CROSSING THE LINE (RANGER SECURITY Book 5) Read online

  CROSSING THE LINE

  New York Times & USA Today Bestselling Author

  RHONDA RUSSELL

  Text Copyright © 2019 Rhonda Russell

  All Rights Reserved

  No part of this book may be reproduced, transmitted, copied, or stored in any form or by any means without permission of the author. Your respect and support of the author is appreciated.

  All characters, events, brands, companies, and locations in this story are used fictionally and without intent of slander. Any resemblance to actual people are purely coincidental.

  More from Rhonda Russell

  Ranger Security

  Under His Skin, #1

  Over The Top, #2

  Up In Flames, #3

  Going Down Hard, #4

  Crossing The Line, #5

  Men Out of Uniform Series

  The Player, #1

  Major Perfect, #2

  The Maverick, #3

  The Loner, #4

  The Hell-Raiser, #5

  Letters From Home, #6

  The Soldier, #7

  The Rebel, #8

  4-Book Romance Omnibus

  Love You More

  Bless Her Heart Series

  The Future Widows' Club, #1

  Disenchanted: A Witchy Business Novella

  Chapter 1

  Former soldier Tanner Crawford pushed through the double doors of the sleek Atlanta high-rise that housed Ranger Security and prepared to meet his new destiny.

  For the first time in his adult life, as a civilian.

  His fingers involuntarily twitched at his sides, betraying the slightest hint of unease. Though he had always thought highly of the gentlemen who’d started this company—finding better soldiers than Brian Payne, Jamie Flanagan and Guy McCann would be damned near impossible—Tanner had nev­ertheless never imagined that he’d be working for them.

  In fact, if anyone had told him three months ago that he would be anything other than in service to Uncle Sam, he would have asked them to hand over their crack pipe and would personally have escorted them to rehab.

  But that was before the...incident.

  Tanner determinedly closed the door on that line of thinking before any of the horrific images could form. One, in particular, haunted him.

  Knobby knees, thin limbs, a bloodied, tattered teddy bear...

  He squeezed his eyes tightly shut and swore under his breath. Dammit, he had to get a grip. He couldn’t afford to blow this. He had been espe­cially grateful to Colonel Carl Garrett for making the recommendation for this new career. Frankly, when he’d decided he had to get out—that he no longer had the stomach for war—Tanner hadn’t given much thought to where he would go or what he would do. He just knew that he couldn’t do his job anymore, that he’d never be able to do it again.

  On some level Tanner had imagined that he’d go home to Mockingbird, Mississippi, a quaint little town nestled in the heart of the Delta. His grandmother was still there, after all. Gardening, quilting and sipping iced tea. Having lost his parents and little brother in a car accident when he was ten, Tanner had been raised by his paternal grandparents.

  His grandmother had kept him well loved and well fed and his grandfather, who’d passed five years ago, had taught him the benefit of fewer words and more action, the advantage of hard work and patience and, of course, how to treat a lady. The thought made Tanner smile. God knows John Crawford had loved his “Miss Molly” and had treated her accordingly. He missed him, Tanner thought now, and knew his grandmother did, as well.

  It felt like a lifetime ago that he’d been home, that he’d put his feet under her table and enjoyed a home-cooked meal and good company. He actually should have gone to see her before coming here, but Garrett had insisted that he was needed now.

  Besides, his grandmother would ask prob­ing questions—ones he didn’t want to answer at present—so this was truly for the best. He’d go and see her as soon as he got this new job in order— first things first always—and he’d make sure to call more often in the interim.

  “Tanner Crawford?” a slim, no-nonsense gentle­man asked from behind a remarkably tidy desk.

  Tanner nodded, startled back into the present.

  “I’m Juan-Carlos,” he said briskly, extending his hand. “The Triumvirate are expecting you. Follow me, please.”

  The Triumvirate? Tanner thought, feeling his lips automatically slide into a half smile. That was defi­nitely a unique way to describe the owners of the elite security company. And the hint of droll humor he’d heard behind the description was especially puzzling.

  Juan-Carlos led him down a carpeted hall, past several offices into a large lounge area that looked more like a man cave than any sort of business room. A flat-screen television was anchored to the wall—currently tuned to a Braves baseball game— and a well-used pool table overlooked downtown proper. A stainless-steel refrigerator—no doubt stocked with the drinks and snacks the three of them were currently enjoying—stood against an­other wall. Various bits of technology—laptops, cell phones, MP3 players and the like—lay scat­tered over the battered coffee table, along with their feet.

  Seated on dark leather furniture, the three men stood when he entered. Brian Payne was easily recognizable with his blond hair and penetrating ice-blue eyes. Nicknamed the Specialist, Payne was notorious for his ability to always do things right the first time. Much like failure, half-assed wasn’t an option.

  Equally impressive with his supposed genius-level IQ, Jamie Flanagan had dark curls that gave him a boyish quality, but the set of his shoulders and the line of his jaw let a man know that the Irish-American former soldier was a force to be reckoned with.

  Guy McCann rounded out the rest of the Triumvirate, with a reputation of recklessness and luck that bordered on the providential. McCann’s smile was a little irreverent, but the shrewd green gaze currently sizing him up felt anything but flippant.

  It was Payne who spoke first. “Crawford,” he said, striding forward to shake Tanner’s hand. “Wel­come to Ranger Security.”

  Flanagan grinned, plopped back onto the couch and shoved a potato chip into his mouth. “The perks kick ass.”

  “Ignore him,” McCann piped up, snatching the remote control out of Jamie’s reach. “We do actually work,” he drawled.

  “On occasion,” came the long-suffering voice of Juan-Carlos as he quietly shut the door.

  Guy glared at Payne. “He’s getting a little too mouthy for a secretary.”

  “He’s an office manager,” Payne corrected. “And he’s indispensable. Which he knows.”

  “If he continues to smirk at me, what’s not going to be indispensable are his teeth,” Guy threatened. “He’s a subordinate. He should act like it.”

  Tanner wondered if they knew he referred to the three of them as the Triumvirate, but decided not to mention it. He didn’t want Juan-Carlos to lose any of those pricey porcelain veneers on his account.

  “Can I get you something to drink?” Payne of­fered, jerking a thumb toward the refrigerator.

  Tanner shook his head. “I’m good, thanks.”

  “Have a seat,” Jamie told him, gesturing toward one of the empty chairs. “We’re pretty informal around here.”

  He actually liked that, Tanner thought. These guys were obviously just as comfortable in their own skin as they were with one another. It was the sort of familiarity that took countless hours and inher­ent trust and he instinctively found himself wanting to be a part of it. To share in the easy camaraderie.

  Though he’d been happy about the job—about having an alternative at all to the military career he’d envisioned—for the f
irst time since he’d officially walked off base, Tanner instinctively knew he’d found where he belonged.

  This was going to work. He felt it.

  “How’s my grandfather-in-law?” Flanagan wanted to know.

  Tanner smiled and tried to frame a diplomatic response.

  Colonel Carl Garrett was an old warhorse with a piss-and-gravel voice that had been honed on the battlefield and fired in the boardroom. Tanner had a lot of respect for the man, but he’d ruffled more than a few feathers through the years. Of course, no one could be in the colonel’s position without pissing off a lot of other people. It was the nature of the career.

  “Well,” Tanner finally managed. He waited a beat. “The same as always.”

  “So he’s still an interfering, egotistical old bastard on a power trip, then?” McCann said. He snorted. “Figures.”

  Payne laughed. “Careful, Guy. That interfering, egotistical old bastard is responsible for some of our best help—” his cool gaze slid to Tanner “—and our newest recruit.” He lifted a brow. “You’ve re­viewed the employment package?”

  He had and was still astonished. “It’s generous.”

  And that was putting it lightly. In addition to the salary, the benefits were beyond amazing. Prefer­ring that specialists lived in close proximity, Payne had purchased the entire building and renovated the upper floors into apartments. Though Jamie and Guy lived in Atlanta only part-time, Payne was in residence at all times in the penthouse suite. Considering he’d been in the service since college, Tanner had little in the way of personal belongings and even less in the home furnishing department. That he would be able to move right into an out­fitted apartment was a perk he could genuinely appreciate.

  “You’ll earn it,” Payne assured him. He handed him a laptop, a cell phone and a Glock 9 mm. “Tools of the trade. All of the software you’ll need to interface with our programs here at the office have already been loaded onto the computer. Numbers are programmed into the phone and your permit to carry concealed is in the laptop bag.” He shrugged. “Doubt you’ll need a weapon for this first case, but better armed than not, in my opinion.”

  He wouldn’t need a weapon for his first case? What exactly did that mean? Tanner wondered.

  “Do you need a car?” Payne asked. “I’ve got a couple in the garage.”

  Tanner shook his head. He’d actually just traded in his old Jeep Wrangler for a new Black Rubicon.

  “Here are the keys to your apartment,” Payne said, tossing them lightly to him. He released a small breath. “That covers everything but the briefing on your first assignment.”

  McCann slid a folder across the coffee table to him. “It’s a bit unusual,” he said, and the small smile playing over his lips did little to inspire con­fidence.

  Tanner flipped open the file and quickly scanned the first page. Theodore Watson, seventy-six, miss­ing from his home for the past few days. He read on and immediately understood McCann’s grin.

  “A treasure hunt?” he asked dubiously, glancing up at Payne.

  Jamie chuckled. “In a manner of speaking. Mr. Watson is looking for his great-great-grandfather’s treasure. According to his family history, this particular grandfather had amassed quite a fortune in jewels. Afraid that the Union troops were going to seize his possessions, like many other people who lived in the South who had any wealth, he hid them.

  Unfortunately, he died before he recovered them from his hiding place and hadn’t shared their whereabouts with anyone else.”

  “Or he could have, and that lucky soul kept it for himself,” McCann pointed out. “The Watsons are practically royalty in the small burg of Begonia, Georgia. They’re old money. Lots of land.”

  Tanner frowned. “So it’s his family who’ve hired us? Is Mr. Watson a danger to himself? Got any health issues that make his disappearance particu­larly disturbing?” Granted the man wasn’t exactly a spring chicken, but from the looks of this file he lived by himself, which would indicate that he was relatively healthy, at any rate.

  Payne, McCann and Flanagan shared a look. “Tad Watson, Theo’s son, is more concerned with keeping up appearances than his father’s actual safety,” McCann explained with a twisted smile. “From what we’ve been able to discern, Theo has been looking for this treasure for more than sixty years, and is a bit on the eccentric side. Tad doesn’t approve.”

  “He’s an embarrassment,” Jamie said, pulling a shrug. ‘Tad wants him found so that he can do damage control.”

  “He’s throwing around words like senile and dementia and diminished capacity, Payne said. “Laying the groundwork to have him commit­ted, or at the very least put into an assisted-living facility.”

  Though he’d never met Theodore Watson in his life, Tanner found himself inexplicably annoyed on his behalf. What the hell was wrong with people? he wondered. Whatever happened to respecting your elders? Furthermore, this was the South. Eccentricities were typically celebrated. Crazy, so long as it wasn’t harmful, was charming down here.

  “The senior Watson is much more philanthropic than his son would like him to be,” Jamie added with a grimace. “If he managed to put his father into a home, he’d be able to control the family finances.”

  In other words, he was greedy. Impossibly, Tanner liked Tad even less.

  “At any rate, the son has provided us with a list of probable locations his father could be,” Payne announced after a significant pause.

  “He hasn’t looked himself?” Tanner asked, surprised.

  Another uncomfortable look. “Tad is actually out of the country.”

  “Flying over the Atlantic right about now, wouldn’t you say, Jamie?” McCann remarked. He tossed a handful of M&M’s down his throat.

  Atlantic? Right now? Tanner frowned. “Let me get this straight. His father is missing, so he’s concerned enough to hire one of the premier security firms in the country...but he’s not concerned enough to postpone a business trip?”

  “Actually, it’s a vacation,” Payne corrected, his voice chilly. “Italy. He’ll be checking in periodically and wants to be notified as soon as his father is located.”

  How considerate, Tanner thought, utterly disgusted. He grimaced. “Right.”

  “There’s also a list of acquaintances in there, people he might have contacted before he left,” Jamie said.

  Tanner looked up. “He didn’t mention he was leaving to his son?”

  McCann snorted. “I sure as hell wouldn’t, if I was the old guy, would you?”

  He supposed not. Still...

  “We know this isn’t exactly an exciting or glam­orous first assignment, but it’s what pays the bills,” Payne said.

  He didn’t give a damn about exciting or glamorous, and after a minute he confided as much. “I’m just...thankful to have a job, to have a place here. It’s more than I could have hoped for, particularly considering I made the decision to leave abruptly.”

  Payne’s calm gaze found his. “We know exactly what that’s like. It’s why we’re here, you know.”

  And he did know. Garrett had given him the abbreviated reason as to why Payne, McCann and Flanagan had left the military. They’d lost a dear friend and comrade, Danny Levinson, and each of them felt as if they were in part to blame. Couldn’t be any easier to live with that than what he was currently struggling with, Tanner thought.

  Help me, he heard again, for what felt like the thousandth time. The tiny, faltering voice. Fearful yet trusting and so, so weak...

  “It gets easier,” Jamie said, his eyes grave with understanding.

  Tanner merely shrugged, hoping like hell that was true. It sure couldn’t get any worse.

  * * *

  “This one is staying,” McCann announced as soon as Tanner Crawford disappeared around the door frame.

  “Ordinarily when you make predictions like that, I think you’re completely full of shit, Guy, but in this instance I think you might be right,” Jamie agreed.

  Brian Payne sil
ently concurred. Though they’d lost their past two employees to other career paths—and women—Crawford seemed differ­ent. There was a sadness, an ownership to Tanner’s grief that he recognized, as well. Hell, who was he kidding? They could all identify. Innocent blood on your hands was something they could all em­pathize with.

  Though Payne had realized that it wasn’t completely his fault that Danny had died, there was a part of him that would always feel responsible for his death all the same. Like Tanner, it didn’t matter that the intel was faulty, that he’d done everything he was supposed to do.

  He’d lost a man.

  And Tanner Crawford, according to Garrett, had had a child die in his arms.

  Terrible stuff, that.

  “What do you think?” Jamie asked. “You think he’s going to have any trouble making the transition to our way of life?”

  Payne shook his head. “Not at all. You’ve read everything I’ve read. He knows what he’s doing. Was one hell of a soldier who simply lost the stomach for war.”

  “With good reason,” McCann said. “Damn, how do you find your happy place after something like that? How do you move forward?”

  Jamie passed a hand over his face. “I don’t know. Women and children, you know? That’s the stuff of nightmares.”

  Though Garrett had been very vague with the details of Crawford’s last mission, Payne knew that it had involved the accidental death of innocent civilians. Payne had willingingly fought terrorists without batting a lash because he’d been fighting for the greater good against an enemy who wasn’t above killing innocent women and children. Conscienceless zealots bent on revenge and power. But if he was ever involved in a mission like Crawford ’s, which had resulted in the death of those they were trying to protect... He didn’t know how he would cope and, frankly, was thankful that he’d never have to try.

  “I liked him,” Jamie said. “My gut says he’s a good guy.”

  “If we’re going to start talking about feelings, then I’m outta here,” McCann said, purposely lightening the moment.