Thirteen months earlier . . .
Heroines and Villains
The Seattle Times
April 3
By Sabrina MacKenzie
When I was 16, my father took me with him to the DMV to get my driver’s license. I remember the heat radiating off the black parking lot as we walked inside the courthouse. I remember the caustic smell of hot tar and worrying that my flip-flops would melt if I stood still for too long. I remember my thighs burning as I jogged up the 18 stone steps that led to the imposing building’s front doors. The DMV was located on the top floor of the courthouse and Dad asked if I wanted to take the stairs or the elevator. I chose the elevator, not wanting to be sweaty or red-faced when I took my picture.
We got stuck in that elevator.
For 45 minutes, Dad and I were trapped inside that hanging box with three cops. A good-guy trifecta. Sitting on the cramped elevator floor, Dad chatted with the three uniformed men about their careers while I sat in silence. For 45 minutes, I was in awe, not even slightly panicked that we were stuck in the elevator. Why? Because I was with heroes. Because I couldn’t get enough of their real-life adventures. Because their actual accounts were far more entertaining than any fictional tale I’d ever been told.
By the time the elevator jolted to life, a reporter had been born. I craved more of their stories. I craved a story of my own. I’ve long since admired the men—and women—in uniform who fight to protect us from danger. And although a career in law enforcement or the military was not part of my destined path, I have dreamed of doing my part.
This is my story. As you may have guessed, its heroine is me, and this past fall, I set out to catch a villain.
Swiping the steam off the bathroom mirror, I took a hard look at myself. The grime had been scrubbed from my hair, and my fingernails were no longer caked with dried blood, but I was still a complete mess. The angry red bruises around my throat would take weeks to disappear and the gash on my lip was likely going to scar.
“What the hell did you do, Sabrina?” I muttered, my voice scratchy and rough. The woman in the mirror didn’t answer, not that she needed to.
What had I done?
I had written an incredibly condemning article vilifying a prominent Seattle family tied to the Russian mafia. Basically, I’d waltzed right into the middle of a hornet’s nest and started poking the wasps.
It was no surprise that I’d been stung.
Gently pulling and prodding my face, I inspected my injuries. Anton Federov, my “boyfriend,” had done a number on me. Both of my eyes were red and swollen. I had a gash on one cheek and another by my hairline. My bottom lip was huge and split on one side. My face felt five times its normal size but what hurt the worst were my ribs. Anton had landed one good kick to my right side, and even the smallest movement sent sharp, stabbing pains through my torso.
The fact that I’d been able to escape before Anton had been able to rape me was nothing short of a miracle. That I’d made it out of my apartment before he could beat me to death could only be credited to divine intervention.
I just hoped that my lucky streak would continue and the evidence I’d sent to the FBI this morning would be enough to keep Anton behind bars for the rest of his miserable life. Because until he was put away, I would be hiding out with my best friend, Felicity, in her small hometown of Prescott, Montana.
Shaking off thoughts of Anton, I averted my eyes from the mirror and went about blow-drying my light-blond hair. With it floating down my back, I rubbed on some lotion and dressed in a pair of black leggings and a gray hoodie. Then I took one last glance in the mirror, wincing again at how awful I looked, and limped out of the bathroom.
Two steps out the bathroom door, I froze. A crowd of strange faces was all aimed my way. Faces that had not been here when I’d gone into the bathroom.
Ignoring their eyes, I hobbled down the hallway, keeping my eyes pinned to Felicity’s as the five people in the kitchen watched my labored steps.
Felicity’s ice-blue gaze was full of worry and concern. Her hair was all puffed up, likely from running her hands through her long blond tresses. I hated that I’d caused her stress by coming here but I hadn’t had anywhere else to run. Montana had seemed like the best place to hide out from the Federovs, and even though it was the middle of the night and I’d just met her boyfriend, Silas, I felt safe in his home.
That was, until three strangers showed up.
I was trying to stay under the radar here. The fewer people that knew I was hiding out here, the better. What were Silas and Felicity thinking, bringing others into this mess?
Before I could ask, Felicity started introductions. “Sabrina, this is my brother, Jess. Remember I told you he’s also the Jamison County sheriff?”
What the hell! She’d called in a cop?
“Hi.” I dismissed the sheriff and frowned at Felicity. “Did you forget I was in hiding? Who are these people? And you brought in a cop? We can’t report any of this.”
“Don’t worry,” Jess said, stopping my rant. “I’m off the record.”
I gave him a wary glance, then relaxed at his obvious sincerity. Jess would keep my whereabouts a secret. I took a brief moment to study my best friend’s brother. I’d seen a picture of Jess once, years ago when Felicity and I had been in college, but he was all grown now, not the teen from the photograph. Jess’s light-blue eyes were honest and matched Felicity’s, but that was where their similarities ended. Though, he was just as attractive as his sister was beautiful.
“This is Maisy Holt,” Felicity said, directing my attention to the woman standing between Jess and Silas. “She used to be a nurse, so she’s going to take a look at your injuries.”
“Thanks,” I told Maisy. “I’d appreciate that.” When I’d gotten to Silas’s ranch, Felicity had insisted I go to the hospital, but I’d refused. Hospitals asked questions and made records. I couldn’t take that chance, but I needed someone with medical experience to look me over. I knew my face would heal but my ribs and ankle were a concern. The last thing I needed was a broken bone.
Maisy gave me a tiny wave and a gentle smile that lit up her face. Her big doe eyes were a beautiful mixture of gray and blue that complemented her white-blond bob perfectly.
“And this is Beau Holt, Maisy’s brother,” Felicity continued. “We were in high school together.”
My eyes raked over the other man in the room. He stepped away from the counter he had been slouched against and stood to his full height of seriously tall. My eyes traveled up and up, finally finding his, and once they did, I couldn’t tear them away.
Beau’s eyes were like the color of the ocean during a storm. My face flushed and my heart beat like a bass drum as I stared into his blue-gray gaze. Attraction mixed with fear and pain and stress. I had so many emotions whirling that I stood frozen. Brain-blanked. Mesmerized.
Those eyes were a beautiful distraction from the mess that was my life.
He took another step, his mass looming closer, and I flinched. The trauma from this morning’s attack was too fresh to stop my knee-jerk reaction. Beau’s dark lashes narrowed and his stern look hardened to a scowl as I snapped out of my trance.
Forcing my eyes away from his, I took in the rest of his face and enormous body. He had dark-brown hair, messy and a little too long on top. His angular jaw was covered in a thick beard. He had a straight nose that sat dead center between his high cheekbones. How tall is he? I was five seven and he looked to be almost a foot taller.
Beau’s features reminded me of a Spartan warrior. Long, long legs with beefy thighs. Broad shoulders and bulging arms made of muscles layered upon muscles. I’d bet my life’s savings that underneath his faded jeans and simple black thermal he resembled King Leonidas himself.
Scowl and all, Beau Holt was gorgeous.
The flame in my face burned hotter and I swallowed hard, pulling myself out of momentary lust to find my voice. “Nice to meet you.” His face didn’t soften and he didn’t respond so I assumed my own scowl. “I get why the cop and the nurse are here but what’s your role in all of this, Goliath?”
“Sabrina,” Felicity hissed.
“What?” I pretended I didn’t know how much my tendency to nickname everyone embarrassed my friend.
She opened her mouth, likely to scold me, but Silas interrupted. “Beau’s here to help figure out where we can stash you for a while.”
“Stash me? I thought I could just hide out at Felicity’s place for a while.”
Jess and Beau declared “No” at the same time Silas scoffed “Not happening.”
Before I could ask why not, Felicity pulled me further into the kitchen and slid out a stool from underneath the granite island. “Come sit down. Maisy can get to work on you while we all brainstorm what to do.”
I wasn’t sure why we needed to brainstorm. What was so complicated about me camping out in front of her television for the foreseeable future?
“How about we get the full story first?” Jess asked. “I’d like to hear this from the beginning.”
I took my seat, glad to have the weight off my ankle. I’d already given Silas and Felicity the whole story but Jess’s tone was firm. I’d be telling my tale again. So I filled my lungs as best I could with aching ribs and wasted no time summing up the mess I’d made of my life.
“I’m an investigative reporter for The Seattle Times. Last fall, I took an assignment to dig into a well-off family suspected of smuggling weapons into the U.S. through their shipping company for the Russian mafia.”
“You’re messed up with the Russian mob?” Jess asked.
I nodded and waited for his inevitable mutter of “Fuck me.” I’d gotten that a lot tonight.
At the time I’d taken the Federov story, it had seemed like such a brilliant idea. I’d thought it would be my one big chance to make a difference. To make the world safer by uncoupling a link in a chain of organized crime. I’d have the chance to keep guns out of the hands of innocent children.
For months, I’d never once regretted my decision or my actions. Today, I’d learned that old adage was true: What a difference a day makes. Now that I’d been beaten and forced to run away from my home, regret was settling in my stomach like day-old Chinese food.
“Keep talking,” Beau rumbled in his rich baritone.
I took another semi-deep breath, flinching when my ribs stung. “Long story short, I went undercover and started dating a man named Anton Federov. His family owns the shipping company I was investigating. His father, Viktor, is the CEO. Anton and his brother, Ivan, run all of the operations. I had seen Anton casually a few times before I started on the story, so I decided to use my connection in hopes of getting inside information.”
Grumbles from the men filled the air.
“Does this hurt?” Maisy asked, pausing my story. She was palpating my ribs but even her slight touch caused me to wince.
I sucked in a sharp breath and nodded.
“And this?” she asked, moving further up toward my breasts.
I nodded again.
“I think you may have a cracked rib or two. Since you can’t exactly go to the hospital, let’s wrap them up and see if they heal. We just want to make sure you can still take deep breaths. But I’ll warn you, ribs take a long time to heal on their own. Sometimes a month or longer.”
I sighed. “Okay.”
When I turned my eyes back to the men, they were all waiting for me to continue my story. “My boss had been sent an anonymous tip with evidence indicating the Federovs’ international cargo ships were carrying guns. He asked if I’d take the story and run with it.”
And run with it I had.
Sitting in my boss’s office, he’d handed over the anonymous file and I’d started flipping. Pictures. Memos. Nothing unexpected until I’d come upon a photo of Anton and nearly fallen out of my boss’s uncomfortable desk chair. Color me unhappy to realize that my two-time sexual partner from the previous summer was a criminal. I’d felt like a dunce and a slut for having had sex with him just because he’d been crazy hot.
Not that I’d known he was a criminal at the time. Regardless, I’d been so mad at myself for my extraordinarily bad taste in men that I’d immediately agreed to take on the story. That anger, coupled with the chance to take out one of the wealthiest criminal families on the West Coast, had motivated me to dig my claws in deep.
“So, you start dating this guy, what did you find?” Jess asked.
“Not much at first. Mostly I worked to find out who had sent the anonymous file to my boss. It turns out it came from one of the dock managers at the Federovs’ pier. He’d noticed some suspicious shipments. Weights coming in higher than was planned. Extra containers that weren’t documented on their manifests. We were able to collect enough evidence to prove that smuggling was occurring but not enough to directly tie it to the Federovs themselves.”
Everything my source and I had uncovered had just led to shell companies. I could have run with it, but in the end, the bad guys would have gotten away with their crimes. The port authority would have gotten a slap on the wrist and the Federovs would have been under a microscope, but eventually, they’d have been free to find a new way to keep bringing in guns.
The evidence from the pier hadn’t been enough for the ruthless takedown I’d craved.
Enter Anton.
He held the key to locking the door on the Federovs’ jail cell.
“Let me guess,” Jess said. “You used your fake relationship with Anton to get proof that he knew about the gun shipments.”
I nodded. “I found enough to incriminate him, his brother and his father.”
From everything I’d gathered, I’d deduced that almost every international cargo shipment over the last ten years had included at least one illegal container. Hundreds of thousands of banned weapons had been pouring into the country because of the Federovs. Viktor and his sons had pocketed hundreds of millions of dollars.
“Time for a break so I can work on her face,” Maisy announced. She started rifling through a rather large first-aid kit to find some antibiotic ointment and butterfly bandages.
“Does she need stitches?” Beau asked.
I’d been averting my eyes from Beau while retelling my story—mostly so I wouldn’t get flustered by my intense attraction and forget what I was talking about—but now that all I had to do was sit quietly, I let my eyes rake up and down his huge body again. I hoped that Maisy’s arms would obstruct his view of my blushing cheeks.
“No stitches,” Maisy said.
I looked into her eyes and saw her small grin. Her brother might have missed my blush but Maisy had not.
As she cleaned the gash in my lip, Silas took the initiative to continue telling my story. “Sabrina had been using a fake last name but somehow Anton figured out who she was. He came to her apartment this morning and beat the piss out of her. She was lucky and got away. Paid a guy to bring her straight here, so she doesn’t think the Federovs could have followed her.”
I shuddered. This morning felt like a lifetime ago. I’d been drinking my morning coffee, enjoying the feeling of a job well done. I’d sent my boss my story to publish in tomorrow’s paper and a huge file of evidence to my FBI contact. And the best feeling of all, I’d been done with Anton Federov.
At least that’s what I’d thought until my front door had burst open and an irate Anton had stormed in.
After three punches to my face, I’d fallen to my living room floor. He’d taken the opportunity to kick me in my ribs before coming down on top of me and wrapping his hands around my throat.
I’d squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting his monstrous face to be the last thing I saw in this world. When the pressure had left my throat and I’d no longer been able to feel his weight on me, I’d thought I had died.
At the sound of his unbuckling belt, my eyes had flown open. I’d summoned all my strength for one excruciating kick to his balls before scrambling up and sprinting out my broken front door. Rushing down the staircase to the back-alley exit, I’d twisted my ankle in the descent.
From there, I’d hurried to the corner CVS and begged the clerk to call me an Uber. It was another stroke of luck when the driver had been willing to take me the twelve hours to Montana in exchange for five thousand dollars under the table.
Thankfully, the kid had been short on money and needed the fare. I’d lied and given him a fake name before curling up in the back seat and making the long journey in almost complete silence. For twelve hours, all I’d thought about was how fortunate I was to still be alive. I’d done everything in my power not to picture Anton’s face looming over me as he’d nearly strangled me to death.
“Are you okay?” Felicity asked quietly.
I snapped out of my thoughts and sniffled, willing the tears not to fall. “I really hope he’s in jail,” I whispered.
“Me too.”
“Even if he is, they could still come after me.”
“We’ll find a way to keep you safe.” The confidence in her tone settled some of my nerves.
“I’m in deep on this one.” Saying the words made the reality of the situation even heavier. “You know as well as I do that the mafia doesn’t just let their enemies go free. I should have done more to protect my own identity. I was so caught up in the story and keeping my source hidden, I didn’t do enough for myself.”
“What about your source?” Jess asked. “Did you tell him that Anton figured out who you were? He could be at risk.”
“No one but me knows who he is, not even the FBI. He only came to me in exchange for the promise never to reveal his name. That way he can never be asked to testify and expose himself to retaliation from the Federovs.”
I had spent weeks convincing Roger Anderson to be my source. He had been terrified that the Federovs would learn he’d been the whistleblower, but finally, he’d agreed. Roger was a good man with a young family and I’d take Anton’s hits all over again if that meant keeping his identity a secret. No one, not even the people in this kitchen, would ever learn he’d helped me collect evidence.
“All right, I’m done,” Maisy said. “Rest your ankle. Keep your ribs wrapped tight until they start to feel better. Take it easy on your face. Use this ointment every day and it should help with the scarring.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. I’m going to collect Coby and go home. The less I know the better.”
I couldn’t fault her for wanting to escape this fucked-up situation. I’d do the same in her position. She disappeared further into Silas’s loft for a moment and came back down with a sleeping toddler in her arms.
“Do you need any help?” Beau asked her.
“I’ve got him. Good night. And good luck, Sabrina.”
I nodded and watched as she carried her little boy outside into the night. The minute the door closed behind Maisy, Jess started in with more questions.
“You’re sure you got enough evidence for a conviction to stick?”
“I’d be shocked if it didn’t.” Anton had been a bit too trusting of his pretend girlfriend. “I was able to get into his safe and his computer. I found the gun shipment schedules and evidence that his family had approved them all. The FBI should have taken down an illegal handgun shipment,” I glanced at the clock on the oven, “six hours ago. With my intel, Anton should currently be sitting in a jail cell.”
“You trust the federal agent you contacted?”
More than any police officer I’d ever met. Henry Dalton was as honest as they came. “I’ve worked with him for years. He’s a good guy and an even better cop. He’s solid.”
“If he’s such a good cop, why’d he let a reporter do an investigation meant for the FBI?” Jess asked.
“You kept it a secret, didn’t you?” Felicity guessed right away.
“No one knew what I was doing.” No one.
“Reckless,” Jess huffed. “Just like coming here. You should have gone to your FBI guy instead.”
He was right, but it didn’t make it easier to hear. “Probably, but I panicked and my first thought was to run. I’m not all that confident in protective custody and really don’t want to enter witness protection.”
Jess shook his head. “The Federovs aren’t going to stay in jail for long. They’ll be after you if they aren’t already.”
“I know but as soon as my story breaks tomorrow, they’ll be hounded by the press. They won’t be able to go anywhere without an audience.”
“That still doesn’t make it safe for you to go back to Seattle,” Felicity said.
“And you can’t show your face in Prescott,” Silas added. “The first place they’ll look for you is with family and friends.”
If the Federovs wanted to track me down, this would be one of their first stops. My family all lived in Florida and we had a distant relationship. I was a work-a-holic and didn’t have many friends other than Felicity. It wouldn’t take Anton’s men long to realize I was no longer in Seattle and start their woman-hunt.
“You need to be off the grid,” Beau rumbled.
Off the grid? I was in Montana. How much more off the grid did it get?
“That’s what I’m thinking,” Jess said. “You got any ideas?”
Before I could tell them that this wasn’t their problem, Beau talked over me. “Maybe one of the outposts? The one on the north side of Fan Mountain? I could take her up there and get her settled. Stick around for a while and clean the place up, then make trips up and down to keep her in supplies.”
Jess and Silas shared a look that snapped my spine straight. What about this was amusing? Was my life being in mortal danger really that entertaining?
“I think that would work,” Silas said.
“What’s an outpost?” Felicity asked. She seemed as annoyed by their inside joke as I was.
“Think of it like a cabin in the woods,” Jess said.
“Wait a minute.” The color drained from my face. The woods? No. Hell no. “I don’t think that’s necessary. I’ll just promise not to go out in public, stay tucked away in Felicity’s closet or something. I’ll be like Harry Potter living in my tiny cupboard.”
“I’m sorry, Sabrina,” Silas said gently, “but I’m not having you anywhere near Lis.”
How could I argue with that? He was going all alpha-male protective for his woman. I loved him for her. Felicity deserved nothing less than a man that put her safety and well-being above all else. She’d dealt with enough assholes in her life. Not only was Silas handsome, with his tall frame and killer brown eyes, but he looked at Felicity like he loved her more than anything in this world.
And there would be no point in arguing with him. No matter how much Felicity or I protested, he would put her above all else.
I nodded. “I can understand why you’d say that. I don’t want her in harm’s way either, but I’m not going to disappear into the wilderness with a strange man.”
A strange yet unbelievably attractive man. Unless Beau was married, my new vow to refrain from the male species would be short-lived if I was confined alone with the mountain of sexy standing across from me.
“Then what are you going to do?” Jess asked.
My fingers moved to my hair, twirling a lock as I ran through my options. Seattle was out. There was no way I’d be safe there. I wouldn’t take my troubles to my family in Florida. Maybe I could embark on a massive road trip around the country?
“I don’t know. I need a new ID. Maybe a car. Can you lend me some money?” I asked Felicity. I already owed her five thousand for paying my Uber driver, Kenny.
She nodded. “Sure.”
“Okay. What else?” I muttered to myself. Sliding off my stool, I slowly paced across the living room to stare out the large windows.
I’d need some clothes and something to change my appearance. I winced at the idea of cutting and dying the long hair I’d had for decades, but if I was going to evade the Federovs, I’d need to do something drastic. I wouldn’t put it past them to hack into cameras and security systems. They were filthy rich and extremely powerful. Basically, the worst possible enemy a girl could ever ask for. My nerves peaked as I stared into the dark night.
Stupid, Sabrina. So stupid.
When Felicity slid up beside me, I leaned my shoulder into her side as we stood quietly together. I hoped she had an answer to my dilemma. My brain was fried and I was too tired to think of something creative.
“I think you should go with Beau,” she finally whispered.
“No way.”
“Please, hear me out? They’ll track you down if you’re using my credit cards. The five thousand dollars I gave Kenny is going to show up as a huge red flag. They could find you here in the time it would take you to get a fake ID. It’s not like you can jump on an airplane. So what does that leave? You driving around the country like a vagabond, living out of the back seat and cheap motels?”
“That sounds better than living in a shack in the mountains.”
“Really? Are you sure about that? I’ve heard three out of ten motels have bed bugs.”
I smiled at her reflection in the glass. Leave it to her to make up some ridiculous fact about bugs to persuade me. She knew I hated all insects and ninety-nine percent of animals.
She smiled back but worry etched her face. If my staying in a repulsive wilderness hideout eased some of her worries and would keep me safe, I’d give it a shot. It wasn’t like I had other options.
My forehead fell against the cool glass as I reluctantly agreed. “Fuck. You’re right. I’ll go with Goliath.”
“Thank you.” She pulled me off the window and into a gentle hug. “He’s a good guy and I know he’ll keep you safe. Think of it like a rustic adventure. Maybe write a story about it.”
That would never happen. I’d written plenty of stories, and more often than not, they’d landed my ass in trouble
Writing a story about being trapped in an “outpost” with mountain-man Beau was just asking for more headaches.