Ranger Creed Read online

  RANGER CREED

  BROTHERHOOD PROTECTORS Book #14

  Elle James

  Twisted Page Inc

  Contents

  RANGER CREED

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  SOLDIER’S DUTY

  Chapter 1

  About the Author

  Also by Elle James

  RANGER CREED

  BROTHERHOOD PROTECTORS Book #14

  New York Times & USA Today

  Bestselling Author

  * * *

  ELLE JAMES

  Copyright © 2020 by Elle James

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  EBOOK ISBN: 978-1-62695-273-7

  PRINT ISBN: 978-1-62695-274-4

  Dedicated to my father, a gentle man who taught me the value of hard work and persistence. I miss him every day.

  Elle James

  Author’s Note

  Enjoy other military books by Elle James

  * * *

  Brotherhood Protectors Series

  Montana SEAL (#1)

  Bride Protector SEAL (#2)

  Montana D-Force (#3)

  Cowboy D-Force (#4)

  Montana Ranger (#5)

  Montana Dog Soldier (#6)

  Montana SEAL Daddy (#7)

  Montana Ranger’s Wedding Vow (#8)

  Montana SEAL Undercover Daddy (#9)

  Cape Cod SEAL Rescue (#10)

  Montana SEAL Friendly Fire (#11)

  Montana SEAL’s Mail-Order Bride (#12)

  SEAL Justice (#13)

  Ranger Creed (#14)

  Delta Force Strong (#15)

  Montana Rescue (Sleeper SEAL)

  Hot SEAL Salty Dog (SEALs in Paradise)

  Hot SEAL Hawaiian Nights (SEALs in Paradise)

  Brotherhood Protectors Vol 1

  Visit ellejames.com for more titles and release dates

  For hot cowboys, visit her alter ego Myla Jackson at mylajackson.com

  and join Elle James and Myla Jackson's Newsletter at Newsletter

  Chapter 1

  “Running Bear, you copy?” Christina Samson, sitting at dispatch, asked.

  Lani Running Bear keyed the mic on her radio. “I copy.”

  “We just received a call from Mattie Lightfoot. She needs you out at her place on Willow Creek ASAP.”

  Lani sighed. On her thirteenth hour of a twelve-hour shift, she was tired and ready to call it a night. Or, in this case, a morning. “Roger,” she said, and turned her Blackfeet Law Enforcement Service vehicle around in the middle of the road and headed back the direction she’d come while on her way in for shift change.

  Mattie Lightfoot lived in a mobile home next to Willow Creek with her grandson, Tyler. She’d raised Tyler since he was four years old, when his mother left the reservation to go make her fortune in Vegas. Her daughter, Stella Lightfoot, hadn’t known who Tyler’s father was. None of the men she’d slept with claimed him. Mattie’s daughter had promised to send for Tyler when she’d made enough money to support them both.

  Stella never sent for Tyler. She never came back to visit her son and, after a couple of years, she quit calling.

  Mattie did what she could for Tyler. She worked at a convenience store in Browning, bringing in just enough money to pay utilities and groceries. Food stamps and food pantries had become a necessity. She made sure Tyler had food, even when she didn’t.

  A fiercely proud Blackfeet matriarch, Mattie was a respected member of the tribe. When she called for help, it was something very serious.

  Lani could have refused the call and let the tribal police officer from the next shift take it. But, when she’d sworn in, she’d promised to respect and look out for members of her tribe, her family.

  The drive to Mattie’s place took fifteen minutes, traveling on a number of different gravel roads, until Lani finally turned onto the rutted path leading to Mattie’s single-wide mobile home.

  Several vehicles were parked in the yard next to Mattie’s old red and white Ford pickup with the rusted wheel wells and bald tires.

  Recognizing the new charcoal gray Denali, a full-sized SUV belonging to tribal elder Raymond Swiftwater, Lani tensed. In her opinion, Swiftwater was a pompous ass, full of his own self-importance. He liked to think he could make decisions for the entire tribe without consulting the other elders. And he bullied the others who were older and wiser than he was into agreeing with his way of thinking.

  The man was accompanied by Stanley and Stewart Spotted Dog, his minions and the muscle he kept close for intimidation purposes. Stan and Stew had broad shoulders and thick necks and arms. They were effective visual deterrents, and strong enough to take down anyone who bothered their boss.

  Swiftwater crossed his arms over his chest. “About time tribal police showed up.”

  Lani ignored the man and walked toward the trailer. “Where’s Mattie?”

  “Inside,” Ray said. “It ain’t good. Sure you have the stomach for it?”

  Since she didn’t know what it was, she couldn’t say. Instead, she walked past Swiftwater, climbed the rickety stairs and knocked on the door. “Mattie, it’s me, Lani Running Bear.”

  A woman’s sob sounded from inside. “He’s gone. My boy is gone.”

  Lani frowned, her chest constricting at the despair in the older woman’s voice. “Mattie, may I come in?”

  “Door’s open,” Mattie said, her voice muffled.

  Lani entered through the narrow door into the dark interior of a mobile home that had seen more moons than Lani had been on this earth.

  Mattie Lightfoot was on the floor beside the inert body of her grandson, Tyler. He lay on his back, his face smashed, his arms battered, his chest and belly slashed by what appeared to be multiple knife wounds.

  Lani’s chest tightened. She’d liked the kid. He’d been going somewhere. Tyler had been committed to completing his degree and getting on with his life as soon as he could. But mostly, he’d been kind to everyone and never had anything bad to say about anyone, Native American or otherwise.

  Mattie stroked Tyler’s long, thick, black hair back from his forehead, tears streaming down her face as she rocked back and forth. “He’s gone.”

  Lani didn’t have to touch the base of his throat to know she’d find no pulse, but she did anyway. As she suspected, his skin was already cool to the touch, and no amount of searching would produce a pulse. “What happened, Mattie?” she asked softly.

  Mattie closed her eyes and rocked. “I don’t know. I don’t know who could have done this to my Tyler.”

  Lani hated asking questions of the woman when she was deeply distressed. But she had to know as much as possible to help find who’d beaten the poor kid to death. “Did you find him here? Or did someone bring him here like this?”

  “He was here when I came home from work,” Mattie said. “I should have been here for him. Maybe none of this would have happened. If I’d been home, he wouldn’t be dead.”

  “You don’t know that. You could have been hurt as well.”

  “Rather me than him,” Mattie said. “He had so much to live for.”

  Lani glanced around the interior of the single-wide mobile home. Though it was old, Mattie kept it clean. A mismatch of dishes was stacked neatly on a drainboard by the sink. Laun
dry lay neatly folded on the built-in couch. There was no blood pooling beneath Tyler’s body, nor was there any broken glass or furniture in the vicinity of the body. The young man had been beaten and stabbed multiple times.

  The crime hadn’t been committed inside the trailer, which meant whoever had killed him had brought him there.

  “Did you see anyone leaving your yard?”

  Again, Mattie shook her head. “No one was here when I got home, and I didn’t pass anyone on the road coming in.” She stared at her grandson. “Who would have done this to Tyler? He was such a good boy.”

  “I’m sorry, Mattie. I don’t know who did this, but I will find out. We’ll find who did this to Tyler.” She hoped she wasn’t lying. Too often, crimes on the rez remained unsolved. “Mattie, the FBI will be involved in solving this crime. They have a lot of resources at their disposal that our own tribal police don’t. They’ll likely perform an autopsy and determine what weapons were used and what was the actual time of Tyler’s death.”

  “Good. I want you to use whatever means possible to find Tyler’s killer and bring him to justice.”

  Lani nodded. “When was the last time you saw Tyler…alive?”

  Mattie’s eyes filled with tears. “Yesterday afternoon. I had the night shift at the convenience store.”

  “Was he planning on going anywhere after dinner? Meeting anyone?”

  She gave a hint of a smile. “He was going to see Natalie Preston, his girlfriend in Conrad. They had a date. He was going to take her out to the new diner for supper. He’d been working extra hours at the K Bar L Ranch so he could treat her to something special.”

  “Do you know if he made it to Natalie’s?”

  Mattie shook her head. “I had to work. I was looking forward to hearing all about their date.” More tears slipped down the older woman’s face.

  Lani reached for Mattie’s hand, squeezed it, and then pushed to her feet. “Did you call Raymond Swiftwater after you called the police?”

  Mattie shook her head. “I didn’t. He showed up a few minutes before you.”

  Lani’s jaw tightened.

  Swiftwater was known for showing up at reservation crime scenes.

  “Could you make them leave?” Mattie asked, looking up at her.

  Lani’s lips pressed together in a thin line. “I’ll do my best. In the meantime, I need to make some calls back at the station. I’ll be back. Try not to disturb Tyler’s body or any evidence. The FBI will want to look over everything very closely.”

  Mattie nodded and continued to stroke Tyler’s hair, despite having been told not to disturb Tyler’s body.

  Lani left the trailer. As she descended the steps to the ground, Swiftwater approached her.

  “So, what do you think?”

  “I don’t know what to think. A thorough investigation will have to be conducted.”

  “One of our people is dead,” Swiftwater said. “What are you going to do about it?”

  Lani squared her shoulders. “I’m going to do what I’m paid to do, and that is to investigate and find out who killed him. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get the FBI out here.”

  When she tried to go around Swiftwater, he stepped in her way, blocking her path. “Why must you call the FBI? This happened on the reservation.”

  “You know perfectly well the FBI has responsibility for investigating murders on the reservation.” She lifted her chin. “You know we don’t have the training or the resources to conduct a thorough investigation within Blackfeet Law Enforcement Service.”

  Swiftwater sneered. “Then what are you good for? Writing speeding tickets and giving rides home to drunks?”

  “As you are also aware, we don’t have the ability to perform autopsies. We need to know the cause of death and time of death.”

  “I can tell you how he died,” Swiftwater said. “A white man crossed onto the reservation and killed Tyler Lightfoot.”

  Lani planted her fists on her hips. “And you know that how? Were you there? Did you see it happen? And if you were there and saw it happen, why didn’t you do something to stop it, or at least call it in?”

  Swiftwater’s face turned a ruddy red beneath his naturally dark skin. “We don’t need an autopsy to determine what happened. It’s obvious. Tyler dared to date one of their own. White men don’t like it when Blackfeet date their women. Check with his girlfriend’s family. I bet you’ll find the murderer there.”

  “We’ll get the FBI involved to help us find the murderer.”

  Swiftwater shook his head. “We don’t like the FBI crawling around the reservation.”

  She drew a deep breath, trying to hold onto her temper. “We don’t have access to the resources available within the FBI. They have the resources and skills needed to solve this kind of crime.”

  Swiftwater’s eyes narrowed. “And how often do they solve crimes on the reservation? I don’t know why they can’t leave it to our own people to solve the crimes.”

  Lani frowned. “You know we’re always shorthanded. We barely have enough staff to man two shifts.”

  “I’ve offered my own men as contract labor to help with law enforcement efforts.”

  She wouldn’t trust Swiftwater’s men any more than she’d trust Swiftwater. She suspected they were all corrupt; she just didn’t have the evidence to prove it. “They aren’t certified police officers. They have no authority to enforce the laws.”

  Lani was tired of his harassment. She narrowed her eyes. “Do you know anything about Tyler’s death?”

  Swiftwater blinked. “No.”

  “Then how did you come to be here so quickly?” she asked.

  The tribal elder lifted his chin. “As a tribal elder, I have access to the police scanner. As a man responsible for the welfare of his tribe, I like to know what’s happening. I also like to know how fast our law enforcement officers respond in situations such as this.”

  Lani snorted and turned away.

  “I will report to the tribal elders how long it took you to arrive on scene.”

  Not bothering to reply, Lani climbed into her service vehicle, requested assistance and asked dispatch to notify the FBI.

  Lani returned to the trailer to wait with Mattie. While they waited, Lani used her cellphone to take pictures of the crime scene, Tyler’s body and the many wounds that had been inflicted. She knew the FBI would conduct a thorough investigation but wasn’t sure they would share the information with her.

  Within the hour, many of Mattie’s friends and tribe women arrived in support of Mattie. At the same time, the tribal elders arrived and formed a circle around Swiftwater.

  Lani, with Mattie in tow, exited the mobile home, wanting to know what the elders were discussing, and needing the older woman out of the trailer when the women converged on her. They didn’t need to contaminate the crime scene any more than Mattie already had.

  She found out soon enough.

  “Officer Running Bear,” Chief Hunting Horse called out.

  Lani stepped forward. “Yes, sir.”

  “As the FBI will be involved in this investigation, we want Police Chief Black Knife to be their contact. No others.”

  “That means you are officially off this case,” Swiftwater said, stepping forward to stand beside Chief Hunting Horse.

  At that moment, the chief of tribal police arrived.

  Swiftwater nodded toward his vehicle. “Officer Running Bear, you can leave now.”

  Lani ignored Swiftwater and converged upon her head of law enforcement, Police Chief Black Knife. “Are you going to let the elders pull rank on you?”

  Her boss frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “They just pulled me off this murder case.”

  He frowned. “What did they say?”

  “That you will be the direct contact with the FBI investigation.”

  His frown deepened. “I’ll find out what’s going on.” He left her standing by his vehicle and joined the tribal elders. A few minutes l
ater, he returned, a scowl marring his forehead. “You’re officially off the case.”

  “What? Why?” she asked.

  Black Knife’s face was set in stone. “There’ll be no discussion. I’ll see you back at the station.”

  When she opened her mouth to protest, he held up his hand. “No discussion.”

  Anger burned through her. She glanced toward the front of the mobile home where Mattie Lightfoot was being led away from the crime scene by Swiftwater.

  Her gaze met Mattie’s distraught one. The woman looked to her as if asking what was happening.

  Lani started toward her.

  A hand on her arm stopped her.

  “You’re off the case,” Police Chief Black Knife reminded her.

  “I just want to help Mattie.”

  “Go home. Your shift has ended.” The stern look he gave her ended her arguments.

  She wanted to go to Mattie and reassure her that she’d do everything in her power to find her grandson’s killer, but she couldn’t.

  Maybe she couldn’t do anything in an official capacity, but she could do something in an unofficial capacity, and she had an idea of who she could get to help her.

  Lani took her service vehicle back to the station, climbed into her Jeep and headed to her cottage at the edge of the reservation. She hadn’t gone five miles along the road home before a massive lump in the road forced her to slow to a complete stop.

  She stared at the lump for a moment before her heart dropped to the pit of her belly. She pulled her service weapon out of her shoulder holster and stepped out of her vehicle, searching the roadside and ditches for any sign of movement. Nothing moved, including the lump in front of her.