Guardian Ranger (Shadow Agents 2)

The shooter had just executed two men right in front of EOD agents. The guy wasn’t playing.

That was fine, because Jasper wasn’t playing, He would find the killer. Find him. Stop him. Permanently.

The flames were still raging. Jasper tucked the gun in the back of his jeans. He needed to find some water, some hoses. Do whatever he could to stop that fire until backup arrived.

He returned to the bodies and found Wyatt crouched over the men. The sheriff gave a sad shake of his head as he felt for a pulse along the necks of the fallen men.

The backup will be too late. No EMTs would be able to save these guys.

Someone hadn’t wanted the men to talk. So now they’d never say another word to anyone.

* * *

THE STORM HIT just before dawn, rushing in with heavy rain and strong winds. The weather forecaster had warned that they’d be in for some hard weather for the next week.

No one had warned that death would be coming, too.

Veronica opened the door to the main ranch house. The lights flickered on instantly, part of the security system that Cale had installed. The alarm began to beep, signaling that the door had been opened. Jasper followed behind her, shaking his booted heels, then heading inside the foyer.

The big house seemed smaller the instant he entered.

She hurried forward and reset the alarm. “We should...um... You can have the room at the top of the stairs.” She waved her hand vaguely toward the staircase. “It’s Cale’s room, and since he’s not here...”

Where are you, Cale?

“...he won’t mind you using it,” she finished quietly.

Jasper nodded and just kept watching her with that too-intense stare. She almost felt as if his stare saw right through her, to the insecure girl she kept holed up inside.

“I—I’m going to shower.” She hated that stutter. For the most part, she could control it, but when Jasper turned that laserlike gaze of his on her, she got too nervous. Veronica turned away from him, determined to keep her composure. At least for a little while longer. Those men were dead. Shot, right in front of her. She’d seen the injured man’s face when the bullet hit him. The horror. The flash of pain. Then...the mask of death. Veronica rubbed her chilled arms and told Jasper, “The kitchen’s down the hallway. You can help yourself to—”

“That’s it?”

Veronica glanced back at him. He was stalking toward her. Looking sexy and dangerous with a faint line of stubble coating his jaw. “You seen a lot of death, Veronica Lane?” Jasper asked in that deep, rumbling voice of his.

Not a lot. Some. More than she wanted to see. Wasn’t that the way it was for people?

“Because when most folks see two men get shot to death in front of them, they don’t turn to ice.”

They did if the ice was the only thing that could protect them.

“Make me understand you.” His voice was gruff now. And there it was. He was looking at her as if she was off, different. Story of her life. Everyone but Cale had always thought she was different. Too quiet. Too shy. Too...well, everything.

Forcing her spine to straighten, Veronica held Jasper’s gaze. She didn’t owe him any explanations. He’d been hired to do a job, simple as that. She didn’t divulge her personal history to anyone because it was personal.

But he’d put his body over hers. Covered her and been willing to take a bullet to keep her safe. She remembered the feel of his body against hers. Strong muscles, hard flesh. His breath had whispered near her ear. He’d held her tight, shielding her from the gunfire.

Jasper risking his life in order to keep her safe—that hadn’t exactly been covered in their one-thousand-dollar-a-day deal that had been brokered before she’d left Last Chance.

So, maybe, definitely, she did owe the guy some kind of explanation. She’d bare her soul to him, as she hadn’t done to anyone else.

“I’ve seen dead bodies before.” She pressed her lips together. This wasn’t a memory she enjoyed visiting. “My parents died in a car accident when I was six.”

“Cale mentioned—”

“I was in the backseat.” Her words tumbled over his because she wanted to get this story out as quickly as she could. If she said it fast, then maybe she wouldn’t have to think about it too long. Maybe it wouldn’t hurt so much. “We were on our way to pick up Cale from his soccer game.” As soon as the car had stopped rolling, the silence had hit her. Then she’d screamed. She’d known something was wrong with her mother right away. She’d called for her, but her mother hadn’t answered.

Her dad had. His voice had been weak as he’d told her, “Don’t cry, baby. Don’t cry.”