“It’s okay,” he said. Roman’s embrace was the only thing keeping Madelyn from a full-blown panic attack.
He released his hold. “Wait here for a minute. I’m going to check out your apartment.”
Roman nudged the door open and stepped inside. After a moment, he motioned her forward. “Is there anything wrong with your apartment? Anything misplaced or missing?”
Madelyn stepped into her apartment and looked around. Textbooks still sat in a pile on her breakfast bar. Her TV, a Christmas gift from her parents, remained on the stand. Dishes from dinner two nights ago sat in a strainer, yesterday’s breakfast dishes were unwashed in the sink. “It’s exactly as I left it, although it’s not like me to leave the door unlocked. Maybe from the beginning, yesterday had been wrong.”
Roman steered her to the sofa and opened the patio blinds. Sun streamed into the room, catching dust motes as they swirled around, suddenly awakened by her return.
“Do you mind if I look around?” Roman asked. “You can’t be too careful.”
She wasn’t sure what he expected to find. Then again, that was the point. He was an expert, she was just a girl who hoped to one day be a doctor. She swept her arm across her body, encompassing the dining-living room combo. “Feel free.”
Roman took his time. He opened every cabinet and looked in each drawer. It was all as it should be. For the first time in a day, she began to feel relaxed. She slumped on the sofa and watched Roman as he entered her bedroom. As the tension and panic faded from her body, she began to feel exhaustion take over, and her tired gaze roamed the room as she longed to put her head on a pillow and—
She sat bolt upright, staring at the wall next to the TV. Light shone on the paint, illuminating a faint discoloration where a photo had hung. Like a magnet, her eyes were drawn to the coffee table before her.
Atop a pile of binders and papers sat the photo.
The picture was of Ava and Madelyn at a Fourth of July barbecue following Ava’s first stint in rehab. That moment, caught by their mother’s camera, was one of the happiest in Madelyn’s life. Her sister had sunk to the depths of hell, but like a phoenix she’d risen from the ashes of addiction. At that time, Madelyn believed that her sister had been cured and from then on, her family would always be blessed.
Madelyn had been wrong—as wrong as it was for that picture to be set aside on the table, and not on the wall. Her heartbeat stilled.
“Roman.” Even in her own ears she heard the panic in her voice.
He stood in the doorway that separated her bedroom from the rest of the apartment. “What’s the matter?”
Madelyn swallowed. “I think that Oleg’s been in my apartment.”
Knowing that Oleg Zavalov had been in her home left Madelyn feeling dirty. Violated. Like his filthy hands had somehow touched her. She wondered what in her apartment he had fondled. Her food? Her books? Her underwear? She might have to throw everything away and start over.
“How do you know?”
“That photo is usually on the wall.”
Roman sat beside her. “He’s not here now,” he said. “We know that because he’s somewhere downstream from the safe house, maybe his body has even made it to the Colorado River by now. But, I’m calling in a CSI team.”
She didn’t want more people in her home. With a shake of her head, Madelyn said, “Forget it. I don’t want anyone else in my house. I just need to get over all of this.” She was quiet for a moment. “Is it awful for me to be glad he’s dead?”
Roman sat next to her and lifted her feet into his lap. “With him gone, you have the ultimate security. So it’s not wrong to be happy that you’re safe.”
Madelyn licked her lips and nodded.
“Let me make you a cup of tea. It’s the best medicine.” Roman rose and walked to the kitchen. He found the kettle on the stove, picked it up and started filling it with water. Madelyn saw the scene all too clearly; them together and Roman’s endearing notion that tea somehow solved all the world’s ills. Or maybe it was just the care that he put into the cup. But being together wasn’t in their future. They’d already decided. No, really it was she who had decided long ago when she’d dedicated herself to her studies and her future career.
Playing house was not a game for her.
“I’m okay,” she said, raising her voice to be heard over the running tap.
Roman turned off the water, a finger to his ear.
“I’m okay,” she repeated, knowing all the while it was a lie. Madelyn wouldn’t be okay for a very long time to come. But she needed to reclaim her life and now seemed as good a time as any. “You don’t have to worry about making me tea. I think I’ll get cleaned up and rest. I should probably get in touch with my parents and let them know what’s going on with Ava.”
Roman paused and glanced at the teapot in his hand, as if he wasn’t sure what to do with it. Or maybe he wasn’t sure what to do with her. “I can stay until you get settled...”
“I’m as settled as I’m going to be. If I need someone I’ll call a friend.”
“I’m your friend,” he said.
“You know what I mean. I can call someone I know.”
“You know me.”
“Not really,” she said with a shake of her head. “I wouldn’t have survived without you over the past twenty-four or so hours. But, we don’t know each other.”
“We can get to know each other better.”
“How?”
Roman said, “We can talk, like normal people do.”
“About what?”
“Okay, what’s your favorite color?” he asked.
“That’s juvenile,” she said. “You should stop now.”
“I wish you’d stop lecturing me like I’m a dumb student who can’t pass a test,” he said.
“I work hard and I’m sorry that I don’t have lots of spare time to swap stories about our favorite colors or if we liked our second-grade teacher or not. But I have a life plan and that plan does not include you.”
She hadn’t meant to be so direct. In fact, she hadn’t meant to say what she’d said, but she couldn’t figure out a way to take her words back. “I’m sorry,” she began.
“Sure,” Roman said. He set the kettle on the counter.
“No, really, I’m sorry...”
“Don’t apologize,” he said. “I get it and I should’ve gotten it before. You’ve been straight with me about your priorities from the beginning. It’s just that when I see something I want, I go after it. I’m sure there’s some kind of biochemical brain–emotional transference rationale to explain my behavior. I’m sure you understand whatever’s happened to me all too well.”
“Don’t leave while you’re mad.”
“I’m not mad,” he said, “but I really should leave. And if I hear anything about Ava, I’ll call.”
“But I have to get a new phone and I don’t know what my new number will be...”
“I’ll find it.”
Of course he would.
“If there’s nothing else...” he said.
Stay, her mind screamed. Ask him to stay. Insist—and then step into his embrace. It’s the safest place on earth. “I’m good,” she said.
Roman paused and then, with a nod, he left. The door closed. The latch fell into place and Madelyn jolted. She jumped from the sofa and sprinted across the floor. Breathless, she reached for the door handle. Her fingers grazed the cold metal and she stopped. She liked Roman, cared for him deeply. But she had to ask herself, was she willing to throw away all her hard work and sacrifice just to be with him?
Her heartbeat raced, her pulse thrumming at the base of her throat. She didn’t know and in a way, that was an answer.
* * *
Roman stood on the threshold, his forehead pressed into the door. He should knock. He should go back in. Then what
? She’d sent him away once already. He wasn’t going to beg someone to love him—even though he was tempted. Roman inhaled, filling the empty space in his chest with a deep breath.
Still miserable, he walked away.
Next to his car, he stood by the door and looked up at Madelyn’s apartment. There was a deck attached to her living room. He made a bet with himself—if she cared enough to come to the door and watch him leave, it meant that their time together was something more than pure survival—and he would return to her apartment. He watched the patio and the sliding glass door beyond. It was a blank face with a mouth full of spindly teeth.
The late afternoon sun was brilliant, and reflected off the hood of his car. His eyes watered and he wiped them with his shoulder.
He gave one more look to Madelyn’s patio. It was still empty.
Roman never made a bet, even in his own head, and he bit back a curse for being so gullible. Getting behind the wheel of his car, he drove out of the parking lot. He took turns using instinct more than thought and soon, was on the interstate heading south. He turned on the radio’s news station and listened to the live coverage from the protests on the University of Colorado’s campus. But he soon found it difficult to focus and turned the radio off. He had problems of his own—Madelyn, his heart said. But his mind knew there were other important issues, namely the apprehension of the biggest drug dealer in the world.
He had to admit, it felt good to be in action again. His pulse was strong and steady. His vision was clear, his mind sharp. Just like his days in Delta Force when Roman had been the point of the spear. And this time, he had hit Nikolai Mateev with deadly accuracy. Maybe he’d be able to help with the arrest. That is, if they could figure out when and where Nikolai would be arriving.
A roadside sign indicated that Roman’s exit was several miles ahead. Traffic surrounded him on all sides. Ready to change lanes, he turned on the blinker and glanced in the rearview mirror. But his gaze didn’t travel to the road, rather it landed on a canvas tote bag with Madelyn’s soiled clothes. He remembered Katarina handing it over before leaving the RMJ offices. He considered turning around, discarded the idea and thought about it again.
Like it was meant to be, a space opened in the right lane, and Roman changed lanes. Another exit, one he could use to head north and back to Boulder, was ahead. Certainly, Madelyn would want her clothes returned to her. Wouldn’t she? Or maybe not. He could have them mailed.
He growled. “Damn.”
His analytical skills were failing him. Yet, before he could decide what to do, the phone rang. Using the steering wheel’s control to answer the call, Roman said, “Hello?”
“Where are you?” Ian asked.
“Getting off the highway. What’s up?”
“We’ve just gotten word that a private jet is about to land at DIA.”
Denver International Airport was one of the busiest in the world. No doubt thousands of private flights landed each day, there had to be more. “Is it Nikolai Mateev’s?”
“There’s evidence that it is. It originated in Moscow, stopping only in Victoria, British Columbia, to refuel.”
“It’s the same route that Mateev’s attorney Peter Belkin planned to use if he’d been successful in kidnapping Nikolai’s grandson over Christmas,” Roman said. RMJ had been instrumental in saving four-year-old Gregory Mateev from being taken from the country and raised by his gangster grandfather in Russia. Intel from that case had been cornerstone for the one Roman had built at The Prow.
“I made the same connection,” said Ian.
A question returned to Roman, one that he had asked himself before, but never posed to anyone else.
“Why?”
“Why, what?”
“Why is Nikolai Mateev going to all of this trouble? First there was the kidnapping of his grandson and the attempted murder of the boy’s mother. If both hadn’t been botched, the grandkid would be in Russia. I guess I understand that Nikolai might want to raise his grandson after his own son died. But Serge? He’s what? A great-nephew? And if Nikolai wants a family reunion, why not make Serge go to Russia?”
“The reports we have from Sledkom state that Serge was wanted in Russia.”
Roman had read the same reports coming from the Russian equivalent to the American FBI. “Okay, so Serge can’t go back to Moscow, but why would Nikolai come here? Why America? And why Colorado, in particular? What’s here that he needs?”
“That’s a good question,” said Ian, “and if you hurry, you can meet us at the private terminal and ask him yourself.”
Roman glanced once more at the tote bag in his back seat, sorry that timing hadn’t been right. He stepped on the accelerator, passing the exit and heading to the airport.
* * *
Madelyn fluffed her hair with a towel and wandered to the living room. Beyond taking a shower, she didn’t know what to do. Study? Eat? She had little appetite and her mind still raced with the events of the last day, taking with it the ability to focus.
She shouldn’t have kicked Roman out of her life. Beyond being handsome, brave, smart and funny, he was, well, perfect. For too long, Madelyn had told herself that it was her studies that kept her alone. Yet in her heart of hearts, Madelyn knew it was the rejection from her last boyfriend that she carried around, like a heavy stone.
But other people’s relationships ended every day. They cried, ate ice cream, cried, joined a yoga class and got back into dating. Not Madelyn. She’d constructed a cocoon of protection around her life, insisting that she couldn’t come out, lest she ruin her chances to become a butterfly. Her theory held a measure of truth, but only the smallest amount.
Mindlessly, she picked up the photo of her and Ava. Could it be, as Madelyn sometimes worried, that she hadn’t been a good enough sister to keep Ava off drugs. What if Madelyn was somehow the cause?
As soon as Madelyn acknowledged the thought, she knew it wasn’t true. Sure, she was imperfect, but she wasn’t a horrible person—someone only to be tolerated through the haze of self-medication. The thought was freeing and at the same time, the realization came too late. Roman was gone. She’d blown her chance at happiness, and now Madelyn had no choice but to remain in her cocoon.
She needed to speak to someone who would offer her sympathy. Her parents. They should know what happened to her, and that Ava was somewhere in Boulder. Even though her phone was ruined, she should be able to text with her computer.
Flopping down on the sofa with her laptop, Madelyn hit the power button. Her screen lit up, with an illuminated tool bar at the bottom. Her text bubble had seventeen unread messages. She scrolled through them, giving each one a halfhearted read. Belatedly, she realized that she’d never asked Roman for his number. It was an oversight, to be sure. At the same time, he’d never offered.
She returned to the texts. Offers to join friends for dinner. Questions about notes from classmates. And Ava. Seven words, the first she’d seen from her sister in months.
I need help. Come and get me.
That text was followed by another with a Boulder street address.
Maddie? she had asked.
And then: Are you there?
Finally: Why are you ignoring me?
Ava. The person who let Madelyn climb in bed during thunderstorms. Ava. The first person to predict that Madelyn would become a doctor. Ava. The one who held Madelyn as she cried when her best friend in fifth grade found a better best friend. Ava. The one who took medication from their parents’ bathroom and washed it down with whiskey stolen from the liquor cabinet, but then dumped a wine cooler that Madelyn had poured into a plastic cup at a family picnic. Ava. The one who said she never felt right in her own skin and just needed to escape. But how do you escape from yourself?
I need help. Come and get me.
I’m here, Madelyn typed. Anything you need.
She hit S
end and her text moved into the conversation. Delivered.
Madelyn looked back at Ava’s texts. They had been sent starting at 5:06 AM.
It was now almost six o’clock in the evening Almost a whole day was gone. What had Madelyn been doing at that exact moment? She knew. She’d been asleep, lying in Roman’s arms, without a care in the world. And her sister?
I need help. Come and get me.
Drugs. Alcohol. Life on the streets. What kind of terror had Ava faced? What could Madelyn have done to make it better?
The text field changed from blank to having three dots. Her sister was replying.
* * *
Oleg parked down the block and stared at the front door of The Prow. He watched for signs that the place was under surveillance. Aside from his car, there were no conspicuously parked autos. More than that, no coroner’s wagon was at the curb. No crime scene tape covered the door. No cops, with boxes full of evidence, striding in and out of the building.
Madelyn Thompkins was just as she appeared—a medical school student with crappy timing. But Oleg didn’t know what to make of Roman Black. Right before Oleg went in the water, Roman had spoken of justice. Which meant what if no police waited at The Prow?
He put the car in gear and circled the block, parking beside the basement stairs. He’d watched Roman for months and never saw a misstep. In fact, Oleg came to trust him.
Had he been wrong? Like a snake eating its own tail, Oleg came back to his original question. If it wasn’t Roman who’d bugged his office, then who?
Serge and Anton? What would they gain by double-crossing Oleg, unless they were after the money that Oleg laundered for Nikolai? In bringing down two cheats, could Oleg find a way to remain relevant with Nikolai Mateev? Oleg’s hands trembled with the possibility that he need not abandon his life’s plan.
He entered the back door of The Prow and went first to the beer cooler. Anton and Serge still lay on the metal floor. The hallway was still filled with blood. Without question, no one had been in The Prow since Oleg left.
Oleg’s mind changed again and again. Stay. Go. Face Nikolai. Disappear. It was best, he decided, to prepare for any eventuality. And that meant he had to collect the money hidden at the back of the bar. And then what? The sharp trill of his office phone ringing interrupted Oleg’s thoughts. He sprinted across the hall and lifted the handset from the cradle. “Hello?” he said, breathless.
Her Rocky Mountain Defender (Rocky Mountain Justice Book 2) Page 15