cry for help. I should have taken them all out of this a year ago. There is nothing you, the uncles, the rest of my family can do to save me.”

Dante squeezed his shoulder. “No.

That isn’t true. You will see. Great things will come from this Ivan. Mark my words, from the moment you were a young child you showed power, confidence, and capabilities many current leaders wished for and pretended to portray. You cousin, have those things naturally, and the family knows it. We will protect you. Help you get through this. You came back here, left the military in order to help your father, my father and the family. Your commanding abilities, intellectual and strategic approach to handling sensitive situations will all make you a successful and powerful man in the family one day. Great things will come from this Ivan. Great things. Now go. Take the car and head up north. Be patient, and the time will come where you can return and not as an enemy, but as a hero to the families, just as you were a hero as a soldier.”

Dante pulled him into an embrace and slapped his back twice before releasing him. Ivan felt the tears burn in his eyes and that fear of the unknown, but soldiers never show that. He saw the tears in his cousin’s eyes but couldn’t take time to process his own emotions. He got into the car, locked the doors and headed north as he was instructed. A Glock on his lap, finger stroking the trigger, the bag Dante gave him was all he had. He squeezed the handle of the gun, his only weapon against anyone who came after him. He swallowed hard and forced himself to remain in soldier mode. Ready for anything. Ready to kill.

As he drove, seeing his cousin in the rearview mirror getting smaller and smaller his gut clenched and a sense of foreboding filled his heart. Life was never going to be the same again. His twenties would be lost forever. Life as he knew it was over.

Ivan couldn’t get the visions out of his head. The dirty, lying, cheating, murderous bastard had been destroying lives, manipulating the innocent all for his own selfish agenda. Kolikov focused on himself and Ivan knew the man was trying to run his father out of business.

All the storefronts in New York, were falling under Kolikov’s control. He was monopolizing everything, taking money from the rest of the families. From his family, and it wasn’t right. His father was a stubborn man, and he should have listened to Ivan when he talked about taking him, his mother and brother out of that business and remaining in the United States permanently, instead of running both businesses, here and in Moscow. His father must have threatened to leave. Perhaps even denied Kolikov the use of the storefront in Manhattan as a front for illegal drugs and other products.

They loved the community they lived in. However, Kolikov destroyed Ivan’s father’s business in the United States so Ivan’s father set fire to one of Kolikov’s. If Kolikov wasn’t making money then no one would. Then Kolikov retaliated and blew up one of the stores in Manhattan. It was a vicious attack that left multiple people dead as well as those who ran the store for his parents. He hadn’t gotten all the details but knew it was a brutal fight back and forth with things ending by Kolikov killing Ivan’s family.

He saw their dead bodies. Walked in on Kolikov as he was beating Ivan’s mother, ripping her clothing, as her husband and son lay dead on the living room floor. He didn’t think twice. He took out Kolikov’s guard with the guard’s knife, expertly, like the sharply trained soldier Ivan was. Then he jumped towards Kolikov as he turned his gun on Ivan and Ivan used the guard’s gun on him. Ivan clenched his teeth and exhaled. His heart ached something terrible. His family was gone.

He thought about Kolikov and the power the man had. A head leader in the Russian mob, and Ivan killed him. It wouldn’t matter why in the end. The other families would see it as an attempt to take over, to destroy the order of things, even though the families were not organized under Kolikov’s rule. Instead the man became a dictator, a king, and reaped the full benefits of all those around him. He didn’t share, he stole, and if someone questioned him then they wound up dead. That wasn’t what a true leader was supposed to do. The man was out of control, monopolizing businesses and acting like a dictator and a king, when he should have shared the benefits of wealth with the other families. He deserved to die. Ivan focused on the road ahead of him as thoughts flashed through his mind. His life, however long he survived would be a life of endless fear, just waiting to be taken out.

Ivan should have done another tour of duty. He loved being a Marine. His citizenship as an American brought great pride to his mother and father. They had been conflicted at first, wanting him to continue his studies in finance but he had a calling. He trained in martial arts of all kinds. Got into some trouble, but nothing too bad until his return to Moscow in his teens while his parents conducted business. To the gangs, the fighting, the need to prove he was a man against those who thought they were capable of so much more.

He proved them wrong, and slowly his name made it to the conversations of the circle. The leaders of this modern day organized crime syndicate his parents wanted him to have nothing to do with. So he joined the Marine Corps. Moved up in rank quickly, and passed the brutal testing to become part of an elite force team of soldiers. There he met, and developed a strong friendship, a brotherhood with is best friend Commerce. They worked well together, and remained side by side as partners, as leaders of a team of other great soldiers and friends in the military. He thought of Commerce as more of a brother then a friend, because of the experiences they shared. They were sweeping through villages together, wiping out terrorist operations before they could form and infiltrate the United States.

He let his mind drift to those memories, to a part of his twenties he would never forget. He saw so much violence and death. He was to become a great American business man. To achieve the American dream. To let America make him, and what happened? What had gone wrong? His parents not telling him exactly how deep they were involved with the Russian mob. How the Ukrainian part of the family were servants to the traditions and how he was to one day return to be a part of such criminal activities. These people stole from the weak. They manipulated the system and robbed, cheated and killed to get their power. He lived in reality. He fought for a greater cause. For men like Kolikov to not reign and overpower. For terrorists to not be able to kill innocent children and women, and to feel pride for his achievements instead of guilt, or to have blood stain his hands.

He gripped the steering wheel tighter. He would have to disappear. He was a well-trained American soldier and knew enough of how to do so. Damn, he may never see Commerce, his best friend again. Kolikov’s men will come hunting. Ivan no longer had control of his life and his destiny. He was now the hunted, but at least his family’s killer was dead, just as his soul now was. If by chance he survived he would always be looking over his shoulder, could never trust anyone but himself ultimately, and eventually that lonely life would do him in. He tilted his chin up and gripped the gun.

This isn’t over. My life isn’t over. I’ll be ready when they come and I’ll take out whomever I need to in order to survive. A soldier never gives up.

****

Manhattan, New York, 2008

“Annabella? Annabella did you finish unpacking those boxes yet?” Her Mamma, Vienna called out to her from the front of the store.

Annabella stood up, brushed off her jeans and walked to the door. “I’m almost finished.” She said as she went back to stacking the bags of coffee beans along the shelves.

She was fourteen years old, and instead of hanging out on the weekends at home in Rockland, she had to come to the city to help out with the family business. Her brother Vincenzo, who was twelve, had it worse though. He couldn’t even play any sports. This was the family’s livelihood. A storefront in Manhattan that sold fresh coffee, cappuccino, and espresso along with homemade cookies and treats. The other half of the store offered little gifts and cards imported from Italy, a selection of olive oils for dressings and cooking and a mish mosh of things her parents felt were big sellers to the people frequenting the shop. Her job today was to unpack the boxes from the deliveries, and then help to wrap any items people purchased for gifts. Surprisingly people grabbed things all the time as last minute gifts for people.

“Good evening Mrs.

Asiago, I know you’re getting ready to close for the evening, but would you have any more of those special gift box sets with the Italian herbs of Provence along with the fancy hand painted bottles of oil and balsamic?” The man, Mr. Wilder asked her Mamma. Her Mamma smiled.

“Hmm, I think I sold the last one the other day, but Annabella is unpacking a few more boxes, perhaps there’s another set in there. They are very popular.” Her Mamma told him.

“Could she check for me? I completely forgot about a party I need to go to. Work this week was crazy, and here I am on my day off and I need a last minute gift. I thought about how unique that set is and how my mother loved it for Mother’s day, and it hit me that would make a fantastic gift.”

“Of course it would. How is your mother?” Her Mamma asked him and Annabella listened as she looked in the boxes she hadn’t unpacked yet to find the special set Mr. Wilder was talking about.

As she opened the box, she glanced at the clock. The store would be closing in about thirty minutes, and then they could head home. The forty-five minute drive would suck.

“Papa said we’re going to eat at Brook’s.” Vincenzo told her, as he bounced around the room.

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