The Ranger Page 2

  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.

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

  “THIS ONE IS STAYING,” McCann announced as soon as Will Forrester 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 silently concurred. Though they’d lost their past two employees to other career paths—and women—Forrester seemed different. There was a sadness, an ownership to Will’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 Will, 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 Will Forrester, 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 Forrester’s last mission, Payne knew that it had involved the accidental death of innocent civilians. Payne had willingly fought terrorists with out 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 Forrester’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.

  “Kiss my ass, Guy,” Jamie told him, hurling an empty plastic soda bottle at his head. “You know what I mean.”

  “Do you think we should have mentioned the chick?” Guy asked, shooting Payne a look.

  The chick in question was Rhiannon Palmer—good friend to Theo—who was hell-bent on finding him, as well. Having been told by Tad—her ex-boyfriend—that Ranger Security was on the case, Rhiannon had already been in contact many times asking for updates. A local elementary guidance counselor specializing in emotional intelligence, she was pushy, feisty and had all the tenacity of a bulldog.

  “She’s on the list of acquaintances,” Payne said, and smiled.

  And she was now Will Forrester’s problem.

  2

  RHIANNON PALMER GLARED ominously down at her cell phone as she absorbed the last text message from her miserable, sanctimonious ex-boyfriend and felt a low growl build in the back of her throat.

  Butt out. It’s under control.

  She fired off a final go-to-hell message, then sank back against the cushions of her porch swing and tried to plan her next move. Her dog, an Australian shepherd named Keno, determinedly nosed her palm and Rhiannon gave her an absentminded rub.

  “Oh, Theo,” she moaned aloud. “Where the hell are you?”

  Honestly, if she hadn’t been so worried about her dear friend and mentor, she could quite happily have throttled him. He’d purposely waited to make his escape while she’d been finishing up the final class in emotional intelligence, a course she taught at the local community college during the summer. August through May, she was the guidance counselor at Begonia Elementary School, a job she genuinely loved.

  Rhiannon could perfectly identify with so many of the kids who walked through her door. She’d been the shy, insecure little bookworm with the added freakishness of being able to accurately read people’s moods. Hidden things, even, which weren’t readily discernible on the surface.

  With the exception of Elizabeth Alston, her best friend, it had made her an outcast on the playground, and had made adults a little too uncomfortable around her. Of course, having a child pick up on your secret crush on the assistant principal—particularly when you were married to the basketball coach—couldn’t have been easy, Rhiannon thought, remembering that particular incident with a small smile.

  At any rate, it wasn’t until she’d met Theodore Watson, a local librarian with plenty of money and too much time on his hands, that Rhiannon had been made by an adult to feel anything other than odd. Even her parents, bless their hearts, hadn’t been quite sure what to make of their daughter, a fact that she’d been aware of from the time she was a toddler.

  But Theo… Theo had made her feel special. He’d looked at her and seen potential, and she’d loved him ever since.

  As a semi-empath himself and possessing a keen interest in emotional intelligence—or EI—Theo recognized her unique ability and had quickly made her feel more at home in her own mind than she’d ever been in her life. Not only had he helped her hone her skill at recognizing others’ emotions, but he’d taught her how to use her own to influence the people around her. Despite her admittedly hot temper, Rhiannon could be quite soothing when she wanted to be. She glared at her phone again.

  Right now she wasn’t in the mood to soothe anyone, even herself. She was enjoying her irritation.

  Stupid Tad, she thought. Moron. Idiot. Gigantic ass.

  Though she’d dated Tad only to make Theo happy, Rhiannon nevertheless bitterly regretted the decision. It had taken less than a minute into their first meeting for her to realize that a love match wasn’t in their future, but Theo had been so happy—so overjoyed that Tad had asked her out—she hadn’t been able to refuse.

  Unfortunately, much like the first date, the relationship had quickly ended in disaster. Though she’d been ready to pull the plug from the get-go, Tad had beaten her to the punch, evidently sensing her uninterest, and had dumped her publicly on Facebook.

  Mortified didn’t begin to cover it.

  In addition to dumping her, he’d complained loudly to anyone who would listen in their small town about how “clingy” and “needy” she was, which was absolute bullshit. Rhiannon was many things, but clingy and needy weren’t among them. Thankfully most people were well aware of her true character and Tad’s penchant for self-importance, but it hadn’t lessened her irritation or humiliation all that much.

  Furthermore, that had been three years ago and Tad still had the audacity to act as if she was stalking him and couldn’t get over him.

  She couldn’t get over him because she’d never been on him to start with. There was nothing to get over. She saw Tad only when she absolutely couldn’t avoid him.

  Unfortunately, no matter how much it irritated her to have to be in contact with him, Rhiannon didn’t see any other choice. Tad had taken off for his Italian vacation, certain that his father had merely gone off on another relatively harmless search for the Watson treasure. He was embarrassed by his father’s continued obsession with what he thought was a “ridiculous old story manufactured after one too many shots of moonshine.”

  Rhiannon didn’t agree with Tad in the least and trusted Theo’s instincts. He was a brilliant man who wouldn’t have wasted sixty years of his life looking for something if he hadn’t genuinely beli
eved it was there. Because his family had wearied of listening to him go on and on about the family jewels, they’d actually talked at length about it many times.

  If the jewels were real—and she, too, suspected they were—then she knew beyond a shadow of doubt that Theo would eventually find them. He’d actually called and left her a message the day he’d left.

  “Rhi, I think I’ve got it!” he’d crowed. “Matthew 6:21. ‘For where your treasure is, your heart will be also.’ Don’t you see? I’ve been looking in the wrong place. All this time and it’s been right under my nose. Don’t worry, dear. I’ll be in touch.”

  But he’d been gone three days—plenty long enough for him to have found what he thought he was going to find if it had been where he thought it was and…nothing. Ordinarily, Rhiannon wouldn’t have been worried. Theo was a youthful seventy-six, fit and relatively healthy.

  But recently Theo had been diagnosed with diabetes and, just like a typical man, he wasn’t taking it seriously enough. He didn’t monitor his blood sugar the way he should and routinely got too caught up in his research to eat regularly. Skipping meals in any circumstance wasn’t healthy, but was particularly harmful for diabetics.

  Theo had made her—and his physician—promise not to tell Tad. Due to his father’s notoriously generous philanthropy, it was no secret that Tad was just looking for an excuse to move him into an assisted-living home and attempt to garner power of attorney over him. Furthermore, Tad and his father had different dreams for Watson Plantation, ones they’d been having increasingly frequent arguments about.

  The Watson Plantation was unique in the fact that the family had never sold a single inch of land from the original plot. It was eighteen hundred acres of rich soil, and Watsons had been farming it for almost two hundred years. Through Theo, Rhiannon knew that they rotated the crops to keep the earth in good condition. She loved it most when they planted cotton, seeing that sea of fluffy white bolls nodding in the breeze.

  True to his heritage, Theo was determined to keep farming the land and keep the old home place in the family, to preserve it for future generations of Watsons.

  Tad had visions of trendy subdivisions, strip malls and fast-food restaurants. Or more accurately, the money that would be garnered as a result of selling off each bit of the estate acre by profitable acre. As an only child, Tad had no interest in maintaining the family legacy. He just wanted to line his pockets and travel the world, preferably with a supermodel at his side. He had no time and even less respect for his father, which annoyed the sheer hell out of Rhiannon.

  Rather than skip his vacation and look for his father himself, Tad had hired a security company out of Atlanta to do the job. Though it had taken quite a bit of swearing, Rhiannon had finally managed to get the name of the company out of him and had called them many times over the past twenty-four hours. According to Brian Payne, the gentleman she’d been speaking with, their operative would be in town and on the case today and, being as close to Theo as anyone else, she fully expected a visit.

  And then she would make sure she got to tag along, because there was no way she could continue to sit here and do nothing. Though taking off on her own had occurred to her, the agency’s resources were better and more advanced than hers. They could track phone calls, credit cards and the like. If she had a general idea which way he had headed, Rhiannon thought Theo had given her enough information over the past several years to figure out exactly where he was going.

  And the sooner she found him, the better. Considering the diabetes and his poor attitude about it, she wasn’t going to be able to take an easy breath until then.

  She might as well be breathing where it would do her some good.

  Or she could not breathe at all, Rhiannon thought as the best-looking man she’d ever seen in her life suddenly loped up her sidewalk.

  Sweet God.

  She almost swooned.

  Every bit of the moisture in her mouth promptly evaporated and the tops of her thighs tingled with heat that had absolutely nothing to do with the mid-morning sun. A line of gooseflesh marched up her spine and camped in the back of her neck, making her entire scalp prickle with awareness. A violent full-body blush stained her skin from one end to the other and, though she knew it was simply her imagination, she could have sworn she heard the faintest strands of porn music as he stepped fully into view.

  Six and a half feet of rock-hard, splendidly pro portioned muscle and bone stood in an open-legged stance in front of her, showcasing long, lean legs and a crotch that instantly captured her gaze. Probably because she was practically at eye level with it, Rhiannon thought faintly.

  He wore a black T-shirt that hugged every rippling muscle and a pair of trendy sunglasses she instantly wished he’d remove. Confidence straightened his shoulders and shadowed the angular curve of his jaw, and a small cleft she had the almost irrepressible urge to lick bisected his chin. His hair was a golden-brown and shorn into a military cut that made him look all the more like a badass.

  His mouth, possibly the most sensual thing she’d ever had the pleasure to gaze upon, shifted into a smile, and the simple rearrangement of his lips made something in her middle go all warm and squishy.

  Hell, even her dog was panting.

  He removed his glasses, revealing a pair of eyes that were a pale misty gray—almost disconcertingly clear—and lined with sinfully thick dark brown lashes.

  He was sex incarnate, Rhiannon thought.

  And she instinctively knew she was in trouble.

  “Rhiannon Palmer?” he asked, his voice a husky baritone that put her in mind of rumpled sheets and massage oil. She tested the mood around him, and several things hit her at once—interest (gratifying, of course), confidence (also attractive—he knew what he was doing) and a sadness so deep and profound she almost gasped when she felt it. A frown worked its way across her brow. Loss, regret, shame. She could feel them all now. A tangled mess of remorse and misery so heavy she was surprised he could walk beneath its burden.

  Denial was a powerful thing, though.

  Rhiannon stood on wobbly legs and struggled to find her focus. “You’ve found her.”

  He smiled again. “I’m Will Forrester with Ranger Security and I’d like to talk to you about Theo Watson.”

  She’d thought as much. “Ah.” She sighed. “I’ve been expecting you.”

  He blinked. “You have?”

  “I’ve been speaking with your associate,” she explained. “Brian Payne.”

  “Right,” he said, though something in his gaze shifted. Irritation, perhaps? Intriguing. “Do you mind if I ask you a few questions about Mr. Watson?”

  “Only if you don’t mind if we go into the house,” she said, ducking around him to get the front door. “It’s getting a little hot out here.”

  And with him tagging along, she didn’t think she was going to get any cooler, but she thought she’d fare better with the benefit of climate control. Honestly, she’d never had such a visceral reaction to a man before. It was as terrifying as it was thrilling. She tried to tell herself that she’d simply been too long without sex—more than a year, shamefully—but knew better.

  It was him. Every beautifully proportioned inch of him.

  “Sure,” he said, left essentially without a choice.

  She clicked her tongue for the dog and watched the shaggy creature promptly go and sprawl across one of the air-conditioning vents.

  Having seen Keno’s antics, as well, Will Forrester chuckled. The sound seemed rusty, which she found unaccountably sad. This was a guy who should laugh. “Smart dog.”

  “Too smart,” Rhiannon agreed. “She can open the refrigerator, too.”

  He shot her an impressed, slightly disbelieving look. “Seriously?”

  Rhiannon nodded once. “Seriously. She knows better than to take anything out, of course, but has to do it a couple of times a day just to let me know that she can.” She gestured toward the couch. “Have a seat, please. Can I get you somet
hing to drink? I’m going to have a glass of tea, so…”

  He nodded his thanks. “In that case, yes.”

  Rhiannon made her way to the kitchen, which was open to her living-room, dining-room combo. “Lemon?”

  “Sure.”

  While she fixed the drinks, she watched him covertly. His keen gaze quickly noted everything in the room, from the pictures on her mantel to the slightly crooked throw rug in front of her couch.

  He straightened it, and in that lone, impulsive gesture, she was able to size him up.

  Will Forrester liked to be in control.

  Pondering that, she felt a small smile slide over her lips as she returned to the living room. “Here you go,” she said, handing him the glass.

  He accepted with a grateful smile and took a sip, then sighed. “Thank you. That hits the spot.”

  One of them at least, Rhiannon thought, sup pressing a laugh. Good Lord, had she ever seen a more beautiful man? Had she ever gazed at such masculine perfection in her life? He was criminally handsome. Even his ears were sexy. They had to be; otherwise she wouldn’t be fantasizing about breathing into one of them right now.

  He stared at her and a small grin played over his lips, as though he knew exactly what she was thinking. Impossible, she thought, and resisted the urge to press the glass to her forehead.

  She took a chair opposite him. “So how is the investigation going so far?” she asked. “Have you had any leads?”

  He winced. “Not exactly. I’ve been making calls during the drive over and so far I haven’t found so much as a trace of him. He used his credit card to fill up with gas at Big Bo’s Gas Mart on Friday, withdrew a sizable amount of cash from the local ATM and has completely fallen off radar.”

  Rhiannon grimaced. He must have known that Tad would hire someone to find him, she thought.