Her Rocky Mountain Hero (Rocky Mountain Justice Book 1)

by Jennifer D. Bokal

  “I thought you said that he helped Belkin find me. Why would we go to him for help now?”

  “Because we need something he has.”

  Viktoria couldn’t imagine a crooked sheriff having anything she wanted, much less needed. “And what’s that?”

  “Information about the people who took your son.”

  * * *

  This time, Cody took the wheel. He should have been problem solving—analyzing the attack on the cabin, the kidnapping and exactly how to save Gregory. Instead he was thinking about Viktoria. She’d been honest with him about the court case against her in New York. In truth, her version of the story had shone a new light on the few facts he’d been given.

  Dark shadows ringed her eyes and cords of muscle stood out on her neck. As if her body spoke to him, he imagined that he heard stories of her strength—both physical and emotional—and her weariness from the fight. Cody admired her spirit. He might even like her personally.

  It brought him back to their ultimate destination, the sheriff’s office, and more important, the reason behind their visit there. Cody had worked with Ray Benjamin in the past and found him to be a competent and trustworthy guy. How could he have been taken in by a dirty scheme? He tried to think of another possible way Belkin could have located Viktoria. He couldn’t come up with anything else that was even remotely plausible, especially when he considered that the deputies had been a no-show this evening.

  The county office complex came into view and Cody eased the Range Rover off the road and into the snow-filled parking lot. Industrial lights on tall poles illuminated the campus of five buildings. The Sheriff’s office, squat and made of red brick, sat at the back of the property. Four black-and-white cruisers waited in a line near the front door, but Cody knew that at this hour the office would be empty—only a few deputies were out on patrol with the rest on call in case they were needed. The county’s emergency services were handled at a call center on the opposite side of town.

  Near the rear entrance to the building sat a silver pickup, which he recognized as belonging to the sheriff. Several inches of white powder covered the roof, the hood and filled the rear bed. Ray Benjamin staying at the office late and alone only fanned the flames of Cody’s suspicions. He steered into what might have been a parking place, but was too covered with snow for him to tell, and cut the ignition.

  “Before tonight, I would have said that Sheriff Benjamin was a good guy,” said Cody, ending the interminable silence.

  “But you’re convinced he had something to do with Peter Belkin finding me and taking Gregory.”

  “There’s no other explanation,” he said. The words tasted sour on his tongue. It brought back all the times he had trusted people only to be betrayed. The DEA. His former fiancée. His parents. His sister.

  “Then he’s not a good guy,” said Viktoria.

  “Like I said, I’m surprised.”

  “You mean you’re wrong.”

  Cody shook his head. “I’m never wrong.”

  “I don’t think this is a good idea,” said Viktoria. She folded her arms over her chest, her chin jutting out just a bit.

  “We know your son hasn’t been taken from the area yet. But Colorado is a big state and if we’re going to find him we have to know where to look.” More than the risk, Cody wanted to ask Benjamin why he’d done it.

  As a child, Cody had been too young to demand better from his alcoholic parents. In the intervening years, he’d grown beyond the hurt that came with betrayal. Or so he thought. But when the DEA—an agency to whom he had dedicated his life—cut him loose, Cody was again filled with rage so vile it poisoned his life. Even now, sitting in the silent truck, Cody knew that facing Sheriff Benjamin was far from an actual cure for his lack of trust. And yet, he could do nothing else.

  “It’s a calculated risk,” said Cody at length.

  Viktoria exhaled, her shoulders sagged. “Everything is a gamble, I guess. Do you really think that he’ll simply tell us where Gregory’s being held?”

  “Nothing about this case is simple, and finding your son will be no exception. But we need the truth, and I won’t let Ray Benjamin lie to me a second time.”

  He slammed the Range Rover door shut and Viktoria exited from the passenger side. As they approached the rear entrance to the sheriff’s office, the door swung open. Ray Benjamin stood on the threshold. He wore his khaki sheriff’s uniform, but the name tag over the left breast pocket had been removed. A thin sheen of sweat coated his face. His cheeks were ruddy and his dark brown hair was mussed. He stared into the night with red-tinted eyes and the medicinal scent of whiskey rolled off him in a wave.

  “I saw you in the monitor.” He pointed to a black security camera bolted to the side of the building. “Thought you might show up.”

  “We need to talk,” Cody said.

  “Thought you might say that, too.” Benjamin stepped back from the door. “Come on in.”

  Viktoria stood close to Cody, her shoulder pressed into his arm. He slipped a protective hand around her back, connecting them and making them a single unit against whatever—or whomever—waited inside. Fluorescent lights buzzed above a white-paneled corridor. Industrial carpet of basic brown padded their footfalls.

  Ray Benjamin had preceded them and his office door stood open. Cody paused in the corridor, every muscle tense. He moved his hand to the holster on his hip and unfastened the safety snap. His palm rested on the Glock.

  Sheriff Benjamin poked his head around the office door, a drunken gofer. “Come on in,” he said, “I’m alone and you’re right, we need to talk.”

  Cody placed his mouth next to Viktoria’s ear. “I’m going in first,” he whispered. “If anything goes wrong—run.”

  He pressed the Range Rover’s key into Viktoria’s hand. She twined her fingers through his. Their gazes met and held. The moment ended with the clink of ice on glass from inside the office.

  “Can I pour you a drink, Cody? One for your lady friend? I assume this is the elusive Viktoria Mateev.” Sheriff Benjamin continued. “We can toast the holiday season.”

  Cody figured that if anyone was in the building besides the sheriff, they would have attacked already. Besides, Benjamin wouldn’t be drinking so carelessly if he had company. Cody stepped into the office. A single desk lamp did little to illuminate the room, its glow a spotlight on a glass filled with amber liquid and a half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels. Cody nodded to Viktoria, who crossed the threshold into the alcohol-fumed space.

  From a drawer in his desk, the sheriff produced two more glasses and set them next to the first.

  “This isn’t a social call, Ray,” said Cody.

  The sheriff looked up from his desk, his eyes wide. “I refused them at first,” he said without prompting.

  “Them who?”

  “You know who they are or you wouldn’t be here.”

  “What does Belkin have on you, Ray?” Cody asked. “Or is it the Mateevs?”

  Sheriff Benjamin downed his drink in one swallow then sank back in his chair. “Belkin. He threatened my family.”

  “Bull,” said Cody. “You’ve got access to resources that the locals don’t. You’ve got training and knowledge that can keep your family safe.”

  “They did threaten my family. You don’t understand. This Belkin guy shows up about two weeks ago with pictures of my house, the kids, my wife, even my dog,” said Ray with a shake of his head. He refilled his drink and leaned back into his chair, the glass balanced on his stomach. “I might have had some debt, too.”

  “What’s your price, Ray?” Cody asked.

  Sheriff Benjamin shook his head and caught a belch in his closed fist. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Doesn’t matter?” Cody lunged over the desk and pulled Benjamin out of his seat. His drink sloshed onto the fl
oor. “A kid was just kidnapped.”

  “I didn’t know,” Benjamin bleated.

  The sheriff’s breath was stale. The drunken whimpering mixed with the stench of whiskey and brought back Cody’s memories of bleak Christmases past. His mother passed out on the sofa. His father staggering from the trailer, not to return until well past dawn. Cody and Sarah trying to celebrate with a shared TV dinner.

  Cody shoved Benjamin back in his seat. “You are a sad sack of crap.”

  “The men who paid your debt took my son, which means that you’re indebted to me,” Viktoria said.

  Sheriff Benjamin sat forward, his elbows propped on his desk. “You listen to me, lady,” he said.

  “No, you listen to me, you son of a bitch,” Cody interrupted, momentarily shocked that he’d just defended a Mateev. “A child was kidnapped and his mother was almost murdered. Tell me, Sheriff, how much is your complicity worth?”

  Ray Benjamin shook his head. “Belkin never shared his plans with me. I was only told that if I ever learned the whereabouts of one Viktoria Mateev, to call him. Besides, I never thought I’d have to follow through. I mean, what are the chances?” He screwed the top to the bottle of Jack. “I definitely didn’t ask him about his plans.”

  “Ten thousand?” Viktoria asked. “Twenty? Or did Belkin pay every outstanding debt you have—house, car, your kids’ college?”

  “He gave me fifty thousand, but that’s not why I did it.”

  “You’ve always been a good servant of the community. Why deceive them all now?” Cody asked.

  Benjamin lifted the bottle and prepared to pour again. He stopped before a drop fell. “My son was caught a few years back selling pot at the middle school. He was sixteen—old enough to ruin his life, but he’s still a kid, you know. I made a few promises, twisted a few arms, but mostly got my son the help he needed. He straightened himself out and is finishing his second year at the Air Force Academy. But this Belkin character found out and threatened to go public. If that happened, my son would lose his place in the academy and I’d be fired.”

  “You’re a good father, I get that.” Cody kept his voice flat, even though he wanted to punch Ray in his stupid, drunken face. “But you’re a lousy sheriff. Covering up for your kid is one kind of bad—but assisting Belkin with kidnapping and murder is a whole different level of evil.”

  “I told you, he never said what he had planned. It’s not my fault.”

  Cody’s pulse spiked as years of frustration surged through his body like an electric current. He slammed his palms on the desk. Benjamin jolted, his eyes wide. “Cut the crap. You aided a known criminal. He might not have specifically told you his plans, but you knew they weren’t legal. On top of it all, you only acted to cover up other crimes.”

  “Belkin will be done with me after tonight,” said Ray, “and I won’t be asked to do anything else like this again.”

  “If you think that you’ll ever get rid of Peter Belkin you’re more than crooked,” Cody spat. “You’re also stupid. A corrupt sheriff is the perfect puppet and he’s the ultimate puppet master.”

  “I’m not corrupt. I was only protecting my son.”

  “And the bribe?” Viktoria challenged. “Your second mistake was to take so little. Fifty thousand dollars is nothing to Peter Belkin.”

  Cody followed up with “If you want to redeem yourself, Ray, you have to let us know where Belkin is now.”

  With a shake of the head, the sheriff sighed. “I don’t know anything. I was given a number—that’s all. But if this were my case to investigate, I’d look through the files at San Miguel Rentals. If fifty thou’ is chump change to Belkin, then he’s staying at some swanky digs and San Miguel Rentals handles all the high-end stuff in the county.”

  Viktoria looked to Cody.

  “I know where it is,” he said, finally able to take another step in finding Gregory. “Getting into the computer system might be a problem. We’ll need a way to see a list of what properties are rented and by whom.”

  Sheriff Benjamin began to twirl his glass between his palms. “That’s the best part, for you, at least. SMR had someone hack into their system—oh, four or five years ago. Caused them all sorts of trouble and now they always keep a hard copy of each rental in their file cabinets.” He set the glass down. “In fact, I recommend that all the small businesses keep hard copies of their transactions. One well-executed hack is all it takes to ruin a business. See? I do care about my people.”

  “Let’s go, Viktoria.” Armed with the crucial intel, Cody itched to get started. Then he added, speaking to Sheriff Benjamin, “Call the CBI, Ray. Confessing will make it easier for you. At least in a legal sense.”

  The sheriff leaned forward and sat on the edge of his seat. He picked up the bottle, taking his time to unscrew the lid. “I’m not drunk enough to turn myself in.”

  “If you don’t call now, I will report you later—soon, in fact.”

  “What? Like you being here corrects your involvement?”

  The gibe hit Cody in the gut—like it was intended to do. Hot anger rose to his throat. And Cody realized why the remark stung so hard.

  He flicked a gaze in Viktoria’s direction, imagining the look of hurt in her eyes. Brows drawn together, jaw set—Viktoria Mateev was far from injured and unsure. She was pissed.

  “What involvement?” she asked. Heat rolled off her in waves. It paled next to his own internal fury.

  Cody reminded himself that he had been, was still doing, a perfectly legal job. He cleared his throat. “I’m the one who called in your location to Ray. It was my job to turn you in.”

  * * *

  Viktoria waited until they’d cleared the back door of the sheriff’s office before she turned on Cody, her fury so great that she began to quiver.

  “You,” she said, pointing a shaking finger at Cody. “You told that corrupt bastard where to find me?”

  “Calm down,” said Cody as he gripped her elbow and tried to steer her to the Range Rover.

  Mere seconds ago she’d assumed that her anger had reached its greatest intensity. But, to have Cody Samuels presume to touch her, to tell her how to feel, to try to direct where she should go—oh no. The first type of anger was a thunderstorm, but this was a hurricane.

  With both hands on his chest, she shoved him away. “Don’t you ever tell me what to do. I don’t even know who you are.”

  “I told you already, my name is...”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. You’re Cody Samuels. You used to work for the DEA. I appreciate that you saved my life, truly I do. But, I might not have needed saving without your help.” She paused to put her last word into air quotes. “I can take it from here.”

  “How?” asked Cody. “You don’t even have a car. A blizzard is about to hit the county and you don’t know where you’re going.”

  “I’ll manage. If I can make it in New York, I can handle Podunk, Colorado.”

  “I’m not going to let you leave. You have no choice but to let me help.” He paused, copying the air quotes.

  “Oh yeah? Try and stop me.” She turned from Cody. He gripped her by the shoulder, spinning Viktoria to face him. This time, she didn’t bother to push him away.

  “So, who are you?” she asked.

  “I used to be a DEA agent and now I work for a private security firm in Denver.”

  “Rocky Mountain Justice,” she said, recalling that he’d told her to contact them if anything happened to him.

  “The state of New York hired us to find you, and your picture came up on a traffic camera earlier today. We have facial recognition software and it sent me an automated email.” He slipped his cap from his head and ran a hand through his hair. “It was my job to verify that the picture was of you and then contact local law enforcement with the information and offer my assistance, whic
h I did.”

  That explained a lot, but not everything. “Why were you at my cabin tonight? It sounds like your job was done once you’d notified the sheriff.”

  “Your last name piqued my interest and I hoped that you were spending Christmas with some other Mateevs.” He shook his head. “I also thought that if I was there when you were picked up that maybe you could give me more information.”

  “About what?”

  “Your in-laws.”

  “Why?”

  He looked away.

  Suddenly Viktoria longed to sit down, or better yet—sleep. “So Child Protective Services is still after me?” She shook her head and emptied her lungs of breath. “Nothing like being popular, I guess. All this time I’ve been more worried about Peter Belkin and my father-in-law.”

  “After what happened tonight you’ll be exonerated, trust me. There will be no denying the evidence at your cabin—all those bullets, not to mention the corpse.”

  Could the terror of tonight turn into a blessing that freed her from the grip of the Mateev family?

  “I suppose I should be grateful that it was you who got the email. If it was anyone else, they might have just done their job and not worried about me.”

  “Are you still mad?”

  “Mad? No, I’m furious with you and at the same time, grateful.” She gave a mirthless laugh. “Honestly, I’m not sure if I should give you a slap or a kiss.”

  “I thought I’d get a lot worse than a slap, but feel free to kiss me anytime.”

  Viktoria’s gaze met Cody’s. He regarded her with those crystalline eyes. An unbidden image of the two of them—naked, in a tangle of sheets—came to Viktoria. In her imaginings, he regarded her the same way he did now. She pushed the picture from her mind, ashamed that such a thought would come to her when she should be concentrating on locating her son. She looked away.

  “Come on,” said Cody. He hit the key fob and remotely started the Range Rover’s engine. “Let’s get out of here.”

  “And go where?” she asked.

  “To find Belkin and rescue your son.”