“Good to see you, Ian.”
“It’s good to be seen by you.”
“Madelyn, let me introduce you to my boss, Sir Ian Wallace. Ian, this is Madelyn Thompkins.”
Ian flashed a rare smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
The apples on Madelyn’s cheeks reddened and she returned the smile, but reached for Roman’s hand. Roman felt a pulling in his chest at her touch.
“You didn’t have to come out and get me personally, Ian,” Roman said, dragging his attention away from his feelings for Madelyn and returning them to the case. “I’m sure there’s a lot that needs to be done.”
“All that could wait. Besides, I wasn’t going to let someone else have the pleasure of saving your butt.”
“I saved my own butt, thank you very much.” Then to Madelyn he explained, “Ian is one of those friends who can always be counted on to help, and to be a smart-ass in the process.”
Madelyn laughed. Being able to hear her giggle raised his spirits.
“And speaking of things that need done.” Roman withdrew the two cell phones from a pocket on his thigh. He leaned forward, the seat belt tight across his chest. “This phone belonged to Serge. I used it to call you. The voice mail, texts and phone have a separate passcode, but can easily be circumvented once I get back to the office. This phone—” he held up the spare “—is a mystery. It’s not Oleg’s but was found in his car.” More pockets still. “And here are the keys to Oleg’s car. I parked in the fifth row back, center of the aisle.”
“It looks like you’ve continued to be busy.”
“It’s what you pay me for.”
“Madelyn?” Ian began. “Did Roman tell you that he was the very first person I brought on to the RMJ team?”
“Actually,” she said, “he did.”
“Really? Anything else interesting he shared with you?”
“He said that the first time you two met that you called him a bloke.”
Ian used the rearview mirror and made eye contact with Roman. “Is she teasing me?”
“She likes jokes, brother.”
“Then she’s perfect for you.” Ian paused. “Bloke. In all honesty, I’m glad to see that you’re both in good spirits. And since you’re here now, let’s talk business. I’ve contacted all the players from the task force. FBI. DEA. Colorado Bureau of Investigation. They’ve been notified that our main target, Nikolai Mateev, is en route.”
“Nikolai Mateev?” Madelyn asked. “The Russian mobster?”
Ian looked at Roman through the rearview mirror again. This time, he lifted a single brow. Roman ignored the stare and the question that was certain to go along with it—What exactly have you told this woman?
“And what about my sister, Ava?” Madelyn asked. “Roman mentioned to you that she’s been out of contact for months. I saw her social media post from The Prow last night. It’s what drew me into this mess.”
“She hasn’t been located. In truth, we haven’t launched an all-out search,” Ian said. “The Boulder PD are looking, though.”
Madelyn flopped into her seat. Hand in chin, she looked out the window. “It feels like I should be able to do more.”
“Because of you,” said Roman, “we have information about one of the biggest drug dealers in the world. Not just Boulder, or Colorado, or even the United States. Putting Nikolai Mateev in jail will make life better for a lot of people.”
“My sister included?”
“A lot of that depends on Ava and her choices.”
Madelyn fell silent.
The SUV rolled on, making its way to the nearby interstate and soon they were traveling southward to Denver. Their passage slowed only a little as they encountered traffic in the metro area and before Roman knew it, Ian was pulling into the parking garage connected to Rocky Mountain Justice’s Sixteenth Street Mall office building.
As soon as the car stopped, Roman opened the door and helped Madelyn from the Range Rover. Their palms met. Her skin was soft and warm.
“Roman!” Katarina, the resident communications expert ran out and met the SUV as it parked. In her late forties, Kat lived the outdoor lifestyle of cycling, skiing and whitewater kayaking and was as fit as the rest of the operatives.
Grabbing Roman by the shoulder, she whirled him around, before folding him into her strong arms. “I’m so glad that you’re safe,” she said.
“It’s good to be back,” Roman said.
His gaze found Madelyn. Ian had taken her by the elbow and led her away, all the while giving the history of RMJ. Roman had heard it all before—beginning with a speech about Ian’s crusade for a world free of injustice. Ian opened the fire door that separated the parking garage from the office suite and ushered Madelyn inside, talking all the while. The door slammed shut and she was gone.
A hot bubble of jealousy rose within Roman and his jaw tightened. Then the bubble burst and disappeared. Ian was Roman’s boss and best friend. Never would he betray their bond.
As they made their way through the cavernous parking garage, Kat reached for the door handle and paused. “So, who is she?”
“Madelyn Thompkins,” Roman said. “Med student at CU. She came to The Prow looking for her sister who’s been AWOL since a stint at rehab. Collateral damage to the extreme, just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Who is she to you?”
“Is it that obvious?”
“Sure is,” said Katarina. “You held the door open for her.”
“A guy can’t be a gentleman nowadays? What’s the world coming to?”
“And you sat in the back with her, not up front with Ian—even though you are his right-hand man.”
“I thought you were his right-hand man.”
“Now who’s not being a gentleman,” she teased in return. “Besides, I could tell that she’s more than collateral damage the minute I saw the way you looked at her.”
“Yeah?” Roman asked. “How’s that?”
Katarina pulled the metal door open. As Roman stepped through, she said, “You looked at her, my friend, like you’ve fallen hard.”
* * *
The break room in the RMJ offices was unremarkable. An obligatory wooden table and four chairs stood in the middle of a floor covered in white tile. A leather sofa sat against the far wall, with a kitchen area opposite. There were no windows. Florescent lights hummed overhead and filled the room with a yellow hue.
Madelyn sat at the table, in silence, save for the TV mounted to the wall. It had been set to a local news station, and the story of the hour centered around protests on the University of Colorado’s campus. She was used to being at the continual center of political activism, so Madelyn didn’t think a story about marches at CU were newsworthy in the least. But since she had nothing else to do, she watched—seeing little and hearing less.
The door opened. Katarina entered. “I wish I had more to loan you.” She held up a rose-colored, long-sleeved T-shirt. “But this is all I had on hand. You’re welcome to it if you’d like a change of clothes.”
“Thanks,” said Madelyn, as she got up from her seat to accept the offered shirt. “I have to admit, wearing something clean will be nice.”
“It’s what I figured.” Katarina pointed to a door that was tucked in next to the sofa. “You can change in there,” she said.
Madelyn stepped into the half bath and closed the door before stripping out of her dirty and worn shirt and blazer. Water from the faucet sluiced between her fingers as she took time to wash her hands, face and neck. She toweled off with rough, industrial paper towels and redressed in the T-shirt.
Katarina waited by the table. “I also brought you this,” she said, handing over a canvas bag.
Madelyn took it, again with her thanks, and tucked her dirty laundry inside.
“Can I get you anything else?�
�� Katarina asked. “Something to drink? A sandwich?”
“A phone,” said Madelyn. “I’d like to call my parents.”
Katarina gave a sympathetic sigh. “Sorry. No can do. There’s a lot of bigwigs who want to chat with you first.”
“First?” Indignation and disbelief flamed inside of Madelyn’s chest. “I’ve been waiting for almost forty minutes.” She inhaled and exhaled, mastering her frustration at being thrown in a room and forgotten. She’d been all but discarded by Roman. Where was he?
“Roman’s being debriefed right now,” Katarina said, as if Madelyn’s thoughts, and not the local news, were being broadcast on the TV. “I think he’s almost done.” A slim cell phone in Katarina’s hand pinged and she looked at the screen. “In fact, he just wrapped up. Come with me.”
I am a doctor. I am a doctor. I am a doctor, or will be one day. Madelyn repeated the phrase for confidence as she followed Katarina down a long hallway. Thick carpeting cushioned her steps and silenced her footfalls. Katarina stopped in front of a wooden door. A silver sign affixed to it read Conference Room A.
“Here you go, hon.” The other woman opened the door. “All you need to do is answer a few questions. There’s no need to worry.”
Madelyn entered the room, her stomach bucking. A large wooden table sat in the middle of the floor. A bank of windows ran the span of the room and overlooked the Sixteenth Street Mall and the Denver skyline beyond. More than a dozen men and several women in dark suits or official uniforms sat around the table. To the person, their expressions were sour—as if they’d all sucked from the same rotten lemon.
The bright Rocky Mountain sun streamed through the windows and reflected off the highly polished table. The effect was blinding and slightly nauseated Madelyn, or maybe that symptom came from being nervous. The clean shirt notwithstanding, Madelyn didn’t belong.
There was a single open chair at the foot of the table and Madelyn slid into the seat. Ian was at the head. Roman had changed into a white button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up and charcoal slacks. He sat five seats up and on her right. He gave her a quick smile and lifted his hand in greeting. From where she sat, she could see the wording of his tattoo. Hoc defendam. This we’ll defend. And for Madelyn, the words on his skin were true. He was her defender.
“Ms. Thompkins,” Ian began. “Thank you for joining us. Allow me to make introductions.” He rattled off names and agencies for every person in the room.
Madelyn would never remember them all. She didn’t think she was supposed to, nor did she think she honestly had a choice in attending the meeting. “I’m happy to help,” she said.
“We’ve been briefed by Mr. DeMarco,” one man began. “But, in your own words, can you tell us what happened.”
The thought of recounting everything that had happened felt like hiking across a sand dune—tiring, pointless, with one step forward becoming two steps back. And just like a hike over the dunes, Madelyn wanted this meeting to be over so she could go home.
“Roman’s really thorough, so I’m not sure what you want. Do you have specific questions for me?”
The man who’d asked the original question held a pen. He cartwheeled it between his fingers and back. Madelyn thought Ian had said he was with the Federal Bureau of Investigation. “Mr. DeMarco claims that you came to the Boulder bar known as The Prow looking for your sister...”
It wasn’t exactly a question, but rather an opening. “The last time I saw Ava was before she checked herself out of rehab. That was months ago. Last night, she posted something on social media and tagged herself as being at The Prow. I went to see if she was still there.”
“Let’s jump forward to today. Oleg Zavalov found the, up until now, hidden RMJ safe house.”
Again, not a question. This time his words held a hint of blame. Madelyn’s shoulder blades pinched together and the muscles in her lower back tightened. “Am I being accused of something?”
“Wait a minute,” Roman interrupted. He was on his feet. “What are you implying?”
“Look at it from our perspective, Mr. DeMarco. Your case is blown on the night Ms. Thompkins arrives and then miraculously, Oleg Zavalov finds RMJ’s safe house.” Mr. FBI continued, “It doesn’t add up.”
Unfortunately, Madelyn could see the entire scenario from the FBI’s perspective. There were several circumstances that didn’t make sense, unless Oleg Zavalov had found out about Roman’s investigation and then a way to infiltrate a spy.
“Roman must’ve told you that our lives were threatened by Oleg and his men,” Madelyn said. “They were going to kill me.”
“But they didn’t.”
She looked at Roman. He remained on his feet and glared at Mr. FBI. She thought about admitting to being Roman’s lover. Then again, she might prove the point: Who beyond a spy involved in a honey trap would take a lover so quickly?
“Don’t say anything else, Madelyn,” Roman said as he sat. “You can ask for a lawyer if you want to.” He pointed to Mr. FBI. “There are protocols to follow. If you want to question someone, you need to read them their rights. Ian, this is an ambush.”
Roman glared at each man around the table. They all looked away. Finally, his gaze found hers and held for a moment. At least Roman believed her. What about Ian? He’d been so kind. Had it all been an act?
“This isn’t an ambush,” said Ian. “We have to examine this case from all angles. You know that, Roman. If you want a lawyer, just say so, Ms. Thompkins. We don’t want you to feel as if your rights have been violated.”
“I’ve got nothing to hide,” Madelyn said, refusing to become a victim twice over. “I can prove that Ava is my sister, if that helps.” She reached into her purse for her phone. She had dozens of pictures of them together from years gone by, and then there was the social media post. Madelyn hit the home button. The screen remained gray. She remembered too late that besides being out of battery, her phone had been submerged in the creek. She waved a weary hand. “It doesn’t matter, you people could’ve found out that Ava’s my sister by now if you wanted to.”
“We have,” said Mr. FBI. “And she is. We know that you’re a med school student at CU and the fact that you’re at the top of your class.”
She was furious. “Wait a minute, you were looking into my academic records? Don’t I have a right to my privacy?”
“I haven’t told you anything that a nosy neighbor couldn’t find out with a single social media account and half of an hour to waste. But rest assured, before I looked into your background, I received a judge’s order.”
Did she really care that the FBI verified her enrollment at the University of Colorado if it meant that they could catch a drug kingpin? “And what did you find?”
“Ms. Thompkins, your shopping habits don’t really interest me. But I do have a theory. Your sister somehow runs awry of Oleg Zavalov and needs a favor to get back into his good graces. Around the time, he’s starting to figure out that he has a mole who needs to be lured to light. He might even suspect Roman. If Ava can deliver, she’s forgiven. There are only a few folks she can count on, one being you—her sister. You’re a good person and willing to help.”
She trusted these people to keep her, and everyone else, safe. But she didn’t like Mr. FBI, even though his logic made sense. Maybe she’d been hasty in not accepting the offer for legal counsel. Then again, Mr. FBI was wrong. “That’s not what happened. And even if it was, why did I shoot Oleg Zavalov when he found the safe house? What if I’d missed? Wouldn’t that jeopardize my sister more?”
“You shot Oleg Zavalov?” Mr. FBI stopped twirling his pen.
He hadn’t been told? She thought for sure that Roman filled them in on everything.
“Roman? I thought you shot Zavalov?” Ian had asked the question.
Roman looked at Madelyn and gave a small smile. “I might have implied that fact, but I di
d it to protect Madelyn from further scrutiny.”
Mr. FBI began twirling again. “So, when the gun fell during the altercation, you picked it up, Ms. Thompkins.”
Another not-exactly-a-question kind of question. “I did and when Oleg lunged for me, I fired. I’m not quite sure where I hit him, but he fell in the creek.”
“That part we know. Is there anything else you implied that wasn’t exactly true, Mr. DeMarco?” Mr. FBI asked.
Roman shook his head. “Not a thing.”
Mr. FBI tucked his pen into his shirtfront pocket. “If there are no other questions...”
She’d played their game, now it was time to get some help from them. “I have two questions for you. First, has anyone found my sister? And second, has Oleg Zavalov been located?”
A man in a dusty blue jacket of a Colorado Highway Patrol officer spoke. “As of now, Ava Thompkins hasn’t broken any law, so there’s no legal reason to pick her up. But we released an all-points bulletin asking our patrols to report any sightings.”
“And Zavalov?”
“A search and rescue team has been deployed. As of now, his body has not been recovered.”
“Body?”
“Or maybe I should clarify, he hasn’t been found—dead or alive. Although as of now, we aren’t expecting to find him alive.”
“And if this is a recovery and not a rescue? Should I be worried about charges? Do I need a lawyer?” Madelyn asked.
Mr. FBI waved away her concern. “From everything I heard, it was self-defense, even when I thought it was Mr. DeMarco. If Colorado brings charges, let me know. I’ll pay for your lawyer myself. And speaking of recovering bodies, unless there are objections, for now Serge’s body remains hidden at The Prow. When the time comes, we’ll bring in the Boulder PD, but we don’t know how many officers can be trusted. Sounds as though at least one was Oleg’s good friend.” Jackson.
Madelyn liked Mr. FBI better, but only by a little.
Her Rocky Mountain Defender (Rocky Mountain Justice Book 2) Page 13
