Her Rocky Mountain Defender (Rocky Mountain Justice Book 2)

by Jennifer D. Bokal

“Now, unless there are any more questions.” Mr. FBI paused and met Madelyn’s gaze.

  His look dared her to say more and just to be difficult, she considered doing exactly that. But when Mr. FBI continued, she was glad that she’d remained silent. “I say we adjourn and get to work. Ladies and gentlemen, we have one of the biggest drug dealers in the world to catch.”

  Chapter 8

  Oleg’s chest throbbed and numbness bit into his flesh. Sharp stones gouged his side and muddy water lapped at his legs. He opened his eyes, or rather eye. One was swollen shut. He pulled himself forward inch by painful inch, until he lay upon the sloping bank of the creek.

  The sun shone overhead, warming his cold skin. He had no idea how long he’d floated in the cold water.

  He sat up, gritting his teeth against the pain in his chest. He swore he’d been shot. He recalled the moment—the blast, the flash, the searing agony—with such clarity that his eyes watered.

  With a featherlight touch, he explored the injury. An angry, red bruise—the size of a deck of cards—had risen from his skin. It was directly beneath his phone. And then he understood. Madelyn had shot him—but his phone had absorbed the impact.

  Oleg removed his jacket. A neat bullet hole had burrowed through the fabric of his breast pocket. His phone was dented, the screen shattered. He slipped the destroyed phone into the pocket of his pants and tossed the blazer back into the water.

  Nikolai Mateev expected him this evening and Oleg had nothing to offer—no nephew, no money, no retribution. And now he couldn’t even make a phone call or send a text. Oleg should’ve run when he had the chance. It had been naive to think that he could handle such a debacle as Serge being murdered. Hubris, his worst enemy, had gotten him in the end. Oleg spat, his spittle was full of dirt.

  In the distance came the quiet humming of a motor, followed by the high-pitched scream of buffeted wind as a tractor trailer rumbled past. He rose to his knees, and then, gingerly, to his feet. He was drawn to the sound, which meant only one thing—a road. He hobbled upward; only wearing one shoe, shot in the chest, face swollen, suit ruined. The ridge crested, ending on the gravel-filled shoulder of a two-lane highway.

  From the west came a humming, like a thousand angry bees, that belied another approaching tractor trailer. Oleg stepped into the middle of the road. This time he’d let fate decide. If the truck hit him, then he’d be no more dead than he was now. If it stopped, then Oleg was meant to live.

  The white roof of the cab came into view first. Heat signatures rolled off the metal and smoky exhaust was caught in a slipstream of speed. The dual windshields grew large, nothing more than two blank eyes. The powerful air horn blared and the headlights flashed. One hundred yards between them and not enough room for a big rig to stop. Oleg swallowed down the last of his fear and regret. He closed his eyes and leaned back.

  A screech of metal and the tar-filled stench of burning rubber wafted over Oleg. A door creaked open and then closed with a slam. It was followed by the sound of shoe leather slapping on asphalt.

  “What are you doing out here?”

  Fate had chosen. Oleg was saved. He opened his eyes to find a large African American man in a baseball cap and khaki shirt standing in the road. The name Buddy had been embroidered in red scroll over the right breast pocket.

  “Hey man, can you hear me?” Buddy asked. “You don’t look so good.”

  “My car was stolen,” Oleg said, “and I was beaten, shot and thrown in the creek.” None of what he said had been a lie. At the same time, Oleg felt that with a story such as his, Buddy would feel obligated to help.

  “What is the world coming to? All of that pain for a car?”

  “It was quite a car,” Oleg said.

  “Even an expensive car doesn’t make it right,” Buddy said. “Get in the cab, I can radio the sheriff.”

  “No sheriff,” Oleg said quickly.

  Buddy scratched his chin and slowly shook his head. “I’m not used to breaking any laws. But I’m also not going to leave you stranded out here.” He shrugged. “Whatever happened, you need help. Get in. The least I can do is give you a lift.”

  Oleg worked his way into the cab and settled on the vinyl seat. The satellite radio was set to a gospel station and a crucifix hung from the rearview mirror. Fate had even delivered to him a godly man. Buddy jumped into the seat next to Oleg and put the semi truck into gear. They slowly climbed the hill and their speed increased on the descent.

  “I guess I should thank you for the ride,” Oleg said. Maybe it was the low tones of country music filling the cab that left him so appreciative.

  “Never ignore a stranger in need,” said Buddy. “It’s my life’s motto.”

  Since the truck driver was feeling so generous, perhaps he would take Oleg back to Boulder. Now that he’d been spared, Oleg knew he needed to live. First order of business: break all ties with the Mateev organization.

  Discarding his goal of becoming an important person left him hollow—a mere shell of himself. Besides, he didn’t need the Mateevs to advance his life anymore. Oleg had gotten this far on his own wiles. Plus, he did have a good bit of Nikolai’s money hidden at The Prow.

  “If you can get me to Boulder,” Oleg said to Buddy, “I can make it worth your while.”

  “I won’t ignore a stranger in need and I won’t take money that I didn’t earn.”

  Buddy’s seemingly simple rules for life were becoming more and more complex.

  “If you took me to Boulder, then you would’ve earned your fee.”

  The other man shook his head. “I’m not going to Boulder, but I’ll drop you off at the truck stop that’s up the road a few miles ahead. I’ve only got a twenty-dollar bill in my pocket, but it’s yours.”

  Oleg opened his mouth to argue. Buddy held up a hand the size of a dinner plate. “Don’t argue with me about it, either. My mind’s set.”

  Oleg closed his mouth and looked out the window.

  “I’ll also give you a jacket to cover up your messy shirt. You can’t walk around with all that blood and gore if you don’t want the sheriff called.”

  “Thanks,” said Oleg.

  “I’m just happy the zombie apocalypse hasn’t started because that’s what I thought when I first saw you.” Buddy gave a long and loud laugh.

  Oleg couldn’t help but smile a little. Pain ripped at his lip. “I’m not that bad.”

  “Not that bad? You look like the walking dead, man.”

  Within minutes, Buddy pulled into the truck stop. He gave Oleg the promised twenty and jacket that was four sizes too big. For good measure, Buddy threw in a pair of flip-flops meant for a giant, so at least Oleg had two huge shoes.

  Slap. Slap. Slap. Oleg walked slowly from the gas pumps to the travel plaza, unsure of his next move. He gazed longingly at each car he passed. Jealous of those with transportation—like a spurned lover at a Valentine’s dance during a slow song. He stopped next to the bumper of a dirt-covered luxury sedan. It was the same make and model as his, but it couldn’t be his car, could it?

  He read the license plate. He read it again. What were the chances that Roman and Madelyn would simply abandon his car in this lot?

  He quickly looked over his shoulder. Oleg saw no one. He reached into the wheel well and found what he was looking for: a magnetic box that held his spare key. He unlocked the door and slipped into the driver’s seat.

  Not long ago, he’d worried that pride was his greatest fault. Now he knew better. Oleg put the car in gear and drove toward the interstate. Hubris was not his enemy. Oleg won because he was better than everyone else, and it was about time the world came to understand that valuable truth.

  * * *

  Madelyn stood next to the long bank of windows and looked down seventeen stories to the pedestrian mall below. It was lunchtime and business people in suits talked on phones as th
ey hurried to meetings that included a meal. A teacher led a large group of children on a school trip through the historic downtown.

  Madelyn felt the distance from humanity as a loss, not a sanctuary. Those gathered had recently departed, but the debris of their meeting remained. There were a half dozen water glasses and coffee cups scattered about the conference table, along with forgotten pens and unused legal pads.

  She heard a noise from behind, just a slight breath of movement, and knew immediately it was Roman. Maybe it was that he brought with him the scent of their time in the cabin, or maybe her heart simply shared his beat. Without turning around, she spoke. “What just happened?”

  “You were tested and passed,” he said.

  Tested? “I usually like to study before being quizzed. Or at least know that I’m taking an exam, especially one that is a total grilling.”

  “Like I said before, I didn’t know that Special Agent Jones was going to go after you. If I had known... They have to explore every possibility...” He sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s a federal offense to threaten an FBI agent, but I did want to choke Jones. You held your own, though.”

  She turned to look at Roman. In this light, his hazel eyes were jade green—like those in an exotic sculpture. “I took the MCATs. I don’t intimidate easily.”

  He chuckled. “No, you don’t.”

  Roman stood next to her. He braced his arms on the windowsill and looked down. She glanced at his profile and her breath caught in her chest. He was amazingly handsome. No wonder she’d taken him as a temporary lover. The one thing she hadn’t anticipated was the heartache that would come with his departure from her life.

  “I want to go home,” she said.

  “You will, as soon as Nikolai Mateev arrives and arrests are made. Until he’s in custody, you won’t be safe.”

  “If Oleg Zavalov is dead, then I have nothing to worry about. This Mateev guy never knew anything about me, so he’s no threat.”

  “I’ll see what I can do about a police officer staying with you. Or better yet, you can hang out here for a couple of hours.”

  A couple of hours? It felt like a month. With a shake of her head, Madelyn said, “I just need to get back to my normal life.”

  “Honestly, you’re jeopardizing the entire case. I know this has all been horrible for you, but you can be patient for a few more hours. If not for your own safety, then think of the greater good.”

  That was just it; meeting Roman, spending time with him, being with him—none of that had been horrible. And still, she need to leave.

  “Am I under arrest?” she asked.

  “Of course not.”

  “Then I can go whenever I want?”

  “Sure.”

  “I’m leaving now, then.”

  Madelyn turned from the window, sweat trickling down her back. Roman gripped her arm, stopping her. She refused to look at him.

  “If you’re sure that you want to go home, I’ll take you.”

  “Don’t bother.” She tried to jerk her arm away. He didn’t let go.

  There was a hollowness in her chest that threatened to implode, leaving a gaping chasm that would fill with nothing but sorrow and loneliness. They weren’t destined to be together, so why prolong the inevitable?

  “I insist,” he said, his voice was low and husky.

  The hairs on Madelyn’s arm lifted, a reaction to his sultry voice and strong touch. Their eyes met and her mouth went dry.

  She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to slap him.

  She didn’t want to relent. And yet, she only wanted to give in.

  “Fine,” she said, pulling away hard. His grip broke. Arms folded tightly across her chest, chin tucked down, Madelyn left the conference room at a quick clip. Each step down the hall showed disdain for Roman and his suggestion that she cared only for herself.

  Even if his words rang just a bit true.

  Roman jogged after her. “The garage is this way.” He pointed to a corridor she’d just stalked past.

  It was difficult to hold on to her anger when she was chagrined. Madelyn shook her head and sighed. She no longer had the strength for a fight. “You lead, I’ll follow.”

  They rounded a corner and Katarina came into view. She chatted with a receptionist who sat behind a half-circle desk of steel and glass. The wall behind was filled with a backlit trio of interconnected letters: RMJ.

  “Kat,” Roman said as they entered the reception area. “I’m going to take Madelyn back to Boulder. I’ll look at the phones found in Zavalov’s car when I get back.”

  Katarina screwed her lips to the side. “Sorry, hon. Special Agent Jones took the phones with him.”

  “What? Are you kidding me? I can get into the phones faster than the FBI’s IT guys can.”

  “You have other things to worry about right now,” Katarina said.

  Madelyn wondered if one of those concerns was supposed to be her.

  Then Katarina wrapped her arm around Madelyn’s shoulder, drawing her in. “Take care of yourself and good luck with school. We need more good doctors in the world.”

  “Thanks,” said Madelyn, unsure what else she should say when all she wanted to do was go home. “For everything,” she finally thought to add.

  “Oh, and you left these in the break room.” From behind the reception desk, Katarina produced the canvas bag filled with Madelyn’s soiled laundry.

  “I have your shirt on,” Madelyn said, suddenly feeling as if she owed Katarina more than just her thanks.

  “You keep it. The color suits you.”

  This time when Katarina moved in for a hug, Madelyn wrapped her arms around the older woman’s shoulders and pulled her into an embrace.

  Madelyn went numb. She didn’t recall the rest of the short walk to the parking garage or even finding Roman’s car. Yet they had and she found herself in the passenger seat of a quasi tank like the one in which Ian had collected them. Roman’s SUV, however, was a steely blue. Out of the parking garage. Out of Denver. Onto the interstate to Boulder. The sun heated the car and she set her tote bag in the back seat. As the miles slipped away, so did Madelyn’s anger, leaving her simply sad that she and Roman would part ways. Once in Boulder, Madelyn gave Roman directions to her apartment. He parked in the space reserved for her lost car.

  “You know me well enough to know that there’s no use in you telling me that I can’t walk you to your apartment. Remember, I was an Eagle Scout,” he said with a grin.

  Her middle flip-flopped at his smile and her cheeks warmed with a blush. Did she know Roman well? If she didn’t believe in love at first sight, only pheromones and serotonin, why did she feel as if she’d known Roman her whole life? Or maybe it wasn’t that she knew him well, but rather understood him.

  She looked at her apartment building. An open stairwell climbed up four floors and her door was visible, even from the car. It all seemed different, but at the same time, it was just as she had left it. Or perhaps it was she who had changed. Like she’d been living in a fairy tale, the events of the past day were too fantastic to believe, both good and bad. For once in her life, Madelyn liked the notion of being the beautiful princess in need of rescuing.

  “I guess this is where I thank you for being my knight in shining armor.”

  “You know you can call me whenever you need anything, Madelyn.”

  Was there an invitation in his words? Did he want to see her again? Would he ask her out on another date?

  She held her breath and waited for him to continue. He didn’t. Yet, she knew he wouldn’t. She’d rejected him before he could reject her. At the time, it had made sense. And now? Well, now Madelyn didn’t know what to think.

  So, it was goodbye from him, too. She told herself that she didn’t mind and it truly was for the best. Their relationship consisted of the briefest of moments and not a lifetime
of shared experiences. Still her eyes burned with unshed tears and a knot clogged her throat. “Well, I better...” Her words trailed off.

  She stepped out of the car, and with that ended whatever magic was in the air. The asphalt underfoot radiated heat collected from the sun. She began to sweat and, at the same time, shiver.

  Roman was out of the car and at her side. “Forty-six B,” he said. “Right?”

  Madelyn paused, surprised that he would know her apartment number without her ever having shared it. Then again, RMJ and the federal government knew everything about her.

  She nodded and led him to the correct stairwell, then up four flights of stairs to her door. A brass letter B hung on the wall. She unzipped her purse, a little surprised that she hadn’t lost it in all the excitement, and dug through the contents.

  No key.

  In that instant, it was all too much. All her defenses tumbled to the ground, like a set of wooden building blocks in the hands of a child having a tantrum. Her emotions spilled over.

  Roman wrapped her in his arms. He shushed her, his breath washing over her hair. “I can get the door open for you, then I’ll get a new key made.” His tone, more than his words, was soothing.

  Madelyn hiccupped as the seemingly endless stream of tears abated. “Okay,” she said, wiping hard at both eyes. “I’m okay. I have a spare key in the apartment.”

  “Let’s just get you inside and we can take it from there.”

  We. She thrilled at the thought of togetherness, of not having to finish this nightmare alone. Roman’s arms remained around her waist. Her head was still tucked into his chest. She wanted to stay like that forever, but she knew she couldn’t. Years before, she had chosen a path and it was time to rediscover her original trail.

  “Thanks for getting me into my apartment,” she said.

  Roman stepped away from their embrace. Kneeling before the door, he examined the lock. “Do you remember if you engaged the dead bolt?”

  Before she could try to remember, much less answer, Roman turned the handle. The door swung silently open.

  “It’s open? I could’ve sworn that I locked my door. I always do...” Her words trailed off.