Down Range (Tungsten Protective Services Book 1) Read online

  Copyright

  Down Range

  Copyright © 2016 Aliyah Burke

  Sensual Romance Publishing logo copyright © MMJ Designs

  Cover art copyright © Covers by K

  Editor: Leanore Elliot

  ISBN:

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system-except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web-without permission in writing from the publisher or author. The unauthorized replication or allocation of any copyrighted work is illegal. File sharing is an international crime, prosecuted by the United States Department of Justice and the United States Border Patrol, Division of Cyber Crimes, in partnership with Interpol. Copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain, is punishable by up to five years in federal prison, a fine of $250,000 per reported instance, and seizure of computers.

  This book is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is coincidental. All trademarks, service marks, registered trademarks, and registered service marks are the property of their respective owners and are used herein for identification purposes only.

  Published by: Sensual Romance Publishing

  Down Range

  By

  Aliyah Burke

  Blurb

  He may save her life but can her heart be saved from his past betrayal?

  Ralston “Lucifer” Dansen has just returned back from being down range when he learns that the woman he loves has gone and gotten herself into a bit of a situation. Despite the fact he knows he broke her heart and her trust, he’s not going to let her die in some foreign country.

  Rizzo Candela hadn’t expected her trip to turn into a life or death situation, one made worse by her mouth. If only she’d learned to curb it. Praying for some kind of intervention when it arrives, she isn’t a hundred percent positive it’s for the better. It’s the one man who betrayed her, can she trust he’ll keep her safe this time around?

  Dedication

  To everyone who wanted more of the SEAL Team. This is their group, their men and women so we will see them here and there. I hope you enjoy the people who work for Tungsten Protective Services. To DH, thank you for never telling me to stop dreaming.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Additional Books By Aliyah Burke

  About The Author

  Chapter One

  “You sure you want to go? Or rather are up to it?” Scott “Harrier” Leighton leaned back in his black leather chair, his blue eyes straight forward. “I can send in—”

  “No. I mean, send in who you want but I’m going.” Ralston “Lucifer” Dansen lowered his frame to another chair around the table in the ops room at Tungsten Protective Services. Had the question come from someone he didn’t respect so much, they would have come to blows. He wouldn’t take them insinuating that he was unable to handle his job merely because of the woman involved. “Yes, I just got back from down range. Yes, I’m exhausted and could use a bed, but I’m going. I can sleep on the plane. It’s Riz.” My Riz.

  Christ, even saying her name ripped open old scabs and allowed the blood and pain to flow free.

  Harrier exchanged a look with Cade, the other founding member of the private security company who was in the room. The group was comprised mostly of ex-military, all branches along with other specialized services. They were able to operate without the red tape and political bullshit the government liked to apply.

  Tyson “Cade” Kincade lifted a hand, ran it through his shaggy brown hair, and shrugged. “He wants in, send him. We could use more boots on the ground. I’d rather have a trio. I can alert Mac and Cole that he’s coming. We both know we’d go if it were our wives.” His tone calm and smooth.

  Scott nodded. “True. You want in, you’re in.” Harrier rose and strode by him. “The jet will be wheels up in twenty.” He clapped him on the shoulder. “Stay safe.” Cade followed him out, providing a similar sentiment as he passed.

  Alone in the room, Ralston gripped the edges of the table and groaned. Damn it Riz, what have you gone and gotten yourself into this time?

  As if it had been yesterday, he could pull up the scent of her skin, the feel of her curves along his body. The way she glowed as she rode him to orgasm. Her effervescence, her passion. Then came the way she looked at him the day he told her it was over. That expression, the complete and utter heartbreak on her face. The way the light seemed to go out from within. The betrayal and pain, those were the emotions he saw when he closed his eyes at night. He’d never sunk so low before but that had been the job. Use her, get close, and see what secrets he could uncover about her uncle’s ties to some arms dealing.

  At that time, he’d been in the Army. A ranger. He’d gone in prepared to do his job. He’d not been prepared for the way she’d wormed her way under his skin and into his heart. He’d fallen in love with her. In the six months they’d had, he had given her his heart then proceeded to rip hers from her chest.

  Out of the military now, he was part of Tungsten and when her name had popped up and her image had been on the screen, every warrior instinct he had snapped to full attention, he wasn’t about to let her die in a foreign country. She may not be happy to see him but he could live with that, so long as she lived.

  Twenty minutes. Not a lot of time. He left the room and padded to the locker room, stripped, then stepped into the shower. I just need one wash to remove a few layers of Middle Eastern grime.

  Five minutes later, he wrapped a towel around his waist and strode to his pile of clothing. His go bag sat near with an accompanying one of fast food. That’s one fucking good smelling bag of food. He knew what food awaited him. Ralston dressed and was eating as he tied on his boots. Bag on one shoulder, burger in the other, he jogged to the airstrip and the waiting plane.

  The door closed and he finished up his food as they lifted off to the sky.

  “And we’re French Guinea bound.”

  αβ

  The scent of unwashed bodies filled the humid air. Who knew in an embassy so many could smell similar to the homeless? Rizzo “Riz” Candela shifted against her bindings, wincing at the pain radiating up her arms. She squeezed her eyes shut praying that one time she would see it was all a dream. Not this hellish nightmare.

  A trip to French Guinea was supposed to be fun. Relaxing. That hadn’t gone as planned when armed rebels took over the embassy. Hell if there’d been civil unrest in the area, she wouldn’t have even come down. Danger wasn’t her thing.

  Except for that one man. She brushed away thoughts best left in the dark and focused on her immediate troubles. This reminded her of something from a Hollywood movie. Except for one huge factor. They weren’t actors, and the people dead on the floor, truly were dead. There wasn’t a man going to yell “Cut” and everyone would get up and walk away only to come back later and shoot it again if need be.

  She should have kept her ass in Tennessee. Yet you didn’t and here you are.

  Damn subconscious. Always butting in with unwanted opinions and statements.

  Hell, I wasn’t even captured in the American Embassy. Where maybe I would get some military men to come rescue me. Do
they even have one here? No, I get captured in the Brazilian Embassy. What holy rolling fucking mess did I get my feet into this time? Will they let me go?

  No, not with her luck.

  Stop feeling sorry for yourself, you’re not the only one captured in here.

  Okay, could she have an emancipation from her mouthy subconscious? It was making her feel worse and right now all she wanted was to through herself a huge pity party.

  She cracked open her eyes and gazed around the room, staring at the huddled and forlorn figures slumped against the walls away from the windows. Twelve men moved about armed to the teeth. There was no way she would attempt to escape.

  One looked in her direction and she fought the urge to squirm. This was where her mouth got her in more trouble that she had been in. Irish temper, German stubbornness, Creole attitude, Native pride, and a whole lot of burrs under her saddle blanket, Grammie always said with a calm, understanding grin.

  Riz bit the inside of her cheek, drawing blood. Painful and enough to keep her mind away from the quickest way of pissing off her captors.

  “You,” he barked, his guttural tone like nails on a chalkboard. “Come.”

  Every inch of her rebelled but she wasn’t about to have anyone else injured because she had it in her to be difficult. She pushed up from her seat position with a fluid motion, despite her hands being bound before her. Ignoring both the tingles of blood flow and the two dead bodies she had to step over, she made her way toward the man.

  He beckoned twice before spitting on the polished floor. “Faster.”

  Even with the accent, his word was understandable. Sure thing, let me sprint to my death you arrogant motherfucker. Only by the grace of God did that stay in her mouth. Her boot heel slid in the tacky blood, she’d tried to avoid and she nearly went down.

  Gaze on the floor, she paused before him, waiting. He gripped her chin, forcing her face up. “You’ll do.”

  Two words that petrified her and freaked her out. This wasn’t what she would wish on anyone. “You won’t,” she snapped.

  His thin lips parted in a slow grin. “You will beg.”

  She closed her eyes and prayed. Okay, I know I haven’t prayed in a very long time and I shouldn’t only pray when I’m in need. That being said, if you could see fit for one prayer to be granted, please send me a rescuer. Not just me but for all of us. None of these people deserve this.

  He grabbed her through her thin white shirt, pinching and twisting her nipple cruelly. Tears sprung to her eyes.

  “Move,” he ordered, shoving her toward the door and two other sweaty men.

  “Fuck off.” Damn. She’d meant to not fight around the kids who were crying into their parents.

  “What?” He turned back.

  “You heard me. Go fuck yourself. You and your fucking cronies.”

  “Not so meek and mild.” A leer. “Good. Makes the breaking all the more fun and satisfying.”

  Her head pounded and pain erupted as he punched her in the chin. Eyes rolling back, she wobbled before sinking to the cold floor.

  He stood over her as stars danced before her eyes. She could feel the blood in her hair that indicated she’d landed in a pool from a dead person. The man grabbed his crotch and aimed the gun at her. She should know the weapon but her mind was too preoccupied with the pain careening around in her skull.

  She took a deep breath—immediately regretted it—and lashed up with her leg, catching him right in his family jewels. His bellow, while music to her ears, was short lived as his foot connected with her jaw, snapping her head back to bounce painfully in the bloody puddle once more.

  “Fucking bitch!”

  He grabbed her hair and dragged her along. Even if she’d had the strength to fight him, she wasn’t sure she would have.

  You’ve the hard German head, lass. You get that from your Ma. God rest her soul.

  Tears leaked free from pain and memory. Her parents were divorced so her father always referred to his ex-wife as dead, even though she remained very much alive.

  More than I can I will be by the end of the day.

  The ham-sized fist in her hair dragged her down into a small room where he kicked the door closed behind them.

  Riz rolled to her feet the moment he released her, nauseous and woozy but determined to fight. Wavering, she wiped her nose off on the back of her hand. He placed his weapon on the desk, away from her and reached for his zipper. Keeping quiet, she took several breaths and waited for him and his inevitable attack. Hands tied or not, she wasn’t about to go quietly.

  Any help Lord? No? It’s all good. I brought this on myself by mouthing off to him. Although, had she remained quiet, she may very well have found herself here anyway. Not like it was honorable men who did things like this. Wish I could have hugged my family once more.

  She laced her fingers and did her best not to adapt a defensive stance, he would find out soon enough of her self-defensive training. She wasn’t going to lie there quietly and let him rape her. She glanced to the windows and wondered how far down it would be to the ground were she to jump.

  “You will pleasure me. Then the others if you still live when I finish with you.”

  Her bravado remained but it stood beside her on legs made of straw ready to give out. Her temper was stripped bare and exposed, pulsing with hotness. She wanted to watch the life leave his eyes.

  He undid his shirt, allowing it to hang open, exposing his heavily haired chest. In her mind, she envisioned ripping out handfuls or setting fire to it and watching him burn. The man reached for her, his grip bruising and she reacted, yanking out two handfuls of the black carpet from his torso.

  His bellowing roar accompanied the backhand knocking her back to the hard, unforgiving floor.

  Yes, I quite possibly pushed my luck too far. He’s going to kill me. Spots danced before her eyes yet she ignored it. What was a little pain when she was about to die? Blood ran from her mouth, spreading its rich metallic flavor along her taste buds. Ignored. Her wrist screamed in agony as she struggled to get back on her feet.

  The laugh from her assailant fell leap years beyond maniacal. Her life, brief though it had been flashed before her eyes. So many shoulda, coulda, and woulda’s.

  He pushed his pants down around his booted ankles as he stood over her. Bile rose in her throat as he exposed himself to her. His cock, jutted out before him as he gripped it. Stroked it.

  She stilled, waiting for her final chance. Her last hope. His unwashed stench filled her nose, activating her gag reflex once more.

  Three. Two. One step away. His dick directly in her face she averted her eyes. He moved his hand, the dark gunk under his filthy nails coming toward her hair.

  No way. She’d bite it off.

  Inches away. Time slowed to a crawl. His putrid scent wafted to her nose and she wanted to vomit. Washing a foreign concept here? He gripped her hair and she fisted her hands.

  A soft pop reached her ears and the man flew away from her as if a rope had encircled his chest and yanked him away in a single jerk off his feet.

  Shock slammed her as the situation new direction hit her. The door was closed and she glanced behind her. Two more men stood there armed like the other man—perhaps better. She had zero confidence her circumstance had improved.

  Both men had incredible physiques, no denying that. Their black shirts hugged strong upper bodies. The olive green pants didn’t do much in hiding the power below the waist either. One had a kerchief over his lower face—a face mask, black wraparound shades, and a baseball cap on backward. The other a backwards cap and dark glasses only.

  “You okay?” he asked.

  American. Relief swamped her. More tears threatened. “I will be,” she forced the words out, proud they didn’t shake. Too much anyway.

  The other man hadn’t spoken but she had no doubt he watched her. Unnerving actually. She ran her gaze over him again. Tanned skin, broad shoulders, lean hips.

  “Better speak to her or sh
e’s likely to bolt.” The one who’d asked her if she was okay, spoke to his companion who had the kerchief on.

  “Riz?”

  Her heart thudded to a stop before struggling to renew. She pushed up from her knees, pivoted until she faced them both and walked toward him. Are you shitting me? Five years, seven months, eighteen weeks, and five, no, six days since her heart had been ripped from her chest. Yet despite the time, there wasn’t any way she would forget that voice.

  “Let me see your face,” she demanded.

  He tugged down his skull kerchief as well and her pulse kicked up at the familiar jaw covered by red scruff. Familiar lips and nose. She moved up and was met by pale green eyes as the sunglasses vanished.

  Ralston Dansen stood before her.

  The relief of her rescue faded and in a second she’d swung her bound hands up, taking both herself and him by surprise when the connected with his jaw. Shit, that hurts. The back of her hand throbbed painfully and the wrist pulsed even more. He stumbled back a step, watching her as if just seeing her for the first time.

  The other man whistled low and chuckled. “I think you left a few things out when you stated the two of you had a history.” He beckoned to her and cut the rope binding her hands. She shook them grateful to be free.

  “Fuck off, Cole.” His deep voice brought back to many memories for her weakened mental state to handle.

  “Thank you,” she stated, looking at the one Ralston had called Cole.

  “Ready to go home?” Cole asked.

  “Yes, more than you can know, but I can’t leave all those people there.”

  “We’re here to rescue you, not everyone.” Ralston made the comment.

  Fresh anger poured into her. She fisted a hand and refused to look at her ex. Locking her gaze and focus on Cole, she stared into his blue-green eyes. “I won’t go knowing they are still in danger.”

  Cole nodded. “Give me a second.” He stepped away and in the time it took her to blink, the space had been filled up by Ralston. His green eyes snapped fire. “It’s time to go. You can’t save them.”