Eagle

  This book is dedicated to the people who have provided me the greatest example of what true love is:

  * * *

  my grandparents

  married over 70 years and still going strong.

  * * *

  my parents

  married nearly 50 years and still going strong.

  * * *

  my husband

  putting up with me for over 20 years. You deserve a medal.

  Copyright © 2018 by Janie Crouch

  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.

  This a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locals is entirely coincidental.

  Cover by Deranged Doctor Design.

  A Calamity Jane Publishing Book

  EAGLE: LINEAR TACTICAL

  Contents

  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

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Other Books By Janie Crouch

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Today was the day.

  Charlotte Devereux just needed this one thing to go right.

  She rested her head against her hands on the steering wheel. Was it so much to ask, after everything that had happened, to catch a break?

  She dragged her head up and peeked out her windshield. Not that she’d thought she’d find it here in Oak Creek, the town she’d fallen in love with when she’d moved here at fourteen years old. At the time, she’d planned to live here the rest of her life, get married and raise half a dozen kids. She’d had it all worked out, right down to the father of those six kids.

  But sometimes real life got in the way of your inner fourteen-year-old’s plans.

  And once she’d left Oak Creek with such fanfare eight years ago, she’d never thought she would be back. Especially under these circumstances.

  But it was fitting that this town, which had once held so much promise and heartbreak for her, would be the place that would allow her to start again.

  This was the job she wanted, the one she had worked so hard for and discovered she had such a natural talent and passion for.

  The one that had been snatched away from her at every opportunity.

  But not today. Today she had circumvented the powers-that-be keeping her from her dream by discovering a way around them. Maybe it wasn’t the prettiest way possible, or the cleverest, but she’d done it.

  And this was just the beginning. She would prove herself here, and then slowly things would build.

  She straightened, ignoring the exhaustion that pulled at her. She’d worked a shift last night at her other job until after three o’clock in the morning and then had been unable to sleep. She wouldn’t deceive herself into thinking that, after today, she could give that other job up. Not yet.

  But it would build, though slowly. Things didn’t change fast, but God knew she’d become patient. When you didn’t have any other choice, it was all you could be. Otherwise you just went bat-shit crazy. She’d been there too.

  But not today. Today was going to be good.

  She opened the door and got out, grabbing the blazer she’d paid to have pressed with money she couldn’t spare. But looking professional—that difficult-to-obtain mix of friendly and capable—was more important than anything else she could have used it for. Like food.

  There wasn’t a stitch of designer anything on her body, but hell, it had been so long since she’d worn a name other than Walmart’s Faded Glory that it no longer even fazed her. She had real battles to fight, which meant she had no time for the cosmetic ones.

  Taking a deep breath, she turned and faced the Frontier Diner. She’d spent so many hours hanging out here during high school, her only cares those of any privileged, happy girl her age. Gossip. Friends. Boys.

  Finn Bollinger in particular.

  God, how she wished Finn was her biggest concern now.

  She pushed the thought of him from her mind because that would derail her faster than her exhaustion or nervousness. Ethan. Ethan was the name of the person she was to concentrate on today.

  She grabbed her tote bag from the back seat, wincing at everything else stuffed in her car. But that didn’t matter either right now.

  Today would be the start. One step at a time.

  She smoothed nonexistent wrinkles from her blazer, locked her car, and turned toward the Frontier. It was time.

  Opening the door, she stepped inside. Eight years later and it was all still the same. The smell of pies, the low murmur of voices, the burble of coffee brewing behind the counter. She closed her eyes just for a moment to take it all in. God, this was home. These smells, these sights, these sounds. . . Her mind associated this with home even more than the eight-bedroom mansion she’d lived in on the outskirts of town.

  This had been where her heart desired to be. Not because of the building, but who’d always been by her side.

  She opened her eyes, looking around once more. She’d left of her own accord. She couldn’t deny that, nor that she’d been the one to walk away from everything—everyone—here.

  And she’d do it again, given the same circumstances.

  But the price. . . It had been so high. So much higher than she’d expected. And she was still paying it.

  Today she had to keep her soul from withering any further. Hopefully, someday, she would trace her new start all back to now.

  She looked around for her prospective client. All she knew about him and the family she’d be working with was that his name was Ethan—his last would be withheld until the parents approved her as a tutor—and that he was almost eight years old. He had some neurologically based processing disorders, including dyslexia and possibly more.

  It felt good knowing that she would be able to help him.

  All of her college professors had told her she had a gift in working with children with these types of learning disabilities. It hadn’t been one she’d expected, but she’d fostered it all through her bachelor’s and master’s degrees in education. So, she had the training to help Ethan. She was almost buzzing in excitement to get to use it.

  If she could, she would’ve already been working full-time for a school system. But forces stronger and more financially equipped than her had made sure that wouldn’t happen. She was done trying to fight them; she’d just go around them.

  Ethan. Seven. A little small for his age. She scanned the restaurant.

  She took a breath. This was the day. The start.

  “Your Royal Highness.”

  She didn’t have to turn around to know who that voice belonged to. Her entire body—every single place—tightened at the sound she hadn’t heard in eight years.

  Finn B
ollinger.

  She stiffened, steeling herself as she turned. Finn was here, of course. This had been his hometown long before she’d arrived and then again after she’d left.

  The sight of him was like a sucker punch, a blow she would’ve done just about anything to avoid had she seen it coming. At least the air hissing out of her lungs was silent, rather than the explosion it sounded like in her mind.

  He hadn’t changed eight years later. Two-hundred-plus pounds of muscle rested on his broad-shouldered, six-foot-three frame so easily that it might have just floated down from the sky and decided to attach itself there.

  She knew his strength from experience. That he could hold her full weight with one arm until they both. . .

  He could hold her weight for a long time.

  His raven hair was cut military short, just like the last time she’d seen him. His chiseled jaw, strong nose, and full, sensual lips were all the same. But it was those eyes, those sea-green eyes that gutted her. They always had.

  But now they were as hard as emeralds before he bowed with an exaggerated flourish.

  “On behalf of the peons and plebeians of Oak Creek, we welcome Your Majesty into our humble abode.” Sarcasm dripped from his deep voice. His buddy, Zac Mackay, was standing just over Finn’s shoulder, his eyes just as cold.

  She stiffened further. She didn’t want to fight, not only because she wasn’t emotionally equipped to handle Finn right now, but she needed to not make a scene. But if he wanted to treat her as the high-and-mighty mistress of the manor, she certainly remembered how to play the role.

  “Plebeians.” She raised an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t have expected you to know that word, Bollinger.”

  Finn’s eyes narrowed. “Why are you here, Charlie?”

  Charlie. She almost smiled. God, how her parents had hated when he’d given her that nickname in high school and everyone had begun using it. She’d reveled in it.

  But she forced the smile away and lowered her volume. “I didn’t realize it was a sin to enter a public restaurant here.”

  Finn crossed his arms over his huge chest, shaking his head. “It’s not, just in bad taste.”

  That would be his stance, wouldn’t it? And she couldn’t blame him for it. But she just needed him to stand down this one time, to not ruin this for her. She’d beg if she had to, take him outside and explain that she needed this break. If he’d just back off this one time, she’d gladly let him publicly humiliate her for what she’d done. Just not today.

  Today was the day. It had to be.

  “Look, Finn, I’m not here to see you, okay?” Her voice was barely more than a whisper now. “I’m here to meet a family to help their son with some tutoring.”

  Now those green eyes nearly bugged out of their sockets. “You’re the learning specialist Mrs. Johnson suggested for Ethan?”

  She’d forgotten how information flowed in a small town. Very little remained private. “Yes, I’m here to meet a child named Ethan. The agency doesn’t give me a last name until after the parents have approved me as a tutor. Do you know his family?”

  He stared at her for so long she didn’t think he was going to answer. Finally, he said, “Ethan is right behind you at the bar.”

  She turned to find the boy.

  “And he’s my son.”

  Another sucker punch.

  “You have a son?” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She stared at the young boy sitting at the bar, talking to Finn’s sister, Waverly, for a long moment. Finally, Charlie turned back to Finn.

  “Sure do, sweetheart.” He smirked. “And you think you’re getting near him? That would be a hell no with a side of no chance. I don’t know what your game is or who you paid to make Mrs. Johnson think you’re a specialist at anything, but you need to leave. Now.”

  For just a second, she thought she might do something terrible—Vomit? Beg? Fall on the floor and just start sobbing at the unfairness of it all?—but she strangled the need with ruthless efficiency.

  She would not break. Not here. Not in front of Finn, his friends, and family. He wasn’t going to listen to her, no matter what she said. He had no interest in knowing that she was indeed a special education teacher and might be able to help his son. And she couldn’t blame him.

  All she could do now was get out of here before everything inside her crumbled. No doubt Finn would report back to Mrs. Johnson that Charlotte was not an acceptable tutor. That would effectively end the possibility of using her skills in Oak Creek.

  “I see,” she finally said, keeping her chin as high as possible. “Goodbye, then.”

  She half expected Finn to toss some sort of verbal grenade at her as she left. Somehow the silence that followed was even worse. Finn didn’t give a damn about her.

  Nobody did here, not anymore. She’d do well to remember that.

  The door closed behind her and she walked back to her car. She eased her blazer off, folding it carefully over the seat to prevent as many wrinkles as possible, although it didn’t matter now.

  She rubbed her chest, fighting back the fear, desperation, and weariness, trying not to let it crush her. But she didn’t cry. Charlotte Devereux did not cry. Ever.

  Even when today was not the day.

  Finn sat at the large table of the Linear Tactical conference room, arguably his least favorite place in their entire facility. He’d much rather be outside teaching one of the classes he and his partners provided here. Their years in Special Forces had taught them how to adapt, defend, and survive almost any situation. They’d used that training and knowledge to develop this company and share those same survival intelligence skills with others.

  Sitting around a conference table wasn’t Finn’s forte. But for US Army Major Mark Pinnock, his former commanding officer, he would do it. No doubt the two men sitting with him, Aiden Teague and Zac Mackay, felt the same—about the man, and conference table.

  “I need people who can fit in without standing out, who are smart, and who I can trust.” The major was currently stationed at Hill Air Force Base a few hours west of Oak Creek, but was working with NORAD, the North American Aerospace Defense command. “You guys fit the bill for all three.”

  Finn looked across the table at Aiden and Zac. All of them had served under Major Pinnock when they’d been in the Army, as had their other partners, who would be here if they were in town. Zac was here out of respect for the man, even though he was currently taking time off with his girlfriend, who was recuperating from being attacked two weeks ago.

  They would all do anything for the major.

  The fact that the older man had come to Oak Creek to enlist their help, rather than asking them to travel to Hill AFB, spoke to the gravity of the situation.

  “As you know, after 9/11, NORAD took over monitoring any large or small aircraft entering into American airspace. We work with them on a daily basis,” the major continued. He turned to the man sitting next to him. “This is Henry Nicholson. He came to me last week concerned that his boss is selling ways to get around holes in our air defense.”

  Finn nodded to the man who had been sitting silently up until now, just observing the situation. He could appreciate those who monitored and took in information before launching into speech. That was someone you wanted on your side of a battle.

  Major Pinnock gestured for Henry to continue. “My evidence is not conclusive, but I discovered some pretty damning transmissions from my boss. Tracking small aircrafts in US airspace is an important part of the battle against drug, weapon, and human trafficking. Providing intel on how to avoid detection would be a valuable commodity to the right buyers.”

  “And that’s what your boss is allegedly providing?” Finn asked.

  Henry nodded. “Gordon Cline. Yes, I’ve tracked down some of the contacts that received the incriminating transmission from him. None are terrorists or known enemies of the US, but most are certainly criminals. Smugglers, from what I could tell. Cline should not have been in c
ontact with these people.”

  Zac turned to the major. “We’d be the first to agree this is suspicious and that you should look into it. But you probably have more resources equipped to handle this than we do.”

  Major Pinnock nodded. “I do, but I still need your help. We’re keeping Cline in play at the base to catch the people he’s in contact with, or at least gather more intel about them. Henry will be tracking things from his end to see what he can discover.”

  Henry’s jaw clenched. “I know Cline is setting up meetings, but the locations are constantly changing, and we don’t know what’s happening there. I can’t go because I’ll be recognized immediately.”

  Finn leaned back in his chair, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “What about law enforcement? Federal or local. Get someone to go undercover.”

  “That was our first inclination,” Pinnock said, “before we discovered a man named Stellman was involved.”

  Finn looked over at Zac and Aiden, who were both shrugging. None of them had ever heard of Stellman. “Should we know who that is?”

  Pinnock rubbed the bridge of his nose. “That’s just it. Nobody—at least not in law enforcement—does. But everyone knows he’s near the top of the criminal food chain. He’s got his fingers in just about every sort of illegal pie there is: trafficking, weapons, extortion, information brokering. If we can grab him at the same time we bust Cline, we’ll be doing everyone a service.”

  “All reasons to get law enforcement in on this, Major,” Zac said. “We want to help, but there’s only so much we’re trained to do.”