Ranger Redemption (Brotherhood Protectors Colorado Book 3) Read online

  Ranger Redemption

  Brotherhood Protectors Colorado Book #3

  Elle James

  Twisted Page Inc

  Contents

  Ranger Redemption

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Epilogue

  Afterword

  Breaking Hearts

  Chapter 1

  About the Author

  Also by Elle James

  Ranger Redemption

  Brotherhood Protectors Colorado BOOK #3

  New York Times & USA Today

  Bestselling Author

  ELLE JAMES

  Copyright © 2021 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.

  © date Twisted Page Inc. All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13: 978-1-62695-355-0 (Ebook edition)

  ISBN-13: 978-1-62695-356-7 (Paperback edition)

  Dedicated to Bandit and Charli who keep me on my toes and love me unconditionally. I love my two Yorkies!

  Elle James

  Author’s Note

  Enjoy other military books by Elle James

  Brotherhood Protectors Colorado

  SEAL Salvation (#1)

  Rocky Mountain Rescue (#2)

  Ranger Redemption (#3)

  Tactical Takeover (#4)

  Shadow Assassin (crossover)

  Delta Force Strong

  Ivy’s Delta (Delta Force 3 Crossover)

  Breaking Silence (#1)

  Breaking Rules (#2)

  Breaking Away (#3)

  Breaking Free (#4)

  Breaking Hearts (#5)

  Breaking Ties (#6)

  Visit ellejames.com for titles and release dates

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

  and join Elle James's Newsletter at

  https://ellejames.com/contact/

  Chapter 1

  “Yeah, well, here we are.” Cage Weaver stood at the top of Pikes Peak, breathing hard, his legs shaky from pushing himself hard on the ascent. He shrugged out of the backpack he’d worn all the way to the top, carrying the six pounds of what was left of his battle buddy and best friend, Ryan Meyers.

  “You know this wasn’t how we were supposed to do this race. You and I were supposed to complete this marathon together, in competition, not me carrying your sorry ass to the top.”

  His chest squeezed hard. Cage blamed the altitude. At over fourteen thousand feet, anyone would be sucking wind. Especially after the grueling run up the mountain. Thirteen miles of trail and an elevation change of over seventy-eight hundred feet took it out of a person. Even if he was in great shape.

  Ryan had dreamed of the ascent. They’d signed up for the race over a year in advance, planning to complete it together once they returned from deployment to Afghanistan. The only problem was that Ryan came back in a body bag. Cage was forced to fulfill Ryan’s dream on his own.

  “Well, not quite on my own,” Cage said, hefting the box containing the ashes of his friend. “Now, all I have left to do is release your ashes here at the summit, like I promised.” He started to open the box.

  Before he could release the latch, a crowd of half-marathon competitors arrived at the top, racing past the finish line to loud cheers. Those running the full twenty-six plus miles would be heading back down the mountain. Everywhere Cage turned, someone was standing, taking up space on the peak and snapping photos of each other. He couldn’t release Ryan’s ashes without someone seeing him do it.

  Not only was the release of his friend’s final remains a private occasion, but it was also prohibited at the summit of Pikes Peak as per park regulations.

  Cage glanced around. With all the people standing around congratulating each other over reaching the summit, he wouldn’t find a private place to slip Ryan’s ashes out of the box and into the wind.

  With time ticking away on his watch and the remainder of the marathon yet to complete, he shoved Ryan’s box back into his backpack, zipped it and looked around at the men and women who’d made it to the top thus far.

  He might have found a way to release Ryan’s ashes had he stayed longer. The truth was, he wasn’t ready to let go of his friend. Not on the battlefield and not on Pikes Peak.

  He slipped the backpack over his shoulders and joined the others on the race back down the mountain.

  At least he’d completed part of his promise to Ryan as he’d held his buddy in his arms while he’d bled out from grievous wounds he’d suffered from a mortar round explosion. He and Ryan would complete the Pikes Peak Marathon together.

  He’d fulfill his other promise to spread his buddy’s ashes on a mountain in Colorado another day.

  It would have to wait until his next chance to summit a mountain. Cage was due to start a new job tomorrow. He’d been assured the work would utilize his skills as a soldier and make his transition to the civilian world less painful.

  He’d be the judge of that once he got his feet wet with the Brotherhood Protectors Colorado division.

  “How did everybody do with the techniques we discussed last week at our session?” Emily Strayhorn asked the group of ten veterans who sat in a semicircle for their weekly PTSD therapy.

  When nobody raised his hand, she called on each, one by one. “How about you, JR?”

  Staff Sergeant Jason Ryan Slater, who preferred to be called JR, shrugged. “I tried, but I’m still having nightmares.”

  She smiled gently. “That’s to be expected after what you went through.”

  Former Army Ranger JR Slater had been in a fierce firefight against the Taliban. When he’d been hit by shrapnel from a grenade, he’d lost two of his buddies and his left leg. He, like the others in the group, were there dealing with PTSD from battle-related events.

  It was Emily’s job to help them recover from not their physical wounds, but their mental wounds that would likely plague them for the rest of their lives. She knew she couldn’t erase the memories, but she hoped to give them tools and techniques to deal with them.

  “Meditation won’t cure the nightmares. Hopefully, it will help you learn how to cope with your feelings.” She turned to a young man with long hair and dark shadows beneath his eyes. “How about you, Jimmy?”

  Jimmy Rhodes had been the victim of an IED explosion that had hit his truck. He’d survived by playing dead when the Taliban overran his position. Trapped beneath the heavy truck, he’d lain for hours until rescued. He had nightmares about that day and couldn’t focus his thoughts for more than a couple minutes at a time. “I don’t see how meditation can help. I sat like you told me to, closed my eyes, and then I thought of a thousand things I needed to be doing. All of them involved moving, not sitting still.”

  “Meditation is like physical exercise,” Emily said. “The more you flex your muscles, the easier it gets.”

  “I just don’t see the point,” Jimmy said.

  And there were other nods amongst the veterans.

  “The idea is not just to close you
r eyes but to focus on one thing and one thing only, otherwise your mind becomes like a ball in a pinball machine, with your thoughts bouncing in every direction.”

  “I tried it, Dr. Strayhorn.” Nathan Small raised his hand. “It worked for me. I focused on one thing. It helped me to clear my thoughts of anything else.”

  Emily turned to Nathan and smiled. “That’s good. Were you able to focus for very long?”

  He nodded. “I was, and you were right. It gave me some really clear thinking. And that focus remained with me through the night. I didn’t have one nightmare.”

  “That’s good, Nathan.” She turned to the others. “I understand your hesitation. You are men who have been used to constant motion and adrenaline rushes. Unless you’re mountain climbing or sky diving every day of the week, you’re probably not going to burn off that energy. You need ways to calm that inner anxiety and the need to move.”

  Some of the men frowned.

  Emily held up a hand. “I’m not saying that meditation is the only way. It should be used in combination with exercise. Remember that exercise can take many forms…running, jogging, weightlifting, hiking, climbing and playing. Don’t discount playing. Join some kind of community sports team. There are a lot of them out there. That will help you with the physical release. The meditation will help you with the thoughts bouncing around inside your head like a ping pong ball. During those quiet times, if you aren’t exercising or playing, pick something that makes you happy and focus on it to the point you clear your mind of all else. Again, the more you practice, the better you’ll be at it.”

  Several of the veterans glanced at their watches. Emily did, too, and realized they’d gone a couple minutes past their time. None of them had really wanted to be in the therapy sessions, but they’d been urged to go by family members or their former or current commanders, for those who were still on active duty and struggling with PTSD.

  “Well, gentlemen, that concludes our session. I urge you to continue to try to do the meditation techniques I’ve shown you. At least give it a couple of weeks. Even fifteen minutes a day will help. And as always, thank you for your service. You men are the heroes our country needs.”

  A couple of them snorted as they rose from their chairs and headed for the exit.

  One muttered, “Heroes don’t have nightmares.”

  “Or need therapy,” another responded.

  They were wrong. Heroes were like everyone else. They got scared, had nightmares and suffered after traumatic events. The difference was that they had courage when it was needed.

  Emily was the last one out of the room. She switched off the light then closed and locked the door. She hurried down the long hall to her office where she made notes in her electronic medical record about the various patients and their reactions during the group therapy session.

  She had been with the veterans’ hospital for the past four years, working with veterans with various difficulties, mostly battle-related PTSD and PTSD brought on by military sexual trauma.

  After she’d graduated with her doctorate in psychology, she could have gone to work in any civilian office and made more money, but that wasn’t where her heart was. She wanted to give back to her country by helping veterans who’d sacrificed so much. She would have joined the military, but she hadn’t qualified for active duty because of a physical disability that caused her to walk with a slight limp.

  When she’d been seventeen years old, her family had been involved in an automobile accident. While her parents and her younger brother had been killed in the accident, her life had been spared, leaving her with no family and a mangled leg. The orthopedic surgeon had been able to put her leg back together with pins and surgery, but she’d never run marathons and she would never be able to meet the physical requirements of any branch of service.

  Not that she had been considering the military as a post high school graduation career, but losing her parents had left her orphaned at seventeen. With one year left in high school and college acceptance letters already coming in, she had been left homeless and without a family

  One of her classmates, RJ Tate, had learned of her plight, spoken to her former military father and come up with a solution. Emily had moved in with Dan Tate, or Gunny, as he preferred to be addressed, and his daughter RJ. Having a home in her school district allowed Emily to finish high school with top honors. Her parents would have wanted that.

  Emily had powered through her grief, focusing on everything her mother and father had wanted her to achieve. Whenever she’d been down, Gunny and RJ had helped lift her spirits. She’d worked hard at her schoolwork, but she’d also worked hard on the ranch—mucking stalls, mending fences and taking care of animals.

  Gunny was a disciplined man. He’d had them up early to do all the chores before they’d gone to school. The man was also fair to a fault, never asking them to do anything he wasn’t willing to do himself. He’d had them digging holes for fence posts and staying up late into the night to nurse a sick animal. They’d learned by his example.

  His years in the military had taught him how to be tough, although Emily suspected he’d been born that way. The man never slowed down. Even now, he ran a ranch and a bar with the help of his daughter. He had a habit of taking in strays like herself and their friend JoJo, employing them when they needed spending money and giving them a place to stay when they had nowhere else to go.

  Emily finished her notes, logged off her computer and left her office, locking it behind her. The VA hospital never closed, but her area of the building was deserted by the time she left. She figured she had just enough time to go home, change into something else and head out to the Lost Valley Ranch.

  Gunny and RJ had invited her out for a late supper, with RJ’s friend JoJo and some of Gunny’s long-term tenants, who’d rented the entire basement of the ranch house for a new division of a Montana-based company started by a veteran and employing veterans. The ones she’d met so far were great guys.

  Surprisingly, JoJo and RJ had fallen in love with a couple of them. It made Emily happy to see them happy. Maybe someday, Emily would find that kind of happiness as well with someone who could accept her as she was, limp and all.

  Tired from working with people with real emotional and mental problems all day long, she was ready to blow the cobwebs from her head and breathe in some of that cool mountain air.

  When she reached her car, she fumbled in her purse for her keys, her hand on the door handle. She tugged on the door handle. As expected, it didn’t open, proof that she’d locked it that morning like she did every morning. Finally, she found her key. The sun still shone bright as it slipped toward the peaks. The rays glinted off the window blinding her. She hit the unlock button and heard the snick of the locks disengaging.

  When she opened the door and started to throw her purse into the passenger floorboard, she paused. On the driver’s seat lay a single red rose.

  She stared down at the flower. “How the…” The only person with keys to her car was her. How had the rose gotten inside her car? She turned and looked around the parking lot. The immediate area around her vehicle was empty. Most people who had parked there at the beginning of the day had gotten there early enough that they were on their way home by now.

  As she should be.

  A ripple of unease crept across her skin. Roses didn’t just appear inside locked cars. She reached in, picked it up off the seat and tossed it onto the dash, pricking her finger on a thorn in the process. Her cellphone rang at that exact moment. Again, she fumbled in her purse, searching for the cellphone, swearing she was going to downsize her bag to make it easier to find things.

  When she finally found her cellphone and pulled it out, the phone had stopped ringing and she saw that she’d missed a call from RJ Tate. Most likely, she’d called to remind her what time dinner was.

  Emily checked her backseat before she got in, something Gunny had always taught her to do. When she saw that it was empty, she slipped in, closed her do
or and locked it, although she wondered what good that did. Somebody had obviously gotten past her locks and put a rose on her seat. She was very regimented about locking her car door—no way had she forgotten.

  Gunny had drilled safety habits into her before she had gone off to college. Lone women tend to be targets, he’d said. Do everything in your power to stay safe.

  As she shifted into gear and pulled out of the parking lot, she stared at that rose once again, wondering how somebody had gotten past her lock to place that rose on her seat. It might have been cute and romantic if it wasn’t completely creepy.

  She drove through the evening traffic to her small apartment in downtown Colorado Springs. She liked the location because it was an easy walk to some of the nicer restaurants, and she had a great view of Pikes Peak and Cheyenne Mountain.

  If she sat out on her balcony at night in the summer, she could hear music from some of the local establishments. Some people found that irritating. Emily liked knowing that people were out having fun, enjoying the company of their friends and lovers, while she preferred the quiet and solitude.

  She was a good listener, and she was good at her job, but she didn’t like to be in situations where she was forced to be the cornerstone of the conversation. That bookish introvert in her had gotten her through high school and college with great grades, but social situations could be challenging, except at the ranch. There, she felt at home and comfortable around Gunny and his daughter and JoJo, and the new tenants made it easy for her to sit back and enjoy the conversation without having to add too much to it.