Her Rocky Mountain Defender. Jennifer Bokal D.
who she was with and why. “I thought Oleg said your name was Roman Black. Now you’re DeMarco?”
“I’ve been working undercover for months.” He handed her the phone. “My alias is Roman Black.”
It seemed like the only answer he was willing to give and she set the phone on the console between the seats. He’d spoken about leaving Boulder. What was Madelyn supposed to do? Drive herself to another police precinct? She needed to report what happened, but without Roman?
Roman gripped her arm. “I need a favor. My car is parked in front of The Prow. I can’t go back for obvious reasons. Can you drive me to Denver?”
She could, but to her the real question was, did she want to? Sure, she wanted to help, but she also just wanted to be safe. She stared forward, indecision a rock in her belly. Madelyn switched her gaze to Roman. His palm remained on her wrist. Sweat dotted his upper lip. His hand slipped away. A bloody streak stained her flesh.
“Roman. You’re bleeding.”
“What? No, I’m not...” He touched his side and brought his hand up to examine by the light of the dashboard. His fingertips were crimson and wet.
“I need to look at your abdomen. You’re wounded,” she said. Her medical training clicked into place like a puzzle piece, and Madelyn now had a clear picture of what needed to be done.
“Sure,” said Roman.
Madelyn pulled next to the curb and turned on the dome light. She reached around Roman and pulled up his soaked shirt. A neat furrow had been dug out of his skin. “You were grazed by the bullet, so there isn’t any internal damage,” she said. “But you’ll need stitches.”
“I can get those in Denver.”
“Denver is thirty minutes away, even without bad weather. Don’t be the hero. Let’s get you to CU’s hospital and you can make another call from there.”
“I’m not waiting around all night in an emergency room. I need to get to Denver now.”
Roman’s lips were pale, a sure sign of blood loss. She didn’t have time to argue. Madelyn reached into her purse for her badge from the University of Colorado Hospital. It was proof that she, and therefore he, would get into the hospital’s trauma center upon arrival. Wallet. Lipstick. Apartment keys. Three quarters and a nickel. She looked again. And again. “Where is it?” Madelyn searched through the console. Nothing.
“Where is what?”
“My hospital ID. I always put it in my purse and now it’s gone.”
Then she remembered those harrowing few minutes in the beer cooler. She’d accidentally dumped the contents of her handbag and then hurriedly collected everything once the door had been unlocked. Had she been too hasty?
“The Prow?” Roman asked.
The sour taste of bile rose in the back of Madelyn’s throat. “It has to be there.”
“We have to get you out of Boulder.”
“I can’t abandon my life. I have rounds at the hospital, classes. Besides, you need to see a doctor.”
“I thought you said that you were a doctor.”
“I’m a medical school student.”
“Can you sew me up?”
“If I had the proper equipment, of course.”
“Then drive. I’ll keep pressure on my wound and give you directions as we go. Get onto the interstate and head west.”
“West? Why not south and toward Denver? I thought you wanted to talk to your employer?” Whoever that was. She turned off the dome light.
“We have to assume two things,” Roman said.
“Yeah? What?”
“First, is that Oleg Zavalov will find your ID. Soon, he’ll know everything about you. Anton already has the make and model of your car along with your license plate. It’s only a matter of time before Oleg has your address. Then Oleg will get people, like Jackson, out looking for you in all the obvious places—your apartment, the hospital and even the interstate to Denver.”
“That’s not reassuring.” Rain fell heavily, a seemingly solid wall and not thousands upon thousands of individual water molecules. The wet road reflected lights, creating a world of reality and a wavering mirror image in the water. Madelyn pulled away from the curb.
“I wish I had better news,” Roman said. “Because the second thing we have to assume will be worse.”
“How can it be worse than Oleg Zavalov knowing everything about me?”
“As long as Oleg is out there, your life is in danger.”
The desolate road followed the profile of the mountain and Madelyn steered into the curve. Rain beat down on the car, the swish of the windshield wipers echoing the beat of her heart. Roman sat silently in the seat next to her. He pressed the bullet wound at his side, but was still losing blood. He was weak and the pressure to his side was lessening, which allowed for further bleeding. More even than the blood loss, she worried about shock. To counteract that, she needed him to stay alert. “Where are we going?” she asked. Forcing him to think and talk was the best way to keep Roman awake.
“Someplace Oleg will never find us.”
His cryptic answer brought up another set of problems. She’d been foolish to chase after her sister, even though The Prow was a public place. Now she was all but lost on a mountainous road and in the middle of a storm, no less. To make matters worse, her navigator was a man about whom she knew next to nothing.
“I’m trusting that you’re on the right side of the law, but you’ve never really explained anything to me. What is it that you do, exactly?” Madelyn asked.
“Private security,” he said. “I work for an outfit out of Denver called Rocky Mountain Justice. My most recent assignment was to collect evidence about Oleg Zavalov.” His voice was hoarse and raspy.
“Private security?” Madelyn’s gaze widened. “You mean...you’re a mercenary?”
Roman stared at her. “If that’s what you want to call it, fine. Do we have to talk about this now?” He looked at the blood seeping from the wound, and her eyes followed his movement.
“I don’t like that you aren’t getting checked out by a doctor.”
“Aren’t you a doctor?”
“As I’ve mentioned before, no. I’m a med school student.” She continued, “Which means that I know enough to know that you need more help than I can give you.”
“You’ll have to do for now,” said Roman. “Besides, I’ve been in worse shape than this and survived.”
Madelyn wasn’t sure what to make of his comment. Macho bravado? Or was he telling the truth—had he been seriously injured before? For some reason, she thought that the second possibility was right. She turned her attention back to driving as a bank of fog rolled in, enveloping the world in a robe of gray and black, obscuring the road beyond. She slowed to a creeping pace.
“See that left up there?” Roman asked. “Take that.”
Madelyn slowed even further and peered into the night. A dirt track wound up the side of a mountain, disappearing into oblivion. She stopped, her mouth went dry. This was bad. Very bad. Sure, Roman had been the only reason she escaped from The Prow and was alive now. And true, giving a ride to someone who happened to be running from the same madman as she was made sense. But this?
“Where does this road go?”
“It’s