Emma's Protector

by Lily London

  EMMA’S

  PROTECTOR

  TRANQUILITY BAY RANCH BOOK 2

  LILY LONDON

  Copyright © 2020 by Lily London

  All Rights Reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of the copyright owner. The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of various products referenced status and trademark owners of various products referenced in this work of fiction, which have been used without permission. The publication / use of the trademarks is not authorized, associated with or sponsored by the trademark owners.

  CONTENTS

  About the Author

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Epilogue

  Reader Feedback

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  TRANQUILITY BAY RANCH:

  PROTECTING HALEY || EMMA’S PROTECTOR

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  PROLOGUE

  CLAY

  Lying here, the scope of my rifle trained on the main ranch house below me, took me back to a world I’d hoped to never revisit. It had been three years since an IED ended my career as a SEAL sniper, and I never thought I’d be using my rifle this way again. When Derek told us how our ranch receptionist Haley was in hiding from her ex Damien’s abusive ways, I knew we would be helping her. You couldn’t tell a group of ex-military men a story like that and not expect us all to be pissed off and want to do something.

  I was unsure about the plan. I didn’t like Derek being at risk, but I also knew he could handle himself. Plus, he would have me watching his six. Derek didn’t ask me to go high, I offered. There was no way in hell I was letting a brother go into a hot zone without me watching over him. Still though, lying on the hard ground was not doing anything good for my leg. You would think after three years I’d be used to it, but I was still trying to figure out how to live my new normal. Having a prosthetic leg and a bad case of PTSD was not a good combination. It was taking me longer than I would have liked, but the guys were all good with me and Derek had always been amazing. One of the many benefits of the brotherhood.

  I steadied my shaky hand when I saw Damien pulling a gun out. I had Damien in my crosshairs, and I would be able to make the shot should I need to. I knew Derek didn’t want any shots fired. It would be better to have the police handle it, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t ready. The second Derek moved, I knew Damien had chosen to not go quietly. I instantly squeezed the trigger and watched as Damien crumpled to the floor. Letting out a sigh, I pushed myself up to my elbows. I knew that tonight was only going to get worse. I had just killed someone. There was no way I wasn't going to be getting arrested. At least Derek and Haley were safe now. That was all that mattered.

  Standing hurt like a bitch, but I managed to do it. Now I just needed to hobble down the hill and get back to the house. With each step I took, my leg screamed at me in protest, but I kept going. It was slow, and by the time I arrived, Derek and Haley were coming out of the house, surrounded by uniforms. I noticed that Derek had a bandage over his shoulder, and I knew he had taken a bullet. Quinn, one of the other ranch hands, was with him, but when they saw me, he gave a nod and came in my direction. Derek must have told him to stay with me. I would definitely be going to the station.

  Quinn headed straight for me. When he got close, he said, “How’s the leg?”

  I hated when people asked me about it, but I knew Quinn was a medic for the Rangers. It was in his blood, so I couldn’t fault him for it.

  “Fine. Derek?”

  “Through and through to his shoulder. Looks good. Just needs some stitches, and he’ll be in a sling for a few weeks. Haley is in shock, but she’s unharmed. I’m going with you to the station.”

  His tone of voice said this wasn’t up for debate, which meant Derek told him to go with me. I nodded, and an officer headed over to us.

  “I’m Officer Patrick. We will need to take your gun, and you’ll need to come down to give your statement.”

  I just gave a nod and handed over my rifle. I knew I would be getting it back.

  “Can I drive him?” Quinn asked.

  “You can meet us there, but he’s gonna be going with me.” Officer Patrick said.

  “It’s fine. I’ll see you there.” I said. I was lucky he wasn’t throwing cuffs on me. I wasn’t about to push our luck.

  Quinn gave a nod, and I headed over to the cruiser with Officer Patrick. I was not surprised that I was placed into the back and not in the passenger seat. I did kill someone after all. The ride to the station was done in silence and once we arrived, I was escorted to a holding cell, which was thankfully empty, and told to wait. I let out a sigh and sat down on the bench. I had no idea how long this was going to take, but I was in no condition to stand around the whole time.

  Now that I was no longer being pumped with adrenaline, my body and mind were starting to kick back in. It wasn’t that I had taken a life, it was that I could now be looking at jail time. We didn’t exactly operate within the law on this one. I took in a few small breaths to try and calm my anxious body. I could feel the slight tremble in my hands, and I knew that my anxiety was increasing. I needed to get a handle on it, or I would be too much of a mess when I needed to be questioned.

  I closed my eyes and started to do the breathing exercises that Quinn had suggested a year ago. It’s worked for me before. When I started them early, I could stop the anxiety from getting to its peak. I was hoping to do that now before it became too late. I’m not sure how long I sat there just breathing, but my eyes snapped open when I heard footsteps coming my way. I saw that it was a guard, and I knew he must be there to escort me to the interrogation room. I was glad to be getting somewhere with all of this. I had no idea if I would be able to be cleared and released tonight though.

  “Mr. Perry, you are being moved to the homicide division upstairs for questioning.”

  I didn’t say anything, didn’t need to. I got up and headed over to the guard, who put handcuffs on me. At least they were in front of me, so I could still use my hands. He placed his hand around my bicep and guided me through the building, up an elevator, and down more hallways before finally placing me in a chair in a very small room. I was then handcuffed to the bolt on the table before being left alone.

  I vaguely wondered if I should be calling for a lawyer, but I figured I would wait and see how the questioning went. One of the things that my PTSD hated was small spaces, and this room was very small. Just enough room for the table, two chairs, and enough walking space so you could sit down without walking against the wall. It was already feeling crowded, and I knew that feeling would only get worse once the detective arrived. I was hoping that with only one other chair in the room, there would be just one detective that comes in here.

  That answer came twenty long minutes later, but by that point, my hands were trembling again. It was a female detective who walked in. I had to admit, she was beautifu
l. She had wavy brown hair that touched the top of her shoulders, blue eyes, and a gorgeous face. She was on the shorter side, maybe five foot five, but her body was on fire. She had a small waist with hips and boobs just the perfect size. What was most interesting though, she wasn’t in a suit. She wore a black t-shirt with black skinny jeans and combat boots. She was not the type of detective I was expecting.

  She gave me a warm smile as she walked over to the other side of the table.

  “Evening Mr. Perry. I’m Detective Emma Watson.” She pulled out a key and unlocked the cuffs, something I was very thankful for.

  “I shot him because he was going to shoot my brother. He did shoot my brother,” I said as I pulled my hands back and into my lap.

  “I wasn’t aware you and Derek Quinn were brothers,” she said as she sat down.

  “Not blood.”

  “Military then.”

  “What gave us away?”

  “I was army intelligence for a few years before I was injured and discharged. You learn how to spot’ em. Plus, your buddy Quinn cornered me in the hallway and refused to let me come in to speak to you without his share of the story.” She smiled warmly

  “Army intelligence, eh? That explains the combat boots.”

  “Not regulation, but they are comfortable, to me anyways. Plus, it helps with some of the criminals I go after. What branch were you?”

  “SEALs.”

  “Impressive, and I won’t fault you for being in the navy. I know you would love nothing more than to get out of here. So, let’s try and make this quick and painless. I’ve heard from Mr. Quinn and Haley as well as your other brothers. I know Haley’ ex-boyfriend Damien was abusive. We have the audio recordings. I’ve listened to them all.

  I was relieved to know that she had at least spoken to everyone and knew the story that led up to tonight. I was not in the mood to go over all of that. I was exhausted, anxious, and in pain. I just wanted to go back to the ranch and hide away for the next few days.

  Detective Watson stood up and went over to open the door. She didn’t walk out, though. She just left the door open, walked back over to the table, and leaned against the wall instead of sitting down. Even though the room was the same size, having the door open helped to calm me down. There was a way out of this room, there was light and noise from the hallway coming in. Based on her actions, she knew I was struggling, something that annoyed the hell out of me.

  “The rifle that you used is going to take a bit to go through our processing before it can be returned to you. I’m assuming it’s the one you had in the navy?”

  “I bought it while I was serving. It’s registered and hasn’t been fired in three years. Is Derek ok?”

  “He’s going to be just fine. The bullet was a through and through, and he will be heading home shortly if he hasn’t already been released. Haley is good as well. I just need you to write your statement from tonight, and then I’ll get you out of here. Do you want your buddy in here with you?”

  “I just need paper and a pen.” Even if I wanted Quinn here, I wasn’t going to show her any more weakness than she’d already seen.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  It took me all of thirty minutes to write everything down before Detective Watson took my statement, read it, and then signed it as a witness. I figured I would be going back to my cell, but she surprised me yet again.

  “You are good to go. I’ll be in touch, though, and we might need to talk again, but I’m confident this will be ruled as self-defense. You’ll be fine. Your buddy is just down the hallway

  “That’s it? I’m free to go?” I couldn’t help but be surprised. I thought for sure I would be stuck here for at least a day or two.

  “You were protecting your friend and your home. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’ll be in touch, Mr. Perry.”

  I wasn’t about to question it, so I got up and made my way out. I did my best to make sure I didn’t let the pain from my leg show on my face or my movements. It was hard, though, because it was killing me. If Detective Watson noticed, she didn’t say anything. Good. I just wanted to get the hell out of there. I wanted my bed, I wanted Roxy, and I wanted this whole night behind me.

  CHAPTER 1

  EMMA

  It had been a week since I was given the ranch shooting case, a week since I’d had the pleasure of meeting Clay Perry. I could normally let a case go once it was closed, but for some reason I couldn’t get Clay out of my mind. From my time in the army, I was very good at putting a case down and walking away. I didn’t get involved or attached. I’d learnt not to the hard way. A lot of detectives, especially new ones, took their work home with them. They’d get invested and let their emotions get the better of them. The end result was a detective who would barely function and who burned out quickly.

  Some of my co-workers would say I was cold or distant, but I wasn’t. I just knew how to detach from the work. That didn’t mean I didn’t care about what happened to my victims and their families. I still fought for justice and poured everything I had into finding their killers. I was damn good at finding my guy. It was why I’d been given the cases that I had. If it couldn’t be solved, if it was high profile, it went to me. I had a team of four other detectives that I could work with, but I didn’t have a set partner. I preferred it that way.

  I was on my way to Tranquility Bay Ranch to return Clay’s rifle and let him know that he was cleared of all charges. The case was being ruled as self-defense as I’d known it would be. Clay was defending his home and the people who lived there. Besides, he was a war vet. No one really wanted to arrest a war vet. I just needed to return his rifle, give him the good news, and then it would be over and done with. Clay would be out of my mind, and I could go back to focusing on what truly mattered, the next case. I was already working a double homicide, and I didn’t have much time to spend away from the investigation.

  Pulling into the ranch, I parked and then got out. I didn’t know where Clay lived on the property, so I headed over to the office. Walking in, I saw Haley sitting behind the desk. I knew she worked here from the case, and I was glad to see that she was doing well and had stayed around. It was none of my business, but it would have been a shame for her to leave after everyone at the ranch risked their lives and freedom to protect her.

  “Detective Watson, what brings you by?” she asked me with a smile.

  “I’m looking for Clay Perry. I need to speak with him. Is he around?”

  I wasn’t sure what he did on the ranch, so I was hoping he was here somewhere.

  “He’s at his house. It’s the foreman’s house, just to the left of us. Make sure you ring the bell instead of knocking.”

  “Thanks.”

  Even without the warning, I wouldn’t have knocked. When he came to the station, I could tell Clay was struggling with some level of anxiety and I could assume PTSD. My brother had an issue with loud noises as well, and something as simple as a knock could be enough to set him off on those really bad days.

  I grabbed the rifle from my car before heading over to the foreman’s house. If Clay was living here, that meant he was the foreman, so he helped to keep the ranch and the ranch hands doing what they needed to be doing. It would be a lot of work, but work could be a blessing for vets. The busier they were, the easier it was to deal with the war going on inside their own heads.

  The house itself looked to be in good shape, just like the rest of the ranch. I didn’t know much about ranches, but from what I heard, this place was on the downslope when Derek took over. Now it was thriving, and Derek only hired ex-military, something I respected him for. I hit the doorbell and heard a dog barking. I made sure I was standing back far enough so Clay would be able to see me through the peephole.

  Clay opened the door, and I could instantly see he was exhausted. He hadn’t been sleeping too well. I’d imagine memories from the war had been triggered by last week.

  “Morning, sorry to bother you at your home. I just wanted to return
your rifle and let you know that you have been cleared of all charges. The case is closed,” I said, handing over his rifle.

  Clay took it with a shaky hand and placed it down inside the door. “Appreciate it.”

  “Can I come in?” I asked.

  I could have had this conversation in the doorway, but I felt an undeniable need to be inside, to see his place and be able to talk longer than need be. He was hurting. I could see it clear in his eyes. This was a man who had survived war and was fighting back the demons inside of him. The fact that he had a job and was active spoke volumes to his strength and will power.

  Clay stepped back, and I took that as my invitation to go inside. I was instantly welcomed by a beautiful German Shepherd, who I guessed to be around one year old.

  “Well, hello beautiful. Who are you?” I said, as I gave the dog some love.

  “Roxy.” Clay answered, closing the door, and moving towards his kitchen.

  I could see his leg was causing him some pain, and I also noticed his uneven gait. That’s when I knew he didn’t come back with just invisible injuries, but physical as well.

  “Where did you get her?” I asked, following Clay into his kitchen.

  The house itself was nice, but it was messy. I expected as much. It was hard to keep up with housework when you were struggling with PTSD. I knew the signs better than anyone.

  “Derek takes in rescue cats and dogs. She was found a few weeks ago on the side of the road. She was neglected and abused, so Derek took her in. For some reason, she won’t leave me alone.”

  “The reason is simple. She knows you need her. Just like she needs you. Dogs are good that way. She looks to be ok, a little small.”

  “She’s gained about twenty pounds in the past couple of weeks. She was mostly covered in filth. The pads on her paws were beat up, but she’s all healed now. What did you need to tell me?”

  “Nothing, I just wanted to come inside and check in on you,” I answered honestly. I could tell Clay was not one interested in having people tip toe around him.