by Iris Abbott
MAGNOLIA AND MOONLIGHT
Barrett Security Series
Book 1
Iris Abbott
WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal.
MAGNOLIA AND MOONLIGHT
Copyright © 2020 by Iris Abbott
First E-book publication: June 2020
Cover design by Iris Abbott
Photo obtained from bigstockphoto.com.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission. All characters in this book are fictitious and exist only in the imagination of the author. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.
Books by Iris Abbott
A VERY VEGAS CHRISTMAS
Montgomery Family and Friends Series
A MONTGOMERY HOMECOMING
AUBREY’S SONG
A MONTGOMERY MARRIAGE
CAROLINE’S SEDUCTION
EVAN’S SURRENDER
ROSE’S STORM
FAITH’S SHERIFF
Enigma, Maine Series
A VAMPIRE’S LOVING BITE
A GUARDIAN’S LOVING CLAIM
A PIRATE’S LOVING KISS
A SOLDIER’S CHRISTMAS HOMECOMING
LITTLE RED VALENTINE
OCEAN’S LOVING EMBRACE
A GUARDIAN’S LOVING CARESS
A WOLF’S LOVING VALENTINE
EAGLE’S EMBRACE
MAGIC’S EMBRACE
HUNTER’S EMBRACE
VAMPIRE’S EMBRACE
GUARDIAN'S EMBRACE
Rancher’s Bend Bride and Groom Series
ACCIDENTAL BRIDE AND GROOM
SECOND CHANCE BRIDE AND GROOM
EXPECTANT BRIDE AND GROOM
SURPRISE BRIDE AND GROOM
Island Medical Series
LOVE CURES ALL
ISLAND CHRISTMAS
Metal Cowboys Series
COPPER
MERCURY
STEEL
CHROME
GOLD
IRON
TITANIUM
Warm Hearts Series
GIVE ME HEART
GIVE ME LOVE
GIVE ME SHELTER
Shades of Red Series
RED HOT
RED ALERT
RED SKY AT NIGHT
IN THE RED
ROSES ARE RED
Barrett Security Series
MAGNOLIA AND MOONLIGHT
SOUTHERN RAIN
SOUTHERN COMFORT
Table of Contents
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
Thank you.
ONE
Marcus Easton held tight to his horse’s reins as they moved down the trail. Always alert, his head slowly turned from side to side, taking in as much of their surroundings as possible. He wished for about the fourth time that he and Benjamin Galvan lied to the client about their horseback riding abilities. Then again, the stubborn actor might have saddled up anyway and attempted to go alone. Not everyone used the brain they were born with.
The man might not take the numerous threats against his life seriously, but his agent and the people associated with the actor’s hit television show sure did. They took it seriously enough to call Barrett Security, which explained why Marcus and Ben were stuck on a dude ranch with a spoiled rotten pretty boy who appeared not to possess a lick of common sense.
Three men on horseback meandered down the long dirt trail. Dust puffed under the steady clop of the horses’ hooves. Rough-cut fence railing marked the trail, separating it from rougher prairie land dotted with large boulders, prairie dog and gopher holes, thickets, and the occasional scraggly tree. The scenery was about as different from the Lowcountry as you could get. It made Marcus miss home.
The wind ruffled the mane of his horse. Dust and dirt swirled around their ankles. Marcus shifted his weight, and the saddle creaked. Ben’s horse whinnied. The smell of earth, horse, and leather teased his nostrils.
A butter yellow sun filled the cloudless, bright blue sky. The temperature was comfortable, and it was not a bad day to commune with nature, that wasn’t the problem. No, the trouble was the near impossibility of securing a horse trail in the wide-open outdoors. It was his job to keep the client alive, but in order to succeed, Marcus needed a little cooperation.
Asher James kicked his horse’s flanks and shot off ahead of Marcus and Ben. Marcus uttered a string of profanity. Ben shot him a questioning look. Marcus shrugged and maneuvered his horse next to the animal that Ben rode.
“Some people don’t make the job easy,” his protection detail partner caustically remarked.
Marcus snorted. “You’d think our clients would be more willing to listen to suggestions when we could be the only barrier between them and death. Especially considering the pretty penny they pay Barrett Security to get the job done.” He shook his head in disbelief.
“Some people are oblivious,” Ben muttered.
“Ain’t that the damn truth,” Marcus grumbled.
“You still think the threat is legit?” Ben wondered out loud.
Asher James received several anonymous death threats by mail and phone. The disturbing messages condemned his character, a villain in a popular tv show, who recently killed off one of the fans’ most beloved main characters. The messages smacked of desperation and a person who had lost touch with reality.
In his experience, desperate and crazy equaled unpredictable and deadly. It was the kind of combination that helped put Barrett Security and other protection companies like it on the map. The blend could be fatal, and they would do well not to forget it.
Marcus had a well-honed sixth sense. He had learned to listen to his instincts over the years. The so-called gut feeling had saved his bacon too many times to count. He had been told before that his soul was in tune with the mystic universe. Marcus did not know about all that, he figured it had more to do with the brush of death he experienced as a child.
“Can’t know for sure until something goes down, but my gut says the threats are legit. Something’s gonna happen, and based on the burn in my belly, I’d say soon.”
“Shit! Guess we better catch up to the client. It won’t do for him to die on our watch. Jeremy would kick our ass.” Ben referred to Jeremy Barrett, the owner of Barrett Security and their boss.
Marcus tipped his head to the side. “We did warn Mr. Hotshot multiple times that horseback riding wasn’t the brightest idea. We plainly told him the trail would be a logistical nightmare to defend.” None the less, he urged his mount forward. He had not lost a client yet. He did not want to start now.
He and Ben caught up to James about a second before the hair on the nape of his neck stiffened. A sharp and deadly crack split the air. His skin tingled where beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He would recognize the sound of gunfire anywhere.
Before anyone had time to react, a bullet struck a large boulder near Ben. Shrapnel peppered the area. Ben’s horse nickered and reared back on his hind legs. Marcus watched in wide-eyed horror as Ben tried frantically to keep his seat but was thrown to the ground anyway.
Marcus broke out in a cold sweat. His stomach hardened. Sounded like soon was now.
The next loud pop sent Marcus into action. He spared one more glance for his co-worker but knew he had to keep his
mind on the job and his charge. Marcus leaned over and swiped at the reins that controlled Asher’s horse. “Hold tight and stay low,” he hissed at the frozen actor. Marcus urged his horse to bolt behind the large boulder, dragging the other horse and rider with them.
He quickly dismounted and ordered Asher James to do the same. “Got your phone?”
The actor looked at him with wide eyes and a slack mouth. He slowly nodded his head up and down.
“Call 9-1-1, give them the name of the ranch, tell them shots were fired, and at least one man is down,” he demanded. “Stay low, hug the rock, and don’t leave your cover until I say otherwise,” Marcus snapped out. The actor was safe for now, and Marcus needed to see about Ben. The man would have joined them in the relative safety of the towering boulder if he were able.
The deafening cracks of gunfire stopped. “M-maybe the shooter’s out of b-bullets?” the actor hopefully questioned.
“Maybe, or he’s playing with us, or trying to get closer for a better shot.”
“No, no, no, this can’t be happening!” The actor’s normally rich baritone rose in pitch and volume until it was unrecognizable. He grasped the sides of his head with shaky hands.
Marcus sensed the man was close to losing it and doing something stupid. He did not have time for such crap, but he grabbed the man by the shoulders and shook him hard. “Get it together, dude! Call 9-1-1, and don’t move from this spot.” The haze in the man’s eyes cleared, and Marcus thought the actor might have gotten past the worst of his panic attack.
He needed to get to Ben. Marcus could not waste another minute on the actor who was safe from bullets, at least for the moment. Not to mention, he needed to get a bead on the surrounding area to make sure the gunman was not trying to close the distance for a better shot. Marcus hugged the rough, gritty edges of the obstruction, skirting the side to peek around the corner.
The third horse was nowhere in sight. Ben was prone on the ground, still as death. Marcus swallowed down the bile in his throat and made a dash for it. Pings sounded nearby, and dirt skipped around him, dancing to the tune of the scattered bullets. The bodyguard zigged and zagged, light on his feet.
He weighed the dangers of moving his unconscious friend against those of leaving him in the open space unprotected and vulnerable. Marcus reached Ben’s side and saw the slow rise of the other man’s chest. He also noted the blood-red smudge on a fist-sized rock next to Ben’s head. Marcus slowly released the breath he had been holding, swooped down, grabbed the other bodyguard under the armpits, and dragged him toward the shelter of the immense boulder.
The barrage of bullets stopped. The faint wail of a siren reached his ears. Some of the tension in Marcus’s rigid muscles released. His steps lightened, and in just a few seconds, he and Ben were behind cover.
The silence of gunfire with no shooter in sight gave Marcus the confidence to concentrate on Ben’s injuries. His friend’s chest still moved up and down, and Marcus felt a pulse at the other man’s throat. Ben remained unconscious, which caused a cannon-sized ball of dread to settle in Marcus’s stomach. His pants were bloody and torn in the left thigh area, probably trampled by the horse. The only good news was that he did not see any obvious signs of gun trauma.
Asher James talked into his phone, presumably to dispatch. The actor paced around in circles and waved his free hand in the air. Marcus tuned him out and gently ran a hand through Ben’s hair and over his scalp. He found a lump on the back of the crown of the head. He withdrew his fingers. The digits came away bloody. That explained the crimson stain on the rock and probably the man’s comatose state as well.
“Easton,” the actor called his name. “Police have surrounded the area. There’s no sign of the shooter. Umm, the dispatcher wants to know if we can ride out?”
Marcus shook his head. “Hell no! Got an unconscious man with a head injury and trauma to the thigh area,” he relayed to Asher James.
“Paramedics just arrived, and a ranch hand is showing the ambulance the way,” the actor reported.
The inaction made his skin itch, but all Marcus could do was wait. He was a man of action and wanted to be out there chasing down the shooter. The inactivity and lack of control of the situation made him jittery, but he could not leave Ben or Asher to fend for themselves.
The ambulance finally arrived. The first paramedic knelt over Ben and used a pair of sharp scissors to rip open the left leg of his pants. He took a solid hit to the thigh from the horse’s hoof. A wide, jagged laceration tore through the skin, and a large purple bruise blossomed outward. The paramedics applied a pressure bandage to the wound, took his vitals, and started an IV, all while they asked Marcus questions.
The first responders stabilized Ben, loaded him up, told Marcus the name of their destination, and took off. Marcus would make his way to the hospital once he dealt with his charge.
Asher James had lost most of his swagger and remained silent as they remounted and rode back to the barn. The owner of the ranch, and two police officers greeted them at the entrance to the bright red building. Marcus felt strained to the limit, and his temples started to throb. He needed to secure his charge and ensure the man’s safety. He needed to check on Ben’s condition and contact Jeremy Barrett also. First, he had to take the time to satisfy the local police by answering their questions.
Two hours later, Marcus paced around the empty waiting room while he talked to his boss and friend, Jeremy Barrett. “I haven’t seen him yet, but Ben’s awake. He’s got a concussion, and a broken femur that’s gonna put him out of commission for months.”
“Son of a bitch,” Barrett hissed. “I’ll fly in first thing in the morning and make arrangements to have Ben transferred to Charleston. There’s no family or next of kin to contact, and I haven’t been able to get in touch with his girlfriend, so I’ll take care of anything that needs to be done.”
“Thought you might. James chartered a flight. I’m escorting him back to Georgia in three hours then returning to Charleston. The shooter is in custody, and I’m confident the threat is over.”
“That was quick. Local law enforcement must be on the ball over there.”
“They had some help. Son of a neighboring rancher just retired from the Air Force. Get this, he trained dogs at Lackland. He heard the shots and put his dog to work. They tracked the shooter and cornered him before he could get back to his vehicle.”
“How sure are you that they got the right man?” He did not have to tell Marcus that any mistake would reflect poorly on Barrett Security, whether it was their error or not. Not to mention, Marcus did not need that kind of error weighing on his conscience.
“As sure as I can be without catching the shooter red-handed. He still had the weapon on him, and I’m sure ballistics will be a match. He’s some crazed fan and admitted to the threats. Freaking nutjob thinks television characters are real, and his broken heart demanded he avenge his soul mate’s death. He’s probably headed to a psych ward and won’t see the light of day any time soon.”
“I’ll be damned. Barrett Security is missing out. We need in on some of that action.” It was not the first time Jeremy mentioned wanting to expand his protective services to include dogs, the training of guard dogs and tracking dogs too. It probably would not be the last time either.
The two men planned to meet at Barrett Security in two days. Marcus disconnected the call and turned on his heel. That is when he noticed he was not alone. Of course, he was distracted by worry for Ben, but it was nearly impossible for anyone to sneak up on him.
He acknowledged the stranger with a chin lift. He took the time to study the other man, including his steely-eyed stare.
“You, Easton?” the man wanted to know.
Marcus stared down the stranger for several seconds. Neither of them blinked. He raised his brows and crossed his arms over his chest. “Who wants to know?”
The mystery man moved forward and extended his hand. “Waylon Knight, friends call me Way.”
&nb
sp; The name sounded vaguely familiar. Marcus shook hands, putting some strength into it. The other man held his own and did not pull away or wince from the pressure.
“My dog Liberty and I tracked down the shooter. Thought I’d stop by and see how your friend’s doing. The sheriff told me you were here,” he added. “Don’t mean to intrude, but I’m big on follow-up,” he explained.
Marcus’s gut told him the other man was on the up and up, no threat. “Got a long road ahead of him with healing and rehab, but he’ll make it. Guess we have you to thank for getting the bad guy. If you hadn’t thought fast on your feet and chased him down, the shooter might have gotten away.”
The man shrugged. “Acted on instinct, and Liberty did what she’s trained to do.”
Marcus definitely appreciated a man who had good instincts and was smart enough to go with his gut. He pulled his wallet out of his back pocket and found a business card for Barrett Security. “You ever relocate to the Charleston area and want a job give me a call. I’ll get you in to see Jeremy Barrett, no problem.”
Knight took the card and stuck it in the back pocket of his jeans. “Much obliged. Haven’t made any plans beyond catching up with family, so you never know.”
Some things were meant to be. Marcus’s gut told him Knight and his dog would be a perfect fit for Barrett Security. Maybe something good would come out of a job gone sour after all.
TWO
Magnolia ‘Maggie’ Rains squinted her eyes and stared through the windshield of her car into the distance. “Did we leave the lights on again?” she muttered to her roommates Holly and Lily.
The three women were friends and members of Rose and the Flower Patch. They just finished a gig at a newly opened club owned by Lily’s sister’s husband. They were the inaugural music act for the club. She was pretty sure they did Dean, the owner, proud. They closed the place with a stomping, whistling, cheering, standing ovation.
Lily leaned forward in the front passenger seat. “I don’t think so. I was the last one out the door and made sure to double-check this time,” she said.
Maggie had been feeling a little odd about their place ever since they came home last week and found two lights on that nobody remembered using before they left for a gig in Savannah. A chill snaked its way down her spine. She shivered.