Page 1 of Protecting What's Mine
Chapter 1
Ranger
The blue water of the Atlantic Ocean waves at me as I stare out the floor-to-ceiling windows in the Maddox Security conference room, waiting impatiently for the guys I work with to arrive for our monthly meeting. The room is perched high above the bustling streets of downtown Saint Pierce, offering a panoramic view of the city and the vast ocean beyond. Dean Maddox owns the entire twentieth floor of this sleek sky rise. The view is stunning, but my attention is on the ticking clock. I’m a man who doesn’t like to be kept waiting.
Dean is very particular about keeping a schedule, and so am I. Punctuality is a virtue in our line of work, where precision and timing can mean the difference between success and failure. My patience wears thin as I tap my fingers on the polished mahogany table, the rhythmic sound echoing in the spacious, modern room.
I glance at my watch for the third time in five minutes, the ticking seconds feeling like an eternity. The soft hum of the air conditioning does little to soothe my growing frustration. My thoughts drift between the ocean outside and the urgency of the tasks that lie ahead.
The door finally creaks open, and Lincoln trickles in, his casual demeanor clashing with the urgency I feel. I suppress a sigh and straighten in my chair, ready to dive into the agenda. Dean strides in after him, his presence commanding the room. He takes his seat at the head of the table.
"What’s taking so long?” I ask, resting my forearms on the glossy, polished conference room table, its surface so reflective I can almost see my own impatience staring back at me.
The room is large, too large, for a group of six men. The high ceilings and expansive floor space amplify the emptiness. Dean once said it takes this much space to hold all our personalities, and I guess that’s true.
Lincoln, the only other one here besides our boss, Dean, glances at the world time clock on the wall, its multiple faces displaying times from London to Tokyo. “They’re only two minutes late.”
“But still late,” I say, arching a brow and feeling the familiar annoyance prickling at the edge of my patience.
“The other guys are on their way up,” Dean says from his seat at the head of the table. He sits with an air of authority, his eyes flicking to the wall of televisions surveilling every nook and cranny of the building. Each screen shows a different angle, capturing the continuous activity within our fortress. “Patience is a virtue, Ranger.”
I lean back, stretching my legs under the table, and cross my boots at the ankle. The chair creaks slightly, the only sound in the otherwise silent room. “Mhm. I’ve been told,” I mutter, my tone a mix of resignation and stubbornness. My eyes wander back to the ocean view.
The silence stretches on, the weight of our anticipation palpable. Every second feels like an eternity, each tick of the clock a reminder of the punctuality I value.
I've known Dean for years, worked here for years as well, so he knows I’m just busting his balls. We go way back. With a military background, it was only right that I joined his team as a security specialist after I retired. Maddox Security is one of the largest security companies in the world. I use the term ‘security’ lightly because sometimes we’re asked to do more than protect; sometimes, we’re enforcers, investigators, and even rescuers.
The hours are great. The work is always busy, with no two days ever the same. And I like the men I work with… even if they’re late. They’re like family to me. I don’t have a lot of family, so I appreciate them. I’m the type of man who keeps his circle small, preferring quality over quantity. When you do what we do, you surround yourself with people you can trust implicitly.
Lincoln’s blue eyes meet mine, and he shakes his head with a wry smile. He’s a quiet guy, for the most part, always sitting back, watching instead of speaking. He’s got a way of assessing a situation with just a glance, a skill that’s saved our asses more than once.
Unlike Boone.
Speak of the devil. He’s next to arrive. Boone defines mountain man—burly and bearded, with a presence that fills the room. Hissteps are heavy and purposeful. He does outstanding work, the kind you can always rely on when things get tough.
We’ve all got our strengths, so I see why Dean has all of us on his payroll. Each of us brings something unique to the table.
“I’m here, the meeting can begin now,” Boone jokes, his deep voice rumbling through the room. He scrubs a hand over his beard as he takes a seat and casts his brown eyes over at me. “Heard about your sister.”
I nod. “It’s fine.”
It’s really not fine. She was in love with a man she thought she trusted, but he turned out to be somebody he wasn’t. The betrayal hit hard, leaving her heartbroken and me seething with a protective anger. We’ve always looked out for each other, and seeing her hurt cuts deeper than any wound I’ve ever had in combat.
“If you need me to knock a motherfucker out, just say the word,” Boone offers, his voice tinged with a mix of seriousness and dark humor.
I grin. “I’ll let you know.”
I already asked Greta if I could pummel him with my fist when she caught him cheating on her, but she said no. However, she didn’t say Boone couldn’t. Greta is a non-confrontational woman, always looking to avoid conflict. Me, I love a good fight. Sometimes, people say I seek it out. And they might be right. There's something about the rush of adrenaline and the clear-cut resolution that appeals to me.
Lincoln turns toward us, his curiosity piqued. “Knock who out?”
While Lincoln, Dean, and Boone listen intently, I explain the story of my sister finding her guy tied to their bed with his assistant riding him like a cowgirl.
“Damn,” Boone says, shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s pretty harsh. She wore Greta’s cowboy boots?”
“Yep. And Greta’s been devastated ever since she kicked him out. I tried to warn her not to get wrapped up in the love bullshit, but she never listens.”
“Love isn’t all bad,” Dean says with a slight lift of his lips, his tone softening.