Her Rocky Mountain Hero

Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)

Prologue (#ue6735db2-53df-5912-8c80-dd77dba67cf0)

December 23

4:00 p.m.

Telluride, Colorado

The sun hung above the horizon; the final rays of the day cast long shadows over the mountains and into the valley below. Cody Samuels shouldered open the door of his house and propped his skis against the wall. Balancing his poles next to them, he then worked his feet out of his hard, formfitting downhill boots.

He was glad he’d had a chance to go skiing. It looked like he might be forced to stay inside for the next few days. The weather was about to turn nasty and bring what the local meteorologists were calling “The Blizzard of the Century.” Actually, being snowed in for a few days didn’t seem so bad. It would help take away the sting of being alone over a holiday.

Closing the door, he carried his gear to the storage room next to the kitchen. His tablet sat on the counter, and he gave it a glance as he passed. A message icon glowed. When he finished putting his gear away, he returned and tapped it to open the email.

To: Samuels, Cody

From: Rocky Mountain Justice

Re: Mateev, Viktoria

Mateev, Viktoria. Cody’s shoulders tightened and his pulse spiked. The name Mateev was one he hoped to never see again and at the same time he looked for everywhere.

23 December

This message is an alert. One or more people hired to be found by RMJ have been located via facial recognition software. Please access the case file and make all necessary contacts.

Sir Ian Wallace

Founder and CEO, Rocky Mountain Justice

Scrolling down, he found a heavily pixelated photo of a blonde woman behind a steering wheel, along with an inset photo of the car’s Colorado license plate. A link took him to the case file. It contained half a dozen separate documents. Most originated from New York State’s Child Protective Services and contained reports of severe neglect by Viktoria Mateev of her son Gregory, aged four.

Damn the Mateevs. They’d haunted him since his days with the DEA. Clearly, he wasn’t through with them yet.

The Mateev family had been embroiled in crime from their very beginnings. They were infamous, not just in their native Russia but throughout the world. In the 1990s the Mateevs had strong ties in Brooklyn, New York. After being brought up on racketeering charges, the Mateevs left the country, but continued to practice their brand of lawlessness in Russia.

Cody discovered they’d returned to the US when a confidential informant had come forward with information that linked several Denver drug dealers to a cartel. Cody’s superiors were unimpressed with the CI, low-hanging fruit as far as the criminal underworld was concerned, and they never opened an investigation.

But Cody’s gut told him otherwise.

He began developing a case on his own time and met with the CI on several occasions. It was in one of those meetings that the name Nikolai Mateev was brought up.

Cody already knew of Mateev by his family’s very nefarious reputation. He again approached his superiors, this time with a signed affidavit. Cody’s supervisor promised to send the information up the chain of command.

To this day, Cody had no idea if the promise was ever kept. The next Saturday afternoon, he met the CI at a crowded Denver park. The man said only a few words before pulling out a gun and aiming it at Cody. Cody had no choice but to fire his own weapon in self-defense. A perfect shot to the head killed the man instantly. But the CI’s gun, which Cody clearly recalled him drawing, was never found, and too many witnesses saw nothing more than an armed federal officer shooting what they believed to be an innocent man. That moment ended not only a life, but Cody’s career with the Drug Enforcement Administration, as well.

He stared at the screen, seeing only the CI’s lifeless body and a gun that at one time had been real, but had apparently disappeared into thin air. An ache began between his shoulder blades and shot up his neck, enveloping his whole head. It ended with a stabbing pain between his eyes. Cody took in a long breath and held it to the count of ten and then twenty. He exhaled, still feeling that old fury rising within him, but then forced himself to read on.

The next document was an intake from RMJ and gave the case’s history. Viktoria Mateev was last seen in August as she left a hearing to determine her parental rights. When court reconvened the next day, she never showed. Calls and visits to her apartment were fruitless. Fearing for the safety of her son, the Department of Justice issued an AMBER Alert.

There were no leads.

A month later a car was sold for cash in Grand Junction, Colorado. The VIN was entered by the dealership into the DMV’s database and brought up Viktoria Mateev’s name. Searches of Grand Junction and the surrounding communities turned up nothing. Then New York State hired Rocky Mountain Justice.

Cody found that fact odd. RMJ was expensive, exclusive and not usually involved in simple custody cases. It raised questions for which he had no answers. Unless this wasn’t a simple custody case.

As was protocol, if Viktoria or Gregory Mateev were found, he’d been instructed to report to local law enforcement and offer all information obtained and any assistance required.

The final document contained a known picture of Viktoria along with basic personal information. In it, a smiling Viktoria wore a tailored red blazer and gray silk blouse. A double strand of pearls hung around her neck. She had large brown eyes and perfectly straight chin-length blond hair. She was attractive in a very cosmopolitan kind of way—beautiful, really. And certainly, the woman in the picture bore a striking resemblance to the one in the traffic photo. Still, it was Cody’s job to be certain.

Alongside was a picture of Gregory Mateev, a family snapshot of a kid with a mop of dark hair, sitting on a beach with a bucket in his hand.

A short bio followed: Viktoria Mateev, age twenty-nine, was the wife and now widow of one Lucas Mateev. Viktoria was the custodial parent of the missing Gregory Mateev, age four. Residents of New York City—Manhattan, specifically—Viktoria was a stay-at-home mom and Lucas was listed as a medical sales representative. Or he had been until his death in July, the victim of a hit-and-run accident while crossing a New York City street.

Neither the driver nor the car that struck and killed Lucas was ever found. Alarm bells began clanging in Cody’s brain.

Cody returned to the original traffic picture, expanding it until it filled the screen. The woman’s hair was longer and now fell around her shoulders, but that was to be expected if she no longer had it cut regularly. The nose and lips were the same, but there were also differences. He studied her face, complexion—pallid, with dark smudges under her eyes and a tightened jaw. In a word, she looked haunted.

Or maybe hunted.

Without question, that was Viktoria Mateev in the photograph. Like the best Christmas present in the world, Cody had been gifted with a Mateev needing to be brought to justice. And this time would be different—this Mateev wouldn’t get away.

But to find out where she was now, he had to figure out where she’d been. The bottom of the photo had a small location and time stamp—Telluride: West Colorado Avenue/South First Street. 23 December, 1:32 p.m.

Cursing, he ripped his fleece cap from his head and threw it on the counter. More than two hours gone. If Viktoria Mateev was just passing through, she could very well be in New Mexico by now. Then in Mexico by tomorrow. He compressed the picture, examining the whole. The car was a late-model sedan, from an American manufacturer, gray and covered with dust.

The car was completely unremarkable, maybe even intentionally so. He examined the photo further. Strapped securely to the roof was a small pine tree. In the back seat, Cody could see the outline of a child.

No, Viktoria Mateev was not simply passing through Telluride. She was local, planning to celebrate Christmas with her son—and who knew who else. Maybe someone from the Mateev family?

Using her license plate number, Cody searched satellite images from earlier in the day and traced a route that led to a cabin tucked away in the foothills of the Rockies. The same car was parked in the drive. Another search gave him an address and the property’s owner. The cabin had been rented for the winter, and the current tenant’s name was not listed. Bingo.

Cody slipped his phone out of his pocket, then paused. For a moment, he thought about the significance of the date—December 23.

Casting his gaze at his refrigerator, he quickly glanced at the card his sister, Sarah, had sent—a family picture taken at Thanksgiving was attached with a magnet. On the bottom, next to the printed holiday greeting, was a note in Sarah’s loopy script inviting him to visit.

Memories of other holidays—some happy, some bittersweet—came to Cody. He blocked them all. He’d never been much for celebrating, but this year might be different. Would anything bring him more joy than bringing down a Mateev?

Chapter 1 (#ue6735db2-53df-5912-8c80-dd77dba67cf0)

December 23

9:00 p.m.

Outside of Telluride, Colorado