The Defender: RYDER (Cover Six Security Book 3) Read online

  THE DEFENDER: RYDER

  Cover Six Security #3

  Lisa B. Kamps

  THE DEFENDER: RYDER

  Copyright © 2019 by Elizabeth Belbot Kamps

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the express written permission of the author.

  Cover Six Security™ is a fictional security company, its name and logo created for the sole use of the author and covered under protection of trademark.

  All characters in this book have no existence outside the imagination of the author and have no relation to anyone bearing the same name or names, living or dead. This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to any individual, place, business, or event is purely coincidental.

  Cover Design by Jay Aheer of Simply Defined Art

  https://www.simplydefinedart.com/

  Photographer: Christopher John of CJC Photography

  http://www.cjc-photography.com/

  Cover Model: Brian L.

  Cover Six Security Logo Designed by Benjamin Mangnus of Benjamagnus Design Ltd.

  http://www.benjamagnus.com/

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Other titles by this author

  Special Acknowledgement

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Epilogue

  The Warrior: DERRICK pre-order

  PLAYING THE GAME preview

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Other titles by this author

  Dedication

  For Jackie Howerth Forquer, who's always ready with a keen eye

  and a shoulder to lean on.

  Thank you.

  Other titles by this author:

  COVER SIX SECURITY

  Covered By A Kiss, A CSS Novella, Book 0

  The Protector: MAC, Book 1

  The Guardian: DARYL, Book 2

  The Defender: RYDER, Book 3

  The Warrior: DERRICK, Book 4

  The Rescuer: SEBASTIAN, Book 5

  THE BALTIMORE BANNERS

  Crossing the Line, Book 1

  Game Over, Book 2

  Blue Ribbon Summer, Book 3

  Body Check, Book 4

  Break Away, Book 5

  Playmaker, A Baltimore Banners Intermission Novella

  Delay of Game, Book 6

  Shoot Out, Book 7

  The Baltimore Banners: 1st Period Trilogy

  Books 1-3 Boxed set

  The Baltimore Banners: 2nd Period Trilogy

  Books 4-6 Boxed set

  On Thin Ice, Book 8

  Coach's Challenge, A Baltimore Banners Intermission Novella

  One-Timer, Book 9

  Face Off, Book 10

  First Shot At Love, A Baltimore Banners Short Story

  Game Misconduct, Book 11

  Fighting To Score, Book 12

  Matching Penalties, Book 13

  THE YORK BOMBERS

  Playing The Game, Book 1

  Playing To Win, Book 2

  Playing For Keeps, Book 3

  Playing It Up, Book 4

  Playing It Safe, Book 5

  The York Bombers Boxed Set 1

  Books 1-3

  Playing For Love, Book 6

  Playing His Part, Book 7

  THE CHESAPEAKE BLADES

  Winning Hard, Book 1

  Loving Hard, Book 2

  Playing Hard, Book 3

  FIREHOUSE FOURTEEN

  Once Burned, Book 1

  Playing With Fire, Book 2

  Breaking Protocol, Book 3

  Into the Flames, Book 4

  Second Alarm, Book 5

  Feel The Burn, Book 6

  Coming Soon

  STAND-ALONE TITLES

  Emeralds and Gold: A Treasury of Irish Short Stories (anthology)

  Finding Dr. Right

  Time To Heal

  Dangerous Passion

  Dangerous Heat

  Illicit Affair

  Coming Soon

  Want to receive updates on my releases, preorders, and sales? Then follow me on BookBub.

  And be sure to sign up for my monthly newsletter, Kamps' Korner, for exciting news and sneak peeks! You don’t want to miss it!

  Can't wait for the newsletter? Want exclusive content before anyone else? How about fun, games, and giveaways? Then please join me and a great group of readers and fans at Kamps Korner on Facebook.

  Special Acknowledgement

  The idea for the Cover Six Security series came about when I started the Chesapeake Blades series—particularly book 2, Loving Hard. And the more I played around with it, the more it drew me in.

  I had the story ideas. Names for the guys on the team. Their backgrounds. I was ready to go, my fingers itching to get the words on paper.

  What I didn't have was a name for the security company. Ideas came to me, only to be deleted because...well, frankly, because they stunk. Then I got stuck.

  Like many authors, I have a fabulous reader's group on Facebook: Kamps Korner. And that's where I turned to for help. I threw the question (okay, I begged) to the greatest bunch of readers I know—and they totally came through for me!

  There were dozens of suggestions, all of them fantastic—which led to another dilemma: how do I pick one? There were a few that really stood out so I did what any smart author would do: I created a poll and let the readers pick...

  And Cover Six Security was born.

  Thank you to everyone who offered suggestions—there were so many great ones! And special thanks—and my undying gratitude—to Elizabeth Roney and her Marine husband for the wonderful suggestion! It totally fits. And in Elizabeth's words: "He [her Marine husband] said it would be a good pick up line explaining to the ladies what cover your six means!"

  And it totally is—as you'll see in several of the upcoming books!

  Elizabeth and your Marine husband—this one is for you! Thank you <3!

  Prologue

  Anger ripped through him, coupled with an extreme distaste that curdled his stomach and filled his mouth with acid. Did the insolent nobody in front of him actually think he could get away with making ultimatums? With blackmailing him?

  It was bad enough that he'd tried to have this conversation on the beach. Out in the open, where anyone could see them. Not that they'd be overheard, even with the way the bastard had been yelling. But it was still a careless risk. A worthless one.

  And then he'd dared to try to shove him!

  Which only proved how stupid the sniveling little twit really was.

  Blue eyes stared back at him, the first hint of fright wavering in their dept
hs. So, he wasn't that stupid, was already beginning to regret the words that had tumbled from his worthless mouth.

  Good. Let him regret them. Not that it would do any good. The blackmail attempt had been a slight.

  And he never allowed a slight to pass without retribution. Doing so would only undermine his authority.

  Even so, part of him had to give the sniveling little bastard credit. He wondered how long it had taken the man to work up the courage to say what he had. Days? No, longer than that. The man was as spineless as a jellyfish and nearly as worthless. He'd probably been working up the courage for the past two weeks.

  Too bad it would do him no good.

  He didn't know that. Not yet.

  But he would, soon enough.

  He leaned against the wall of the cave, careful not to get dirt on his shirt. He had no problem getting dirty in general—it was part of his cover, after all—but the muck that lined these cave walls was different. Someone might notice.

  Not that any of the do-gooders he was surrounded by was smart enough to tell the difference. They were all too preoccupied with their precious volunteer work. Too wrapped up in helping others and paying for the privilege, thinking that it made them better than everyone else. They were clueless. Pathetic. Naive and stupid.

  The sniveling bastard in front of him was proof of that. Why, none of those do-gooders had a clue what the twit was doing! How he was lying to them all, charming them with smooth words and an even smoother smile. Weaving a web of deception right in front of their stupid, naive noses.

  Pathetic.

  But still, he couldn't take a chance that someone might notice an odd smear of dirt on his shirt that didn't quite match the other smudges. That wouldn't do. Not at all.

  At the same time, he couldn't do what he wanted to the sniveling little bastard who had dared try to blackmail him. Someone might notice him missing. Not might—they'd definitely notice him missing. And if he went missing, the entire operation might be put at risk. People might start poking their noses where they didn't belong and asking questions.

  That wouldn't do, either.

  He glanced at the second man, the one who was surprisingly smart enough to realize the bastard had crossed an uncrossable line. Surprising because there were definitely more brawns than brains with that one.

  Which was a shame. That brawn had come in handy. Would come in handy again over the next two weeks. The man was strong, carried more than his share of weight despite the fellow missing a leg

  The man sighed. Well, there was nothing to be done about it. A slight was a slight, after all. He couldn't let it slide, not without undermining his own authority.

  He offered the sniveling bastard a pleasant smile, watched with satisfaction when some of the tension left the man's shoulders. "You think you're entitled to a bigger cut, is that right?"

  "Yeah. Yes."

  "And why is that?"

  "Because—" The bastard paused. Sucked in a deep breath and squared his shoulders. "The risk I'm taking. If someone finds out—"

  "The risk you're taking? And what risk is that?"

  "Well, you know. By letting you hide this stuff here. If someone found it—"

  "And who would find it? You are doing your job and keeping everyone away, aren't you?"

  "Yes, but—"

  "Then there's no risk, now is there?"

  Anger pushed away some of the fright in the man's eyes. "Now listen here. I've busted my ass to get this thing running. I've worked for months—months—to make this work. Living in squalor. Playing nice with everyone. So yeah, I think I deserve a little more for the risk I'm taking."

  He tilted his head to the side, pretending to contemplate the issue. He finally nodded, offered the man another smile. "Possibly—"

  "Good. I knew you'd agree—"

  "I'll let you keep the money you've stolen and not report you. How does that sound?"

  "But—you can't report me. If you do, I'll tell them about—"

  "No, I don't think you will." He pushed away from the wall and moved toward the second man, the one who wasn't quite smart enough to realize what was about to happen.

  Then again, neither was the sniveling bastard because he was still stammering, indignation turning his face red.

  "I will. You can't stop me."

  "Oh, but I think I can." He swung his arm out and hit the second man in the back of the head with the rock he'd been holding. The man's eyes widened, knowledge of what was happening slowly flaring in their depths. The man started to move but it was too late. He hit him again, then a third time before the fellow finally crumpled to the ground.

  The bastard just stood there, his mouth gaping open, urine soaking the front of his pants as he pissed himself.

  Such disgusting behavior.

  He stepped out of the cave and made his way to the water. Tossed the rock into the waves and watched it sink below the surface. He brushed his hands off, checked to make sure there was no blood on his clothes, then moved back to the cave.

  The sniveling bastard was still standing there, his mouth still hanging open in the most unbecoming way.

  "There will be no more talk of bigger cuts or sharing profits, is that clear?"

  The sniveling bastard snapped his mouth closed, quickly nodded.

  "Good. Now get rid of him. Not here. Take him to the other side of the island and dump him."

  There was no hesitation at all this time.

  "Y-yes, sir."

  "Good." He turned and walked out of the cave, his steps light, his conscience clear.

  It was time to get back. Dessert was waiting for him.

  Chapter One

  "Treasure?"

  Ryder "Boomer" Hess forced the word between clenched teeth. For all that he was seething inside, he was damn impressed with how calm he sounded. So what if the volume of his voice was a decibel or two louder than it should have been? He blamed that on needing to compete with the sound of the surf lapping against silky white sand fifty yards to his right.

  He turned his head to the right and stared at the surf in question. Squinted against the bright sun reflecting off crystal blue water. Clenched his jaw a bit tighter. Jammed his fists into the pockets of his tan tactical pants.

  He would not blow up.

  He would not. Blow. Up.

  He sucked in a deep breath, released it entirely too fast to derive any calming effects from it, then turned back to the woman standing five feet away from him.

  "You fucking called me down here for fucking treasure?"

  The woman didn't even flinch. Of course not—she was too damn stubborn. Too damn mule-headed. Too damn sure of herself to be intimidated by his outburst.

  And too damn use to those outbursts to be even remotely fazed.

  She crossed her tanned arms in front of her, clenched her own jaw and tilted her head back to glare at him. Silence hung in the still air, thick with tension.

  Heavy with her own imminent explosion.

  Ryder braced himself for it. Narrowed his own gaze behind the dark sunglasses and rolled his shoulders back. Shifted his weight to the balls of his feet. Waited...and waited some more.

  Instead of the expected explosion, the woman closed the distance between them and abruptly jammed one long finger in the middle of his chest. Hard. And damn, that fucking hurt, especially when she kept doing it, punctuating each word with another jab.

  "Treasure hunters." Jab. "And you have a foul mouth." Jab. "Do you know that? Mom would wash your mouth out—" Jab. "—with soap if she heard you—" Jab. "—talk that way!"

  His patience with his sister finally snapped and he grabbed her hand before she could add even more bruises to his sternum. She struggled against his gentle hold and tugged her hand from his, muttered something under her breath, then pulled one leg back and kicked him in the shin—

  With her bare foot.

  She gasped in surprise then bent over, cradling the injured foot with one hand while she hopped around. Ryder rolled his e
yes and stepped back, just in case the whole hopping-around thing was an act to get him to drop his guard.

  "Holy hell, Allison. What the hell did you think would happen? You don't kick someone with your bare feet."

  She stopped hopping around long enough to glare at him. "I'm wearing flip-flops. And you're an ass."

  "Those aren't real shoes. And I'm not the one with a broken toe."

  "It's not broken. I should have kicked you in the head!"

  "Why? So you could break your foot instead?"

  "No! So I could knock some sense into that damn thick skull of yours!"

  Smothered laughter came from behind him, the sound quickly choked back when Ryder turned. Colter Graham—otherwise known as Ninja—stood perfectly still, his head turned to the side, seemingly preoccupied with the sight of the waves crashing against the beach.

  Yeah. Right. Sure he was.

  The ass.

  Ryder turned back to his sister. "You said it was an emergency."

  "It is—

  "You said you needed help—"

  "We do."

  Ryder ignored the we part because no way in hell could he even go there right now. He hadn't even bothered to look at the other woman standing a few yards away. If he did, he would totally lose his fucking shit—and not just because his sister had called him down here to this quasi-remote island in the middle of fucking nowhere on false pretenses.

  He advanced on Allison, not bothering to hide his anger. "Ninja and I just spent the last twenty-fucking-four hours breaking our necks getting down here because you said it was a matter of life-or-death!"

  Allison's gaze dropped to the ground. "I didn't exactly say that—"

  "The hell you didn't. 'Ryder, this is life-or-death. I need your help.'" He mimicked her voice then clenched his jaw again and sucked in another deep breath. "Or don't you remember saying that? Right before the damn phone went dead!"

  "Phone service down here isn't always reliable—"

  "Dammit, Allison, this isn't a joke. Do you have any idea what the hell was going through my mind after you called?" No, she probably didn't. And knowing his little sister, she probably hadn't even given it much thought. He'd been going through pure hell the last twenty-four hours, not knowing what the hell was going on or what the hell he was going to find when he got down here. Twenty-four hours' worth of commercial flights, layovers, delays, and fucking waiting.