Her Rocky Mountain Defender. Jennifer D. Bokal
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of the thugs pawed through Madelyn’s purse and patted her roughly from shoulders to feet. From Roman, they got a set of keys from his pocket.
Oleg held the keys in his palm. “So, you use my own business to betray me? After I brought you in and gave you a job.” He threw the keys to one of the thugs. “Who turned you, Roman? It’s not the cops. Jackson would’ve told me.”
Roman helped Madelyn to her feet. She felt light-headed and sick to her stomach. She leaned into Roman for support.
“I’m not going to say anything until you let her go,” Roman said.
Oleg snorted. “I’m going to ask you once more—who got you to plant this thing?”
Roman wrapped his arm around Madelyn’s shoulder. “Let her go and I’ll tell you everything. She’s innocent, man. Just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Wrong place? Wrong time? Isn’t that the truth. She’s not leaving here, but I bet you’ll talk to make her death quick and painless.” Then to the thugs, he muttered, “Bring them into the office.”
“No. No. No. Please, let me go,” she begged. Like a mouthful of spoiled fruit, humiliation for having to plead left a rotten taste in her mouth. Yet what other choice did she have? She knew little of self-defense, and doubted that jabbing one of these men with her keys would do anything to change events. “I swear, I won’t say anything.”
“Go,” said Oleg.
“I’m not going into that office,” said Roman. “Neither is Madelyn.”
His words gave her enough resolve to disregard Oleg’s order.
Oleg hitched his chin to one of the thugs. He withdrew his gun and pressed the barrel into Madelyn’s temple. The metal was cold and hard.
Oleg said, “I’m tired of playing games. If her well-being matters to you, tell me what I want to know and she’ll die quickly. You have my word of honor.”
The thug released the safety of his gun with a click that was deafening.
“No, no, no,” she wept. There were so many things Madelyn had yet to do. She needed to finish med school. She needed to say goodbye to her parents. Her sister. “Please, Roman, help me.”
“Okay.” Roman held up his hands. “We’ll negotiate.”
“Call it what you want. Get into the room.”
The barrel bore a hole into Madelyn’s temple and she was shoved forward by the pressure of the gun.
A metal chair sat in the middle of the room. The thug pressed on her shoulder. “Sit.”
Her knees buckled and she sank to the chair. Fear made her useless, paralyzing her mind, her spirit and her body.
For a single second Madelyn was five and standing on the curb in front of her house, watching Ava run across the street as she headed to the park.
“Come on, Maddie,” Ava called.
Madelyn hesitated and looked toward the house. Her mother wasn’t there to either give her permission or forbid that Madelyn leave the yard. Without another thought, she bolted into the usually quiet street. Suddenly, there was the blare of a horn. The grille of an old pickup truck filled her vision and she froze with fear.
Madelyn tumbled to the pavement, landing on her back. The pickup truck screeched to a halt, the bumper well beyond where she’d been standing. Madelyn was in Ava’s grasp. In that moment, she knew that her sister had saved her life.
Yet as she felt the cold steel of the gun against her skull, she knew there was nobody to save her this time.
Roman didn’t like the odds. Three armed men against one. A locked room with no chance of bringing in backup and top that off with a terrified woman, for whom he was now responsible. If he were a betting man, he’d place his money on Oleg Zavalov winning. Thank goodness Roman had never wagered in his life.
“One last time before I get medieval on your girlfriend,” Oleg said. “Who do you work for?”
A fiery sense of self-loathing filled Roman. This whole situation was his fault. He should’ve marched Madelyn up the stairs as soon as she walked into Oleg’s office, to hell with her stubbornness. Instead he had what? Flirted? It was an amateur move, but at the same time, a little of the world’s ugliness had melted away during their exchange.
To top it all off, he was about to lose five months of work. And more than that, Oleg would know that he was being investigated and have time to dispose of any evidence. Roman opened his mouth, ready to confess all. He couldn’t find the words.
What he could find was a lie. “I don’t know what you have, Oleg. But it’s not mine.”
“It’s an ELD, a bug, a listening device.”
“How am I supposed to know about those things?” Roman asked, a little regretful that he couldn’t claim his latest creation. “I’m just the bartender.”
“I don’t think you do. I think she does.”
“But I don’t,” Madelyn said.
“If it wasn’t you, why’d you run?”
Roman answered for her. “Because I’m standing at the top of the stairs and when I turn around, there’s Serge and Anton with their guns. I told her to run. It’s what you do when someone threatens to shoot.”
Oleg’s mouth hung open for a minute, then like it was controlled by a puppeteer’s string, it snapped shut.
Fighting the urge to smile, Roman took in a deep breath. A pain shot through his side from a kick or punch he didn’t recall receiving. Madelyn looked at him. She was beautiful in a delicate way. She wore a navy blazer and white T-shirt that fitted her pert breasts and trim waist perfectly. Her dark hair was cut short and her brown eyes were large. Her skin was creamy and smooth. To him, she looked perfect, almost magical, and he wished like hell that magic was real and she could simply disappear. Small gold hoops dangled from each ear and a gold chain hung around her neck. Funny how small details became important when you were standing next to the thin line that separated life from death.
Oleg tossed the ELD in the air and caught it. “There’s one thing I do know, is that one of you two planted this bug. So, I’ll ask again—how’d this get in my office?”
“I don’t know,” Roman said.
“What about you?” Oleg turned to Madelyn. “How’d this get in my office?”
Madelyn quietly wept and shook her head.
“Nothing to say?” Oleg leaned his hip onto the corner of his desk. “Maybe you need the right motivation to talk. Make her sorry, Serge.”
Serge cracked his knuckles, a smile lifted the corners of his mouth. He brought back his arm and slammed his fist into Madelyn’s face. She toppled from the chair. A bright red mark bloomed to life on her cheek.
To hell with the work or the loss of the investigation. Roman wouldn’t let Oleg hurt Madelyn any more. Although if they made it out of this alive, Roman would take great pleasure in bringing Oleg Zavalov to justice. It wasn’t professional anymore. It was personal.
“Okay. Okay.” Roman held his palms up and stepped between Serge and Madelyn. “I’ll tell you everything.”
“Everything?”
Roman swallowed. His side burned. “Yes.”
A phone rang and Serge pulled a cell from his pocket. “Da.”
While with Delta Force, Roman had studied over a dozen languages. He was fluent in Farsi, German, Spanish,