The kids ran in and his brother-in-law, Paul, offered his hand as he passed. “Merry Christmas, buddy,” he said.
They shook hands. “Same to you.”
He overheard Viktoria calling to Gregory, to come downstairs and meet some new friends.
Then it was just Cody and Sarah. His mouth felt as if it suddenly had filled with marbles.
“I got a phone call this morning from one of Santa’s helpers,” she said.
“Viktoria, obviously.”
“She said we’d be welcome. I hope she was right.”
“The last time we talked...” said Cody. He stopped. He needed to do more, say more. He began again. “I shouldn’t have cut you out of my life like I did, Sarah. At the time, I felt because you didn’t support me, you were against me.”
“You’re my little brother—I’m always on your side. But it is possible to love someone and tell them things they don’t want to hear.”
“I understand...” Cody moved from one foot to the other. “I’m no good at apologizing, Sarah. I’m worse at forgiveness, especially asking for it.”
“You don’t have to say anything, Cody. I know what’s in your heart.”
She was wrong, again. He did have to apologize. Otherwise, he’d never get the chance to reshape his life. He swallowed. “Forgive me?”
“Only if you forgive me.”
“I did a long time ago.”
Wind whipped around the house and swirled at their feet. Yet, the last block of ice in Cody’s heart melted.
* * *
Viktoria helped Sarah in the kitchen as they prepared Christmas dinner. The two worked in companionable silence as the men played in the snow with the kids. The resemblance between brother and sister—dark hair and complexion, mixed with light blue eyes—was unmistakable and Viktoria felt completely at ease.
It also helped that Gregory was enjoying himself—throwing snow, laughing and enjoying a game that could only be called Try to Knock Cody Over. Occasionally, Cody would feign teetering, only to lift a child in each arm and run.
“My brother’s usually pretty intense,” Sarah said at length.
Viktoria gave a laugh. “I noticed.”
“He’s lightened up a lot since we last spoke.”
“He’s lightened up in the past two days,” said Viktoria.
“Then it is you. You’re the one who helped my brother heal.”
Viktoria’s face flushed and it wasn’t from steam rising from various pots on the stove. “I’m not sure about that...”
The door burst open and five snow-covered figures filed in, laughing. “Wet things off, so I can hang them up,” Viktoria ordered. She stopped and said to Sarah, “Sorry, I shouldn’t be taking charge in your brother’s house. Must be my bossy New Yorker roots showing.”
Sarah waved away the apology as she gestured to the quintet stripping out of their snow-covered coats and gloves. “They’re listening to you. Looks like you’re the lady of the house.”
Again, Viktoria’s face flushed. Sarah rounded up the group and herded them all toward the upstairs bedrooms, where they could change into dry clothes. Cody stayed behind. His coat was open and a fleece cap was pulled back on his head. A sprinkling of stubble covered his cheeks and chin. Viktoria longed to touch him. But should she? Could she? Sure, they’d endured more over the past two days than most couples had in a lifetime, but the intensity of their relationship stemmed from the need to defeat a common foe. Which brought up the real question—now that Belkin was in custody, what did Viktoria mean to Cody?
“I hope you aren’t mad that I called Sarah, who is great, by the way,” she said.
At the same moment, he spoke, “You and my sister seem to be getting along well.”
They laughed. “You go,” they said in tandem.
Cody lifted Viktoria’s hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “I’m not angry,” he said, his words a breath on her skin.
“It was presumptuous of me to call her.”
“It was bold, but I was being pigheaded by not apologizing to my sister. Maybe I was ashamed. I don’t know. I’m not good at analyzing my feelings.”
“You seem to be doing alright now.”
“Then I’ll keep going.” Cody wrapped his arms around Viktoria’s waist. She melted into his warm and solid frame. “I care about you, Viktoria.”
“I care about you, too.”
Cody placed his lips on hers. He kissed her softly, oh-so softly. It stole her breath. He pressed his forehead into hers.
“It’s crazy to think that it was less than two days ago when this all started, because I can’t remember what my life was like without you.”
She snuggled tighter into his embrace. “Neither can I.”
“It was bleak, I know that. In fact, I remember how broken I felt in those few moments before Belkin showed up at your cabin. Like there were pieces of me missing that I’d never find.”
“We’ve hashed this out before, but I am glad you were there. You saved Gregory and me.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Viktoria. It’s you and Gregory who’ve been my salvation. Is it too early to say that I love you?”
“No, because, Cody, I love you, too.”
Cody cupped Viktoria’s face in his hands. “You make me so happy,” he said.
Viktoria went up on tiptoe, placing her lips on his. “Likewise, Cody Samuels.”
“We don’t know everything about each other, but we do know what’s important,” he said. “You, me and Gregory.”
“And I cannot wait to figure out the rest,” she finished for him.
Cody kissed her again and she sighed. This was not the end, not by a long shot. Viktoria broke away from their kiss and pulled Cody’s hat from his head. She tossed it on the counter and raked her fingers through his hair. “Merry Christmas to you,” she said, “my Rocky Mountain Santa.”
Epilogue
New Year’s Eve
Peter Belkin found the interview room in the federal detention center almost as bland as his cell in the county jail. A wooden laminate table sat in the middle of the room. Grimy beige tile that at one time might have been white covered the floor. Long tubes of fluorescent lights hung from the ceiling and buzzed softly. One wall was filled with a reflective window and a video camera—its record light glowing green—stood in the corner.
Two men in crisply ironed white shirts and dark suits sat side by side on uncomfortable molded plastic chairs and stared at Peter Belkin as he wrote. Belkin was envious of the men and their business attire. He wore a shapeless orange jumpsuit with the letters CDOC, standing for Colorado Department of Corrections, stenciled on the back. It was one of two, and along with two pairs of dull white socks, a set of shower shoes and industrial underwear, the jumpsuits were the only things that Peter Belkin now possessed.
One of the men, an FBI agent, twirled a pen through his fingers and back again. The other, another special agent with the Bureau, leaned back in the chair and sighed heavily. These men didn’t like being at the federal detention center any more than Belkin did. It was, after all, New Year’s Eve. There were wives at home becoming anxious about arriving late to parties, and plastic platters of soggy shrimp waiting to be eaten between toasts to the New Year.
Belkin, however, would not be going home. Not now. Not ever.
But if he cooperated, he could still have a life outside a cell, or so he was told. It was all part of his plea bargain that eventually would get him out of jail, and ensure that all charges against him would be dropped. But jail was only one of his worries. To remain alive, he needed protection. To that end, he continued to write, giving every detail he could recall, which were many and varied. He flipped to the next page in the yellow legal pad.
Names. Dates. Businesses. Plans. Ba
nk accounts—none of his own. Peter Belkin knew everything about Nikolai Mateev. Belkin’s fingers cramped from writing for so long, but finally, he had come to the end. He threw the pen on the table and pushed the pad toward the agents before shaking feeling back into his hand.
“This it?” asked the first special agent.
“It is,” said Belkin.
The older agent took the legal pad and flipped through the pages. He folded all but the final sheet back and set the tablet in front of Belkin again. “Sign it and date it,” he said, pointing to a spot at the bottom of the page.
So, this man was the one in charge. It mattered little to Belkin who had the title of supervisory special agent or not. He would soon be handed off to other people who would change his identity, his looks, his life.
Belkin once again picked up the pen, signed his name and added the date. “There,” he said, shoving both across the table once more.
“The US Attorney has to look at this and approve your plea. But if everything goes as planned you’ll be transferred to Witness Protection after the beginning of the year,” said the agent in charge.
“Everything will go as planned,” Belkin said, although in truth nothing had worked out since he’d agreed to take Gregory Mateev away from his mother. Who knew that a stay-at-home mom would be the catalyst of his downfall. It was almost funny. Almost, but not really.
“Well then,” said the agent in charge as he stood, “I’ll be in touch next week.”
The junior agent stood, as well. He opened the door and both men slipped out. From his vantage point in the chair, Peter Belkin could see into the corridor. He saw a man, a face he remembered but could not place. Perhaps they had never met—just seen his photo. Before Belkin could decide who it was, the door slammed shut.
* * *
Sir Ian Wallace stood in the corridor alongside representatives of the Drug Enforcement Administration, the Colorado Bureau of Investigation and the United States Marshals Service. In truth, he had no jurisdictional reason to be a part of the group, but had been included because it was his employee who had delivered Peter Belkin to the authorities.
The two FBI agents tasked with debriefing Belkin exited the room. The senior agent, Marcus Jones, held a legal pad that he slapped on his open palm. “I think this guy just gave me my Christmas present late,” he said. “Walk with me, gentlemen. There’s a conference room up ahead.”
The group followed SA Jones to a room with frosted windows, maroon carpeting and the FBI’s seal on the wall. The seal was flanked by flags from both the United States of America and the state of Colorado. Everyone took a seat around an oblong wood table as Marcus stood at the head.
“According to this statement.” He tapped the legal pad. “We now know how Mateev launders his money. He runs the cash through a seedy bar in Boulder called The Prow.”
The junior agent spoke up. “It’s owned by the son of a Russian immigrant. A kid named Oleg Zavalov. The guy likes to party but has no priors.”
“More than that,” Jones, the senior guy, continued, “Nikolai’s great nephew is an employee. Now that Gregory is out of his reach we should assume that Nikolai will contact his next closest male heir.”
“Do we have a name?” a representative from CBI asked.
The junior federal agent answered. “Belkin didn’t know.”
“What we need is intel, someone on the inside,” said a man from the DEA.
“That takes a lot of court orders, subpoenas, basic red tape up the wazoo,” the man from CBI said.
“If I may,” said Ian. He ran a hand through his dark blond hair, a habit he’d picked up at university and had never managed to break. “I might have a solution.”
All eyes turned to him. He continued, “As private contractors, Rocky Mountain Justice is in a unique position. We can’t bring charges against a person nor can we arrest them, but we can provide information.”
The men around the table looked at each other then back to Ian.
“It’s worth exploring,” said Special Agent Jones.
Ian rapped his knuckles on the table. “Good,” he said, “because I have the perfect man for the job.”
* * * * *
Don’t miss
HER ROCKY MOUNTAIN DEFENDER
the next thrilling installment of
ROCKY MOUNTAIN JUSTICE
Jennifer D. Bokal’s new miniseries for
Harlequin Romantic Suspense
Coming in April 2018
Available wherever Harlequin books
and ebooks are sold!
Keep reading for an excerpt from THE BILLIONAIRE’S COLTON THREAT by Geri Krotow.
Get rewarded every time you buy a Harlequin ebook!
Click here to Join Harlequin My Rewards
http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010003
We hope you enjoyed this Harlequin Romantic Suspense title.
You want sparks to fly! Harlequin Romantic Suspense stories deliver, with strong and adventurous women, brave and powerful men and the life-and-death situations that bring them together.
Enjoy four new stories from Harlequin Romantic Suspense every month!
Connect with us on Harlequin.com for info on our new releases, access to exclusive offers, free online reads and much more!
Harlequin.com/newsletters
Facebook.com/HarlequinBooks
Twitter.com/HarlequinBooks
HarlequinBlog.com
Join Harlequin My Rewards & Instantly earn a FREE ebook of your choice.
Earn points for every Harlequin print and ebook you buy, wherever & whenever you shop.
Turn your points into FREE BOOKS.
Don’t miss out. Reward the book lover in you!
Register Today & Earn a FREE BOOK*
*New members who join before December 31st, 2017 will receive 2000 points redeemable for eligible titles.
Click here to register
Or visit us online to register at
http://www.harlequin.com/myrewards.html?mt=loyalty&cmpid=EBOOBPBPA201602010001
The Billionaire's Colton Threat
by Geri Krotow
Chapter 1
Halle Ford allowed her gaze to soak in the hill country that surrounded her family ranch. She’d been fortunate to travel around the country and world, but her heart always remained in Shadow Creek, Texas. Bluewood Ranch appealed to her inner cowgirl more than her slick corporate CPA job in Austin ever had. She leaned on the fence and sipped her morning cup of coffee, relishing this private time, her version of meditation. The split cedar logs that circled the paddock were as familiar as her father’s hug had been. As long as she didn’t think about how much he’d spent on the fancy fencing before he’d died. An eastern spotted lizard was on the top of the fence, sunning himself in the late summer sunshine. “Hey, little guy.” He ignored her, stretching his neck and displaying his brilliant green skin covered with flamboyant spots to his advantage.
Running her father’s ranch had always been a far-off dream, but Chancellor Ford’s sudden death in a horrific car crash six months ago had turned her dream into a nightmare. Besides facing the fact that Dad was gone forever, she’d had to come to terms with how he’d been killed. He’d been taken away by a hit-and-run driver, the same woman who’d terrorized Shadow Creek for decades until her imprisonment. Her terror had continued after her escape from prison and until her presumed death six months ago. Thanks to cop-bribing prison-escapee Livia Colton, Halle’s life had been shattered and she had inherited Bluewood Ranch. At present, Bluewood wasn’t faring well financially, much to her heartbreak. Even with her accounting and business acumen that she’d sharpened at that high-powered marketing firm in Austin, she’d been unable to bring the ranch back to life.
Yet. It had only be
en a little over six months, and the first six weeks or so after the accident didn’t count as far as she was concerned. The shock of Daddy’s death and her transition from an office career to running Bluewood had been tough. The move back to rugged, beautiful Shadow Creek from her well-appointed Austin condominium had been an adjustment in and of itself.
A soft whinny floated on the chilly morning breeze and she smiled as she recognized Elvis. The gelding was a gift from her dear friend Jade Colton. Jade ran Hill Country Farms, an off-track Thoroughbred rehab center. Jade had also sold Halle’s mare Buttercup to her after Chancellor Ford’s sudden death. Jade had known what a new horse would mean to Halle. Buttercup, along with Elvis and the other horses, had kept her from going over the edge after Daddy’s death. Murder was more like it.
Not for the first time she wanted to hurl the blue stone-fired mug at one of the boulders that sat in the makeshift rock garden between the ranch house and paddock. To smash the ceramic into lethal shards, as her heart had been when evil Livia Colton had killed her father. Even after being apparently killed in a freak flash flood right after the accident, Livia still haunted Halle. She wasn’t one for superstition but it was hard to remain practical in the face of such tragedy. More than once Halle wished she could bring Livia back from the dead so that she could confront the murderer. She had destroyed so many dreams in Shadow Creek.
The reminder that she wasn’t the only one who’d had her life torn apart by Livia Colton was little consolation but it did shake her out of the pity party she was brewing. She needed to focus on what she could change and at the moment that meant getting new tours scheduled. Horseback riding classes and pony rides brought in steady income, but nothing increased Bluewood’s revenue as quickly as the overnight tours. Halle loved showing her guests the best trails that wound through Texas Hill Country. Most of her groups were families, and as summer ended, kids were back in school. Her group tours dwindled, making her cash flow as spotty as her lizard buddy.
Her phone vibrated in her back pocket and she ignored it. The house phone was the main business line so she only answered her cell at her convenience. This was her rare quiet time in the day, the one part she kept sacred to herself unless she was on the trail with a ranch guest. After the vibration stopped, a second, shorter vibration informed her there was a voice mail.
Her Rocky Mountain Hero (Rocky Mountain Justice Book 1) Page 21
