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“What if you get in trouble?” She stared into his face, wishing he’d reconsider and take her along. “What if you’re hurt?”
He smiled, his hand cupping her cheek. “Worried about me?”
Jacie stiffened and had a retort ready on her lips, but stopped short of delivering it when she realized she was worried about him. “I haven’t known you long, but damn it, I am worried about you. I kinda got used to having you around.” Her hand covered the one he’d used to cup her cheek and she pulled it lower, pressing a kiss into his palm.
“Stay safe for me, will you?” His eyes dark in the dim lighting from the overhead bulbs, he leaned close and captured her lips in a soul-stealing kiss.
About the Author
A Golden Heart Award winner for Best Paranormal Romance in 2004, ELLE JAMES started writing when her sister issued a Y2K challenge to write a romance novel. She has managed a full-time job and raised three wonderful children, and she and her husband even tried their hands at ranching exotic birds (ostriches, emus and rheas) in the Texas Hill Country. Ask her, and she’ll tell you what it’s like to go toe-to-toe with an angry three-hundred-and-fifty-pound bird! After leaving her successful career in information technology management, Elle is now pursuing her writing full-time. Elle loves to hear from fans. You can contact her at [email protected] or visit her website at www.ellejames.com.
Taking Aim
Elle James
MILLS & BOON
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This book is dedicated to the brave men and women
who risk their lives daily fighting
for truth and justice.
Chapter One
Zachary Adams sat with his boots tapping the floor, his attention barely focused on the man at the center of the group of cowboys. This meeting had gone past his fifteen-minute limit, pushing twenty now.
The wiry, muscular man before them stood tall, his shoulders held back and proud. He was probably a little older than most of the men in the room, his dark hair combed back, graying slightly at the temples.
“I’m here to offer you a position in a start-up corporation.” Hank Derringer smiled at the men gathered in the spacious living room of his home on the Raging Bull Ranch in south Texas.
“Doing what? Sweeping floors? Who wants a bunch of rejects?” Zach continued tapping his foot, itching for a fight, his hands shaking. Not that there had been any provocation. He didn’t need any. Ever since the catastrophe of the Diego Operation, he hadn’t been able to sit still for long, unless he was nursing a really strong bottle of tequila.
“I need you. Because you aren’t rejects, you’re just the type of men I’m looking for. Men who will fight for what you believe in, who were born or raised on a ranch, with the ethics and strength of character of a good cowboy. I’m inviting you to become a part of CCI, known only to those on the inside as Covert Cowboys Incorporated, a specialized team of citizen soldiers, bodyguards, agents and ranch hands who will do whatever it takes for justice.”
Zach almost laughed out loud. Hank had flipped if he thought this crew of washed-up cowboys could help him start up a league of justice or whatever it was he had in mind.
“Whoa, back up a step there. Covert Cowboys Incorporated?” The man Hank had introduced as Chuck Bolton slapped his hat against his thigh. “Sounds kind of corny to me. What’s the punch line?”
“No punch line.” Hank squared his shoulders, his mouth firming into a straight line. “Let’s just say that I’m tired of justice being swept under the rug.”
Ex-cop Ben Harding shook his head. “I’m not into circumventing the law.”
“I’m not asking you to. The purpose of Covert Cowboys Incorporated is to provide covert protection and investigation services where hired guns and the law aren’t enough.” Hank’s gaze swept over the men in the room. “I handpicked each of you because you are all highly skilled soldiers, cops and agents who know how to work hard and fire a gun and are familiar with living on the edge of danger. My plan is to inject you into situations where your own lives could be on the line to protect, rescue or ferret out the truth.”
One by one, the cowboys agreed to sign on with CCI until Hank came to Zach.
“I’m not much into joining,” Zach said.
Hank nodded. “To be understood. You might not want to get back into a job that puts you in the line of fire after what you went through.”
Zach’s chest tightened. “I’m not afraid of bullets.”
“I understand you lost your female partner on your last mission with the FBI. That had to be tough.” Hank laid a hand on Zach’s shoulder. “You’re welcome to stay the night and think about it. You don’t have to give me an answer until morning.”
Zach could have given his answer now. He didn’t want the job. He didn’t want any job. What he wanted was revenge, served cold and painful.
With the other cowboys falling in line, Zach just nodded, grabbed his duffel bag and found the room he had been assigned for the night. The other men left, one of them already on assignment, and the other two had places to stay in Wild Oak Canyon, the small town closest to the Raging Bull Ranch.
Zach hadn’t been in the bedroom more than three minutes when the walls started closing in around him. He had to get outside or go crazy.
The room had French doors opening out onto the wide veranda that wrapped around the entire house.
He sat on the steps leading down off the porch at the side of the rambling homestead and stared up at a sky full of the kind of stars you only got out in the wide-open spaces far away from city lights.
Zach wondered if the stars had been out that night Toni had died. No matter how often he replayed that nightmare, he couldn’t recall whether or not the stars had been shining. Everything seemed to play out in black, white and red. From the moment they’d been surrounded by the cartel sentinels to the moment Toni had died.
Zach’s eyes squeezed shut, but no matter how hard he tried to erase the vision from his mind, he couldn’t shake it. He opened his eyes again and looked up at the stars in an attempt to superimpose their beauty and brilliance over the ugly images indelibly etched in his memory.
Boots tapped against the planks of the decking and Hank Derringer leaned against a wooden column. “Wanna talk about it?”
“No.” Zach had suffered through days of talking about it with the FBI psychologist following his escape and return to civilization. Talking hadn’t brought his partner back, and it had done nothing