Out of Range (Ranger Ops Book 6)

by Em Petrova

  “Don’t think that way. Think of this as a little weekend away with a gorgeous man who’s crazy about you and how that will enhance your life.”

  “Sarah, are you sure you shouldn’t have become a therapist instead of a teacher?”

  “Same thing, isn’t it? Except usually I’m counseling kids about their crushes or who spread a rumor about them that wasn’t true.” She stuck out her tongue, and suddenly Arielle felt a lot better about everything.

  She put her arm around Sarah and gave her a little squeeze of thanks.

  Sarah shot her a grin and picked up her sandwich again. After taking a big bite and swallowing, she said, “Aren’t you going to ask me about my morning?”

  “Of course. How rude of me to be so fixated on my own life. Did you have a rough morning?” She began pulling out her own food, a sandwich made of the cold beef left over from last night.

  Her friend slanted a look at Jason, the teacher who had done so much at the park cleanup with them. He sat at the end with the other teachers in his department, but he didn’t seem to be paying any attention to their discussion. He was looking at Sarah.

  Arielle’s lips formed an O of understanding. “I see.” She smiled widely. “When did this start?”

  “Before the cleanup project. Oh no, he’s staring at me. I feel like I’m in high school again. Quick, pretend we’re talking.”

  She giggled. “We are talking.”

  “He asked me out after the park cleanup, and we’ve seen each other twice. We went to the movies, but you know, movies don’t make great dates because you don’t get to know each other at all—you just sit there in the dark staring at a screen. So I suggested we go line dancing.”

  “That sounds like so much fun.” She tried to picture herself and Cav line dancing, but they’d just end up making out on the floor. Or he’d take her to his truck and…

  Sarah waved a hand in front of her face, bringing her back from that fantasy. She concentrated on her friend.

  “So how do you feel things are going?” she asked Sarah.

  Her smile said everything. “I think there’s definitely something there. I mean, this happens all the time with work colleagues, right? You have similar careers and the same goals.”

  She nodded, but Sarah’s words were pulling her thoughts from all directions. She and Cav had very different lives. Would their connection and attraction be enough?

  She had a lot to consider between now and the cabin retreat this weekend.

  * * * * *

  Cav stared at Sully and then flicked his gaze at the metal building in the distance. “You’re telling me they traced materials from the explosive in Rose back to this place?”

  “Yeah.” Sully stared at the big, old wood and metal building too, a skeptical furrow between his brows that matched Cav’s and the other four Ranger Ops about to storm the place.

  “I think OFFSUS is fucking with us,” Jess said. “I mean, you can say it’s conveniently placed in the middle of nowhere. There aren’t even roads in and out of this place. We just hiked three miles on foot.” They were just across the Oklahoma border, in no man’s territory.

  “The coordinates are right.” Sully signaled to Woody, bringing him up into place on his three. “Set up here as sharpshooter. We’re going in and see what we can find.”

  He didn’t waste time setting up his equipment and training his sights on the building, while the rest of them stole through the darkness to the building.

  Rust stains covered most of the walls and roof—the place looked to have been erected here decades ago, but for what purpose? Like Sully said, there weren’t roads leading to it. No foundations of a fallen house were within sight, indicating the place wasn’t a garage or used as a barn.

  The thing might as well have been set down here by aliens, and while Cav enjoyed a good puzzle, this fucking location was highly suspicious. He was always waiting to be ambushed, but this felt a little like ghosts could be their enemies.

  He and Jess obeyed hand signals to circle the back. Their night vision goggles gave them the ability to see even in this pitch-black, moonless night. With his weapon at the ready, he came upon the back door first. He threw Jess a look.

  His buddy lifted his weapon and shot through the lock. The silencer kept the noise muffled, but when the lock exploded, it was loud enough to signal anyone within. Not waiting another moment, Cav pushed open the door, the hinges creaked.

  Jess rushed in, sweeping the place. From the front, the others gained access, and they converged, searching every corner, and several minutes later found the place empty. Not even a homegrown government-hating radical was here.

  One wall had a workbench built from junk wood and pallets. Cav got a light on the surface and started searching for anything that would point to the bomb. Old car parts and oil funnels indicated somebody might have come here at one time in a vehicle and done some repairs. But there were no tracks leading in or out of the place, and the high grasses around the building would have revealed traffic.

  As he moved down the bench, inspecting dirty old cardboard boxes and sifting through the oily contents, he grew more convinced the intelligence OFFSUS was sending them was as much crap as the junk he was looking at.

  “Who owns this place?” he asked anyone who could answer.

  Sully responded, “The deed to the land says a guy by the name of Dwight Boden.”

  “Age?”

  “Sixty-six.”

  “Seems right, with what I’m seeing here.” Older guys tinkered with cars and fixed things, whereas younger generations tossed broken pieces in the trash.

  “What is the point of having this place way out here in the middle of nowhere?” Cav said almost to himself. His mind was hard at work, spinning tales about the owner and any ties he might have to a man who’d want to make bombs. “Does this Boden have any family?”

  “Yeah, couple o’ sons toward Oklahoma City. Wife’s deceased.”

  “Doesn’t look like anybody’s been here in a long time. Is he in good health?”

  “No word on that. Just that he’s living in a town twenty-six miles away.”

  “Do we have any old satellite images of this place? Maybe there was once a house or something?” Cav looked to Jess, who could pull up a picture of Saddam Hussein’s asshole if he wanted to.

  “Searching.” Jess set to work and pulled up the database for Homeland Security.

  Cav continued moving along the workbench. He paused to inspect a spool of copper wire, appearing to be brand new—at least twenty years ago. Now the wire was oxidized to a deep green color, though the end was still tucked in, never pulled free for use.

  Meanwhile the rest of the guys tossed every corner of the place and came up empty-handed.

  “There must be something here or we wouldn’t have been sent to check things out.” Sully’s words sounded as though he was trying to convince himself they hadn’t been pulled away from their families and loved ones for nothing.

  “Shit. Cav, you’re right. There used to be an old trailer up here.” Jess’s words brought him around to stare at him.

  “If there was a trailer, no wonder there’s no trace of a foundation. So this place was inhabited at one point. Boden—is he military? Was he in ‘Nam by chance?” Cav’s brain was forming a new image of a man who had come back from war with a lot of fear and distrust of humanity. Made sense for him to find a spot in the middle of nowhere, where he isolated himself and his family too.

  “Yeah, he fought in the tail end of the Vietnam War. Get this—he was an explosives specialist. Deactivating landmines.” Jess held out his phone screen so Cav could get a look at the guy’s picture in full uniform.

  “Got the know-how, then. Damn,” he said quietly, studying the photo. “He earned a purple heart. Taken prisoner and escaped to rejoin his platoon.” They were dealing with a fucking hero who had cause to be so nervous about the world he just fought to protect and probably found volatile upon his return.

  Cav
had heard of a vet or two who stockpiled ammo and other types of weaponry “in case.” It was totally possible that Boden was the same.

  “I hear your thoughts, Cav. I think you’re right. The man’s seen some shit and has—or had—some items that would be useful in making a bomb. But he’s living out his days in a rented house in a quiet town. No one hears a peep from him, except when he takes himself off to church.” Jess swiped the screen, and the image of Boden disappeared.

  “What about those sons of his? Did we check them out thoroughly?”

  Sully shook his head. “That I don’t know. But we were sent here because there were traces of a certain type of soil on some of the parts of that bomb from Rose.”

  He leveled Sully in his gaze. “Soil.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Meaning the shit’s buried. Underground.”

  Sully met his stare for a heartbeat. “Outside, men. Woody, we’re coming out.”

  Woody’s chuckle echoed in his comms unit. “Don’t worry—I can identify a target. You won’t get your balls shot off.”

  The search took hours, with each man spreading out and combing the earth underfoot for a trace of a depression where something might be buried or a trap door leading to a storm cellar. Cav kept returning to the metal building, though. His gut instincts were that anything so important wouldn’t be left to the elements. A soldier took care of his weapons, after all. Which meant he kept the materials under a roof.

  With his flashlight beam washing over the floor, he carefully scanned each inch of the building.

  When his boot gave a hollow thump, he stopped dead. Could it be…?

  “Guys, I might have something.”

  Cav pulled his lethal knife free. With the weapon in his fist, he used the point to dig away the dirt compressed overtop of a concealed wooden door. They’d passed over the opening several times, because the outline wasn’t obvious. If not for the sound his boot had made when he stepped right on the door, he would have passed by again.

  “Get ready.” Sully and the others had their weapons trained on the space as Cav pried up the door.

  Nothing sprang out at them, and nobody was within the depths. But Cav’s beam cast over a small space, no bigger than a coat closet, containing the items needed to create one hell of a bomb.

  Chapter Seven

  Arielle pulled up in front of the cutest little cabin she’d ever set eyes on. Nestled in the woods, this was the most private spot she could think of to spend a weekend with a lover.

  A lover. If someone had told her a month ago she’d be meeting a hot man for a weekend alone, she would have laughed in his face. The leap she’d taken, both emotionally and in faith, was huge.

  She put the car into park and slowly climbed out. Savoring the scent of woods and growing things, she noted the softness of the earth underfoot. Everything was different here than what she was used to—maybe this was what made Cav choose the location. She could easily picture him on that rustic front porch, feet up on the railing, a beer in hand.

  A small shiver of anticipation ran through her as she collected her bag from the back seat and walked up to the wooden steps. The cabin was well maintained, and even the porch’s corners swept free of cobwebs.

  When she climbed the steps, she stood looking out at the surrounding forest. A path led to some unknown secret spot, and she looked forward to exploring. But she looked toward the road. No sign of Cav’s truck.

  She’d just have to go inside and wait.

  Exploring the charms of the cabin only took a few minutes. The space was small, with rustic furniture and an inviting nook to sit and read. She had all her library on her phone, so at least she was set if she needed to wait for Cav.

  A look at the bedroom had her stomach clenching with heat. The queen-sized bed with a tree branch headboard and sky blue patchwork quilt begged for him to lay her down there.

  She turned her attention from the bed and placed her bag on top of the dresser. Then she checked the kitchen. The cupboards had the bare bones of accoutrements to prepare meals, and she’d been stupid not to bring food. Well, once Cav arrived—and after a steamy-hot greeting—they could drive into town and see about buying some food.

  The dead silence seemed to break into her thoughts, and she swore she could hear the air moving.

  She walked back out to the porch and sat there on an Adirondack chair waiting. After an hour passed, her spine hurt from the wooden chair and she went back indoors. She stretched out on the couch and swiped through her emails. No messages or missed calls from Cav.

  By seven o’clock, she had a gnawing hunger from skipping a meal, but her stomach bore a lead weight too. If he didn’t show up, if he was detained…

  With too much energy to sit here any longer, she slipped on her hiking shoes and headed to the trail. There was at least an hour before full dark, plenty of time to wander the trail.

  The dirt track meandered down a small slope to a creek narrow enough to leap if you had long legs. A footbridge was a good place to stop and look around, and she did, arms crossed over her chest, her heart sad.

  It would always be this way with Cav. Loving him would hurt more in the end—was she willing to walk that path again?

  Sarah wouldn’t know such anxiety and worry with Jason. She’d see him in the faculty lounge and could wink at him in the hallway between classes. If their relationship progressed to marriage, they’d drive home together and she wouldn’t need to worry about where he was or if he was getting shot at.

  With a heavy sigh on her lips, she stood there, heartstrings knotted… and Cav clutched them tight in his fist.

  * * * * *

  When Cav arrived at the cabin, his mind flooded with a dozen excuses for why he was late—he’d stopped off for rations, he needed to fuel up, there was a wreck on the interstate.

  All true but he wasn’t going to say any of them to Arielle. She deserved to know that he’d just been running late, because shit never went to schedule with the Ranger Ops.

  Already feeling like a dick, he felt like a colossal ass when he realized she wasn’t in the cabin either. Knowing her, she couldn’t sit still and had taken herself off to some rustic basket-weaving class at the pavilion or gone on a hike.

  The sun was clinging to the edge of the horizon, about to sink below it, and he didn’t like her out there in the dark.

  Dropping everything he’d lugged indoors, he strode back out the door. First, he’d check the trail. If she wasn’t there, then he’d go on a reconnaissance mission and search every damn cabin and trail in the state park if necessary.

  Quickly, he came upon the creek and there, up a short distance on the path, was a bridge, and Arielle stood on it, arms crossed, staring into space.

  His heart jerked in his chest. Jesus, what the hell was that?

  He’d known this was coming, imminent even, but… holy hell, it felt like he was free falling and hadn’t pulled his chute yet. The rush of adrenaline hit like a semi-truck, and he couldn’t even breathe for a moment.

  The way her hair tickled her shoulders, the curve of her cheek in profile… he’d never stop looking forward to seeing those things. Or hearing her voice. Or holding her.

  Put into motion, he followed the path to the bridge. She turned at the sound of his step, and the hint of alarm in her eyes fled as she saw who he was.

  The idea that a stranger could have come across her and— He broke off the thought, unable to give it traction in his mind.

  She bit her lip as she looked up at him. “So you did come.”

  Dammit. This wasn’t how their weekend was supposed to start.

  “I’m sorry I’m so late, baby. I—”

  She brushed past him and started up the slope away from him, leaving him to stare at her retreating back. She walked stiffly, and it didn’t take a genius to realize she was pissed, or that he deserved the cold shoulder and a nice bed in the corner of the doghouse. But he had no intention of letting her be cold for very long or sleeping witho
ut her in his arms.

  He followed but gave her space. Once she got inside, she tossed a look over her shoulder. “I’m going to take a shower,” she said and disappeared into the bathroom, closing the door firmly against him joining her.

  He raked his fingers through his hair. Time to pull out the big guns.

  On the way, he’d stopped and picked up the fixin’s for chicken alfredo with broccoli. He had no idea how to make the dish, but he could make spaghetti and alfredo couldn’t be much different, right?

  From the kitchen, he could hear the shower going as he located pots and pans and unpacked the groceries. He laid everything out on the counter, his mind wandering to the naked, wet woman in the shower just a few steps away from him, and how he wasn’t allowed to put his hands on her yet.

  When he found a cutting board and began chopping chives, he realized the water wasn’t running anymore. Quickly, he started cutting up the chicken and damn if he didn’t slice right into the pad of his index finger.

  “Goddammit.” He moved away from the food so he didn’t bleed on it and reached to turn on the kitchen faucet, when a startled gasp sounded from the doorway.

  “You’re cut.” Arielle rushed forward and grabbed his wrist.

  “It’s nothing. Just a small slice.” He wasn’t even looking at his injured finger—he was staring at her beautiful face, the way her lashes swooped over her dark eyes and then flicked up when she looked at him.

  A flush flooded her cheeks. “Let me find some bandages. They must have a first-aid kit around here. Put your finger under the water.” She turned on the faucet and shoved his hand under the stream.

  He ignored his hand in favor of watching the sultry sway of her hips as she returned to the bathroom. A minute later, she appeared with a box of bandages and some peroxide.

  “Hold out your hand.”

  He did, and she switched off the faucet before dumping peroxide over the cut.

  “I’m sorry if this stings,” she said softly.

  Lifting his other hand to cup her jaw, he gazed down at her. “Baby, I don’t give a damn about a little cut. But I hate that you’re upset with me. I’d make excuses, but I can’t. Fact is, this is my life, because of what I do and who I am. Can you live with it?”