Her Rocky Mountain Defender. Jennifer D. Bokal

seychas,” Oleg said. Not now.

      “Seychas,” Serge insisted. “Eto moy dyadya Nikolay.”

      Serge’s uncle Nikolai was on the phone? Nikolai Mateev?

      Oleg sat taller and reached for the phone. He met Roman’s gaze and his eyes narrowed. Had Oleg guessed that Roman understood the short conversation? Roman looked away.

      “Lock these two in the beer cooler,” said Oleg, “but stand guard. We’ll deal with them later.”

      Serge pulled Madelyn to her feet. Anton withdrew his gun and motioned to the door. “Go,” he said.

      Serge worked both locks on the outside of the beer cooler’s thick, white door. Madelyn was shoved in first. She stumbled over the doorjamb and fell to the metal floor with a hollow thump. Roman calmly stepped inside and turned to face Serge—the man he now knew for sure to be Nikolai Mateev’s great-nephew. “I’m going to get out of here and then, I’m going to kill you for hitting Madelyn.”

      “Is that a wager, you stupid American?” he asked in halting English.

      “I never make bets. It’s a pledge.”

      Serge snorted. “Your promises bore me.”

      The door slammed shut, leaving Roman and Madelyn in complete darkness.

      * * *

      Madelyn skidded across the cold metal floor and crashed into the wall. Every part of her body ached, throbbed or pained her. She didn’t care. She fumbled with the purse’s clasp and pulled out her phone. She hit the home button and the screen glowed.

      “That won’t work in here,” Roman said. His voice came out of nowhere. “If it did, one of Oleg’s men would’ve taken your phone before they threw us in.”

      She ignored him and dialed 9-1-1. The phone icon tumbled across the screen.

      “We’re underground. The walls are cinder block, which makes the signal weak at best. Then you throw in these.” He wrapped his knuckles on the door. The metal walls echoed. “There’s no way for a signal to get through.”

      She didn’t listen, staring instead at the cartwheeling phone icon.

      “Madelyn, it’s not going to work.”

      Roman knelt next to her, light from the phone illuminated his face. His lip was split and, for a moment, she recalled the feel of his mouth on hers. Was that to be her final joy in life? A kiss from a stranger?

      “How can you be so calm, while we’re sitting here waiting to die?”

      Roman gently rested his hand on her wrist. “We aren’t going to die,” he said.

      “Yes, we are. Those men will be back. They said so.”

      “I don’t care who’s coming. I’m not going to let a turd like Oleg Zavalov end my life—yours, either. But to get out of here, I need you to work with me. Can you do that?”

      The next call failed. It looked as though her only option was Roman. She took in a fortifying breath. “Okay, what do we do?”

      “Bring your phone over here. I need a light on this lock.”

      Madelyn used the screen to light their way. He knelt before the door and she illuminated the catch.

      “Do you have a credit card?”

      “For what?”

      “If the dead bolt isn’t engaged, I can slip a credit card between the jamb and the door and disengage the first lock.”

      Madelyn’s pulse began to race, but this time she felt hope and not dread. She reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet. The open end tipped over, scattering the contents of her handbag. Seeing the debris of her normal life on the floor brought tears to her eyes. The keys to her apartment and car. Her ID for the University of Colorado Hospital. Lipstick. Nail clippers. Two peppermints and a lint-covered bobby pin.

      Would she ever need any of it again?

      “Here.” She handed him a card and repositioned the phone to shine on Roman and the door.

      He worked in silence for a moment before muttering a curse. “It was too much to hope that they’d be careless and not use both locks. I can open the bottom lock. To get out, I need to unlock the dead bolt, too.”

      “So that’s it? We can’t do anything else.”

      “I’m not giving up. Shine your phone on the walls, there has to be something we can use.”

      Madelyn illuminated the walls from right to left. She saw nothing helpful, but then again—she didn’t know what he wanted to find.

      “Bingo,” said Roman.

      Her sweep stopped and the light shone on a thermometer.

      Roman pried the face of the thermostat free, exposing the guts of the device. “It’s not as good as piano wire.” He worked a thin piece of metal free. “But it’ll do.”

      Holding it up to the light, Roman continued. “I need you to shine your phone’s light on the door and keep your credit card steady at the same time.”

      She slipped her wallet back into the bag and knelt next to Roman. His body heat enveloped her, warming her, reassuring her that he would do everything possible to save both of their lives.

      Roman reached for Madelyn. His hand was large, with smooth calluses, and strong. He led her fingers to the card. “Hold it steady, just like that.”

      She felt the tension in the thin plastic as it was held between the door and the jamb. “Got it,” she said.

      He regarded her. In the light of the phone, his green eyes blazed. She moved closer to him, his breath brushed over her cheek. Madelyn never used the word brave to describe herself, nor adventurous. Yet as Roman moved forward, erasing the space between them, Madelyn took the lead and placed her lips on his. “In case we don’t make it out of here alive,” she said.

      “We’ll make it.” He turned back to the door.

      She smiled, not daring to hope and yet not able to fathom what would happen to her if they didn’t.

      Roman’s breath stilled, and Madelyn held her own. Even in the freezing cooler, sweat damped Roman’s hair. He had a tattoo on his forearm. A screaming eagle with a banner in its talons.

      “Hoc defendam,” she said. “This we’ll defend?”

      “It’s the army’s motto.”

      He’d been in the military. It explained a little—like how he knew how to handle himself in a fight and maybe even how he’d learned how to pick a lock. What it didn’t explain was why he was planting a listening device in Oleg’s office and what he hoped to overhear. Before she had time to wonder anymore, the lock clicked.

      “Got it,” Roman said.

      The door opened a fraction of an inch. Warm air and light leaked into the cooler. Madelyn didn’t have time for the tears of relief she wanted to shed. Sitting back on her heels, she collected her belongings. After shoving everything into her purse, she rose to her feet.

      Roman peered into the hallway. Madelyn, at his back, looked over his shoulder. The door to Oleg’s office was closed. The man who’d been ordered to stand guard was nowhere in sight.

      “There’s a door at the end of the hall that leads to a set of stairs and then an alleyway. We’re going out that way. Stay by my side and don’t make a sound.”

      Madelyn held her breath and stepped into the hall. Roman carefully clicked the door shut behind them. Holding Roman’s hand, she quietly moved down the corridor. The door at the end was locked, but an electronic keypad clung to the wall. She waited while Roman entered a set of four numbers, certain that the pounding of her heart would give them away.

      Two