Then she remembered what they weren’t and her spine went rigid. The clothes she forgot that she had been carrying lay in a heap by her feet. “Thanks for catching me,” she said. Wiggling from his grasp, she bent to retrieve her discarded outfit.
“Just be more careful,” Roman said as he stepped away. “I don’t want to waste time dealing with your twisted ankle.”
Madelyn sucked in a breath and gaped.
“You think you’re the only one who’s smart enough to treat an injury?” He lobbed the insult-infused question over his shoulder as he started down the road.
She swayed, tingling with the numbness of disbelief. “I never said I was smarter than you.”
“You didn’t have to say anything.”
Roman’s long legs carried him farther and farther away. To catch up, and keep up, Madelyn walked in double time. She reached for his shoulder and pulled him to a stop. “That’s not fair,” she said. “I only wanted to help you last night.”
“I don’t need to be saved,” he said.
“Don’t worry. I won’t help again.” Madelyn, determined to have the last word and the first step, started down the trail again. This time, Roman lagged behind. For the next half of an hour, neither spoke.
When they finally reached her car, Madelyn got behind the wheel without a word. Still maintaining the silence, Roman folded himself into the passenger seat. She eased the car around and drove down the hill. Her chassis shimmied and the engine whined. She didn’t know much about cars, but she knew enough to know that both problems would be expensive to fix. Although that was a problem for another day. Oleg Zavalov was still out there, still deadly and still looking for her. Her savior had turned curmudgeon.
Following the face of the mountain, the road rose and the car crested a hill. Madelyn looked down and slammed on the brakes. The little wooden bridge they’d crossed the night before was gone. Brown muddy water swirled and foamed. It filled the creek bed and lapped at the side of the road. A chunk of dirt crumbled into the water.
Roman cursed under his breath. “The storm must’ve washed away the bridge. See if you have any cellular coverage.”
Madelyn dug through her bag and withdrew her phone. She hit the home button, but the screen remained black. “It’s dead.”
“Do you have a charger in the car?”
Madelyn shook her head. “I never keep one in my car, only at my apartment.”
“And I didn’t bother getting my phone from The Prow last night.”
“What do we do now?” Madelyn asked.
“We don’t have any choice besides go back to the cabin. The radio I spoke about last night can be fixed, so I’ll get to work on that. It shouldn’t be too much longer before we can call out.”
“We could cross the stream on foot,” Madelyn suggested.
Roman scratched his chin. “It’s an option,” he said, “but not a great one. More than last night’s storm, the winter snows are melting. It’s created more runoff than this little streambed can handle. Crossing would be risky,” Roman said. “Besides, once we get across, we have to hike to the road and hope we can hitch a ride to civilization. I say we go back and fix the radio.”
Madelyn didn’t care for the plan. Admittedly, she didn’t have a better alternative. At least they were talking again. The hurt-filled silence had bothered her more than she would have guessed. She turned around, her little car chugging up the hill. The engine’s whine increased to a screech. The car shuddered, and then fell silent and still. She tried the ignition again. Nothing.
“Your car wasn’t designed for this kind of driving,” Roman said. “Must be that the gerbil gave up.”
Madelyn gave a little laugh to cover up the tears she wanted to cry. “Poor fella.”
“I know a little about motors,” he said, “but with all new cars, the engine is more of a computer than gears and pistons, so I’m no help.”
“I guess we have to walk from here,” she said as she opened the door and stepped into the cold morning. Like her feet were encased in concrete, disappointment pulled Madelyn down. How could she help her sister if she was stuck in the middle of nowhere?
At the same time, this reprieve left her alone with Roman DeMarco, a man who left her breathless with desire and at the same time—so mad that she could spit. Yet, she couldn’t help but wonder if Roman’s injury or his time in the army had anything to do with his rapidly changing moods.
She decided that must be the case and then began to wonder what she might be able to do to help him heal...
* * *
A stabbing pain filled Roman’s temple. It wasn’t from an injury of the body, but rather the psyche. He’d been rude to Madelyn for no reason other than to keep her from being nice to him. The plan was solid when he thought they’d only spend the next hour or two together. Now, they were stuck in each other’s company for who knew how long. And if they were going to get off this mountain, Roman would need Madelyn’s help. More than that, he couldn’t concentrate on fixing the radio if her enmity were like a third person in the room.
“My ex-wife always said that I saw apologizing as being weak.”
“It’s an interesting theory. What do you think?”
“That’s a great question—one that a shrink might ask,” he said. “I’m actually not trying to get all personal, I was just trying to create a segue for saying I’m sorry about being a jerk.”
“Apology accepted.”
“So, we’re good?”
“Of course,” she said. She smiled and Roman’s chest tightened. He’d almost forgotten that the feeling existed, but he knew it well—or used to know it.
Satisfaction. The act of making Madelyn Thompkins smile brought Roman happiness.
A clear blue sky created a backdrop for the craggy mountain in the distance. He stared at the dark peaks, where heaven bent down to embrace the earth.
“It’s quite a view,” Roman said, as they crested a rise.
Madelyn came up from behind, her breathing labored. “It is beautiful,” she said.
“We can rest a minute,” Roman said. “The cabin will be there when we get back.”
“I’m fine. Besides, you have to contact your employer.” With a deep inhale, she strode on.
Roman reached for her, his fingertips brushing her shoulder. “A little rest won’t hurt anything.”
She looked at his hand and he let it cascade down her arm. Madelyn returned her gaze to Roman’s face. Something was drawing him to Madelyn, the connection growing greater the more he was around her. For Roman, the experience was brand-new and at the same time, it felt as old as the hills upon which they stood. He stepped toward her.
Reaching up, Roman cupped her cheek. She leaned into his touch. He bent to her and placed his mouth on hers. She was soft and warm. He pulled her close, hardly believing that he was standing on a mountain, kissing this woman. She sighed, and her lips parted. Roman pulled her closer as his tongue slid into her mouth. She met his kiss and shivered with desire. In the distance, a blue jay cried.
His arms encircled her waist and he felt a deep-seated need to protect her, no matter the cost. It wasn’t a thought as much as a code in his DNA. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulled him to her. Their mouths met, tongues danced, arms intertwined.
He began to think that maybe a life of contentment could be his. Then he had to wonder, yet again, what this woman was to him that he was daring to think such dangerous thoughts. And more important, when did he become such an optimist?
The pessimistic side of Roman’s nature—the one that knew best—whispered in his ear that Madelyn had been perfectly clear; she didn’t want a relationship and if Roman tried to change her mind, he was only wasting his time.
And men like Roman weren’t meant for anything long term—except loneliness. His life so far had proven that theory.
And still, Madelyn’s arms were the best place he knew.
She released her grip a little and Roman knew that the moment, as perfect as it had been, was over. His hands still rested on her hips. “That was nice,” he said.
“Nice? I think that’s the understatement of the year,” she said.
“Stupendous, then. Amazing. Angels wept.”
“Now you’re just being silly.”
Roman held his pointer and middle fingers upright. “I am not, Scout’s honor.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot. Mr. Eagle Scout, right?”
Roman let go of Madelyn’s waist, leaving one hand at the small of her back. He began walking again, leading the way through the wilderness. “I really was an Eagle Scout.”
Chapter 5
Madelyn walked in silence the rest of the way to the cabin. The scent of wood smoke from their earlier fire hung in the air and the snug cabin was still warm. Within a few minutes, Roman had stoked another fire.
“I’m going to see if I can get the radio and generator working and contact with RMJ.”
“And Ava?”
“I’ll ask them to start looking.”
Madelyn wanted more, but wasn’t sure what to demand.
Roman took a seat at the table. The black box with knobs and dials sat in front of him. Yards of white and black cord snaked across the surface. At his feet sat an open toolbox. “Is there anyone else you want me to get in touch with?” he asked.
Was there? She wasn’t scheduled at the hospital for three more days. Would any friends call? And if she didn’t call back, would her lack of a response cause them to worry? She called her parents once a week, and they wouldn’t expect to hear from her until the weekend.
“I guess not,” she said.
Roman turned back to the radio, her answer all but forgotten.
Madelyn opened several cabinets until she found what she was looking for—a pot, two mismatched mugs, and a tin box filled with tea. It was a mundane task, but Madelyn liked the pause from the tumultuous past few hours. Actually, the simple act of making tea was a welcome break in her otherwise hectic life. How long had it been since she’d taken a day off? Weeks? More like months.
She wanted to be a doctor more than anything in the world, but sometimes the sacrifices seemed extreme—like now. Resting for a day shouldn’t only happen if hiding from a murderous gangster in the mountains.
Madelyn knew that there was more to her busy schedule than simply wanting to do well. It kept her from being alone—or rather, lonely. It was in those moments when she had nothing but time that she questioned if she were somehow flawed.
Funny—until now Madelyn hadn’t wondered once if she helped enough people would she somehow earn the right to some happiness—and she knew why.
It was Roman.
More than keeping her safe, he had kept her company, and that truth scared her more than a Russian with a gun.
The water began to boil and she filled both cups. “Do you take cream or sugar in your tea?” she asked.
Roman turned to her. He’d unscrewed the back of the radio, exposing the wires and circuitry. “Neither,” he said, reaching for the cup. He took a sip and set it aside. “We have more problems than the generator. See this?” He held up end of an exposed of a wire. “It’s been chewed through by something—a mouse most likely.”
“What can I do to help?”
“Not much, unless you’re an electrician.”
“Nope, sorry.”
“I didn’t think so, but with you—heck it was worth asking.”
Roman set his screwdriver aside and reached his arms overhead. His tattoo of the screaming eagle clutching the Latin motto danced seductively over the muscles as they flexed and lengthened. Fine hairs grew at the nape of his neck. She longed to touch him and see how his flesh felt under her fingers.
“It’ll take about two hours for the generator to store enough power to make a call,” he continued. His words drew her from her reverie and she blushed.
Roman turned to her and smiled. There was a dimple on his cheek she hadn’t noticed before. Her face warmed even more.
Madelyn was at a loss for words, but felt she should say something. “You were great in the fight last night at the bar.” She exhaled and rubbed the side of her head in the exact place the barrel had pressed into her skull. “Especially how you took the gun from Serge.”
Serge. Just saying his name felt wrong, dishonorable. The man had died so Madelyn could escape.
But still, she had to admit to herself that any killing left her unsettled. Especially when Madelyn admitted to herself that she was truly happy that Serge was dead. It wasn’t that she blamed or judged Roman for his actions. It’s just that she knew which side she was on in the struggle of life versus death.
Roman shrugged. “I did what needed doing. We obviously didn’t have a lot of options.”
“I was terrified last night. Once that man pointed a gun at my head, fear took over and I could no longer make my own decisions, just follow his orders.”
“In a moment like that, you’re preserving your own life. You did the right thing in listening.”
“You fought them.”
“I was fighting for you.”
“Me? Why risk your life to save mine?”
“Because it’s the right thing to do,” he said.
“Because you’re brave, and nothing frightens you.”
Roman took another sip of tea and set his cup aside. He moved from the table and took a seat on the sofa next to Madelyn. He took her hand in his. “I was scared, too. Being brave isn’t the absence of fear, it’s taking action even though you are afraid.”
“Then I’m not brave.”
“You are.” He twined his fingers through hers. “You came to The Prow looking for your sister. The Prow’s a rough place. It took a good bit of courage to do that.”
“Yeah, but Ava’s my sister and it doesn’t matter what she’s done—it’s what she needs. Besides, we grew up together and shared all our secrets. Without her, how much of my childhood would disappear? How much of me will I lose?”
* * *
Oleg sat in his office, lines of code filling his computer screen. His head pounded and his vision was blurry. “Hurry up,” he growled at the computer.
He sat back and closed his eyes. Even his mind was filled with blackness and row after row of pixelated dots. He’d been wrong to trust Ava or Jackson. It was almost ten o’clock in the morning and he hadn’t heard from either one. It left Oleg with no one on whom he could rely beyond himself, so he spent the past two hours typing and searching.
“Oleg? You asleep?”
Oleg opened his eyes, Anton stood in the doorway, holding the jamb.
“And if I had been, then I wouldn’t be anymore.”
“It’s Serge,” Anton continued, his English halting and heavily accented. “I have heard nothing from him.”
Oleg’s heart slowed the span of one beat. His jaw tensed. “He’s busy. I told you that.”
“I know, it is that...” He paused and rolled his hand, searching for a word.
Serge was Nikolai’s nephew, sent a year ago to the US to avoid pending criminal charges in Russia. His buddy Anton had tagged along. Oleg had accepted Anton as part of the trade, but with Serge’s body still in the cooler, Oleg considered the deal to be null and void. It left him wondering what to do with Anton.
“He’s fine,” Oleg said. “You have my word on that.”
The other man remained at the door and didn’t show signs of leaving. “You have another problem?” Oleg asked.
“No,” said Anton. “No problem.”
“Good. Get back to work.”
“And do what?”
The code quit running across the screen and the monitor went black. Oleg leaned forward, his eyes n
o longer fatigued. A road map appeared on the screen. Pulsating green dots represented cell phone towers appeared. Yes! He’d done it—he’d hacked into the cellular network and could now track Madelyn Thompkins via her cell phone.
“And do what?” Anton asked again.
“What?” Oleg didn’t bother to look up.
“You told me to work. And do what?”
Oleg entered Madelyn’s cell phone number. A bar appeared at the bottom of the screen, diagonal lines filled the first quarter. Searching. Searching. Searching. He glanced up. Anton remained at the door. “I don’t know. Just find something to keep yourself busy.”
Oleg returned his attention to the computer. He tapped his foot. He leaned forward, chin resting on his knuckles. He leaned back, head cradled in his hands. Half of the bar was filled. Searching. Searching.
“O, Bozhe.” Dear God.
Anton’s voice, hollow and horrified, came from the corridor.
Oleg’s feet turned to ice. He knew what Anton had found.
Withdrawing a handgun from his desk drawer, Oleg slipped the barrel into the waistband of his pants at the small of his back and wandered to the beer cooler. Anton knelt on the floor next to the open door of the beer cooler. His skin was pale. His hands trembled.
“Vy.” You. Anton rose to his feet, and turned on Oleg. Much taller and stronger than Oleg, Anton scowled as he towered over him. “Vy yego ubili. On byl mertv techeinye neskol kikh chasov.” You killed him. He’s been dead for hours.
“Bud’ blagorazumen,” Oleg said. Be reasonable.
“Razumno?” Reasonable? Anton shoved Oleg, sending him into the wall. “Nikolay budet slyshat’ ob etom.” Nikolai will hear of this.
“Nikolay?” Without thought, Oleg pulled the gun from his waistband and fired once. His ears rang, deafened to all other sounds. The metallic scent of cordite hung in the air and a puff of smoke drifted lazily toward the ceiling. He would have found the scene strangely beautiful—the silence and the smoke—except for Anton, who lay on the floor, gripping his own neck. Blood leaked between his fingers, surging from a stream to a trickle with each beat of his weakening heart.
Her Rocky Mountain Defender Page 8
