Under His Watch: A Brothers Synn Novel

by Light, Victoria

  Under His Watch

  A Brothers Synn Novel

  Victoria Light

  Copyright © 2019 by Victoria Light

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Contents

  Introduction

  1. Bautista

  2. Ryan

  3. Bautista

  4. Ryan

  5. Bautista

  6. Ryan

  7. Bautista

  8. Ryan

  9. Bautista

  10. Ryan

  11. Bautista

  12. Ryan

  Epilogue: Bautista

  Afterword

  Read Virgil’s story!

  Also by Victoria Light

  Introduction

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  Ryan

  It’s been seven years since I left Bautista Synn on a dusty battlefield in the Middle East. He was a soldier then, and I was a photojournalist attached to his squad. Now we’re stuck together in a South American jungle. I needed a bodyguard and Bau was the only option I had.

  I refuse to fall for him again. I’m too afraid of what might happen if I let myself go.

  My birthparents didn’t want me. My adopted parents rejected who I am. Sometimes it’s easier to run away than get abandoned by the ones you care about.

  But when we find a lost baby in the jungle, I know it’s my mission to get him home.

  Bautista

  I didn’t expect to run into Ryan at the gala.

  I didn’t expect he would try to hire me.

  And I definitely didn’t think I would say yes. But there’s no way I would let him go to one of the most dangerous places in South America without my protection.

  It’s just a job—I don’t give a damn about the man who ripped my heart out seven years ago.

  But now Ryan isn’t the only one who needs my help. We’ve found a little baby boy left alone in the jungle, and if we’re to get him out alive, Ryan and I are going to need to work together.

  But that doesn’t mean I have to like him. So why the hell is he still able to drive me wild?

  1

  Bautista

  For the wealthiest in the city of Lobo, five hundred miles south of the New Mexico border, having an armed security team was a normal part of life. Most had their own full-time guard who acted as chauffeur, night watchman, and bodyguard all in one. It was dangerous work, but also lucrative. When a government official, businessman, or any other generally lawful person with the right amount of cash needed the best of the best, they hired Synn Services. And for top dollar they got me, Bau Synn, the owner and operator.

  Mr. Cesar Castillo was a man who could afford top dollar. The old business mogul had hired me to help his security team guard him during a series of meetings with groups operating in areas connected to local crime syndicates. That's just how it was around these parts. The syndicate's dealings often bled into legitimate affairs, blurring the line between criminals and honest folk. Even the federales—federal police force—made dealings with the gangs.

  I was on the tail end of the contract, the final day before I was set to fly home to Los Angeles. I'd managed to tune up Castillo's men and I was positive that I was going to leave them much more capable of their duties. In this country, it was fairly common for me to work with security who were former federal police officers lacking in training, so my Army Ranger skills were invaluable. These guys were all pretty good—we'd done three high-risk escorts over the past week taking Castillo to locations in the city and the surrounding desert to conduct his dealings and all had gone off without even so much as a rise in pulse. Frankly, I preferred a little action. Made it feel like the client was getting their money's worth.

  We drove through downtown Lobo, past buildings coated with graffiti and tiled with fliers for missing people, the armored Ford Expedition bouncing off the unavoidable potholes that pocked the streets. I was in the front passenger seat, my gaze constantly shifting between the windows and mirrors to check for any unusual activity. Next to me, Luis was driving. Castillo sat in the middle row with his head of security, Hector, on his right. In the seats behind them were Diego and Rodrigo.

  All of the men in the security detail were armed, while the VIP wore a Kevlar vest beneath his Armani suit. All armed... except me. Thanks to a recently enacted law, foreign contractors were not allowed to carry weapons. My only defense was my training and whatever skills I'd managed to instill in Castillo's men in the short time I'd been under contract.

  We hung south into the industrial district where Castillo was due to meet Torres, the head of a local cement production plant. Any security contractor worth his salt knew that this part of town was notorious for syndicate activity.

  Up ahead was our destination. I leaned forward to look at the towers of twisting pipes and towering silo-like stacks of the cement factory, making mental notes of hot spots and potential danger points.

  I spoke in rapid Spanish. "Alright, guys. Eyes sharp. Luis stays in the vehicle; the rest of us set the perimeter. Just as we discussed. Watch for lookouts."

  "Got it."

  A lookout was a syndicate scout sent to scope out a situation before sending in guns. They could be difficult to spot. Sometimes they were kids riding around on bikes.

  Luis pulled the SUV up to a series of mobile office trailers and we all poured out, fanning out in formation. I tapped my earpiece. "Check."

  "Check," the rest of the men repeated back, loud and clear.

  "Looks clear," Rodrigo said.

  "Okay, Mr. Castillo," I said. "Let's go."

  He climbed out of the SUV and I stood with him, waiting for the contact to show themselves. A moment later, a suited man stepped out from the mobile office. My hands hung loose at my waist, hovering next to where my pistol normally would've been holstered.

  No lie, I felt fucking naked without a weapon on me. It was possible to borrow a gun from the security team, but the legal consequences if we were to run into a federal checkpoint were just too risky. There was just too much money at risk to get permanently kicked out of the country—or worse, thrown in jail.

  Castillo approached Torres and shook his hand. I stood back a couple feet and kept my head on a swivel. A wealthy man like Castillo would be a prime target for kidnapping and it was impossible to know who was working with or had been blackmailed to work with the syndicates. The rest of the men took positions at the front and rear of the SUV, ready for action. I was proud of them. Their skills had tightened up a lot since I'd arrived. Overall, it'd been a good job. Not much action, but the pay was extraordinary.

  My younger brother Sylus was getting serious with his man and I sensed wedding bells on the horizon. With an extra hundred grand earned from a week's worth of work, I could get my little bro a nice wedding gift when the time came. Our parents were no longer around and as the eldest, I felt responsible to represent the Synn family.

  Business had been booming the last year. Synn Services was still technically a small operation, but we covered a wide scope ranging from relatively low-risk bodyguard services to contract security in combat zones and high-risk areas like the country I was in now. We'd secured a series of high-profile clients that'd opened the door to even more lucrative contracts. Men like Castillo always knew other people who needed services provided.

  I waited outside the trailer while Hector followed Castillo as he went inside
with Torres to sign some documents. I noticed an older man walking along the barbed-wire fence that marked the entrance to the cement factory. He crossed past the front gate, hobbling along. I watched until he disappeared from view.

  I was the last Synn brother without a man. To the shock of all of us and our dear aunt Mercy who'd invented the term "Synn Curse" in regards to our perpetual bachelorhood, Virgil had gone and gotten himself into a steady relationship several months back. I'd had a few relationships that never lasted for very long over the past couple years since leaving the Rangers, and a hell of a lot of one-night stands. With my job, it wasn't difficult to meet men.

  I could say exactly when I'd last loved a man. Pinpointing that moment in time was no problem to me because I'd never forgotten him even after he'd disappeared from my life seven years ago, when I was on mission in Iraq. His name was Ryan Everton, a photojournalist attached to my unit. We spent a month together, existing side by side through that entire time through every mission, every meal eaten and every drawn-out minute in between. At first, no one in the unit wanted much to do with him. But on the first mission he followed us on, I could tell he was made of tough stuff. I was drawn to him, and I decided to take it on myself to watch out for him. Then, one day, he just disappeared. Hopped on a transport for home and was gone.

  I'd looked him up once. Wasn't difficult to find him—he was a fairly well-known photographer with a lot of published work. Beautiful photos. I still wondered why he'd left so suddenly like that, and if what we'd shared actually had meant as much to him as it had to me—which was absolutely fucking ridiculous considering I would never see the man ever again. I wasn't someone who got hung up on things, but for some reason I hadn't been able to let that one go.

  I straightened to attention, roused by the sight of the old man walking back the way he'd come. I tapped my earpiece.

  "Front gate."

  "Copy, we've got eyes on him,” Diego said.

  The man shuffled slowly, aimless moving back and forth in front of the gate before disappearing the way he'd come. I didn't like the look of it.

  Behind me, Castillo and the cement exec reemerged from the office with Hector in tow. Seeming pleased with whatever dealings they'd just made, they shook hands. Hector nodded to me and opened the back door of the SUV. Diego and Rodrigo piled into the back seats. Castillo shook the man's hand one more time and got inside. Hector followed, shutting the door behind him, and I climbed into the front.

  We pulled out from the cement factory and headed up the dilapidated road lined with abandoned warehouses fallen into various states of disrepair.

  "Vehicle," Luis said.

  I checked the side mirror and saw a grey car coming up on our rear about a block away. My gut told me this was no coincidence.

  "Mr. Castillo?" I asked. "Any reason to not trust Mr. Torres?"

  "Absolutely not," he answered without hesitation. "We've been partners for years. Why?"

  "We're being tailed. Must be an ordinary kidnapping attempt."

  "Oh. That's comforting."

  "Sit back, sir. We'll be fine." I looked at Luis and nodded. He gunned the throttle, pushing us back into our seats. The SUV, with its custom-tuned engine, had a startling amount of power for a vehicle its size. We roared down the road and the pursuit vehicle picked up speed, but was unprepared and unequipped to keep up with us. Then a second vehicle appeared ahead of us, swerving out from a side street and cutting off our route.

  I felt a blip of excitement as my pulse rose. Excellent. Things were finally going to get interesting and there was nothing I loved more than a little car chase.

  "Keep your head down, sir," I instructed calmly.

  There were a group of three men perched in the bed of the truck ahead of us, and they all lifted assault rifles from their laps and aimed them at us. They opened fire, the bullets exploding against the shielded glass, sending harmless fractures blooming across the windshield. The truck braked suddenly, closing the distance between us. Luis swerved to avoid them, putting them directly on our right side. I was practically staring down the barrel of one of the men's rifles as he brandished it at the window, shouting at us to stop the car. He leaned forward to try and grab the door handle. Unbuckling my seatbelt, I threw the door open, bashing the side of his head in the process.

  "Sorry, I couldn't hear you!" I shouted in English. "What did you say?"

  The man staggered and fell forward. I leapt from the back of the truck and nabbed his rifle from his hands before he dropped off the back and hit the ground rolling. The two remaining men gawked at me, forgetting they were holding rifles.

  "Hi," I said, grinning.

  They raised their guns. I side-stepped and swung my rifle against the side of one man's gun. It fired off in a sweeping side arc that caught his buddy in the chest, throwing him over the side of the truck. Without hesitation I bashed the remaining man with a heavy side kick, knocking his rifle from his hands. He flew against the back of the cab, his head banging loudly against the metal. I kicked his rifle off the end of the truck, jumped up onto the roof of the cab, and hopped down to the hood.

  Luis gunned the SUV and pulled in front of the truck. I pointed my rifle at the driver, who looked up at me through the windshield with wide eyes. He held up his hands. Diego and Rodrigo opened the trunk door of the SUV, pistols drawn and pointed as Luis closed the gap between the two vehicles.

  "Don't try to follow us," I shouted in Spanish to the driver. He nodded.

  I leapt from the hood to the back of the SUV and tossed the rifle onto the street before pulling the door closed. "Good work, guys. Get us out of here," I said, wiping my hands on my pants. Castillo peeked his head up over the seat to see if it was safe.

  "I'm impressed, Mr. Synn," he told me in accented English. "Now I see that your skills truly extend beyond the realm of consultation. I'm very happy."

  Well, anyone who just escaped a potential kidnapping probably would be, I thought.

  "Mr. Castillo, I'm just glad we were able to resolve that situation safely. But I do recommend you suggest to Mr. Torres that he increases his security."

  Castillo laughed. "Maybe I'll pass along information to him, huh? Or I could hire you permanently. I can pay you quite a bit."

  "That's very generous of you sir, but temporary contracts are all I can offer."

  "Say, why don’t you stay an extra day here in Lobo? You know the company gala is tomorrow night. Attend. Enjoy yourself for one night in this city."

  "Thank you, sir. But I've got a flight to catch back to Los Angeles. Besides—" I grinned. "I'm not equipped to attend a formal event like that."

  "I'll send you home on a private jet. And don't worry, I'll get you clothing. Please. What you did back there was amazing. You saved my life. You told me you don't have any contracts lined up for another month, so what's one extra day? See it as a networking opportunity. There will be many rich and famous people there. I will introduce you to them, eh?"

  I could see there was no arguing with the guy. Spending one more day in Lobo wasn't going to throw a wrench into my plans—he was right, I didn't have anything lined up for a while. I was planning on taking it easy and working on my project car. I wasn't good at parties, but it would be a fantastic way to make new contacts and I could experience the VIP treatment for a change.

  "Alright," I said. "Okay, you've convinced me."

  I'd spend one more day in Lobo and then head back to LA.

  2

  Ryan

  The city of Lobo stretched out beneath the airplane as we made our descent. I stared out the window, thinking only about one thing—how the fuck was I going to make my connecting flight into Los Llanos?

  After a decade of doing this work, one would think I’d have every single one of my bases covered. Somehow, I’d managed to miss that in order to get into the country where I was doing an expose on deforestation and hopefully photographing the critically endangered Llanos jungle cat, I needed to have a professional bodyguard. And n
ot just any bodyguard, they had to be an American bodyguard—special amendments to the Department of State's Level 4 travel advisory that been newly put in place since the last time I'd come to the country. But I was already en route, obviously without the requirements fulfilled, with a one-day stopover in Lobo for a gala where some of my work would be on display. I would have to use every single minute wisely to get myself out of this situation, or else return back to New York empty-handed and ruin my professional reputation.

  I refused to fail. As someone who'd clawed their way out of homelessness as a teenage runaway to make it into NYU and eventually shoot photos across Iraq, Afghanistan and the Central Africa, this ridiculous mistake was just a tiny bump in the journey. I'd gotten myself out of tougher situations before.