“Isn’t that what you should’ve asked me at the bar?”
“I did, if I recall—just not with the cheesy pickup line.”
“Yeah,” she said. “I’m sorry for not listening.”
“You were looking for your sister. You love her and want to make sure she’s safe. I should’ve told you more. It’s just that...”
His voice trailed off and his eyes slowly dropped closed. Madelyn’s heart began to race. She wanted to know about her sister. More than that, she was worried that Roman was finally slipping into a catatonic state.
“It’s just that what?” She touched his shoulder. To keep him conscious, she had to keep him alert. “You were saying something about Ava.”
He swallowed—a good sign, medically speaking, but didn’t open his eyes. “It’s just that I didn’t want to put you in danger. At the time, it seemed like a good plan...”
What kind of danger had Ava stumbled across this time? But more important, how much danger was Roman in now? “You have to keep talking to me, Roman.” Silence. “Tell me about the time you served in Afghanistan. You were in the army, right? I remember your tattoo.”
His lips moved, but he made no sound. Madelyn moved closer to him, even though her body was pressed into his, and placed her ear next to his mouth.
“My platoon was tasked with rescuing a group of soldiers...” His voice trailed off. Madelyn was about to shake Roman, when he began to speak again. This time, his voice was stronger. “Go in, get the good guys and leave—that was supposed to be our mission.”
“And things didn’t go as planned,” she said.
“The intel we had wasn’t as good as it needed to be, but Delta Force will never back down. We got all our troops out unharmed. I took a few rounds to the foot, minimal collateral damage if you think about it.”
“It’s only minor if it’s not your foot.”
“Two surgeries and this was the best they can do.” He began to tremble. “Sorry,” he said. “I’m still so cold.”
“Don’t apologize. Shivering is good. It means that your body is warming itself up, not shutting down.”
“Thanks for all your help.”
His breath washed over her neck and Madelyn instinctively melted into his form. In this light, his eyes looked hazel—green and brown and gold—like the forest in the fall. Then she reminded herself that Roman was her patient. Then again, he wasn’t. His shivering lessened and his skin began to warm. Realizing that he wasn’t under her medical care left Madelyn keenly aware of the fact that she lay next to him in her underwear and that he was in nothing more himself.
“I should get up,” she said, “let you get some rest.”
“Don’t go. Not yet.”
Rain, snow and ice pelted the window. The soft tapping was the only noise in the little cabin.
“Okay,” she said.
“I’m glad you’re here,” he said.
The breath caught in her chest. Of course, there were many ways she could take his comment—from the personal to the professional—and she couldn’t come up with an appropriate reply. What was Madelyn thinking? She wasn’t a fool. There was unquestionably a seductive undertone to Roman’s words. While she appreciated his appearance and his bravery, she knew nothing about the man. What if he had a girlfriend, or—dear God—a wife?
“You shouldn’t be asking me to stay in this sleeping bag with you or telling me that you’re glad I’m here.”
“Why not? It’s all the truth. I do want you to stay and I am glad that you’re with me now.”
“I don’t know anything about you.”
“What do you want to know?”
“Are you married?”
“Divorced.”
“Do you have a girlfriend?” Madelyn asked.
“No.”
“Liar.”
“Why would I lie to you?”
“To keep me here, in the sleeping bag, with you.”
“I thought you were sharing your body heat with me.”
“I am.” Madelyn corrected herself. “Was. You aren’t suffering from hypothermia anymore.”
“Are you sure? I could easily relapse.”
Medically, he was right. It could take several hours for his internal temperature to regulate.
“Besides,” he said, “I don’t have a girlfriend, if that’s what worries you.”
“I find that hard to believe. You’re a good-looking guy,” she said.
“I’ve been working undercover for five months. In my experience, girls don’t like being ignored for almost half of a year.”
“No, they don’t,” she said, if only to fill the silence.
“What about you?” he asked.
“Me? No, I’m too busy for a relationship.”
But it was more than that. Madelyn’s last relationship had ended for that reason, but it was her ex’s choice, not hers. She was too focused on her studies to have time for him. Eating alone and spending weekends alone was fine if you wanted to be alone, he had told her, but he expected a little more from his girlfriend. Yet, the rejections still clawed at her middle and while trying to soothe away the pain, she had adopted the position as both a mantra and armor.
“I refuse to get serious with anyone until after I graduate. No one is worth sacrificing my dreams,” she said. Even in her own ears she heard the defiance in her voice. Would Roman guess that it was forced and that her heart had been broken already?
“And yet here you are in a sleeping bag with a strange man,” he said.
She couldn’t decide if he was being playful or not.
“With everything that’s happened tonight, nothing is out of the ordinary.”
And Roman definitely wasn’t strange. He had broad shoulders and well-muscled arms. His legs were long and a sprinkling of dark hair covered his chest and tickled her flesh. The spicy scent of Roman hung in the air and teased her senses. She wanted to taste him again and see if his kisses burned. She stared at his mouth, his lips.
The silence became the unclaimed yearning that filled Madelyn. She feared that if left unchecked, she would dive headfirst into the emptiness and ecstasy, never bothering to first discover the depth.
“I can see that Oleg is a bad man,” she said, shoveling noise into the chasm that held her desires. “What were you looking for?”
“My employer had intel that Oleg was involved with Russian organized crime and one of the largest heroin dealers in the world, Nikolai Mateev. I was trying to plant a bug in Oleg’s office tonight.”
Roman continued to speak, telling her that he had a specialty in electronic surveillance and that as soon as he had warmed up, he would contact RMJ and tell them that he had intel about Nikolai Mateev’s upcoming arrival. He finished by saying, “They’re dangerous men, all of them. I’m glad that I finally have some information that will lead to indictments, arrests, and, hopefully, convictions.”
“My sister was in The Prow earlier tonight. She posted a picture on social media, that’s why I came to the bar.”
“I remember.”
“And now she’s involved with these men?”
“I wouldn’t say involved.”
“What would you call it, then?”
“She’s a regular and it doesn’t surprise me that she’s been in rehab before. But she’s not friendly with Oleg or any of his crew, if that’s what worries you.”
“At least she’s alive. These past few months have been awful.” She paused again, not sure if she should continue. Maybe it was the fact that it was completely silent, save for the rain and snow tapping on the window. So, if she spoke it was almost as if the words were only being said inside her head, where only Madelyn could judge. “Ava’s in Boulder and hasn’t called me. She knows I’m a student at CU medical school. Why would she ignore me? I love her and want to help her.” Th
en in her mind, Madelyn asked the most important question, the one she dared not voice. Is there something wrong with me? Is that why everyone leaves?
“Maybe she’s embarrassed to see you.”
“Me?” Madelyn began to sweat. “I’m her sister, for goodness’ sake.”
“Once we get Oleg Zavalov sorted out, I’ll help you find Ava. I’ve gotten to know some of the other regulars. They’ll know where she’s staying.”
“You would do that for Ava?”
“I’d do that for you.”
Madelyn’s breath caught in her chest. She gazed at Roman. He smiled and her heart fluttered.
“Roman,” she whispered.
He wrapped his hands around Madelyn’s waist and pulled her close. She tensed, her emotions at war. She wanted Roman’s lips on hers and for his hands to touch and explore more than her side. At the same time, giving in to her needs felt reckless and wrong.
“You were pretty great tonight,” he said. “Not many civilians could face the likes of Oleg Zavalov and keep it together like you did.”
“I was pretty scared, if I recall.”
“Me, too,” he teased. “But my fears were on the inside. And you’re a hell of a doc, too. The folks at Walter Reed Medical Center couldn’t have done better.”
“Aww,” she joked, “now you’re just making me blush.”
“I’d like to do more than that.” His voice was smoky and deep. He cupped her face and stroked her cheek with his thumb. “Competent, intelligent and beautiful—it’s a rare combination. And one that I am a complete sucker for.”
He was offering Madelyn the appreciation she craved—at least for the night. Yet, she never gave in to her impulses, hadn’t since she was a kid. “I can’t,” she whispered. “You’ve been shot. It wouldn’t be a good idea.”
Roman lowered his lids. When he looked up again, his gaze was no longer on her face. “I get it,” he said.
Madelyn was glad that Roman understood her motivations, because where he was concerned she hardly knew herself.
* * *
Oleg Zavalov sat on the sofa in Madelyn’s darkened apartment. Anton, returned from his chase onto the interstate, had driven them there. The bodyguard paced, his hulking shadow slowly moved from one side of the room to the other.
“Sit down,” Oleg snapped. “You’re giving me a headache with that back and forth routine.”
“You think she’ll come back?” Anton asked. “We’ve been here for an hour.”
And it had been another hour since Madelyn Thompkins had escaped from The Prow. Two hours gone. “I don’t think she’ll be back,” he said.
Anton took a seat. “Maybe we should call Serge.”
Oleg pictured Serge, his cloudy eyes staring at nothing. “Serge is minding the bar.”
“But it was shut down when I got back,” Anton said.
Oleg, to keep the body hidden, had closed early for the night. He wouldn’t reopen until Serge could be removed from the beer cooler. He’d have to remember all his lies to keep them straight. “He’s busy doing other things.”
“Is Serge out looking for Roman and the girl?”
“What do you care? Are you suddenly the boss?”
“I was thinking,” Anton said. His Russian accent was dark and heavy, like a tobacco stain on lace curtains.
“Don’t think,” Oleg snapped. Then again, if Oleg was stuck in this apartment it didn’t mean someone else couldn’t be his eyes and ears on the street. He took the phone from his pocket and pulled up the contact list. The call was answered on the first ring.
“You can’t call me on this phone,” Jackson whispered.
“I need you to do something for me.”
“I can’t now, I’m on duty.”
“Do you really want to deny me a favor?”
Jackson sighed and Oleg waited while a muffled conversation took place on the other end of the call. “I needed to get away from my partner,” he said when he returned to the phone. “What do you need?”
“For you to look for a car.”
Jackson sighed again. “Fine. Give me the make, model and license plate.”
Oleg asked Anton for the information, which was readily given and then he passed it on. “Once you find that car, stop it and call me.”
“I can’t pull someone over for no reason, much less detain them without cause.”
“Find a reason,” Oleg said.
“Yeah?” Jackson asked, “Who’s this person to you?”
“The car belongs to Madelyn Thompkins. She’s the girl you stopped from leaving The Prow tonight.”
“And you want me to find the car she drove because...”
“Drives.” Oleg corrected the cop. “She got away, along with my bartender.”
A long line of profanity followed. Oleg waited for the swearing to subside. “I’ll help you this time,” said Jackson. “But after tonight I’m done. Got that?”
Jackson liked the drink and the women that Oleg provided. The threat was empty and he’d be back. “Of course,” he said. “Call me if you find anything.”
Oleg put the phone in his pocket and exhaled. He leaned back on the sofa and pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes until a kaleidoscope of colors swirled in his vision.
“Since you know what kind of car the girl drives, you can have Serge out looking for her, too,” Anton said.
“What is it with you and Serge?” Oleg asked. He wondered if Anton was going to be the biggest problem in keeping Serge’s death hidden until he could deliver the culprits to Nikolai. Or disappear.
Two hours gone and Oleg’s only hope of finding Madelyn or Roman was a hesitant and crooked police officer. There had to be more. Oleg closed the drapes and turned on the lights. He already knew everything about the room. Sofa. Chair. T.V. Coffee table. Breakfast bar. Kitchen. But in the light, he saw things that he’d missed in the dark. Family pictures lined the walls and thick medical textbooks sat on the breakfast bar.
Anton lifted a photo in a silver frame from the wall. “I know her,” he said.
Oleg took the photo. It was the picture of two young women at a picnic table. Smiling, both held barbecued ribs. Sticky, brown sauce covered their fingers. He recognized one of the girls as Madelyn Thompkins. Her hair was longer and she was younger—Oleg guessed that she was eighteen or nineteen years old—but without question, it was Madelyn. The other woman was older by a year or two, thinner. Her hair was also long, but not neatly kept. There were also similarities between the two women. The eyes and nose were the same, different lips, though. Without question, the women were close relatives—sisters most likely.
“You recognize her?” Oleg put his finger on the other woman’s face.
“I’ve seen her at The Prow. What’s her name? Anna. No, Ava. Yeah Ava. Don’t have a last name.”
“Ava Thompkins?”
“Could be.”
“Can you find her?”
“Most likely. I think she stays at the abandoned house next to the bar.”
“Good, let’s get out of here and go back to The Prow. Then I want you to find Ava Thompkins and bring her to me.” Finding Madelyn was like trying to catch a single fish in a vast ocean. The task was nearly impossible, unless he had the right bait. Nothing would be a better enticement than a wayward sister.
“I’ll call Serge. He could get her and she’ll be waiting for us when we get back.”
“Leave Serge out of this,” Oleg said, now certain that Anton was soon going to be a problem that needed to be dealt with.
Oleg turned off the light, making sure that everything in Madelyn’s apartment was just as it had been when they arrived. He sat in the back of the car while Anton drove. Serge’s death was nothing more than a minor stumble on an otherwise clear path to personal greatness. It was that bloodline connecting Oleg to ro
yalty that urged him to create another empire. And though Oleg had been born in America, he still heard the call of Mother Russia like a winter wind whistling through the eaves of the Kremlin.
Chapter 4
The final remnants of sleep surrounded Roman. Even though he had yet to open his eyes, his abdomen burned. The pain came with an understanding that he’d been shot. His mind began to take inventory of his body but stopped as soon as it began. A woman’s form was melded into his own and it wasn’t just any woman, either. It was Madelyn Thompkins.
He hadn’t lied to her last night when he told her that she was the total package, everything he appreciated in a woman. But he had to keep in mind that he didn’t know much about her—and definitely didn’t believe in anything as ridiculous as love at first sight. Hell, after dealing with his ex-wife, he hardly believed in love at all.
What was it about Madelyn that sent Roman’s pulse racing and brought a smile to his lips? Her little jokes? Her ability to face her fears? Deep down, it was more than that and even as he smiled to himself, he knew that to let her distract him would be a mistake.
It brought back the magnitude of the information Roman possessed about Nikolai Mateev. It filled him with excitement. More even than when he received his appointment to West Point, or when he ran in the winning touchdown at the Army-Navy game. To have information about Nikolai Mateev, one of the world’s biggest drug dealers, was unbelievable.
But good intel officer that he was, Roman had to wonder, why would Nikolai come to Colorado, and Boulder specifically? There were places where an international drug lord could happily escape scrutiny, but not in America.
Sure, Roman knew that he wanted to reconnect with his great-nephew. But why here?
Roman wasn’t going to solve any problems lying in bed. But while he was here, Madelyn was very nice to hold.
Her skin was translucent, as if it had been wrought from porcelain. Her rosy cheeks looked as if they were painted by an artist’s hand and her eyelashes were too thick and full to be real. But after seeing her in action, he knew she was far from a china doll that might break. He smoothed a lock of her hair back. Stealing a touch was wrong, but...
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