Her cellphone buzzed in her back pocket. She ignored it, Ranger’s lips trailed down her throat, in light fluttering whispers against her skin.
The buzzing in her pocket came to life in a loud ring, and AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell” filled the hangar.
Holy. Crap. Amy jerked back and snatched the cell from her pocket. She’d pre-programmed the ringtone to warn her of impending disaster. Her mother-in-law had the sixth sense.
Ranger pulled her to him again, but Amy wriggled free. “You must really love that person.”
Love? Sure, like the devil loved church.
“I gotta go.” Mavis and her weekly calls of guilt to remind Amy that she’d stolen her only boy too early. Now she could add lusting after his best friend her list.
“What? Wait a minute. Who was that? What’s wrong?” Amy wanted to tell him it was Mavis. But no. That was her own cross to bear.
“Listen. I know you want to stay and help out. But you can’t. Not tonight. Please, I promise to call Bo over if there is trouble.”
“Tell me what is going on.”
“I can’t. Listen, I’ll call you. Tomorrow afternoon. Okay?” Amy backed up a step. Then another.
Ranger’s look of confusion and hurt and anger filling up her vision.
Her cell buzzed again, indicating a voice message from Mavis Carter. The mother-in-law to make Ursula the Sea Witch look like a guppy. Eighty percent of the reason Amy could never have a life or relationship past Shane Carter.
“Amy stop. Talk to me.”
Amy backed up one more step. “I’m sorry.”
Then she did what she did best. She ran. All the way to the house. She left a too perfect sculpted set of abs in her dust and high-tailed it to her back door. He’d said he didn’t want her just one night. He wanted her forever. Wanted her enough to fight for her.
Amy went into the kitchen, slammed the door behind her and grabbed the back of her kitchen chair. Her heart hit so hard and fast it might as well have been the plane propeller whacking her chest.
Ranger. She closed her eyes. Want wandered down her body. His confusion was worse than his outrage. Damn Mavis and her call. Amy wouldn’t be surprised if the woman hadn’t set up cameras to spy on her. She had made it plain she never trusted Amy. And that she blamed Amy for Shane joining the military and therefore his death. That her mission in life was to make Amy miserable.
She never missed a photo op for the press. Mavis had cried on more news stations than Oprah. And then she’d dragged Amy to the cemetery every month to stare at Shane’s grave. And to remember the guilt.
But Shane had been the one to walk away. Not Amy.
And now she had a flesh and blood God-given second chance all but beating down her door and threatening to drag her by her hair to his cave to be his little woman.
And she wanted that so bad.
Her body felt on fire. Maybe she was having heat stroke. Amy went to the cabinet, grabbed a glass and filled it with ice water, downing half the contents in one long gulp. She needed to cool off.
Needed the shock to remember who she was. She was Shane Carter’s widow. She was loyal. She wasn’t attracted to her dead husband’s best friend.
Not attracted. Not attracted. Not attracted.
She didn’t want him every second. She finished the water. Maybe if she told herself enough she would start to believe.
She’d done everything she could to warn Ranger away, and he kept coming. And thank God he did, otherwise she and Pedro would have been alone with Santos. Amy knew the man could have done anything to her, and no one would have been able to stop him.
Except Ranger.
She went to the living room, stopping in front of the fireplace mantle. Shane’s military picture sat right there, in a black frame. His straight lips and serious eyes glared at her. Cold. Hard. Distant.
Remember, Amy, remember.
7
Chapter 7
Ranger slammed into the newly finished log house he shared with his brother and new sister-in-law, barely keeping his rage in check.
No matter how much he wanted to turn and put his fist through the wall, this wasn’t his house to destroy.
But if his commander kept him stateside, he’d build his own house. Then he could put a hole in any goddamn wall he wanted.
Amy blew so freaking hot one minute he thought he was in the Mohave Desert and so cold the next he might as well be in An-freaking-artica. He didn’t know whether she’d given him heat stroke or frostbite, but either way his brain was fried.
Damn woman. No one had ever made him lose control like that. When they kissed, he felt like a king. But after, when she opened her mouth and spoke, he felt like a fool.
And now, all he felt was rage. Santos had sealed his fate. The man would die. It was just a matter of when. But Amy didn’t want Ranger there, at her house, at night. Part of him realized she was running scared and needed time. Needed soothing.
But the other part. The caveman part, wanted to beat down her door and scream mine.
“What the hell?” Hunter walked into the kitchen.
“What?” Ranger half-growled the word.
“Where is your shirt? Why aren’t you doing recon on the Lobellos? And what the fuck is that smell?” Hunter filled up the doorway from the living room to the kitchen. His brother, black hair, black eyes. And up until last year, Ranger had almost been convinced, a black soul.
But then Hunter found Evie. And the big grizzly bear tamed into a cub in her hands.
Ranger briefly considered lying, but there was no point. He’d not only completely neglected his mission, but he’d almost blown it.
“Grab me a beer.” Ranger moved to the table, pulled out a hand carved wooden chair and sat.
“Sure.” Hunter strode to the stainless steel fridge, pulled out a couple of beers, passed one to Ranger, and took a seat opposite. “Spill.”
Ranger twisted the cap off his beer, downing half the bottle in one swallow. The cold liquid cooled his temper to about a half a degree below boiling. “I stopped on the way to McGehee.”
“What was so important you detoured from the Lobello’s home town?”
“Amy Carter.”
“Jesus H. Christ. You do like your torture don’t you?”
Ranger knew his brother thought he lost his mind. Hell, sometimes Ranger even thought he lost his mind. “Yep.”
“And what, you thought if you showed her your muscles she’d change her mind and jump your bones?” Hunter leaned back in his chair, his amused grin growing wider, and crossed his hands behind his head.
“I had a shirt on when I saw her.” Ranger took another swig, needing the liquid courage.
“And?”
“And I stopped by the field she was spraying, hoping to catch her for a minute, and she doused me in goddamn herbicide.”
Hunter tipped back in his chair and roared with laughter. Ranger gave serious thought to kicking his brother’s chair backwards. He planted a booted foot on the edge and gave Hunter a nudge. His brother stopped laughing. “Do it and die.”
“I’m glad I can provide so much entertainment, brother.” Ranger eased back, letting Hunter’s chair back down flat on the kitchen tile.
“Just tell me the next time you plan to visit her. So I can provide back up. Evie’s gonna be pissed you stank up the new house.”
“Sure. Right after you help me over a cliff.” Ranger paced to the trash, tossed the empty beer, and grabbed a new one. “She’s driving me nuts.”
“All the best ones do,” Hunter said.
“Yeah easy for you to say, yours didn’t twist you up into knots. Blow hot and cold.”
“Were you here last year? Are we talking about the same woman? My wife? The one that ran from me at every opportunity?”
Ranger nodded and sat back down. “Yeah. That one. She’s an amateur compared to Amy.”
Hunter’s stare probed too deep, his silence telling. Hunter had almost lost Evie to her own psychopath sta
lker. And Ranger knew, if his brother had lost Evie, Hunter wouldn’t have made it. He would have lived, as is took oxygen in and out of his lungs, but Hunter would have shut down, and what little edge of peace he’d gained, would disappear.
“So quit then. Give her up.”
“Okay. I’ll give up when you give Evie up.” Same thing. Ranger felt for Amy deep beyond his heart. Into his soul.
“You’ve got it bad. Man. And no way Mavis is gonna let her move on, that woman will flay her alive and eat her for lunch.” Hunter leaned forward, rested his arms on the matching heavy wood table.
Ranger cringed. Shane’s mother moved beyond contentious to downright mean. The woman may lead the Baptist Church women’s prayer group, but she belonged in hell with her father, the devil. Then realization dawned. The phone call. Highway to Hell. Mavis.
No wonder Amy went ghost white and ran off. This shit storm of small town drama was about to go FUBAR.
“The commander is gonna have your ass either way. We can’t do the mission without the intel.” Hunter reminded him in his calm big brother voice.
Shitballs. The mission. Ranger was the only team member yet to come face to face with Lobello and therefore the only one to do intel and a possible meet and greet without tipping their hat. Small town gossip wasn’t the only thing about to go FUBAR. “Hunter. I ran into a Lobello named Santos at Amy’s hangar this afternoon. He was there, threatening one of her workers.”
Hunter stopped moving, his stare turned deadly. “The Santos Guillera who is in charge of new inductees?”
Arturo. Shit. “We need to call command. I think he was there to take Arturo away from his father. And I think Amy is in danger too.”
Hunter had his phone in his hand punching in numbers when it rang. Hunter met Ranger’s gaze. Command.
Hunter sat back and answered the cell. “Sir.”
Ranger couldn’t hear what was said, but whatever it was, it was loud. Cpt. Grey, it seemed, was pissed. Ranger made to grab the phone but Hunter held up a hand. “Yes, sir. Be there in five.”
Hunter disconnected the call, downed his beer. “Well little bro, you started your own shit storm alright. Cpt. Grey wants us there five minutes ago. Oh, and in case you were wondering, he’s gonna ream your ass for screwing up.”
“I couldn’t tell. Damn. I can’t stay long. I have to set up at Amy’s. That bastard might show up tonight for a snatch and grab.” Ranger headed toward the spare bedroom and shower.
“You gotta take a shower and get to the meeting or the CO’s gonna tag you AWOL. I’ll call Bo Lawson, fill him in, have him sit tight on her property until we can get there later.”
Ranger all but snarled. “Tell that sadist to keep his hands off my woman.”
“Sure. Touch your woman and die. Got it. Now hurry the fuck up so we don’t get reamed any more than necessary.”
Ranger didn’t bother to answer, he rushed through the shower, change of clothes. Black shirt. Black tactical pants. Boots. Better.
Hunter hung up the phone when Ranger got back to the kitchen. “Ready to go sunshine?”
“What did the sheriff say?” Ranger had no more play left.
“He’s loading up the cruiser now and heading over to her house.” Hunter threw some stuff in his tactical bag. Ranger shoved his 9 mm in his pants. His KBAR knife in his boot.
“He better call me if anything so much as twitches out of place.” Ranger kept the killing rage down. He caressed his gun, imagined all the ways he could take out Santos with his favorite sniper rifle.
“You two need a room?” Hunter continued to pack up his bag then zip it closed.
“Yeah. On top of a tower is preferable. That way I can see all the mother fuckers coming.”
Hunter rolled his eyes. “Come on, we can take your truck. Evie might need mine.”
By the time the two brothers reached headquarters they were both pumped and primed for a tongue-lashing. Ranger had to fight to keep his hand off his cell and not check on Amy.
Ranger parked the truck, and Cpt. Grey opened the door to command. His eyes flat, his lips flatter. The killing rage banked just beyond his expression louder than a shout.
“Shit, bro. He’s pissed.” Hunter pulled his gear on.
“I know. Just let me do the talking, okay?” Ranger jumped down from his truck and strode to his commander.
“Inside, now.”
Hunter and Ranger followed, the heavy metal biometric door sliding shut behind them with a finality that belonged on a Star Wars movie.
“Have a nice afternoon drive? Enjoy spending some time with your sweetie?” Cpt. Grey’s voice was cold, cold as his eyes. “While you two were playing patty feet with the ladies, the Lobellos started their new recruit hunt. A whole slew of young men have gone missing in the past ten hours. And thanks to you,” the Cpt. Pointed directly at Ranger, “we have no intel. No idea where they’re taking them. I hope that piece of ass was worth these boys lives.”
Cpt. Grey threw out a handful of pictures. Ranger fought the bile rising into his mouth. Young boys. Boys that should be playing video games and eating mac-n-cheese, not learning how to shoot oozies.
“They’re at a whole new level this year. Instead of going for the teenagers, they’re after pre-teens. They want to get them in solid. Brainwash them African rebel style.”
“Jesus. Santos is after Arturo. He’s five. They are taking them that young?” A wild bullet of fear ricocheted through Ranger’s body, taking out whatever organ got in its path.
“Yes. The younger the better. So far there have been five confirmed kidnappings, and who knows how many that were too scared to report it. But they’re just getting started. Santos is head of recruitment. You met him? Did he know who you were?”
“No. We just ran into each other. He was there for him.” Ranger’s mouth went dry and he pointed to the picture of Arturo.
“So the mission may be salvageable. We still need to get someone inside and plant the monitoring device. We can record their conversations and track all movements that way.”
“I can do it. Right now. I can get in and out before Santos has a chance to report back to his headquarters.”
“Yeah, unless he’s already there and tags you.” Col Grey paced the length of the end wall. The wall covered in monitors with multiple images. Images from satellites of the Lobello’s known locations. Pictures. Hierarchy.
Hunter met Ranger’s gaze. They could do it. As a team, the James brothers were the best machine the military ever created. And it had all been started when the brothers witnessed their father murder their mother. They knew then they had the genes to kill. And the need. Because they wanted to kill their bastard father that night. But he was a grown man in an alcoholic rage against two children. Hunter and Ranger barely made it out alive that night.
“Okay. I don’t have any other option right now. Pack up. Plant the device. That’s it. We have to get info on these assholes before they kidnap more kids. If we can ID the leader, we can take out the whole gang.” Cpt. Grey turned back to the James brothers. “But if you two fuck this up, your happy little vacation in America is over. I’ll personally ship your asses back to Africa.”
“Yes, sir.” Ranger saluted, and so did Hunter. They had a mission to complete. Ranger just needed to figure out a way to trust Bo with protecting Amy for one night. One night. That’s it. And maybe if Ranger got lucky, he’d run into Santos and let the bastard trip on his knife.
8
Chapter 8
Ranger and Hunter locked, loaded, and primed for the mission. Adrenaline pumped through Ranger’s veins, pushing his feet faster. His steps harder. He had to see this task through. Had to stay focused. Failure meant innocent kids would become criminals. Killers. Failure meant Ranger gave up his only solid link to ISA. Meant he failed Shane Carter.
But more than that, he hurried because of Amy. Bo Lawson might be there, keeping watch over her, but Ranger needed to protect her.
The security door slid
open. Bo Lawson stood there, blocking the exit, arms crossed over his chest.
Fear slammed into Ranger with the force of a freight train. The only man standing between Amy and a Mexican mafia wasn’t between them at all. “Why the fuck aren’t you at Amy’s?”
“I knew you two were planning something.” Bo Lawson, Sheriff of Mercy, stepped forward, finger pointing directly in Ranger’s face. “You might be military, but this is my town. Everything and everyone goes through me. I warned you what would happen if you tried to run some spook mission behind my back.”
Clouds slid across the sky, obscuring what little light the moon provided. The darkness perfect for undercover work and sneaking into a drug compound.
Perfect for Santos to slip into Amy’s house undetected.
“What is this place?” Bo stepped closer, his face a mask of fury.
“You left Amy alone.” Ranger spoke soft, the fear and anger choking his windpipe. She could be hurt right now. If Santos was there… He was going to kill the bastard, fuck all if he was the sheriff. “I swear to God, if she is hurt, I’m going to kill you.”
Bo didn’t back down, he pushed his chest to Ranger’s, nose to nose. “I warned you and your brother. Don’t try to run ops behind my back in my town.”
“If this is your town, why aren’t you protecting it? Hunter told you about Santos, about Amy. That bastard could be there right now.” Rage. Ranger saw red. He clenched his fist, ready to smash it into Bo’s face.
“Then why aren’t you there? I know you’re spec ops. You could take care of her problem.”
Ranger’s lip curled and he slapped Bo’s finger down. “You wonder why. Look at the last sheriff. For all I know, you’re the criminal.”
Veins popped on Bo’s neck. His face flushed. “I warned you if you did this shit I’d throw your entire team in jail. Even if it’s for twenty-four hours. I can still fuck up your mission.”
“Try it.” Ranger bit out.
Hunter’s hand sliced between them, cutting the tension. “We don’t really have time for this right now. We have something to do.”
Bo turned to Hunter. “What exactly do you have to do?”
Resurrection River: Men of Mercy, Book 2 Page 5