by Em Petrova
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This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.
All Rights Reserved
Target in Range
Ranger Ops
Book 5
Copyright Em Petrova 2019
Ebook Edition
Electronic book publication 2019
All rights reserved. Any violation of this will be prosecuted by the law.
Avery Aarons believes it’s fate that she will die by the hand of a criminal. As a child, she hid in a cupboard while men ransacked their home. In college, she met with an attacker walking home on campus. After that, going into law enforcement is her only path to protect herself and others who can’t. She’s never felt so empowered, until she ends up in the wrong place without backup.
When Jess Monet attends a CPR refresher course and runs into the sexy brown-eyed officer his special ops team helped out, he’s just as impressed this time around. He must admit, Avery’s got some pretty damn good moves on the CPR dummy too, though Jess has had his fill of rejection lately and is reluctant to pursue more than a friendship with the tough, beautiful woman. He also knows she’s completely right for him.
While on a short hiatus from her job due to an investigation, Avery has no idea what to do with her time. Spending it with the hunky special ops man is driving her to distraction, though, and she wishes he’d just make a move. Preferably one that lands them both naked in bed. Too soon fate comes after her again, and this time she’s sure it’s the end for her. But Jess isn’t about to let anything happen to the woman he’s growing too fond of to deny… the only woman who can rescue him right back.
More in this series:
AT CLOSE RANGE
WITHIN RANGE
POINT BLANK RANGE
RANGE OF MOTION
TARGET IN RANGE
OUT OF RANGE
TARGET IN RANGE
by
Em Petrova
Prologue
The wind howled through the trees outside Avery’s bedroom window, but it didn’t mask the thump of boots and slamming of doors.
Somebody was in the house.
Why, oh why had she said she was too old for a babysitter? Her parents wouldn’t be home for hours from their cards night with friends, and she knew those rough, low voices coming from the front of the house did not belong to her parents.
She had woken the second she heard the back door. Nobody used the back, and at that moment, she knew what was going on.
Robbers had come, and she was alone. Helpless.
Her heart pounded in her ears and filled her chest, slamming until it hurt and she felt it all the way up into her teeth. Her hands were icy, but there was no turning over and cuddling beneath her Hello Kitty quilts.
She had to hide.
The men weren’t bothering to be quiet—they thought the house was empty. They were coming down the hall.
“Find the bedroom. Women always have jewelry.” One man’s voice jolted her with how close it was to her door.
“Might be a gun there too. I’d like another to add to my collection.”
“Yeah, gotta protect against people like you.”
The coarse words barely registered in Avery’s head. She rolled out of bed to her knees. Thank goodness she had carpet and made no sound. But she couldn’t move either—she was frozen in fear, her stare locked on the door, waiting for it to burst inward and the evil men to look her in the eyes.
She peered through the strands of her brown hair. They wavered in front of her vision, because she was shaking.
One more heavy footstep, just outside her door.
She scrambled up and lunged toward her closet.
No, it was always the first place robbers looked. She needed another hiding spot.
Avery was a reader, and for her tenth birthday, her daddy had construction workers come in and build her a book nook around her window with a seat underneath. Her momma had sewn her a plump cushion, and Avery spent hours curled up there reading every chance she got.
Shelves surrounded the window, all packed with her favorite mysteries and books about girls winning championships for riding horses. Recently, her teacher had loaned her the first book of a series about girls in middle school, and Avery was captivated by all the changes that would take place in her future, namely getting boobs and liking boys.
Under the window seat was an empty cupboard, not yet filled with books, but Avery had shoved some old sneakers and dirty clothes in there when her momma told her to clean her room. It was big enough to hide in.
Shuffling on hands and knees as fast as she could, she reached the cupboard and yanked open the door. Diving inside head-first, she held her breath. Her lungs burned and her head swam. She took a shallow breath and let it trickle out slowly as she drew the door shut.
Too late, she realized she might not be able to open the cupboard door from the inside and could be trapped in here without much air and a pair of dirty old sneakers stuffed in the corner until her parents came home.
On the other side of the wall in her parents’ room, she heard drawers opening and things hitting the floor as they were tossed about. Ransacked, was the word, she’d read once. Until now, she hadn’t totally pictured what it meant.
Pressing a hand over her drumming heart, she strained to listen. She heard something smash, probably the pretty lamp with flowers her momma liked so much.
Then one man said, “Found it.”
“Looks like a .38 Special.”
“Yeah, bullets too. Now find the jewelry and we can get outta here.”
Avery slumped in the cupboard, nose smashed against the wood while tears silently rolled down her cheeks. Please don’t let my mom and dad come home till they’re gone. Please don’t’ let them come for me too.
When the steps moved out of her parents’ room next door to hers, she squeezed her eyes shut and mentally begged them not to come in. Her door burst inward, smashing off the wall.
“Just a kid’s room. Nothin’ here.”
The steps moved on.
She focused on the sound of their steps, tracking them through the rest of the house, and finally heard nothing. Her heart wouldn’t slow, and she was terrified to open the cupboard door to find the men staring at her, so she stayed hidden until she heard her father’s shouts and her mother’s shrill cry.
It was a long time before she could sleep in her own bed again.
Chapter One
Jess brought his energy drink to his lips and sipped. It was his second of the afternoon, and he’d pay for it by fucking up his sleep schedule for a week, but staying alert was more important than his future sleep habits.
He’d just spent eighteen hours hunting down a homegrown terrorist through back country Texas and into Oklahoma. They’d ranged all over, tracking the lone wolf who seemed to have no alliance to country or ties to any one group which would help Ranger Ops locate him.
Then when they had, they’d been surprised to find he wasn’t operating alone, after all. Good thing they knew how to think on the fly, because being outnumbered in men and weapons hadn’t mattered when up against their tactics and skills.
Though their Hail-Mary maneuver had gotten Jess some bruised ribs when he’d taken two rounds in the Kevlar vest, they’d been victorious.
But after putting out that dumpster fire, he’d come home and been
handed this mess. He stared at the three computer monitors in front of him, each bearing a man’s photo and what looked like a list of terroristic achievements underneath.
How Jess had moved into the role of special forces intelligence analyst on the side was a story to tell down at the bar—not that he could tell a single soul. They’d all think he’d had one too many whiskey chasers if he said his colonel in an elite division of Homeland Security had given Jess a phone call from a terrorist one night, and Jess had handled it well enough to continue with the work.
Gathering intel on a spy who fed information to various terrorist groups around the world took more of Jess’s strength and focus than hand-to-hand combat with any enemy.
He studied the face on the first monitor. Andres Moreno didn’t look different from any man you’d see on a city street, in a church pew or seated at the next table in a restaurant. He was mid-thirties, clean-cut and wore small wire glasses that gave him a studious look. But that was where the good-guy resemblance ended.
Under his photo, his rap sheet went on and on. He’d provided intelligence resulting in more bombings and attacks than the other two men filling Jess’s computer screens.
The next was Edgar Ortiz, and the man Moreno was speaking to currently. He had a neck like a bull and eyes without any semblance of kindness in the black depths. He’d been convicted twice and served time in prison. But that hadn’t stopped him from continuing on his quest to control the politicians of Mexico City through intimidation and the ever-present threat of violence.
Jess adjusted his headset and focused more on the conversation taking place between the two men.
Over the past few months, he’d heard this suspect’s voice so much he felt as if he knew the guy better than his own brothers. He hadn’t spoken to the three of them in months. They were busy, he was busy. What little free time he had, he was eavesdropping on this motherfucker.
He sighed and made a note of something, translating it from the Spanish he’d just heard to English for his superior officers. After he got the intel he needed from this asshole, Homeland Security would strike, and Ranger Ops would likely be heading the operation.
The man’s inflection changed, and Jess perked up. His son was in the room, and he was speaking to the kid.
May I go outside and play with Esteban?
It’s getting late. Nearly time for supper.
Please, Papa? Just ten minutes.
Ten will turn to half an hour and then I will be out after dark searching for my son. You know the rules, Brayan.
Oh all right, Papa.
Mijo. Come here and let me give you a hug. Then run into the kitchen and tell Juanita that you can spoil your supper with a sweet.
Really? Thanks!
Jess compressed his lips. He wouldn’t scribble this exchange in his notes—what he was listening for were details outside of Andres Moreno’s personal life. The man had a son and a daughter, though Jess rarely heard him speak to the girl. He also had a wife, who had ‘suddenly died.’ In US terms, she’d had several Xanaxes with her bottle of tequila, but knowing Moreno’s world, Jess questioned if she had been killed.
This was all speculation, of course. Something had to keep his mind busy during the long, dull hours of listening to Moreno talk about nothing.
His intel training had taught him to pick out things that sounded and seemed normal as well. Often intel was hidden, embedded in regular conversations. Just about every government agency had had reason to suspect well-kept secrets were shared right under their noses, though as of yet no one had been able to pin down exactly when, where, or with who. The only common denominator was Moreno, which is why Homeland Security had had him on their radar for a year, but Jess had only been brought in a few months ago to do his part.
He yawned so wide his jaw cracked—the energy drink hadn’t kicked in yet. He took another sip and blinked at his surroundings.
His muscles were screaming from sitting still so long, and his bruised ribs would cause problems when trying to sleep, but that didn’t matter because he couldn’t sleep now anyway.
The talk went on between Moreno and yet another friend—his fourth this afternoon. The guy’s photo flipped onto Jess’s screen.
Man, this asshole’s chattier than a damn woman.
The mundane stuff often held hidden meaning, though, so Jess listened harder.
Our team isn’t doing well this season…
When I drove into the city, there was road construction and many stops…
Hey, Papa, Juanita told me I mustn’t ruin my dinner with sweets unless you do as well. She gave me a torta de tres leches for you, too.
Jess translated that to a triple milk cake, and his stomach growled despite the fact he had no clue how the pastry would taste. He was, however, thinking of one of his momma’s treats she made him and his brothers when they were young. Apple dumplin’s were always their favorite, and they’d ask for them every chance they got.
Apple dumplin’s with ice cream, he thought.
The familiar voice of Moreno’s son projected into Jess’s ear. I love you, Papa.
Love you too, son.
Since his own father had taken off before he could remember, Jess heard exchanges such as this and marveled that there were father-son relationships like it. Closest he came was a punch in the shoulder from his older brother Jeremy.
He listened another few minutes with nothing in particular standing out to him as important. When the call between Moreno and his friend ended, Jess pulled off his headphones and swiped a hand over his face. Now that they were finished up, the energy drink was kicking in, his body energized with caffeine just in time to hit the sack.
He shot off a text to Colonel Downs.
All is dark.
Downs returned it almost immediately. Knock off. Talk to you tomorrow.
Jess set aside his headphones and got off his chair. Taking a few steps to his window, he looked out into the street where he lived. Everything was still outside, his neighbors home from work and their cars tucked neatly away in their garages. They were all indoors, making dinner for their families.
He didn’t have one of those to claim.
He was no longer tired.
Hell, if he wasn’t looking out the window, he’d have no damn clue what time of day it was. His body said it was time for bed, but the caffeine held his eyelids open.
It’s the time when a man turns to his lover and burns off his insomnia on pleasuring her.
Except there was no lover either.
If he had any luck with women, it was bad luck. The guys in Ranger Ops razzed him that he’d been dumped more than their loads of dirty laundry.
Jess was resigned to the fact that he was utterly dump-able. If he danced all night with a woman, he’d text her later, only to learn she was back with her ex. Hell, his last long-term girlfriend kept hounding him to move in together but when he agreed and they started looking at apartments, she’d run off with the realtor showing them to her.
His buddy and fellow Ranger Ops teammate Cavanagh, or Cav, said that women wanted to be treated like crap and then they’d be all over Jess, but he thought that was bullshit too.
He was thirty-six years old, had never been married and had nobody to share his bed on a long night when he was pumped full of too much caffeine.
Resigned with his lot in life, he let out a sigh and moved away from the window. He slowly lowered himself onto the sofa, careful of his ribs, and switched on the TV to watch the football highlights from games he always missed because he was working.
Meanwhile, his mind was wide awake, working over the fact that when Ranger Ops finally got enough intel to strike Moreno, the man’s son would be orphaned.
Now that was the kind of shit that kept a man up at night.
* * * * *
Avery switched her shopping bags to one hand and reached inside her purse for her car keys. As she withdrew them, she glanced up over the hood of her car and across the parking lot. The big
overhead lamps cast circles of light onto the asphalt, but off to the side in the shadows, she saw something that had her looking twice.
Quickly, she opened her car and tossed the bags on the seat. Then she turned to look again.
An altercation between a man and woman. He appeared to be shoving her against the side of his truck. She slipped away, and he grabbed her back. There was a thudding noise when her spine hit the metal.
Hell. She’d been called to enough of these cases along with her partner on the police force, Reggie. There was a domestic taking place right here at the grocery store. But Avery was off duty and should call for—
The man raised his arm and backhanded the woman. She crumpled.
Avery took off running, hand on the butt of the concealed weapon she’d carried since she became legal age… and right after she’d been attacked on her college campus.
She ran swiftly and silently, her sneakers barely making noise on the hot asphalt. She crouched behind the truck just as the woman let out a muffled scream.
Straightening, she walked around the car, hand still on her lower back where her weapon nestled. “Hey! Get your hands off her,” she called out.
The guy whipped around. The woman collapsed against the truck and scrabbled to open the door in attempt to get away from him.
“Who the hell’re you? Get out of here, woman!” He spat at Avery.
“Step out from around the truck, and get your hands where I can see them,” Avery shouted back.
“Fuck you, lady. Goddamn women think they own me.” He drove a fist into the truck door. “Kayla, get outta the truck now!”
“Sir, step away from the truck!” Avery commanded in the same forceful tone. Under her fingers, the warm steel of her pistol gave her confidence.
“Kayla, get out!” he bellowed. Across the lot, other store patrons ran to their cars.
Avery heard the click of the truck door locks, but just then the guy went for his waistband.
