CROSSING THE LINE (RANGER SECURITY Book 5)

by Rhonda Russell

  He held open the front door for her and she caught a whiff of some woodsy cologne. Nice, Rhi anpon thought. The fragrance suited him.

  “You can’t steal it. It’s a gift.” She handed the carton to him.

  He popped the lid and carved off a piece. “Being nice to me isn’t going to do any good. You’re still not coming with me.”

  Rhiannon took a bite of her own, savoring the meringue. “I wonder how many times you’re going to have to say it before you start believing it?”

  He stared at her mouth, seemingly distracted, then reached out and caught a piece of the fluffy dessert on her bottom lip against his thumb. Her gaze tangled with his and she carefully licked it off.

  “You’ve got it backward,” he said, his voice a bit strangled. “It’s not how many times am I going to have to say it before I start believing it. It’s how many times am I going to have to say it before you do.”

  Still rattled from the feel of his thumb against her tongue and how much she’d like to lick other parts of his body, Rhiannon grinned up at him. “In that case, you should save your breath.”

  He swore again.

  Chapter 5

  Though still of antebellum architecture, Theo­dore Watson’s house was nothing like the grand Tara-like mansion his son called home. Built in the early 1820’s, this was a simple white clapboard house. Four rooms downstairs, each boasting a sin­gle fireplace and divided by the customary wide hall, and three rooms upstairs.

  Theo was a master gardener according to Rhian­non. The grounds were shaded with huge live oaks and magnolias, lots of creeping ivy and ornamental grasses. Rhododendrons and roses bloomed, add­ing a splash of color, and an entire area had been devoted to nothing but bird feeders, houses and baths.

  The scent of dusty books, Old Spice and cherry pipe tobacco hung in the air and, while Tanner had never met Mr. Watson, something about the way the older gentleman cared for his surroundings— and the creatures that orbited through it—put him in mind of his grandfather. John Crawford had been well-read and had also had a soft spot for his feathered friends.

  Tanner wandered over to the fireplace and checked out the pictures on the mantel. You could tell a lot about a person by the images they chose to put on display. A faded wedding photo was placed promi­nently in the middle.

  Rhiannon drifted to his side and nodded at the picture. She stood so close that he could smell her. Something light and orange. “That’s Theo and Sarah,” she said, smiling. “He was a handsome devil, wasn’t he?”

  Examining the happy couple, Tanner supposed he was. He wasn’t accustomed to making judgments on manly looks. Nevertheless, the bride wore a radiant smile and there was no denying the pride, adoration and love in Theo’s youthful expression. Staring at the image—the pure emotion in their eyes—made something strangely like envy curl in his chest. Ridiculous, Tanner thought, batting the feeling away like a pesky fly.

  In truth, Tanner had always been so focused on his career he’d never truly considered having a wife and family—the whole dinner-at-five, church-on- Sundays scenario. Had he ever been in love before?

  Yes, once, in college and it had ended badly. She’d wanted a ring and he’d wanted to wait. He hadn’t been ready to say I do, had been so engrossed in his career even then that he’d recognized on some level that it wouldn’t have worked.

  He’d balked and she’d bailed.

  Since then he hadn’t been with a woman who hadn’t known going in that he was not interested in anything more than a little mutually satisfying recreational sex. He knew plenty of other soldiers who’d managed to make the marriage thing work, but had always known himself well enough to realize that, were he to have married, either the career or the marriage would have suffered, and that was unacceptable.

  He’d chosen the career. A smear of blood, a tiny hand...

  He swallowed hard and with difficulty, beat the images back. They were coming at him more frequently lately, Tanner realized with some dismay. He’d actually thought he was getting better at dealing with it, but...evidently not. He cleared his throat, aware that he’d been quiet entirely too long. He could feel Rhiannon’s gaze on his face, examining him with those curiously perceptive eyes.

  “And Sarah?” he asked. He expected he knew the answer to this question.

  She inclined her head. “She died when Tad was eight. Aneurism.” Her gaze lingered on the picture. “He never remarried. Said so long as his heart beat it would love her and it wouldn’t be fair to another woman to only give her what was left.” She smiled. “And believe me, lots of women tried. There’s no telling how many book clubs were formed at the Begonia Public Library with the express purpose of putting its members in closer proximity to Theo.”

  That’s right, Tanner thought. Watson had been the local librarian, as well, and he wondered how he’d found the time, particularly when he was also at the helm of the family business. Evidently he had good help in place—otherwise there was no way in hell the older man could get it all done. Espe­cially with a miserable excuse of a son like Tad, who didn’t appreciate the hard work, blood, sweat and tears that had gone into his heritage. Sheesh. Tanner liked that the plantation had stayed true to its roots and farmed almost all of the land. The fields were presently full of cotton, blanketing the earth in white.

  Though it was his understanding that Tad was next in line to assume the CEO position, he could see where Watson wouldn’t want to relinquish the reins to a greedy son who, apart from the house, had no interest in preserving his family’s legacy and wasn’t interested in helping worthy causes.

  According to Rhiannon, Watson funded a local no-kill shelter, and offered numerous scholarships to aid local high school students who needed a little help to attend college. The parks and library had benefited from his benevolence, as well. Tanner grimaced. No doubt Tad would put an end to that if he ever got the opportunity.

  His gaze skimmed along, looking at other pictures, then stopped short when he recognized a familiar face. Younger, of course, and sporting braces, but...

  “That’s you,” he said, smiling. She’d been awkward, a bit shy looking, but the promise of beauty was there, even then.

  “No cracks about the metal mouth,” she warned him primly. “The end justified the means.”

  “You’ve known Theo a long time,” he remarked. When she’d said he’d been a better father to her than her own, he’d just assumed she’d meant as an adult. He hadn’t realized she’d known him since she was a child. Of course, that would explain the bond. He could tell that she genuinely loved the older gentleman.

  “I have,” she confirmed with a nod. “I was a bit of a freak growing up and spent a lot of time at the library. Theo and I shared a common quirk, which made me feel less like an outcast, and—” she sighed “—the rest is history.”

  She was being purposely vague, which naturally cued his curiosity. “A common quirk?”

  “It’s not important,” she said, dismissing the question as though it wouldn’t interest him. “The answering machine is in the kitchen. I’m going to check the messages, see if there’s anything significant on there.”

  Now, that was odd, Tanner thought. The same woman who’d told him his attitude wouldn’t get him laid often didn’t want to share a “quirk”? Was she hiding some sort of physical flaw? A third breast? A sixth toe? His brooding gaze slid over her, making his pulse trip with desire. Wouldn’t matter, Tanner decided. She’d still be the sexiest woman he’d ever laid eyes on.

  Damn.

  Had he had any idea that he was going to be presented with this sort of temptation, Tanner would have made a little time for sex before starting his new job. How long had it been? he wondered. Two, three months? Too damned long, obviously; otherwise he was certain he wouldn’t be having this reaction to Rhiannon. He wouldn’t be mentally stripping her naked and imagining her toned legs wrapped around his waist, her sexy mouth feeding at his. The mere scent of her wouldn’t be driving him crazy and the riddl
e of her supposed quirk wouldn’t spark his intense curiosity.

  It was a pointless distraction, Tanner told himself, and futile, as well. He didn’t have any business puz­zling over her reticence to share her quirk, much less allowing himself to feel the desire currently sliding through his veins.

  Theodore Watson had flown the coop, and it was his job to track him down.

  The fact that he had to remind himself of this only irritated him further. Tanner ordinarily had the focus of a cobra and the tenacity of a bulldog.

  It was her, he decided. She, with her hot-pink toes and delectable ass, was interfering with his ability to think.

  Tanner abruptly decided that he needed to check in with the Triumvirate—damn Juan-Carlos for stick­ing that term in his brain—and see what proper protocol was for his present situation. He was sup­posed to make daily reports and, while he could simply forget to mention that Rhiannon Palmer was intent on following him to Philadelphia, it was a lie of omission he’d rather not have come back and bite him on the ass.

  He unclipped the cell from his waist and hit number one on his speed-dial list. Juan-Carlos answered, of course, and he asked for Payne.

  He seemed the least likely to rag his ass over his gorgeous, irritating little problem.

  “How’s it going, Will?” Payne asked by way of greeting.

  “Slowly,” he admitted. He brought him up to speed. “I’m at Theo’s house now, poking around, but other than the fact that he’s taken a small suitcase and copies of his great-great-grandfather’s journals, I’m not having any luck. The family actually originated in Philadelphia and, considering the cash he took with him and the message he left Rhiannon Palmer, I’m assuming that he’s headed there, or somewhere in between.”

  “You’ve met Ms. Palmer, then?” Not a trace of laughter betrayed his voice, but Tanner heard it all the same.

  Tanner ducked into Theo’s bedroom. “A little warning would have been nice, Payne,” he hissed, annoyed that his new boss seemed to have purposely withheld some key information. Tanner liked having all the facts, dammit. How was he supposed to make good decisions without them?

  “I can’t shake her,” he admitted, swallowing the gall. “She’s been following me all over town and is hell­bent on either tagging along with me or tailing me all the way to Philly.”

  Payne coughed to cover a poorly disguised chuckle. “I was afraid she might become an issue.”

  “Issue, hell,” he said. “She’s a pain in the ass. How am I going to get rid of her? What’s the protocol?”

  “Are you sure you need to get rid of her? She knows your target and is familiar with this so- called treasure he’s looking for.”

  Tanner leaned around the door frame to make sure she wasn’t listening, then drew back. This was unexpected and he found himself strangely— stupidly—thrilled. “You think I ought to let her come with me?”

  “I don’t see what it could hurt. If she follows you, then she’s just going to be a distraction. You take her with you and you can at least control the situation.” He paused. “I’ve been in a similar position, Will.” He laughed softly, seemingly remem­bering. “Take it from me, you’re better off allowing her to come with you than her mucking along in your wake, screwing with your ability to focus.”

  Tanner barely repressed a snort. Either way she was going to screw with his focus. Even now, though she wasn’t anywhere near him, he was still keenly aware of the fact that she was in the house, that she was close. He could feel her, as though her very heartbeat had the ability to ping him like sonar.

  Theo and I share a common quirk.

  That little mystery was going to drive him bat- shit crazy.

  He swore, causing Payne to laugh.

  “That bad, is she?”

  “She’s a beautiful nightmare,” Tanner said honestly.

  “And it would have been easier if she made a dog point?”

  “Definitely.” He couldn’t impart enough dread into that one word.

  “I see.”

  Good, then that made one of them.

  “Regardless, my advice doesn’t change. You’re still better off taking her with you than allowing her to follow you. She could be useful.”

  Tanner exhaled mightily, stared at an Audubon print on the wall. “You’re right, of course.”

  “Keep us posted.”

  “Will do,” he said, then disconnected.

  Damn. He was so screwed.

  * * *

  Chuckling under his breath, Payne set the cord­less phone back into the base and looked at the two expectant faces on the men whose attention had previously been on another Braves game.

  “Let me guess,” Flanagan said. “It’s a woman.”

  “Rhiannon Palmer,” Guy guessed correctly. “I knew she was going to be trouble.”

  “She’s been tailing him,” Payne told them. “Keeps insisting that she can help with the investigation.”

  “Can she?” Jamie asked.

  “Possibly,” Payne conceded. “I just think it’s a little ironic, don’t you?”

  Guy lobbed a paper napkin ball at the trash can and gave a little boo-yah when it hit the mark. “What do you mean?”

  “Seems there’s an interfering woman involved in every case we’ve taken lately.”

  “True,” Jamie admitted.

  Guy released a tragic sigh. “And yet we keep marrying them.”

  * * *

  Sitting in the passenger seat of Will’s Rubicon, Rhiannon inhaled the new-car scent and studied the atlas she had open on her lap. Since he’d finally come to his senses and gruffly announced that she could come with him—no idea what brought that on, but she didn’t care because she’d won—she’d decided not to make taking her little hybrid a sticking point. She was just grateful to be doing some­thing, to be contributing to the cause.

  They’d stopped at a convenience store to stock a cooler—sodas and orange juice—and to snag a few snacks for the road. Tanner was a butterscotch Life Savers fan, and though there was absolutely no reason to find this little fact endearing, she did. She rolled her eyes and tried to pretend that she wasn’t keenly aware of him, that she wasn’t marveling over the strength in his hands or the competent way he handled the wheel. Both elicited a shiver.

  Needing a distraction, Rhiannon pulled out her cell and dialed Theo’s number again.

  Tanner slid her a glance. “Who are you calling?”

  “Theo,” she said. Predictably, it connected to voice mail. She decided to leave another message. “Theo, you’d better call me the instant you get this. Please,” she added. “I’m worried about you.”

  He quirked a brow. “Do you have caller ID?” “Yes, why?”

  “Did he leave the message on your machine from home or from his cell?”

  “His cell, I think.”

  He merely nodded, snagged his own phone and placed a call. “What’s his number?”

  She rattled it off and he shared it with the people on the other end of the line. “Right,” he said. “Let me know if you get any hits.”

  Ah, Rhiannon realized. He was tracking Theo’s cell, trying to see which tower his last call was routed through. She nodded, impressed. “You’re pretty good at this for someone who just started.”

  She watched his eyes crinkle at the comers with an almost smile. “Thank you.”

  “So were you in the security business before you started with the Ranger guys?”

  “I guess you could say that,” he replied, but didn’t elaborate and, though he didn’t so much as bat an eyelash, she felt a tenseness settle around him.

  She chuckled, determined to draw him out. “That was a very vague answer.”

  He tapped his thumb against the steering wheel. “You’d know all about those.”

  She knew exactly what he was talking about, so didn’t bother being coy. He’d been quite curious about her “shared-quirks” comment regarding her and Theo.

  While Rhiannon was a relatively vocal propo
nent of El, she didn’t exactly go around advertising her personal experiences with it.

  Men, in particular, seemed unnerved by her spe­cial insight into their emotions, and intuition told her he’d be more spooked than the average guy. Probably because he wasn’t just bringing along a little rolling case of baggage—he had a massive trunkful of it. Even now she could feel the weight of it pressing in on her, and she marveled at his ability to function at all.

  Furthermore, she recognized this particular weight—it had all the hallmarks of death. The regret, the grief, the oppression. But who had he lost? Rhiannon wondered. And better still, why did he blame himself?

  “Truth uncomfortable for you?” he asked.

  “Not at all,” she said, shooting him a smile. “I let it drop, didn’t I?”

  “Surprisingly, yes. Only makes me more curious, though.”

  She grinned and pushed a lock of hair away from her face. “I know that feeling, as well.”

  “I was in the military,” he said. “Army. A Ranger.”

  So she’d been right. He was military. And a Ranger? Those guys were usually in service for life. Too much time spent training to simply change their mind. Something must have happened, Rhi­annon decided, studying him from the corner of her eye.

  And that something was directly related to his pain.

  “The hair was sort of a tip-off,” she said. “Well, that and the fact that you’re bossy.”

  He chuckled. “I’m used to giving orders.”

  “I’m not one of your soldiers.”

  His gaze lingered over her legs, drifted along her hip, slid over her breasts and ultimately settled on her mouth. A bark of ironic laughter rumbled from his throat. “Believe me, I am well aware of that.”

  Holy hell, Rhiannon thought as the tops of her thighs caught fire. Her nipples tingled and she felt short of breath, as if the heat between them was sucking all the oxygen out of the car. She’d been feeling that off him, too—the desire—but clearly he’d been trying to control it, as well. And when that control slipped...