Table of Contents
What This Book is About...
Dedication
Epigraph
BLIND SIDE
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Epilogue
AUTHOR’S NOTE
VIP Offer
About the Author
Also by Josh Lanyon
Copyright
It’s a good problem to have: more business than they can comfortably handle on their own.
But with resources already overstretched, the last thing former DSS agents and newbie security consultants Will Brandt and Taylor MacAllister need is another client—and the last thing Will needs is for that client to turn out to be an old boyfriend of Taylor’s.
Sure, Will has always known Taylor had a wild past, but he was kind of hoping he’d never have to sit down and have a beer with it. But golden boy Ashe Dekker believes someone is trying to kill him, and Taylor is determined to help, no matter the cost.
It’s a bit of a jolt to have Taylor for once totally disregard his feelings, but Will is equally determined that “the cost” won’t be their relationship—or Taylor’s life.
To Marilyn, because of course.
“What is that feeling when you’re driving away from people and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing? It’s the too-huge world vaulting us, and it’s goodbye. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies.”
Jack Kerouac, On the Road
BLIND SIDE
Dangerous Ground 6
Josh Lanyon
Prologue
Two Christmases ago.
The walkie-talkie crackled, and Taylor said, “Romeo to Base.”
Romeo? Will, who had been blowing on his hands to warm them, spluttered a laugh and picked up his walkie-talkie. “Base.”
“Refresh my memory. Whose idea was this again? Over.”
Will grimaced, looked up at the stars burning bright and cold in the black night sky of the Mojave Desert. Not another light for miles out here. Nothing but Joshua trees and sand and the sharp cutout ridge of distant mountains. “Not sure now.”
“Yeah, that’s what I thought. Yours.”
“Thanks for not saying I told you so.”
Taylor’s wicked laugh rustled across the six chilly miles of empty airwaves and Will’s lips twitched in instinctive response. “That is one nasty laugh, buddy boy. I could get a search warrant based on that laugh.”
“Base, standby.” Taylor was suddenly all business.
Will waited, his eyes scanning the darkness. Nothing moved in the sky or on the ground. He caught motion out of the corner of his eye. A shooting star. He smiled faintly. Taylor was not much for the great outdoors.
At the same time Taylor, sounding relaxed again, said, “Go ahead, Base.”
“You were saying?” Will replied. It was only the two of them out here, after all.
“I was saying, this is one hell of a way to spend our last Christmas Eve.”
Will was terse because he wasn’t enjoying freezing his ass off any more than Taylor was—and because this was a sensitive subject. “It’s not our last Christmas Eve.”
The following silence stretched long enough to start sweat prickling on Will’s hairline. He had accepted the posting in Paris despite knowing Taylor’s feelings—and the strain it would put on their relationship. After a couple of months of delays, on January 1st, he’d finally be shipping out for a two-year tour of duty in the City of Lights.
And what happened at the end of that two years was anybody’s guess.
“If I do take the assignment in Paris, it doesn’t mean we’re not still together.”
“Other than the six thousand miles between us.”
“Five thousand six hundred and sixty-one miles.”
“But who’s counting.”
Will knew what he wanted to happen at the end of that two years. And he was confident it was what Taylor wanted too.
But two years was a long time.
And Taylor was a guy with little patience and a lot of options.
“Copy that,” Taylor said at last. “Doesn’t change the fact that we’re currently one step up from snipers.”
Will started breathing again. “Not if we don’t shoot anybody.”
Taylor said darkly, “That depends on how much longer we’re stuck out here.”
Will peered at the luminous dial of his watch. “I make it half an hour.”
He could feel Taylor’s sigh, though the walkie-talkie remained silent. Taylor hated this op for a dozen reasons, starting with the fact that it was their last not-last Christmas Eve for the foreseeable future and ending with the fact that any half-awake civilian with a radio and a pair of binoculars could have handled this. They were simply providing backup for the backup.
“I’ll make it up to you, Romeo,” Will said suddenly, surprising himself. “Next Christmas will be different.”
“Roger so far.” There was a smile in Taylor’s voice. “Should we switch to a secure channel?”
In one short week, phone calls would be all Will had to keep him warm at night.
Not for the first time he wondered if he was mistaking stubbornness for smart choices. Because if this promotion ended up costing him Taylor—
But no. It wouldn’t. Taylor understood. Taylor had ambitions too. It would be okay. They would be okay. And he would make it up to Taylor. He really would. Starting now.
“Affirmative,” he said gruffly. Why the hell not? It was just them and the coyotes, and any smart coyote was safely curled in his den, dreaming of rabbits and the spring.
“Yeah?” Taylor sounded alert and interested.
Will realized with blinding clarity that there was no going wrong with this; anything he said would, at the least, make Taylor laugh. But Taylor wouldn’t laugh. Will knew that too. Realized that however awkward he was at verbalizing…stuff, the very attempt would mean something to Taylor. Taylor, who spent more than his fair share of time putting it all on the line. Phone lines included.
“Yeah,” Will said boldly. “That’s right, Romeo. They don’t call me Roger Wilco for nothing.”
Three hours later
“Roger Wilco?” Taylor started to laugh.
“I don’t recall hearing any objections,” Will said mildly. “Then or now.”
“No, and you won’t.” Taylor stretched luxuriously against the tumbled stack of pillows and grinned at him. In the soft lamplight he looked young and happy. No shadows in his eyes tonight.
Will leaned across to the bedstand, picked up the bottle of bourbon Taylor had given him for Christmas, and topped up the two tumblers. He handed
