Viktoria moved the computer so it faced her. She traced lines as she translated and read. “There’s some biographical information about you. An address in Arvada, Colorado?”
“I rented a house there when I was with the DEA,” Cody said, his words drowned out by the thrumming of his own pulse. How had his home address ended up on Belkin’s computer?
“Who’s Sarah Merrick?”
“Sarah?” Bile rose in the back of Cody’s throat. “That’s my sister.”
“There’s an address for her, too. Does she live in Montrose?”
He hadn’t spoken to Sarah in almost year, not since their big fight in which she told him to get over being let go by the DEA and he’d accused her of being blind. She was right—he was the one who’d been blind. Not only had he allowed his anger to ruin their relationship, now he knew that his investigation into the Mateevs had put his sister at risk. In truth, Sarah was all he had.
“You need to warn your sister,” said Viktoria. “Belkin might try to get to you by going after her.”
Viktoria was right. He didn’t know what to say. To Sarah. To Viktoria. To himself.
Viktoria must have sensed his hesitation and filled the silence. “I had to leave my parents without a word to save Gregory, and they’re probably furious with me. But no matter what they think of me now, I couldn’t know that they were in danger and not tell them. I’m just saying that family shouldn’t be sacrificed lightly.”
“Trust me—Sarah doesn’t want to hear from me.”
“She sent you a Christmas card. I think your sister is trying to make amends.”
“I said some horrible things. She said some horrible things. Even if we make up now, who’s to say that we won’t argue again?”
“No one,” said Viktoria. “In fact, you probably will. It’s what happens. But even if you disagree, you can still apologize.”
Cody shook his head. “I don’t crawl. To anyone.”
“Admitting you’re wrong once doesn’t mean you’re always wrong. Just like one argument—even a big one—doesn’t mean that a relationship needs to end.”
The fact that she’d understood his worst fear left Cody claustrophobic in his own home, his own head. He’d call RMJ and have them put a protective detail on his sister and her kids. “Anything else?”
“Lots.” Viktoria asked for paper and pen. He fetched her both. She scribbled a note and went back to reading the file silently. Cody’s heart hammered. An eternity passed before Viktoria finally spoke. “It seems that you got wind of the Mateev family’s involvement in a large heroin ring and they wanted you to stop.” She paused. “Did you shoot and kill a confidential informant?”
Cody forced himself to feel nothing, his soul a barren wasteland. “Yes.”
“Someone inside the DEA tipped Nikolai off about your investigation. Belkin was holding the guy’s girlfriend and used her as leverage. The CI’s gun was stolen in the melee that followed. You were set up by someone in the DEA, Cody.”
He recalled the exact moment before the CI drew his gun. I’m sorry, man, he had said. Peter Belkin has my girl.
Had the signed affidavit been routed to the wrong person? “By who?” Cody asked.
“Belkin doesn’t list a name, just refers to the person as Kh—that’s X in Russian. But I think it was someone higher up. I can write out everything for you exactly if you’d like,” she said.
Cody turned the computer to face him again. “Later,” he said. He emailed the document to himself and then to Ian. Then he saved all the files to a flash drive. He handed it to Viktoria. “Keep this with you at all times. It’s your protection from the Mateevs.” He powered down the computer.
“I’m sorry,” said Viktoria, squeezing his shoulder. He let her touch linger—but only for a minute—before gently shaking her off. It was her family who had orchestrated the ruin of his career, after all.
Placing blame on Viktoria wasn’t fair, he knew. The Mateevs had done a number on her life, too. Maybe even more so than on his. Even from the beginning, Cody had known that Belkin was responsible for ending his career. And now he had proof. Proof that he’d done his job. Proof that he hadn’t needlessly ended a life. Proof that he hadn’t been wrong. He wondered why he didn’t feel the warmth of pride or at the very least the cool relief of vindication.
Instead, Cody was left with the hot slap of shame. He’d unwittingly set a match to kindling, only to have the whole forest catch fire. Not only had he been burned, but he’d allowed the heat to char his relationship with his sister. Sure, he’d been right, but to have reacted so badly to Sarah’s encouragement that he forget the whole Mateev incident now seemed...
Oh hell, he didn’t know how he felt. Anxious energy filled him and he needed a release—on the slopes or in the boxing gym...or in Viktoria’s arms, in the warmth of her flesh. But how could he think of her as a place to find comfort and solace?
Were they friends? Partners? Lovers? If they were, then Cody needed to trust that Viktoria wouldn’t betray him. Yet, if Cody knew anything, it was that in the end, everyone was willing to deceive for their own purposes. Still, she looked so inviting—her arms, her lips, her thighs.
He needed air. He needed...clarity.
Cody walked to the door, his gaze drawn to Sarah’s card.
“Where are you going?” Viktoria called as he stepped out into the storm.
“If I’m going to take out the hard drive, I need to get my tools,” he said. “They’re in the shed.”
Freezing cold bit his face and hands. The chill was bracing and cleared his mind of every thought, save one—Belkin was not going to beat Cody. Not again.
* * *
Viktoria stared at the fire, as if the flames could portend her future—or at the very least guide her next move. Cody sat beside her and reattached the bottom of the laptop. He’d placed the slim hard drive into a Ziploc baggie that he’d hidden in the dryer, of all places. It seemed as if some of Cody’s problems had been solved, but hers were far from over. Belkin was still out there. She wasn’t sure if the evidence found on the laptop would be enough to put him away—despite Cody’s assurances. After all, Belkin had gotten away with so much for so long, why should he be brought to justice now?
And Belkin just worked for the bad people.
Viktoria sat in silence as the snow continued to fall—the storm was both her salvation and damnation. She felt Cody’s gaze burning her cheek. She turned and he regarded her with narrowed eyes.
“What?” she asked.
“Are you thinking of trying to hide again?”
Damn. He knew her too well. How had that happened in less than a day? “Maybe,” she said.
“Why won’t you listen to me? I told you I can keep you safe.”
Viktoria believed that Cody believed in himself. But was she willing to place her future, her son’s future and safety, in the hands of someone who, truthfully, she barely knew? “Don’t,” she said, “make promises you can’t keep. Especially where Gregory is concerned.”
“You can’t keep running,” said Cody. “It’s not good for you. It’s not good for your son.”
“You don’t think I know that? But how is having Gregory being raised by his mobster grandfather better?”
“Mommy?” called Gregory from the kitchen.
Double damn. What had her son heard?
“Yes, Captain Kiddo?”
“What’s for dinner?”
“First, you need to wash your hands,” Viktoria said as she rose from the sofa and opened the bathroom door. “Then we can talk about dinner.”
While the water ran in the bathroom, Cody walked toward Viktoria. She eyed him warily. This man, who just hours ago had brought her body to such heights of passion, now made her feel...what?
Uneasy. After all, she reminded h
erself, she and her son were only a job. And now, he, too, was on the run from Belkin.
She wished she could feel his arms around her again and feel that safety and security. Believe that the rich and ruthless wouldn’t win, and that she could have her life back—while also keeping her son. But she didn’t want to go back to New York. The city was where she’d lived with Lucas, a man it seemed she didn’t know at all. Viktoria wanted a new life for herself, for Gregory. A life very much like the day they’d just spent with Cody.
Too bad it looked like that would never happen.
* * *
By early evening the worst of the blizzard was over, bringing a leaden sky. Viktoria kept busy for the next hour making dinner—spaghetti and meatballs along with a salad and garlic bread. It was far from a holiday feast, but the work kept her hands busy and her mind from wandering too far.
The snow had lessened and now only a few stray flakes fell from the sky. Cody had gone outside, taking Gregory with him. Together they had shoveled a path from the front door to the nearby Range Rover, which they had swept clean. Too soon the roads would be cleared, and with that, the ability for someone to come for her and Gregory.
Run. The word came with each beat of her heart. Run. Take your child and hide. Run, and never look back. And yet, Viktoria remained rooted over a large pot full of boiling water and starchy pasta.
She set the table complete with two white candles she found in a drawer along with cloth napkins. The razor-sharp crease in the fabric made her guess they’d never been used. She thought of the things she’d lost in the fire in the cabin—a good amount of her cash included—and what she might need again to start life anew.
“Dinner smells great,” said Cody as he and Gregory entered the small house. A gust of cold wind followed and swirled through the kitchen. Viktoria shivered, immediately understanding the inhospitableness of the outside world, and the safety and security offered in the little house—even if it was temporary.
Cody stood in the doorway and removed his hat. Then brushing it on his knee to dust off the snow, he said, “Spaghetti and sauce is my favorite.”
“Yeah, Mom,” Gregory repeated. “Dinner smells really good and spaghetti is my favorite, too.” Gregory stood beside Cody. Her son wore a hat, coat and mittens—all borrowed from Cody. The clothes were much too large and with the rolled-up sleeves and drooping hat, Gregory looked even younger and smaller than his four years. Gregory had begun to copy everything Cody said and did. Now was no exception. Mimicking Cody, Gregory took off the hat and dusted it on his knee. Cody slipped out of his coat and a heartbeat later, so did the boy.
Viktoria owed her son a life of peace and safety. But, how could she best provide that? Stay and face the consequences for having left New York only to have him placed, at the very best, in protective custody? Or go on the run, armed with new knowledge of how easily a person can be found, but still give them a new home together, albeit one that was hidden away?
“Give me your wet things.” Viktoria reached out for the damp and cold outerwear. “Dinner’s ready.” She hung everything up on the bathroom’s shower door, then returned to the kitchen, where Cody knelt before the hearth, feeding logs into the flames. Gregory was already seated at the table with a fork in his hand. Cody stood as Viktoria entered the room, maneuvering in front of her and pulling out her chair as she approached the table.
“Thank you for making dinner,” Cody said. He took his own seat. “I couldn’t imagine a better way to spend Christmas Eve.”
“We should eat this way every night,” Gregory said.
A hard lump formed in Viktoria’s throat and for a moment, she couldn’t find her voice. In his innocence, Gregory had shared her exact wishes. Even when she’d fled New York, Viktoria had understood that she was breaking the law. But having Gregory with her, maintaining their family, was worth it. Now she feared that there might never again be a night like this one.
As Cody filled everyone’s plates high with steaming pasta and savory-smelling sauce, Viktoria took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Run. Stay. Each option could be disastrous.
As if he’d known she was struggling internally, Cody caught her eye. “It’ll be okay.”
“I hope you’re right,” she said.
“I was thinking,” Cody said. “I can go to New York with you and tell them what happened here and that you were right to run. Then there’s the fact that we have everything on Belkin’s hard drive, plus the document about me. It’ll only be a matter of time before this will be cleared up in a legal sense.”
Viktoria took another bite of pasta. Could she rely on Cody? Were they really in this together?
* * *
Viktoria stood at the sink and washed dishes. Gregory, sprawled on the sofa, dozed as another Christmas cartoon played on the TV. Cody had just gone outside to collect more firewood. It was a very domestic scene, and anyone looking in from the outside would see a family enjoying the waning of another Christmas Eve.
Yet Viktoria’s hands trembled in the soapy water and her stomach churned. She was torn with indecision. When Viktoria had left New York with Gregory, she’d done so calmly, methodically and without hesitation. Yet despite learning hours ago that she was still wanted by the authorities, she couldn’t bring herself to pack up her son and leave.
And it was because of Cody.
Certainly, if she ran it would reflect badly on him and his job. She didn’t want that. But the real reason was that Viktoria couldn’t betray him—or their bond.
Through the window, she could see Cody’s figure near the woodpile, unmistakable even in the night. The Range Rover sat near the door. The keys were in a dish on the counter.
Cody’s back was to the house, his attention focused on gathering wood. How many minutes did she have before he came back? Three? Four? Even with ten minutes, Viktoria didn’t have enough time to plan or think—only act. The snow had stopped hours earlier. Major roads would likely be cleared by now.
She knew what she had to do. True, she hated living off the grid—hiding from the world, not even able to call her friends or family. But did she hate that more than losing Gregory?
The answer was a simple no.
She stopped considering what running right now would mean to Cody or his job. Or even more important, what it would mean to their relationship. She knew that finding those answers would be far from easy. Grabbing the keys from the bowl, Viktoria called out, “Gregory, come with me. We have to go.”
“But Mommy,” he whined, “the show’s not over.”
“You can watch that later,” she said, knowing that he would never have the chance. She held out her hand. “Come on,” she said. Her pulse roared behind her ears and her voice held an uncustomary bite.
Gregory sighed and rolled up to sitting. His legs dangled off the edge of the sofa.
“I said, let’s go.”
Gregory stood, sensing the urgency in her voice. “Where are we going?” he asked.
“We need to leave,” she said simply.
“What about Santa?” Tears clung to Gregory’s lashes. “What about Cody?”
She tried to speak, but she couldn’t find the words. She looked at the sofa. Maybe it would be best to sit beside her son and hold him, just enjoy him for the next day and not wreak havoc on their lives again. But if they stayed, chaos would surely come to find them and there was no guarantee she’d be able to save him again, even with Cody’s help. Not with the enemy they were up against.
She had no cash, no clothes, no plan beyond leaving. Still, she couldn’t stay and let her son be taken from her.
“We just have to go, okay?” To lie to him that way upset her the moment it came out of her mouth. But what choice did she have? “I need you to listen to me, and to be a brave boy. Cody’s going to be okay, I promise.”
After a moment,
Gregory placed his small hand in Viktoria’s. As they walked to the door, she prayed that Gregory would quickly forget their momentary respite in Cody’s home. She should pray to have that sort of amnesia herself, but she couldn’t. Memories of Cody were all she could take with her. Those, and his sweats, which she still wore, and his Gore-Tex jacket that she had grabbed.
Oh, and the car she was stealing from him.
Viktoria held Gregory as they slipped from the warm and inviting house and into the frigid darkness. As the blizzard moved south, arctic air had followed in its wake and Viktoria imagined that tonight’s low temperatures would plummet to well below zero. It was a horrible night to be out. Cody had retreated to the shed that sat on the far side of his lot and Viktoria knew this was her moment. She didn’t have the strength of will to face Cody, not that he would willingly let her leave. Yet, she had to go and if he knew her at all, he’d understand why.
Using the fob, Viktoria remotely started the Range Rover’s engine and unlocked its doors. She brushed snow from the windshield before opening the back door and lifting her son into the seat. “Sit in the middle,” she said.
He did as she asked and dutifully slid across the bench. She struggled with the seat belt for a moment and after buckling her son in place, Viktoria climbed into the driver’s seat. She checked the pocket of her sweats to make sure she still had the flash drive with Peter Belkin’s encrypted computer files. She did.
“We’re going to be okay,” she said, adjusting the mirror.
“I know, Mommy,” he said, his voice small but serious.
Thick frost covered the windows, and cocooned them in a separate world of white. Viktoria turned on the defroster, which cut a circle through the frozen condensation on the windshield. She eased down the driveway as more frost melted. Viktoria turned on the windshield wipers. They swept left and right, cleaning a wedge on the glass.
The car’s headlights illuminated a swath of night. Viktoria gasped and slammed on the breaks. The Range Rover skidded and shuddered to a stop, its grill a hairbreadth away from Cody.
Her Rocky Mountain Hero (Rocky Mountain Justice Book 1) Page 15
