Mastered by Mavericks (Doms of Destiny, Colorado 3)

Chapter One

Gut tightening and fingers shaking, Nicole Flowers held the phone to her ear.

“Hello, this is Sheriff Jason Wolfe.” The man’s voice was deep and authoritative, but she didn’t give a damn how he sounded.

“And this is Officer Flowers of Chicago, Sheriff,” she snapped. “Apparently you already know me, but I don’t know you.”

There was a pause on the other end and then an, “Ah.”

“I just left my commander’s office. I’m on suspension indefinitely because of you.” Trouble always did like knocking on her door. “Why do you have it in for me?”

“Do you remember filing the missing persons report on Katherine White, officer?” the sheriff of Destiny, Colorado, asked.

“I do.” It had been almost three months since she’d filed the report. Why was it coming up now? She chose her words carefully, knowing well how they could be twisted against her.

According to her mustached, asshole boss, her suspension began immediately. She should be clearing out her desk and heading for her apartment right now, but not before she looked through the database for the file Wolfe had used against her.

Hearing the sheriff on the other end brought the memory of her downfall to the forefront of her thoughts. Had it only been twenty-four months? Yes, though it felt more like several dark decades. In two days, it would be exactly two years to the date since the disaster. Another twelve days after that and her four-year service anniversary would arrive.

Two good years. Two bad years. Quite the resume.

Ancient melancholy oozed through every fiber of her being. Her past debacle was always cued up in her head for replay. An odd glance, a partially heard comment, or a pending peer review and the projector would fire up and play the movie in her mind again and again.

“Flowers? You still there?”

“Yes, Sheriff,” she said, softening her tone. “Give me a second to pull this up.”

The sheriff wasn’t going to let go of this, and even though that had led to her suspension, she had to appreciate his ethics. That could mean trouble for her, which she definitely didn’t need especially given her current status in the station. Quite a change from the legacy she’d inherited.

Her great-great-grandfather, Horatio Flowers, was one of the first Chicago police officers killed in the line of duty in the late 1800s. His youngest son Jeremiah Flowers, who had been only one at the time of Horatio’s death, had joined the force years later. Jeremiah had three sons, one of them being Nicole’s grandfather. All three became police officers with Chicago PD. Each, in their own way, had added to the family’s legacy, but her grandfather had lifted the Flowers name even more, earning a slew of department citations, medals, and ribbons, including the Carter Harrison/Lambert Tree Medal for his act of bravery in a 1980s sh

ootout between rival gangs in Cabrini-Green.

Skipping a generation, Nicole had been the pride of her granddad when she’d put on her badge. Thankfully, he’d died without ever knowing the black mark she’d put on her family’s name because of one particular chain of events she couldn’t seem to escape.

“Did you take the information down or did someone else?” Wolfe’s question pulled her back from her thoughts. His voice was professional, but there was obvious aggravation in his terse tone.

The truth was it was Jaris who had given her the report to log into the system. Jaris—her former partner. God, she missed having a beat almost as much as she hated sitting at this desk. Everyone at the precinct loved Jaris—the polar opposite of how they felt about her. Jaris was the only person besides Patti who treated her with any semblance of kindness. If it weren’t for him, she would’ve likely lost her badge completely.

“The investigating officer’s name should be in the report, Sheriff.”

“It isn’t. Just your name.”

That’s odd.

To free her hand, she tilted her head so that the phone’s receiver could stay in place between the side of her face and her shoulder. She typed on the keyboard to bring up an image of the report on her computer monitor.

The digital copy of the paper record filled her screen. Under her breath she cursed, seeing the investigating officer’s field was empty. The only name from the station listed on the page was Nicole’s as the police clerk. She’d scanned it into the system. She was a desk cop now. That was her job. How many reports had she filed in the last two years? Thousands? Tens of thousands? She should’ve noticed the error and brought it back to Jaris to correct, but she hadn’t.

This is totally my fault, just like always. I should have checked. That’s my job. As per normal, she felt like a total idiot. Her mistake had led to her suspension. But her commander had made it clear that it was much more than a clerical error that had put her in this awful situation.

“Officer Flowers, please enlighten me on why this report shows Katherine White as married to a man named Sergei, which is false. Ms. White is single.”

Damn. This wasn’t what she needed. The commander had to love this. He’d been looking over her shoulder for any bungle that he could use against her. This mistake had gotten her suspended. If anything else was uncovered during the investigation, it might end in her being off the force for good.

What then?

She was a cop. That was all she knew. It was all she had left after everything. It was the only thing that defined her. It made life bearable, if only slightly.

Sergei? The name sounded so familiar. Why? “Are you certain the woman isn’t married?”

“Very certain, officer,” Wolfe declared.

“It might be a typo, Sheriff. That does happen.”

“Pretty big typo for Chicago PD, don’t you think? A typo that ended in a body count of seven in my town. What do you think about that, Flowers? Sergei’s last name wasn’t White, and he wasn’t married to Kathy.”

Shit. This was bad. “Have you talked to the guy himself, Sheriff? He might have the answers you’re looking for.”

“He’s one of the seven. Doubt if he has anything to say.”

“His last name was?” She held her breath while she waited for the answer.

“Mitrofanov.”

Slippery slopes seemed to find her no matter how hard Nicole tried to avoid them.