Rocky Mountain Valor. Jennifer D. Bokal

break every oath he’d taken.

      In fact, the only way to really stop Nikolai would be to put him in the grave.

       Chapter 1

      Petra Sloane sat in the cramped radio studio, her elbows resting on the table. A microphone on a metal arm was suspended before her eyes. A blue-and-orange banner hung on the wall, reading All Sports, All the Time. The tagline of Denver’s sports station KDEN AM 1460.

      An illuminated red off-air light glowed in the corner. The interviewer, Steve Chan, sat opposite Petra. He had a similar microphone and a reputation for being the toughest sportscaster on the Front Range. As a commercial for custom floor mats ended, Steve flicked up his fingers—one, two, three. The light in the corner changed from red to green and the words On Air appeared.

      “Welcome back to our final segment of the morning,” Steve said. “We have with us, in studio, Petra Sloane, a renowned sports agent who represents many famous names in the Denver scene, most notably Joe Owens, quarterback for the Colorado Mustangs. Petra, thanks for agreeing to sit in the Hot Seat today.”

      Petra could think of a thousand places she’d rather be than on the popular radio show, forced to talk about a client. The stress registered as a pain between her brows. Forcing herself to ignore the oncoming headache, she leaned in to the mic. “It’s a real pleasure to be here, Steve,” she lied.

      Even though she was on the radio, Petra had taken extra care with her appearance that morning. She wore a sheath dress of ballet-slipper pink, with a matching lip gloss. The light color set off her tanned skin, just as the short sleeves accentuated her toned and muscled arms. Her dark wavy hair was up in a bun at the nape of her neck.

      “Let’s not waste any time,” Steve began. “Your client has had a rough month. Two weeks ago, he was kicked out of a downtown club for disturbing the peace. Then last week there was a viral video of Joe cursing at a waitress who didn’t get his order right. And just yesterday he was ejected from a press conference after throwing a punch at my fellow KDEN reporter for asking a question about the preseason debacle against Washington. The city of Denver loves Joe, but I have to ask—what’s his deal?”

      Petra exhaled. “There is no deal. I think we forget that sports stars, or any celebrities, are humans first. They have good days and bad, just like the rest of us. I’m sure you’ve had difficult days, and said or done things you later regretted. Why isn’t Joe Owens allowed the same latitude?”

      “I’ve never screamed at a waitress for not remembering to bring ketchup with my meal,” said Steve.

      Petra’s phone vibrated with an incoming text. It was her boss, Mike Dawson, with a terse two-word message: Take control.

      “I’m glad to hear that you’ve never done anything so stupid,” Petra said. “But I think we forget that celebrities are people whose lives are lived under a microscope. Joe’s behavior has been bad, rotten really, but we all deserve a second chance.”

      “By now, Joe Owens is on to his third, fourth and fifth chances. When do we stop forgiving or demand better?”

      Steve was right, and Petra refused to argue, despite what her boss wanted. The seconds ticked by. “Now,” she said, finally. “We should require better now.”

      Steve lifted his eyebrows and cleared his throat. “I’m surprised to hear you be so honest.”

      Petra shrugged, then remembered that she was on the radio. “Everyone should be more forthright.”

      “Why do you do it, then?” Steve asked. “Why did you become a sports agent?”

      Petra smiled and shook her head. “I didn’t come here to talk about myself.”

      “I’m just asking because you’re the first agent we’ve had on the show. My listeners will be interested in hearing about you and your job.”

      Fair enough. Besides, if she talked about herself, then she didn’t have to defend the indefensible any longer. “I played basketball in college and when I graduated, I wanted to remain involved with sports. Going to law school and becoming an agent seemed like the perfect way to achieve that. And it is, really. I help bring the players to the fans, and also help players manage their own careers, finances...you know, the works.”

      “Seems like the safe answer,” said Steve.

      “It’s the truth,” she said.

      “Why do you really do it? The money? The parties? What is it?”

      Petra flipped the phone in her hand. She was here to help Joe’s reputation, not bare her soul. And yet she said, “My dad played for the American Hockey League and he did okay financially. And yes, he had an agent. One day, the agent is in Mexico with more than two million dollars that my father had earned over his career.” She took a deep breath. “That situation taught me that I want to be a very different kind of agent. Someone who represents her clients on the field or the court, but who can also truly look after them when they need me. I want them to be able to trust me with everything.”

      “That’s rough,” said Steve. “I’m sorry about your dad.”

      “It gave me a unique perspective,” she replied.

      “Joe Owens is a lucky guy to have you for an agent. But I gotta ask one last question.” Steve leaned forward. “There’s always a scandal or two lurking. Like you said, famous people get their mistakes examined under a microscope.” He exhaled. “Do you ever get sick of dealing with people like Joe?”

      Setting the phone aside, she said, “It’s all part of the job.”

      The green light in the corner began to flash. “That’s all the time we have. Before I go, I’d like to thank Petra Sloane for sitting in the Hot Seat. Next up, the morning’s headlines.”

      The red light proclaimed they were off the air. Steve leaned across the table and offered his palm to Petra. They shook hands. “Thanks for coming in. Now I wish your client had the courage to take his turn and explain himself.”

      “Maybe next time,” she offered.

      “Are you saying Joe’s shenanigans will continue?”

      Petra hadn’t meant to imply anything, especially not to a media personality like Steve Chan. Her phone vibrated, shimmying across the table. As she glanced at the screen, she couldn’t help but think of the old cliché of being saved by the bell. “That’s my boss,” she said. “I have to take this call.”

      “Go ahead,” said Steve, “and thanks again.”

      Petra swiped the call open as she exited the studio. “Hey,” she said.

      “That’s the sorriest excuse for an interview I’ve ever heard. Why didn’t you defend Joe?” Mike demanded. “Christ, is pointing out that he’s some regular guy the best you can do? Or worse yet, give everyone your sob story.”

      “What’s wrong with Joe being a person who makes mistakes?”

      “He’s a god, Petra. We need to make sure people see him that way or there will be no contracts for you to negotiate. No revenue for the agency. No money for your paycheck.”

      Beyond Mike and his tirade, the radio broadcast played in the background. Petra caught a few words, and then the announcer had her full attention. “In other news, the FBI and other agencies led an early morning raid on a suburban Denver location. The site is rumored to have connections to the new influx of Russian drug trafficking. Now, let’s get a look at that rush hour snarl on the interstate...”

      Unbidden, Ian came to mind. In truth, he was always at the edge of her thoughts, his name just a whisper in her breath. Had he been at the raid?

      The air was thick with disinfectant and stale coffee. A voice continued to buzz in her ear. It was her boss, still talking.