Her Rocky Mountain Hero

With less than one hundred yards to go, Cody watched as the lock on the cabin’s front door was picked and two men rushed inside. The third man ran to the back of the property. Mere seconds later, one man exited the cabin and made his way to one of the idling SUVs. When he opened its back door, the interior light clicked on. Cody could make out someone seated in the rear who reached for a bundle the other man had carried from the cabin.

Not a bundle. The kid.

Mateev, Gregory. Cody saw the case’s paperwork in his mind’s eye. Age 4.

During Cody’s time with the DEA he’d borne witness to heinous acts committed by lawless people. But still, he believed everyone deserved justice and protection by the law. At the same time, most of the victims he’d encountered were involved in the illegal drug trade, as well. In short, there was no denying that if you played with fire, you’d eventually get burned. As far as Cody was concerned, it was easy to assume that Viktoria Mateev was complicit in bringing these men to her door. Even so, he was morally obligated to help—regardless of his own investment in her capture.

But the kid? He was too young to be tangled up in any criminal enterprise and Cody pushed his legs faster, refusing to let someone so innocent become collateral damage.

The man in the back seat pulled the door shut while the other one slid into the driver’s seat. The car’s tires kicked up snow and gravel as they searched for purchase. Once the tread gripped, the SUV sped backward down the drive. It turned on the street and disappeared, blending in to the black road in the black night.

Never one to believe in coincidences, Cody knew it wasn’t an accident that Viktoria Mateev’s son was kidnapped on the same day he’d verified her whereabouts. He hated to think that somehow Sheriff Benjamin was involved. Because that meant something even worse—Cody had inadvertently led these men right to her door.

* * *

The man came from the darkness just as the heavy feeling of sleep pulled Viktoria under. Yet, as his hand encircled her throat, she knew this was no nightmare and he was no apparition. He was blood and bone. When his fingers dug into her flesh, she cried out in pain but her voice wouldn’t come. Her throat burned. Her eyes watered.

The man pushed her down into the mattress as his grip tightened. With both hands, she pulled his wrist with a strength she hadn’t known she possessed and his hold broke free. Viktoria drew in a single gasping breath. She tried to rush from the bed, but the blankets tethered her and she fell to the floor.

Her pulse raced, echoing inside her skull. Her breath was shallow and she gasped. “Gregory,” she screamed.

There was no answer.

She scrambled forward, reaching for her son’s bed.

It was empty.

Her assailant, dressed in all black, face obscured, gripped her arm and yanked her to her feet. Pulling backward, Viktoria kicked out at the same instant, aiming for the man’s knee. Her socked foot connected, snapping cartilage and ligaments as the kneecap slid. For once, she was thankful for the self-defense classes she’d taken as a high school student. The man swore and fell over, releasing his grip on her as he went down. Viktoria stumbled back and turned, racing to the wooden stairs that connected the loft to the single room that made up the ground floor.

Suddenly her hair was grabbed from behind and her head snapped back. Viktoria clawed at the hand that held her, and finding the thumb she pulled back until she felt a pop. The man let go and Viktoria pitched forward, tumbling down the stairs. The floor rushed up and the air rushed just as quickly from Viktoria’s lungs in a single gust. Pinpricks of light danced in front of her and the coppery taste of blood filled her mouth. The inside of her lip throbbed.

Still, she managed to pick herself up from the floor and run to the phone. Lifting the handset, she dialed 9.

The shadow of another man, a faceless silhouette against the darkness of the night, filled the space at the open front door.

She stifled a scream and fumbled for the next number—1.

That man ripped the phone from Viktoria’s grip. He slammed the handset onto the counter, leaving only plastic-and-metal rubble. He then jerked the base from the counter, pulling out the cord and chunks of plaster with it.

Viktoria dove for the door, but the man blocked her exit. Just as she drew back her fist to strike him, the attacker from upstairs came up from behind and grabbed her wrist. He wrenched her arm down and around, pinning it behind her back. Pain shot through her shoulder, forcing her to double over. No matter how desperate she was, she knew she couldn’t fight them both. Terror gripped her throat as she tried to think of a way to escape and found none.

“Gregory?” she said hoarsely. Her son was all that mattered to her.

“He’s safe,” said the man, who still held her wrist. “Go to the car,” he said to the other man. “This will take only a minute.”

“What have you done with my son!”

The man twisted her arm and forced Viktoria to drop to her knees. He spoke with a slight Russian accent. “You should have taken the offer. You were foolish to fight the vory v zakone.”

The offer. One million dollars to relinquish custody of Gregory.

“All of this is so my dead husband’s father can take Gregory back to Russia? You can’t steal my son.” Yet, tonight they were doing just that.

“In Russia, a man is the head of his family. This boy belongs to his grandfather.”

“This is America,” spat Viktoria. She struggled to rise to her feet. “And Gregory is my son. Nikolai Mateev cannot hope to raise my son as well as his own mother can. Take me to him!”

“Your son will be treated as a prince and will grow up wanting for nothing. You should have taken the money. But, you are a proud American and now your stubbornness will kill you.” He pushed her toward the floor. “Kneel.”

“No,” said Viktoria. She braced her feet and tried to pull away. The man held her wrist even tighter. Despite the pain searing through her shoulder, she twisted her body to try to break the man’s grip.

“Always the fighter,” said the man. “I admire your bravery, but you lost this battle before it even began.”

Something cold and hard pressed into her skull. Viktoria had never held a real gun, but it was not hard to imagine the barrel of a pistol shoved into the back of her head.

She saw only the wooden floor and the man’s shoes behind her own socks. Feet? Was this to be the last thing she saw in the world? She lifted her gaze and saw the Christmas tree sitting in the corner. At its very top stood the angel, her wings outstretched. It gave her a measure of solace and courage. Certain she was about to die, Viktoria closed her eyes and fixed her mind on her son.

* * *

Cody pressed his back into the worn wood of the cabin’s outside wall. He slipped the Glock 22 from the holster on his hip. One round in the chamber, thirteen in the magazine. It was the same sidearm he’d carried when he worked with the DEA. The weight and balance of the gun felt right, like shaking the hand of an old friend.

Crouching low, he cast a quick glance around the corner. The front door of the cabin still stood open. He had originally seen three men storm the cabin. One had left in the other SUV with a fourth guy holding Gregory Mateev. That meant two remained. A man now sat in the driver’s seat of the waiting SUV. Where was the other man? And more importantly, where was Viktoria Mateev?

He recognized an older-model sedan parked under a nearby canopy as the one Viktoria had been driving when caught by the traffic camera. The stench of gasoline rolled off the car and burned Cody’s eyes. Fuel trickled down from the rear bumper, where its gas line had been severed. Cody could see that the two rear tires had been slit. He imagined that the front ones had been cut, as well.

What had begun as an ordinary custody case had spiraled quickly out of control. These men were true specialists, sent on a professional hit. No matter what Viktoria Mateev might have done, Cody was duty bound to make sure that she wasn’t murdered.

Staying low and quiet, Cody raced to the other side of the cabin, coming up behind the SUV. As Cody crawled forward on his stomach, auto exhaust rolled over him in a putrid gray cloud. Looking up into the side mirror, he could clearly see the man in the driver’s seat keeping his eyes trained on the cabin’s front door.

The cabin remained dark and silent. Cody didn’t want to catalogue everything that might be happening inside. Before he could deal with that, he had to get past the driver.

With a whir, the driver’s side window lowered and acrid cigarette smoke cut through the stench of the exhaust. Reholstering his Glock, Cody marshaled the strength in his legs as he launched himself from the ground. Midstride, he redirected his body’s energy to his fist, which he aimed at six inches behind the man’s jaw.

The punch connected and the man’s head snapped back. For a moment, only the whites of his eyes were visible, then he fell sideways, his seat belt holding him upright. The cigarette dropped to the ground and Cody crushed it underfoot. After turning off the SUV’s ignition, he pocketed the keys. Reaching for his sidearm again, Cody turned to the cabin.

In the hours that Cody had spent watching Viktoria Mateev and her son, he had learned the cabin’s layout. The first floor contained one open living area with a sofa, chair and table against the far wall. The kitchen table stood in front of a fireplace that bisected an exterior wall. A small bathroom sat under stairs that ascended to a loft. All of it was accessed via a single door at the end of the kitchen counter.

The cabin’s interior was even darker than the outside and it took a minute for his eyes to adjust. When they did, what he saw was horrifying. A man, clad completely in black, had Viktoria’s arm pinned behind her back and a gun pressed to the back of her head. She struggled against the assailant, but had nowhere to go.

“Do you pray?” the man asked her. “Because now’s the time for it.”

“Gregory,” Viktoria whispered. Cody could barely hear that she had spoken.

“He is safe.” With a soft click, the man released the safety on his weapon. “You, however, will see him in the next life.”

Chapter 2

Viktoria tensed. Like the hammer of God had fallen, a gun’s report boomed in the small cabin. The noise pressed in on her chest, squeezing her heart and lungs. The stench of burning sulfur wafted over her. She waited for the agony, the heat, the nothingness.

The man’s hold on her arm lessened, then released altogether. Free of his grip, Viktoria fell hard to her knees. She flipped over, ready to fight again. The assailant stared at her blankly and then tumbled to the side. In the meager moonlight seeping through the windows, she saw the shadow of another man. A tendril of smoke rose from the barrel of the pistol he still pointed toward her.

Scuttling on hands and feet, Viktoria pressed her back into the wall. A branch from the Christmas tree scraped her face but she paid it no mind. Her attention was trained on the man with the gun.

Dressed in black from head to foot, he was nothing more than a shadowy figure, his features lost in the darkness. Yet, she saw his eyes. They were light blue—the same crystalline blue of the sky over the Rocky Mountains on a crisp winter’s day.

He approached the man on the floor and placed two fingers under his chin. With a sigh and a shake of the head, he stood. Even without someone checking for a pulse, she knew her assailant was dead. A pool—black as tar—surrounded him and grew. The coppery scent of blood filled the cabin. It mingled with the tang of the pine tree and sweet scent of the cookies. She pressed a hand to her mouth and fought the urge to retch.

The man with the gun approached, trapping her against the wall and at the same time allowing her to see his features. He wore a black fleece cap. It was pulled down low, but not so low that it covered his face. The fringes of his dark brown hair were also visible. A dark sprinkling of stubble covered his cheeks and chin. At another time, in another life, she would have seen him as handsome. But now, he still held his gun. He was dangerous, deadly, and Viktoria was wholly at his mercy.

Panic and adrenaline made Viktoria’s breathing short and ragged. Her tongue was leaden, her mouth dry. Somehow, she managed to ask the only question that mattered. “Gregory? What have you done with Gregory?”

The man shook his head and took another step toward Viktoria. She shrank back, as if the cabin’s wall could absorb her.

“I don’t have your son,” he said. “I’m here to help.”

“Who are you?” Her voice was nothing more than a whisper.

“I’m Cody Samuels,” he said. He slid his gun into a holster on his hip. “If you want to live, come with me.”

Viktoria pressed her hand to her mouth, unsure whether she should laugh or cry. Cody Samuels’s line sounded like something out of a bad movie. Yet this was real life, not a B-rated thriller. Her son was gone. Gregory was the only reason she had strength to get out of bed in the morning. How would she ever get him back?

More than the grief—that awful, sickening hollowness in her chest—was the despair at knowing she had been made powerless. Her only hope now was a stranger with a gun. Much like the man who had tried to kill Viktoria, Cody Samuels had materialized from the darkness, bringing with him death and destruction.

Indecision weighed her down. She knew nothing about Cody Samuels, less than nothing. Was he any better than the men who had stolen her son? In fact, Gregory might be his real target.

Perhaps he’d only spared her life to use her to meet his own wicked goals.

“We have to go,” Cody said. He lifted his hand a bit, reaching out to her.

Viktoria ignored his outstretched palm and rose on shaking legs. “They took my son,” she said. Somehow the words made this nightmare real. Fear took over and gripped her middle. Its intensity bent Viktoria double, escaping in a sob.

Cody stepped toward her.

“Are you hurt?”

The unexpected kindness of his question surprised her and she stood upright. Viktoria had a hard time imagining a possible assassin inquiring about her health. She catalogued her injuries—lip, shoulder, knee—and decided they were all manageable. She realized, though, that she was freezing. Her whole body trembled. Her teeth chattered. The room grew dim; the outline of furniture became indistinct. “I’m cold,” she said. The words she spoke didn’t seem to come from her.

“You’re in shock,” said Cody. He slipped off his parka and draped it over Viktoria’s shoulders. He gripped her biceps, and with his hands on her arms, he steered her past the body on the floor.

Something about the calm command of his voice, along with the warmth of his touch and scent of his coat—pine and earth and sweat—snapped Viktoria’s mind back into her body.

“I’m okay,” she said, her voice was weak and her throat tight. “I’m okay,” she repeated, more to convince herself, and she stood up taller.

“Good,” he said. “We have to get you out of here. Now.”

She looked around the tiny cabin that had been her place of refuge for the past two months. All her meager possessions were here. She was wearing one of her two sets of pajamas—fleece bottoms and a long-sleeved thermal tee. For a moment, she wondered what she should take with her and how quickly she could pack. Once she and Gregory were together he would want some of his toys and books. She needed her money. Cody already stood by the door, looking into the night. His pistol was once again out of the holster and in hand, angled slightly down. Viktoria cast one more glance at the dead man on the floor, a vapor cloud rising from the pool of blood surrounding him. The sight left her light-headed and uneasy on her feet. She held on to the wall for support and moved to Cody’s side. Her boots sat nearby and she slipped them on over her thick wool socks.

Viktoria began to tremble again. “There were other men,” she said, “the ones who took my son.” How many had remained to make sure that her fight to keep Gregory was over, permanently?

Cody nodded toward a black SUV that sat silently in the driveway. “As far as I can tell, only three men invaded your cabin. One took your boy and left. Then, there’s the one back there.” He hitched his chin toward the dead man. “And the last guy is in the SUV.”

“How do you know all that?” she asked. Cody may have saved her, but who was he? His stare pinned her where she stood.

“I just do,” he said, before casting his light blue gaze out the door. A few fat snowflakes drifted lazily from the sky, silvery white against the darkness of the mountains.

A spark of anger flickered to life inside her chest.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I just do?” she asked. Someone had taken her son and tried to kill her. She deserved some answers.

He didn’t bother to turn around, much less give her a response. Cody edged toward the door. The small spark of anger licked to life and became a flame. Fury warmed her and gave her something to cling to while dangling over the gaping pit of despair.

“Hey!”

She reached for his shoulder. The solid muscle was unmistakable under his polar fleece jacket. How long had it been since she had touched a man? Months—well before her husband, Lucas, had died. Cody turned and looked at her hand on his shoulder then raised his eyes to meet hers. Viktoria’s skin suddenly felt too tight. She pulled her hand away and pressed it to her chest.

Her son was missing. As handsome as Cody Samuels was, Viktoria was crazy to see him as anything other than a necessary—and risky—means to an end.

They stared at each other, not speaking, not moving. Viktoria didn’t even breathe.

She finally broke the silence. “Those men took my son. I need to know what you know.” After a moment, she thought to add, “Please.”

“I was keeping watch on your cabin,” he said, “I saw the men arrive, but was too far away to stop the kidnapping.”

At least he’d been close enough to save her life.

“Why were you watching me?”

“It’s a long story that’s going to get longer before this night is over. For now, you need to trust me. Can you do that?”

“I really don’t have any choice, do I?”

Cody ignored her question. “We need to neutralize the driver,” he said and then added, “These guys were sent here to do a job. I don’t think they wanted to kill your son. If they did they would have done that right away.”

Small blessing that it was, Viktoria felt better knowing that Cody also believed that Gregory was safe, although she imagined he was terrified.

Cody continued, “If we’re going to get your son back, I don’t want the driver to warn anyone.”

Viktoria took in a sharp breath and her chest swelled with joy. Cody was going to help her get Gregory back. Before she could ask how, she had an awful thought. He clearly was prepared to kill the driver next. What if Cody’s ultimate plan ended with her son as his final target?

She was wholly unprepared to deal with kidnappers and murderers on her own. Cody, at least, was ready to help. All she could do was stay vigilant. For now, Cody was her only hope.

“Stay here,” he said, then slipped into the night. She started to go after him. With the moonlight seeping through the overhead cloud cover, Viktoria got her first clear view of Cody Samuels. Even in the darkened cabin, she had seen that he was handsome, but now she understood he was truly a magnificent male specimen. His chin and jaw were strong, as if part of a sculpture. Those arrestingly light blue eyes were a strong contrast to his darker hair and complexion.

Gun lifted, he pointed the barrel into the SUV’s open window. Cody retreated a pace and waved Viktoria back to the cabin. “The driver’s not here,” he whispered.

A shot, like a clap of thunder, rang out. A single stream of hot wind rushed toward Viktoria. At the same instant, pain erupted in her head and she tumbled forward.

Chapter 3

A bullet flew past Cody’s ear. Instinctively he dropped to the ground and immediately looked for Viktoria. She lay facedown in the snow, a jagged hole visible in the door directly behind where she’d been standing. Cody’s mouth went dry. He hadn’t meant for her to become a casualty, no matter her associates.

The voice in Cody’s head was strong and without remorse. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. He never should have allowed her to follow him from the cabin.

He looked back at her still body, her fingers splayed, as if in surprise. A volcanic rage rose inside Cody for having unwittingly played a role in the death of Viktoria Mateev. He’d never forgive himself, and yet the game was not over.

The gunman had gone silent, but Cody was far from safe. The other man was out there, somewhere, lying in wait for his chance to strike again. He stared at Viktoria, still angry at himself and full of disbelief. The tips of her fingers twitched, a movement so slight he was almost convinced that it was his imagination.

Then she lifted her eyes and sought out his.

A great wave of relief washed over Cody and for a moment, he thought that he might melt into the snow.

Cody pressed his palms down to the ground, in the universal sign for stay put. She gave a nod, just a quick lifting of the chin.

With Viktoria prone on the ground, Cody rose to one knee. He peered through the SUV’s window and scanned what he could see of the horizon. The cabin sat in a bowl with peaks on all sides. The surrounding woods were thick, shadows turning every tree into a possible perpetrator. Or vice versa.

A quick estimation of the bullet’s trajectory told Cody that the shooter was on the hill, in approximately the same place from which he’d been observing Viktoria and Gregory earlier. It was a prime location, with a view of the cabin’s front door, the driveway and the road beyond. The SUV was parked between the hill and the door, momentarily providing cover for Cody, but not Viktoria.

Another shot boomed, this one lower and only slightly to the right of where Viktoria lay on the ground. The next bullet shattered the doorjamb and the one after hit the ground in front of Viktoria, sending snow, gravel and dirt flying.

As unsafe as she was by the cabin, she would become an even easier target by running the five yards to the SUV. The only way it could be done was for him to provide her with cover. He hoped that she would continue to read his hand gestures.

Two fingers to his chest, then two to his gun and then the hill. Cody pointed from Viktoria to where he was, made a fist and extended three fingers, one at a time. He repeated the sequence for good measure. Her gaze was trained on him, her jaw tight. Cody held up one finger. He lifted a bit, ready to take aim and fire. A bullet punched a neat hole in the windshield. A spider’s web of cracks spread outward from the point of impact.

“Now,” he called out fast. She ran, low to the ground, and dove out, sliding in next to him. She took refuge behind the SUV’s quarter panel, so close to Cody that her rapid breath washed over his neck. A thin red line ran across her cheek as blood seeped from a wound.

“You’re bleeding,” he said. He placed a gloved hand to the cut. His pulse sped at the touch, fueled from adrenaline, no doubt—and this night that had suddenly gone awry.

“It’s splinters from the door,” she said. “I’ll be picking bits of wood out of my hair for weeks, if we survive.”

“We’ll survive.” Cody’s hand still rested on Viktoria’s cheek. He dropped it quickly, leaving a smudge of crimson on her milky skin.

Two more bullets rained down, striking the ground mere feet from where they sat. Ice and gravel flew upward and Cody shielded Viktoria with his body.

She was warm and soft. Her breath was sweet and minty. Her hair held the slight scent of the floral shampoo she used. He inhaled deeply and reminded himself that Viktoria was part of a case. More than that, he’d be damned before he allowed her beauty to distract him from what was truly important—justice.