At Close Range (Ranger Ops Book 1)

by Em Petrova

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  They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.

  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

  At Close Range

  Ranger Ops Series

  Book 1

  Copyright Em Petrova 2019

  Ebook Edition

  Electronic book publication 2019

  All rights reserved. Any violation of this will be prosecuted by the law.

  Bullets aren’t the only things flying on this mission...

  When Texas Ranger Nash Sullivan finds himself in a hailstorm of gunfire during a bunker raid, he handles himself—and those around him—with his usual skill and sharp wit. It seems his charm worked its wonders too, because he’s gone from a Ranger to a special ops unit captain overnight. His first assignment—find a man everyone’s believed dead for the past decade. And he and his Ranger Ops team are going in.

  Ten years ago, when Nevaeh Vincent’s brother disappeared on a hiking expedition, her heart was torn out. Now, it’s flayed open once more after her family is questioned again on the matter. She catches wind that the reason behind it is her brother’s been spotted—and a special ops team is going undercover to find him. With that kind of hope, how could she ever stay away?

  After Nash finds Nevaeh in a rough Mexican hostel asking all the questions that will get her killed, he has no choice but to take her along and protect her. Problem is her beautiful eyes are a distraction… and he can’t quit thinking about latching onto those plump lips and showing her how to obey his every command. Nevaeh is here to find her brother. So why can’t she ignore the sexy Ranger Ops captain? Could these feelings be real or just aftershocks of her adrenaline-filled journey?

  Ranger Ops

  AT CLOSE RANGE

  WITHIN RANGE

  POINT BLANK RANGE

  AT CLOSE RANGE

  by

  Em Petrova

  Chapter One

  “Good morning, sir.”

  “It’s afternoon, Ranger Lieutenant.”

  Nash Sullivan had seen the sun rise two days and set two nights. He didn’t know if he was even still on his feet let alone what numbers the hands on the clock pointed to.

  He stood at attention before his superior officer, Colonel Robert Downs, Defense Coordinating Officer on the case Nash had just completed. The blinds were half drawn in the room, allowing the sunlight to slant across the table. It played with Nash’s eyes, sending visions of the shadows made by chopper blades over the baked earth through his mind.

  “Go on, Sullivan. Give your report.”

  “Sir, I am Ranger Lieutenant Nash Sullivan of Rangers Company A. My team consisted of nine other men sent to neutralize the threat along the Sabine River. Do you want me to name my team members, sir?”

  “No, I know who they are. Just give your statement, Ranger Lieutenant.” Nash’s superior wasn’t a man he knew well—only knew of. The stuff of legends, a decorated Texas Ranger who served a decade before his promotion to an advisor to the US military. And how he’d come to take interest in what was a relatively small threat in the US was a question mark in Nash’s mind. After a grueling two-day battle, though, he may not be thinking straight.

  Nash continued, “We arrived at O-four-hundred. It was still dark. I ordered my guys to split into teams of two and surround the building, which was a metal garage, sir. We didn’t hear any noises and slipped in without detection.”

  As he spoke, the story came in spurts as he relived some of the moments before the words came to his mind. Basically, what he relayed to Downs was a clusterfuck. A raid that didn’t stand a chance against the twenty-two terrorists holed up in that fucking garage—yet somehow Nash and his men had pulled out a Hail-Mary and done their jobs.

  He didn’t express how damn lucky they all were to walk away with their lives and only some minor cuts and scrapes among them—he only stated facts. That they had rooted out the guys in the garage, taken heavy fire, returned it and he himself had killed at least four of those bastards. His partner, Shaw Woodward, or Woody had taken down more. With his sharpshooter skills, the man was priceless as far as sidekicks went. If Nash was ever called upon for a duty like this again, he’d want Woody on his six.

  When he finished speaking, Downs did not move or even twitch an eyebrow. He simply stared at Nash.

  “That’s all, sir.”

  “I see. Ranger Lieutenant Sullivan, have you ever been called on within Company A to handle a threat of his magnitude before?”

  “Not quite like this, sir, but I’ve dealt with some shit in my days with the SWAT team.”

  The man didn’t take offense to Nash cussin’, which was a relief. He was too dead on his feet to guard his tongue, but Downs had led men before and knew their vocabulary consisted of the words fuck, hell, move and now.

  Downs templed his fingers and contemplated Nash. He bore the scrutiny, prepared for any feedback on how he had led his team, good or bad. He’d made choices out there—some not so great—but none of his men were in body bags, so he wasn’t going to apologize.

  And if he did have issues with how Nash had handled things, well, he’d heard it before, that his temper took things too far and he needed to restrain himself. Hell, even his own brother said the same, and he’d gotten himself in a world of trouble nobody could help him out of.

  Nash’s shoulders ached. He hadn’t sat down in hours and didn’t know when he would again, at this rate. His mind was still laser-sharp, though. Nothing else mattered.

  Just as he began to think Downs was just fucking with him, the man cleared his throat. He ran his hand through his high-and-tight haircut that was peppered with gray.

  Nash waited.

  “I don’t often run across people I am impressed with, Sullivan.”

  “Sir.”

  “But I’ve seen Army Rangers fuck up missions like this, while you took nine men and got them into a position to take down those bastards. You realize the number of explosives we found on that property was enough to leave a big crater in the South.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “From my standpoint, you are a bigger asset to the country than your role as a Texas Ranger allows you. And it just so happens that I have a job for you.”

  Nash’s heart kicked up. “Whatever it is, sir, I hope I can get some sleep first.”

  He chuckled, eyeing him up. “I think a few hours can be arranged, but there’s a unit forming right as we speak. If you’re up for the challenge, I plan to send you and some of the men you fought with the past two days to Mexico.”

  Nash might have grinned if he had the energy. “I’d be honored, sir. Challenge accepted.”

  “Good.” He stood and faced Nash. “Welcome to Operation Freedom Flag.”

  Nash straightened. “Operation Freedom Flag, the division of Homeland Security, sir?”

  “The very one. You may have heard of a special ops unit operating in the South.”

  Knights Ops was known everywhere, though the team were like shadows, legends that nobody knew the real details of.

  “Congratulations, Sullivan. You’ll be leading Ranger Ops into Mexico. Do your country proud, Captain. Now go grab some rest. You deploy at O-six-hundred.”

  Nash reeled with all this information dumped into his tired mind. All he could do was thank Downs and take his leave. Once in the hallway, he stopped and stared at the wall for a moment. />
  Down the hall, a door opened and one of his guys walked out, looking similarly dazed.

  Nash headed for him. “Linc.”

  Looking the worse for wear, with several abrasions down his face, where he’d obviously skidded on some rough ground, and sporting a crisscross of butterfly bandage strips above his left brow, Lincoln had likely never seen that kind of action as a Ranger investigating petty thefts.

  He’d held his own, though, and Nash was damn proud to serve with him.

  Linc lifted a hand and scratched at his head. “I don’t rightly know what just happened in that debriefing.”

  Nash watched him closely. “Were you told to get some rest because you’re hitting the ground running again in a few hours?”

  He nodded. Suddenly, a big grin hit his face. “Do you think we’re all going? Are we all part of Operation Freedom Flag now?”

  Nash started to reply that he didn’t know when Woody approached. Fatigue hadn’t taken the cockiness out of Shaw’s walk as he strutted toward them like he wore cowboy boots and a Stetson rather than tactical hard-soled boots and camo.

  He shot them both a grin. “So… OFFSUS.” The anagram stood for Operation Freedom Flag Southern US division, and Nash had never in a million years expected to become part of it.

  Linc shook his head. “Hold up. Don’t tell me they’re calling Texas the South. It’s the West.”

  Nash groaned. “You’re not one of those guys who argues where we belong on the map, are ya? But yeah, you too, Woody?”

  “Yep,” Woody drawled.

  Nash slapped him on the back, and Linc grabbed Woody’s hand in a bro-grip. The trio stood there speaking quietly, when another door opened. A guy they’d just fought with emerged, slump-shouldered.

  When he turned and walked the other direction, Nash watched him go.

  “I don’t think he’s in,” Linc said.

  “He didn’t handle that last shot well. Did you see him curled up in the corner like a bug?” Nash shifted his weight on his tired legs. “He’s cut out to be a Texas Ranger, dealing with drugs, illegals and human trafficking. Now it seems like we’re facing something altogether different.” The motto of ‘One Riot, One Ranger’ didn’t seem right in this case.

  “What is it the Knight Ops say? Guts and glory one mission at a time.” Woody’s words fell over the three of them. They stood in silence for a moment, and Nash was finally sucking in the enormity of his sudden shift in career paths. When he’d watched the sun rise over the land, he’d been a Texas Ranger and damn proud of it.

  Now he was a special ops force protecting his country. A captain.

  “Damn, I must have charmed the hell out of Downs.”

  “Shit, you debriefed to Downs and impressed him? He’s got brass balls, I hear.” Linc raised his brows.

  Woody just peered down at Nash’s knees until he looked himself to see what was there.

  “What is it?” Nash asked.

  “Just checking if you wore a hole in those cammies after giving Downs all that head.”

  Nash burst out laughing and reached out to cuff his new buddy. Finally, three other teammates joined them in the hall, all appearing as stunned as Nash felt upon first hearing their new status.

  Looking from face to face, Nash’s chest swelled with what could only be pride. He stuck out his fist into the center of the circle. “Looks like we’ve got our six. Guts and glory—”

  “One mission at a time,” they finished with him.

  * * * * *

  “Evenin’, Sully.”

  Nash nodded at the greeting as he walked through the Texas Rangers office. He wasn’t certain who had learned of his shift in position, but he got several nods of hello as he made his way past them.

  After Nash rapped on the door of Lieutenant Jack Lang’s office, he didn’t wait for a call to enter. He just pushed inside the small space and plunked into the chair that was practically molded to his ass because he spent so much time sitting here, shooting the shit with his mentor and friend.

  Lang tugged the brim of his hat, a habit the man had since Nash had met him five years ago when he’d been transferred to Waco.

  “Look what just walked through my door. Ranger Lieutenant Sullivan. Or should I call you captain now?”

  Nash threw a look behind him at the closed door, but nobody had followed him. “Who all knows?”

  “Just me.” Lang sat back and hitched his boot over his knee, rocking lightly in his beat-up desk chair he claimed he spent too much time in rather than days out on the beat, but Nash knew his older bones and joints bothered him. After years as a Texas Ranger, the man was pretty worked over physically, and he had all the creases around his eyes to reveal the strain he’d spent decades under.

  He wasn’t sure what to expect from Lang.

  “You might as well tell me what you think now and stop beating around the bush,” Nash drawled. But he was nervous. This was a huge leap for his career, and after only one mission, he realized he’d only been priming himself all these years for it.

  He was also nervous to hear what Lang thought. They worked closer than anybody in this office, and Nash was man enough to admit that the man who’d started off bossing him around—and telling him off about his temper—had become a good friend.

  “What do I think?” Lang eyed him.

  “Yeah.”

  “I think what matters is what you think.”

  Nash considered the question a moment. “It’s a chance to use my skills outside of inspecting immigration papers and going on drug raids.”

  “You’ve done more than that with the Rangers, boy, and you know it.”

  “I’ve dabbled in a bit of everything, that’s true.” Hell, until being sent to the Sabine River and neutralizing a threat that could have easily turned into a national day of remembrance, Nash had felt pretty damn confident he’d seen everything. He’d operated in a host of specialized units within the Texas Rangers, but the SWAT team, bomb squad and Ranger Reconnaissance Team hadn’t shown him half of what he’d faced the past few days.

  Lang grinned, which shot those creases around his eyes upward. “You proved the hell out of yourself, Nash. That’s sayin’ something.”

  Suspicion sneaked into Nash. “This was your doing.” That old anger flared inside him.

  Lang could always tell when Nash was about to go off, and he lifted a brow in challenge. At once, Nash pressed his fist to his lips, pushing down the emotion that had earned him a reprimand more than once.

  “No, no. This was your doing.” He shook his head and tugged his hat—an action that showed Nash he was telling the truth. “But Downs might have gotten a call through to me to ask my opinion on the matter of giving you that captain badge. All I did was flip open your file and read to him about your flawless commitment and wide range of skills.”

  Touched, Nash said, “Thank you, Lang.”

  “No need to thank me. You did it all, like I said. Now, tell me the details, or can’t ya? It’s probably all classified now, and we’ll have to stick to shooting the breeze about horses and pretty girls.”

  Nash chuckled. His own pair of horses was boarded at Lang’s place, and they rode the trails as often as possible together. But as far as pretty girls went, it was nothing but talk. Nash was too busy with long shifts, and Lang had buried two wives now and wasn’t on the market for a third. Nash couldn’t blame him.

  “Not everything is classified. I can tell you that I’ll be leading a fine team of men who proved they can work together on the fly.”

  Lang nodded again. “You need good men. You got a sharp-eye?”

  “Couple. Besides myself.” Nash grinned, because this was another point of teasing between them. Lang was always challenging him at the shooting range, and often they walked away at a draw with Lang always insisting on buying the beers even if he managed to best Nash.

  “One’s Shaw Woodward,” Nash said.

  “Damn, that’s good luck, isn’t it? The man’s known for his abilit
y to analyze situations on the fly.”

  “It helped a lot down at the Sabine. I look forward to working more with him.” Nash glanced at his watch.

  “Got someplace to be, Captain?”

  Nash looked up with a crooked smile at the address. “Yeah, I gotta run. I just wanted to stop in here and see if you’d gotten up out of your chair yet today.”

  Lang rocked in it again. “Haven’t felt the need yet.”

  With a chuckle, Nash stood and reached across the desk. His friend got to his feet without wincing at the arthritis in his knees and came around to take Nash’s hand. When they gripped in a firm shake, Lang pulled him in.

  “We’re better friends than that, Nash.” He clapped him on the back.

  Nash pounded him in return, affection rising in his chest for the man he’d seen daily for so many years. That was about to change. “Every chance I get, I’ll be in here bugging you. So keep that chair open, ya hear?” He pointed to the seat he’d vacated.

  “Who knows when some young, cocky new Ranger will walk through those doors? Somebody’s gotta try to fill those boots o’ yours.”

  “Not fucking likely.” Nash shot him a grin and then walked out of the office.

  * * * * *

  Nash climbed behind the wheel of the SUV and glanced in the rearview mirror at his four teammates taking up all the space in the back. At his side, Woody unwrapped a piece of gum and popped it in his mouth.

  Nash sighed. His ‘T’s were crossed and his ‘I’s dotted. He’d made peace with Lang as well as his family in the event that shit went south and he didn’t come back.

  Funny how as a Texas Ranger he’d always taken this for granted, though he’d faced dangers every day. Early on, he’d been taught that you couldn’t count on the hours you stood on this earth.

  He’d had a good buddy die during an assault, one by gunfire and even one in a gully-washer flash flood that had swept him under while he tried to rescue a woman and her son from a car in the rushing water.