HARD LINE

by Justice, A. D.

  HARD LINE

  A. D. Justice

  Contents

  Synopsis

  Prologue

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Epilogue

  About the Author

  Books By A.D. Justice

  Acknowledgments

  HARD LINE.

  A CROSSING LINES NOVEL.

  Copyright © 2019 A.D. Justice.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, resold, or transmitted in any form without written permission from the copyright holder, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages for review purposes.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. If the location is an actual place, all details of said place are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to businesses, landmarks, living or dead people, and events is purely coincidental.

  The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of a copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000.

  All copyrights are held by A.D. Justice and have not been transferred to any other individual. Sharing or posting of this material in any group is considered copyright infringement and will be reported to the authorities. Criminal and civil charges will be pursued for damages.

  Cover photo by Wander Aguiar.

  Cover model is Forest H.

  Cover design by Sommer Stein, Perfect Pear Creative Covers

  Synopsis

  My rule: Never let an old flame burn you twice.

  Other people gave second chances—I didn’t. My modus operandi was to move on to the next girl in line and forget the previous one.

  So when Tawnee Milano said she needed her space, I let her go. Then I left our mutual employer for a new job with the CIA and didn’t look back.

  But a coded distress message from her sends me right back to where I was when we first split up. The possibility of losing her forever forces me to relax my rigid stance. With her life in danger, I’m finally facing my true feelings for her.

  Mottos are all fine and good in theory. Not so much in practice.

  Now my hard line policy is to get her back—and keep her this time.

  Prologue

  Roman—Three Years Ago

  “I can’t do this anymore.” Tawnee places her hands on her hips and burns a hole through me with the anger in her eyes.

  “You can’t do what anymore?” I know she isn’t saying what I think she’s saying.

  “Us, Roman. I can’t do us anymore. This isn’t working for me. I’ve put up with too much, and I can’t do it one more day. I’m sorry, but this is over between us.” She snatches her bag off the bed and starts toward the door.

  “You’re breaking up with me? Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

  “No, I’m absolutely not kidding you at all. I’m done. I’m so done.”

  “What do you expect from me, Tawnee? I mean, I gave you a drawer and everything.”

  Ah, shit. That was the wrong thing to say apparently. She’s seriously considering drawing her gun and shooting me right now. She’s weighing the pros and cons at this very second. I can see it in her expression and the way her muscles are tensed. I don’t know what I’ve done this time to piss her off so badly. All I know is whatever we fight about always ends up being my fucking fault.

  “You gave me a drawer? Yeah, let’s talk about that drawer, Roman. Let’s examine that gesture for a minute. One, it’s the smallest fucking drawer in the whole house. Two, why the hell would I put a few items of clothes in that drawer when I still have to go back home for all the rest of my shit anyway? And, most of all, three.” She walks over to the drawer I gave her and yanks it open. “You haven’t even noticed I’ve never used the fucking thing!”

  She releases it with a jerk, and it crashes to the floor as she walks away, leaving it where it landed.

  We’d been dating on and off for a while before that eventful fight. I don’t even remember what started the fight now. It was probably something stupid, like I said green is a better color than blue. Who the fuck knows or cares? The point is, she left me and said she was never coming back. I gave her two days to change her mind and her attitude. When I didn’t hear a single peep from her within that time, I decided it was time to move on.

  And that’s exactly what I did. I went out the next night, I met someone new, and I enjoyed the pleasure of her company. Repeatedly.

  I haven’t seen the same girl twice since the day Tawnee walked out, and I haven’t regretted one minute of living my life to the fullest.

  * * *

  Present Day

  “Roman, I swear to God, if you tell me that fucking story one more time…I’m going to take this plastic knife I just used to smear cream cheese on my bagel, and I’m going to slit my wrists with it.” Blake holds the knife at his wrist and pretends to saw his skin.

  “I’ve told you that story before?”

  “Only once or twice…a week…for three fucking years, man. Listen, I’m going to tell you this one last time as your friend. If you’re my friend, you need to listen to what I have to say because I’m as fucking tired of repeating myself as I am of hearing you repeat yourself.

  “One. It’s time for you to face the truth.

  “Two. You are not over being dumped.

  “Three. You’re not over her moving halfway around the world and never calling you to say goodbye when she left the country.

  “Four. You are nowhere near being over Tawnee.

  “Five. You’re in love with the woman. Still. To this very day. If she walked into this bakery right now and said she wanted you back, you’d jump for fucking joy. And so would I, because at least you’d have a new fucking story to tell.” Blake bites into his bagel, tearing it with excessive force, and glares at me over his coffee cup.

  “That’s ridiculous. How do you get that from what I just told you?”

  “Because I’m not a fucking moron, Roman. Unlike you. That’s how.”

  “You’re so full of shit. I don’t give second chances, Blake. One and done—that’s how I manage my relationship issues. Plain and simple. No fuss, no muss. No complications. No baggage. No unresolved issues.”

  “Yeah, I got it, man. You’re still full of shit, for the record. I stick by my original statement and assessment of you.”

  We walk out of the restaurant and stroll down the street, keeping our target in sight without giving away our position.

  My phone vibrates with an incoming text, so I fish it out of my pocket and quickly glance at the screen. My attention is on my mark, but when I glance down at the screen, I forget all about my mission.

  I forget about my job.

  I forget about my mark.

  I forget why I’m following him.

  After three long years, Tawnee has sent me a message. But it’s not just any message. To anyone else, it appears to be a string of letters and numbers with no discernible pattern. But I know better. I recognize the secret code on sight. With a quick copy and paste in
to our own software program and our specific key, I decode the message and nearly let my phone slip through my fingers when I read what it says.

  Send help immediately. Assassination plot. Extraction needed.

  Her life is in imminent danger, and she’s reaching out to me for help…from Dubai.

  How can I not answer this call?

  “What’s wrong? Did you just see a ghost or what?” Blake looks over his shoulder at where I’ve stopped walking in the middle of the sidewalk.

  “Something like that. Tawnee just texted me using Brad’s secret message system. I haven’t heard from her in three years, Blake.”

  “Yeah. Funny how I got that from the conversation we just had not three seconds ago. What did her message say?”

  I hand Blake my phone and take his out of his hand. In seconds, I have my CIA partners, Silas Steele and Nick Tucker, on the phone and I’m relaying the message from Tawnee.

  “What do you want to do, Roman?” Silas asks.

  He knows damn well what I want to do, but he’s testing me in more ways than one. It’s not just my commitment to carrying out my duties as a CIA officer he’s questioning. It’s my commitment to her—someone who once worked alongside me at Steele Security. Someone who slept beside me, almost lived with me, and loved me. And someone I should have treated better than I did.

  “I want to drop everything and leave a blazing trail on our way out of Dubai with her safely in my arms.” That’s probably the most honest statement I’ve made regarding her in the last three years.

  “Have you done any research into what’s going on and why she’s involved in an imminent assassination attempt?” Nick asks, ever the level-headed hero.

  “No, Nick. I just got the text and immediately called you two.” I grit my teeth to keep my impatience under wraps.

  “So, we could be walking straight into an ambush. It could all be a ruse to get you there for some reason. Or Silas. Or me. Or all three of us, for that matter. You have nothing but a simple text that could be from anyone pretending to be Tawnee.”

  “It came through Brad’s encrypted system. Only Tawnee would know what secret key to use so I could decode the message. She sent it to me—not you and not Silas. Me. She needs me, and I’m going with or without you two.”

  “That’s what I wanted to hear. Get your shit together, Roman, and screw your head on straight. If she’s in a volatile situation, what do you think is waiting for us? We have no intel on what we’re walking into, so you need to check your emotions at the door and think logically. What is she working on? Who is she working with? Who are their friends and enemies?” Nick has been in so many dangerous situations in his career, this line of questioning has become second nature to him.

  He’s right, though. I saw her plea for help, and I was ready to run headlong into the fire, no questions asked.

  Maybe Blake is right after all.

  “Tell Blake to pack his gear. He’s going along for the ride too. I’ll contact Langley and get all the intel we have on the situation. There’s a flight leaving Miami today at 5:35. Let’s meet at the airport and prepare for the long-ass flight to Dubai. Leave your guns at home. You’ll never make it through customs with a weapon.” Silas is the most seasoned CIA officer of us all.

  Even though we’re assigned to a joint task force with the NSA and CIA, we mostly perform under CIA rules. Meaning, there are none. This should be an interesting trip.

  * * *

  Tawnee

  “Rafael, it’s time to go. We’ve cleared the hallway.” I approach my handsome Latin employer and try to urge him out of the luxury hotel suite for the third time this morning.

  “Tawnee, you have to relax. You’re far too pretty to be so stressed all the time.” He finally stands from the overstuffed sofa and slides his sunglasses over his eyes.

  “Unfortunately, my looks have no bearing on my stress levels. Ensuring your security does. You not taking your own security seriously also does. Why hire me and make me travel around the world with you if you don’t listen to me?” I turn and walk back to the entrance to check the hallway before letting him pass through the door.

  “There’s nothing I have to worry about. I know you’ve already worried about it a thousand times over before I’ve even considered it.”

  “I don’t doubt that’s true. Not even for a second. Which makes me even more stressed since, again, you don’t take your own safety seriously. We’re caught in a vicious cycle, you and I. So I need you to help me out here and don’t make me old before my time. Stay close to your security team, be vigilant about watching your surroundings, and do exactly as you’re told to do.”

  “I love it when you’re bossy like that. It’s so sexy.”

  “I’m serious, Raf.”

  “So am I. And your ass looks awesome in those pants. You should wear those every day.”

  I stop and turn to look him dead in the eyes. “Rafael, I do wear the same style of pants every single day that I’m with you. They’re basically my work uniform. And you can’t possibly watch your surroundings if you’re watching my ass.”

  His dark chuckle makes me smile. He knows he drives me crazy—that’s why he does it on purpose. He’s a shameless flirt, but he’s also harmless. If he thought for one second his comments offended me or made me uncomfortable, he’d apologize profusely and buy me a mega yacht to make up for it. But then, he can afford to be so lavish since he’s one of the richest men in the world. As the owner of a very profitable holding company, he controls the majority of shares in a lot of very high-powered, high-profile companies. Those businesses have made him an extraordinary amount of money, but he’s still the same down-to-earth man he was before the cash starting rolling in.

  All the money he has made is why I have a job today, albeit one that makes me crazy more than anything else in my life at the moment. Buying the controlling shares in companies whose owners aren’t ready to give up control hasn’t made him the most popular man on the Forbes Top 100 list. Corporate enemies can be ruthless. Kidnapping is a real threat for someone who is worth so much. Then there’s the matter of his life insurance policy—it requires him to have private security in most circumstances…like when he leaves his house for any length of time, goes out on dates with unvetted partners, or when he’s traveling to Dubai for both business and pleasure.

  We’re in the UAE for both reasons on this trip.

  He’s taking a tour of a recently built high-rise condo building as he considers expanding his interests. Not that he needs more income, but he’s bored with managing his life against where the stock market closes or how a company performs. Expanding into real estate in one of the most popular destinations in the world makes good business sense to him.

  Buying the entire building in this destination mecca isn’t something many people could afford.

  But Rafael Cruz isn’t just anyone.

  We finally make it to the waiting car and get him inside without incident. On the way to tour the high-rise, Raf makes another business call while I watch our surroundings.

  “Tony, change lanes abruptly.” Our driver, Tony, is used to my obsessive behavior by now, so he does as I ask without question.

  All the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention. I speak into the comms, alerting the rest of the team in the other cars. “We have a possible tail. White Nissan Altima. Two males. Two cars behind and speeding up fast to catch up with us. Tony, make an unexpected turn, but not down a dead-end street. Make sure there’s an easy out.”

  Tony’s more alert now. His eyes are glued to the rearview mirror when he identifies the turn he’ll make. Rafael, on the other hand, continues his conversation for a few more seconds before disconnecting the call as if nothing out of the ordinary is happening around him. The other car is traveling too fast in an attempt to catch up with us, so they’re unable to make the same turn. They slam on their brakes, and the tires screech against the asphalt. Then they turn, and the front wheel jumps the curb before they spee
d up again, racing toward us.

  “Tony, get us out of here. Now.”

  We race through the crowded city, drawing way too much attention in a culture that doesn’t appreciate such outrageous behavior. But these guys aren’t stopping. If anything, they’re becoming more aggressive.

  “Raf, you need to get down out of sight.”

  “Don’t you have your gun? Shoot their tires out.” He slides down in the seat, snatches his shades off his face, and looks at me with fear in his eyes for the first time since this chase started.

  “Do I have a gun in Dubai? No, Raf, we’re not residents here. We can’t carry firearms without a special invitation from the sheik himself. Even you don’t have that kind of clout here.”

  “Then how exactly do you plan to protect me?”

  “By losing them and getting you to a safe place until we can work with the police to identify the owner of the car and the men inside.”

  Suddenly, another car appears out of nowhere and rams us from a side street. While we were watching the car behind us for the last several miles, they coordinated a sneak attack. Our car spins around in the middle of the street and slams into the side of a building. The initial shock of the crash takes me a few precious seconds to clear my mind, then I check on Rafael to make sure he isn’t hurt.