This is a direct follow on from All's Fair in Love and War, I suggest you read that story first for this one to make any sense.
I'm going to be flat out honest here – this is a Ranger AU story, and does not feature Steph. If you think this will be a problem, hit the back button now. Just to clarify – this story deals with the peace process in Ireland/Northern Ireland and all views expressed by my characters are in no way a reflection of my own. The IRA do exist, but the Extreme IRA are a figment of my imagination and the events contained herein are fiction.
This story is of an adult nature and touches on terrorism, gun running, rape and drug abuse – if you believe that you will be offended by any of this, hit the back button. If you start to read and decide that you don't like this story, again, hit the back button. For the remaining few – enjoy.
Thanks as always to my beta, Trish for Americanizing my ass and helping me get this into order. And thanks to Stayce for all you help with Rafe.
There are three types of lies: 'Lies, Damn Lies & Statistics'
Chapter One
My secure cell suddenly began to vibrate its way across the top of my oak desk, dragging my attention away from the mounds of paperwork I was looking through. The caller ID read unknown, so I flipped the accursed thing open and hit talk, yet remained silent – it never hurt to be cautious.
"It's me," an English accent stated.
"The guy from Hereford" I said, referring to the home base of the British SAS, and the old unit of the man that was on the other end of the phone. Interesting, I wasn't expecting to hear from Winter so soon. It had only been six weeks since he and Danny disappeared into the Miami sunset.
"The one and the same. Got a bit of a problem, need your help," he whispered cautiously.
"Grey?"
Winter laughed quietly. "Nah, blacker than black, man. Ten foot barge pole territory and we're neck deep, sinking fast."
"Right. Can you talk on this line?" I quizzed, worried by his hushed tones.
"Yeah, I'm just not in the most secure of environments right this second. I won't give you the full SITREP, just in case."
"Nutshell version?" I asked.
Winter sighed. "We're involved in the shipping of certain 'goods' and one of my crew got busted. Some fucker set us up and naffed off with the cash and the gear, leaving us wanted by the authorities, and our now cashless buyer wants a piece of us too. We need to break my guy out of jail, work out who in God's name has set us up, and then fix this mess. Interested?"
"Maybe," I replied. "Can I bring some friends to this party, or is this a solo invite?"
"You bring them, you have to vouch for them; other than that, the more the merrier. I've got an acquaintance heading your way tomorrow; he can give you a lift if you like. Means you can bring whatever cool toys you fancy."
"Okay, I'll talk to a couple of people. Give me a call back in an hour or so?"
"Sure," Winter responded. "I'll get the girl to send you an email."
"She okay?" I quizzed, we were all worried about Bailey, especially Lester.
"She's quiet, but dealing, sort of. Not been here that long actually."
"Yeah, she sent me a postcard, seems that I paid for her vacation," I said wryly.
Winter laughed. "So she tells me. Look, I gotta go man, I'll talk to you again later."
"No worries." I was talking to the empty airwaves as Winter had already hung up.
Interesting, I mused. I wonder what fucked up, illegal shit Winter and his crew were mixed up in this week. Knowing what I did about them, I suspected that the merchandise was guns or munitions. The buyer could be anyone and they could be anywhere in the world right now. Risky, and also black and decidedly dirty, so did I want to touch this?
My computer beeped, signaling a new email, and I clicked it open: Job details from Bailey. They were in Ireland, running guns and explosives for The Extreme IRA. God damn, that was some nasty shit, and a major moral dilemma to boot. Despite a cease fire, there were still terrorist organizations in Ireland that wanted a United Ireland, freeing the northern counties from English rule. Kind of like Cuba, I mused, but not quite.
I'd talk to my team and see what they thought. I still owed Winter for all his help with my last Op, so I guess if I took this job it would clear my debt to him and Danny.
"Well?" I asked, as I looked at the three men sitting in front of me in my office.
Tank shrugged noncommittally, "It's shady, Ric, fucking shady. We'd be in serious shit if we got caught."
Lester chewed on his lower lip, and idly wove his long braid of light brown hair through his fingers. "Maybe - could be fun. Running from the cops, breaking someone out of jail, and keeping one step ahead of some Irish terrorists. What do you think, Bobby?"
Some things never changed. Where Santos went, so did Bobby and vice versa. I glanced at Bobby; he was more toned than he'd been a few weeks ago. As he'd kicked the Prozac he'd chosen lifting weights instead as a stress reliever. It was nice to finally see him off that stuff.
"Abso-fucking-lutely crazy idea," he muttered as he glanced at his partner. "I'd rather cut my own balls off."
Lester bit back a grin at Bobby's response. "Looks like a no then, Ric."
"You aren't planning on going are you, Ric?" Tank questioned.
"I owe Winter for his help last month. This is the least I can do for him, besides I can see how Lee's holding up while I'm at it."
Lester shifted in his seat and Bobby raised an eyebrow when I mentioned Lee's name. I knew that would get a reaction out of them. After Bailey vanished in Miami, Lester went on a three day vodka bender. As suddenly as he started, he stopped, pulling himself together again. He was dealing with his past rather than trying to bury it, and the man I once knew was slowly returning. Yet that didn't mean that he wasn't still hung up on a certain green-eyed, raven haired, young Irish girl.
Besides, I didn't want to run this job solo and I knew that using Bailey as bait for Les would make him interested. Bobby would follow him blindly out of habit, and then Tank would come too, as he wouldn't want to miss out on the fun. It was all about leverage.
"When would we need to leave?" Lester asked. His face was blank, but his blue eyes betrayed his emotions. He wanted to see Bailey.
"Tomorrow, and Winter suggested that we catch a lift from a friend of his."
"And Rangeman Trenton?" Tank demanded. "Who you wanting to leave in charge this time?"
Tank's attitude caught me off guard and I glared at him, tempering my anger at the harsh comment he'd made. "I'll call Bones or Snake in from Boston."
"And the rest, Ric?" Tank growled. "We're still four men short. You know as well as I do that we haven't gotten replacements for Vince and Woody or those two fucking traitors yet. If we leave as well, we'll be eight men down."
"I'll put one of the Boston guys in charge and move two in from Atlanta. Mac is still talking about a transfer up here from Miami; he's more than capable to 2IC to Snake or Bones. So we're all replaced, and we've been running fine with the three teams of ten and only two cover so far. Another couple of weeks of operating at slightly less than full strength won't do us any harm," I explained succinctly.
Lester made eye contact with me. "I'm in."
I looked at his partner.
"Fuck it, why the hell not," Bobby said with a heavy sigh.
Two down, one to go. "Tank?"
Tank scrubbed his hands over his face. "Ric, man – I just can't, not after last month. I'm not putting Lula through that again so soon."
I rested my elbows upon my desk, steepling my fingers in front of my face and propping my chin on my thumbs. I stared at Tank. My gaze didn't waver, nor did I blink. My own partner had been keeping his feelings from me ever since we returned from Miami, and it was about time he sorted out his emotional baggage and faced me.
"Damn it Ric, don't make me do this."
I raised an eyebrow and bit my tongue.
"We nearly fucking died out there, brother! I'm too old for this shit. We're free, you're free, and what do you do at the first given opportunity? Run off to the next god damn, fucked up crisis. Do you get a buzz out of playing hero?" Tank spat.
I shoved my chair back and roughly jerked Tank out of his seat by the front of his t-shirt. No mean feat. Anger rolled off me in waves, my free hand clenched into a fist of its own volition, and it took all my strength and self control not to launch it at his face. "So much blood, pain, horror and death, and you ask me if I enjoy playing hero?!" I snarled. "If I was a fucking hero, Tank, no one would get hurt. The good guys would win and the bad guys would lose, and we'd all come back home in one piece.
I squeezed my eyes tight shut and images of my fallen comrades swirled in my head, taunting me, telling me that I wasn't good enough to save them.
"I am not a hero," I continued as I opened my eyes again, "far fucking from it. I have to face each day with the knowledge that often through no fault of my own, men under my command died or suffered. So spare me your crap, man."
"Ric," Lester soothed as he placed a gentle hand on my arm. "Let Tank go. He can stay here, cousin. Me and Bobby'll go with you. Maybe Mac, Bones or Snake can come along instead, what do you think?"
I released Tank from my white-knuckled grip and went for the bottle of Jack in my desk drawer. It wouldn't make the images go away forever but it would push them down far enough for me to deal right now.
"No, the three of us will go," I said. "Winter has a guy coming too, so we should have enough men. I don't want anyone with me who doesn't want to be there. In fact, the two of you can stay here if you wish; I'm not going to force you. I don't want your blood on my hands if anything happens to either of you."
Les smiled a rare smile. "Brother, I can't have you running off to the middle of nowhere without anyone to watch your back. And stop holding yourself responsible for the shit that's gone down. Trust me, I've been beating myself up for the past eight years, and I'm not gonna pull myself out of this funk I've been in, just to see you take my place. Shit happens, man-"
"And life sucks. And at the end of the day, all's fair in love and war," I quoted bitterly, taking another swig of Jack and reciting Winter's parting shot in Miami.
"Pretty much Ric, pretty much," Lester grinned.
Tank stood up and paced in front of my desk. "I'm sorry, man, but I can't do it. I've got too much to live for right now. I'll hold the fort along with anyone you want to call in, that's the best I can offer."
"Okay, Tank. You stay put and I'll call up Mac, and also ask Phil to send me two men from Atlanta," I responded as I handed him the bottle of whisky.
Tank pulled me into a hug. "Ahh fuck, Rangeman – I just don't want to lose you to someone else's battle."
The four of us sat in the SUV, awaiting the arrival of the plane at the small airstrip about an hour west of Trenton. It was the best choice for an inconspicuous landing and takeoff around here.
The truck was piled high with crates. We had guns, ammo, explosives, tracking equipment and a large assortment of hi-tech covert toys. Only the best for Rangeman LLC.
Bobby checked his watch again and on cue, a small Hawker jet came into view over the landing strip, touching down a minute later. The plane taxied to a stop by the refueling tanks and the pilot stepped down from the craft. He thoroughly scanned the area for threats, hand resting near what I assumed to be the butt of his gun at the small of his back, and when he seemed satisfied, his gaze settled on our truck.
Standing 6' 4'', with dark brown hair in a loose pony tail that trailed to his waist, strong cheek bones and skin the color of milky coffee, he was apparently the guy we were waiting for. Raphael Langlinais – Sauvage, Rafe for short, or if you wanted to hire him for a job, simply, Savage. I was well acquainted with Rafael's reputation. He was a deadly, highly trained mercenary whose reputation was on a par, if not above with that of Darkness and Jaguar in the America's, and Frost, Fox and Shade in Europe, the Eastern Block and the Balkans. The man was a fucking living legend in the world of mercenaries.
Who'd have thought that I would be working with so many top notch mercs these days? I thought back to the stoned conversation I'd had with Danny and Bailey in Hermitage. Maybe they were right, The Cuban did need a new name, though I really didn't have a clue what to pick. I suppose it could pick itself when the time was right.
I slid from the truck, Les and Bobby stepping out behind me, flanking me. Their positioning told Raphael just who was in charge in our little group and that my men had my back.
"Ricardo Manoso?" he purred in a thick Cajun accent as he stepped up to meet us, shoving his mirrored shades onto his head, revealing deep chocolate brown eyes flecked with amber.
I nodded curtly and offered him my hand. "Ranger."
He accepted my handshake with a firm but a not too overkill grip, and smiled. "Ranger it is. Please, call me Rafe, as I believe we are working with mutual friends here."
"So it seems," I answered. "Though I am curious as to how you know the Hereford boys."
I couldn't decide whether to call Winter by his name or his code name, so settled with describing him and his crew en masse.
"Contacts, jobs, you know how it is," Rafe said with a shrug and a casual wave of his hand. "Only Santos and Brown coming with you? I was expecting Tank as well."
Rafael was trying to un-nerve me by naming my men and second guessing my actions. I wasn't going to let him get to me. "Plans change, stuff comes up, you know how it is," I countered coolly.
Raphael let out a bark of laughter. "And to think I did not believe Danny when he said you had a sense of humor. Excellent! I think we are going to get along fine mon ami."
He looked behind me at Les and Bobby, nodding briefly at Lester and studying Bobby for a beat or too longer than his partner, eventually nodding in his direction also.
Les nodded back curtly, and Bobby stared at Rafe, meeting his piercing gaze until Lester nudged his partner in the ribs. Bobby blushed as much as a black man could, and looked away hurriedly. Very interesting. I'd always wondered about Bobby's sexuality and that little display was most insightful. Maybe I need to mimic Winter, and bring in a no sex on missions policy.
Tank stepped out of the truck and popped the tailgate open, heaving the first of eight crates out of the back with ease.
"Planning on taking over the country while we are there?" Rafe quizzed, a slight grin tugging at the corner of his lips.
I ignored his comment, and Lester and I grabbed the next case.
Bobby stood to the side looking slightly lost until Rafe sidled up to him.
He looked down at Bobby and smiled, flashing dimples. "Shall we, mon ami?" he said huskily.
Bobby swallowed and licked his lips nervously, Rafe watching his every move closely. "Sure," he whispered finally.
"Christ," Lester muttered as we moved towards the plane, "You want me to throw a bucket of cold water over those two?"
I shook my head. "I think they can contain themselves."
"Yeah, but for how long?" Les murmured. "Rafael looks like he wants to rip Bobby's clothes off and do him right here on the tarmac."
I raised an eyebrow and Lester chuckled.
"Bobby's gay?" I asked. Well, that was news to me.
Lester rolled his eyes "I thought it was bloody obvious, Ric."
"You knew?"
Les shrugged, "He's my best friend, of course I knew, Ric."
"I can't believe that I never noticed."
"Not really anyone's business but his own, man. But you're usually too far up your own ass to notice anything that goes on in the office anyway."
"That's not true," I muttered.
"Oh please, cousin," Lester laughed. "For the last few years you've either been on jobs for Uncle Sam, shacked up in Boston, or mooning over The Bombshell. Unless your life was in immediate danger you didn't notice a damn thing."
"That bad?" I asked tentatively. I could handle the truth – I think.
Les nodded. "Another planet most of the time, Ric. Work or chicks."
"And now I guess it's just work," I grumbled bitterly.
"Yeah, get your own girl," Lester teased. "The Irish one's mine."
I snorted. "I wouldn't let her hear you say that, she'd cut your nuts off."
Lester winced. "Shit, yeah. I'll rephrase that, shall I? I have my sights set on a certain, delightful Irish woman, and with her agreement, I'd like to pursue a relationship with her."
"Better," I teased. "Still, I'm not sure you can handle her…"
"Oh fuck you, man," my cousin laughed. "And you weren't wrapped around her little finger?"
"We had an understanding," I said.
"Right," Lester chuckled.
As we were finishing up, Tank pulled me to one side, shoving his shades atop of his bald head and crossing his arms over his barrel of a chest. "You sure you know what you're doing, Ric?"
I tried to maintain my blank face, but a smile tugged at the corner of my mouth, so I gave into it and grinned at him. "Nope, not really."
Tank closed his eyes, and I was pretty sure he was counting to ten to calm his nerves.
"I could lie to you, if that makes you feel better," I suggested.
He opened his eyes again and sighed. "Promise me that you'll call if you need help, even if it's just for the name of a good lawyer to dig you out of the shit you could end up landing in."
"Sure," I responded glibly. Tank had the mother hen routine down to a fine art today. It was nice to know that he cared, but it was making me a little crazy.
"Ricardo," he growled, "What is with you today? You steal Danny's stash or something?"
I laughed. "Tank, I'm fine. Just keyed up for this job."
"Yeah, well you don't normally act this way before you go on a mission. You're usual MO is to slink off to Boston for a couple of days - though I guess that's not part of the equation anymore, right?"
Yeah, thanks for dredging up that crap, man. What is it with my crew today? "I'm used to the government telling me who, what, when and where, so it's nice to do something on my own terms for a change. I didn't have to take this job Tank, but I chose to. It's my choice here, man."
"And you still don't have to take it either, Ric," Tank muttered.
"Just what is your problem, Tank?" I pressed. What the hell was eating at him? It had to be more than just the nature of the job.
Tank shook his head sadly. "I've known you since basic, man, and the man I met back then wouldn't be getting involved in this sort of shit. Something's changed, Ric. You've changed, and I'm not sure that I like it. You spent so much time dedicated to cleaning up scum like Raphael, Winter and Danny, and as soon as you're free and clear of the government, you step on up to help them out. Did spending four years fucking Bailey change your moral code or something, brother?"
"You worked with her and she didn't change your moral code," I growled.
"Yeah, but I didn't spend that much time with her," he countered.
"If it wasn't for her and her contacts, I'd be dead by now, Tank. I'd have been shot dead by some Russians and the Nevis brothers would have taken over my business. You saw what they did to my offices. They killed my men, for Christ sake! And all because of some stupid personal vendetta!
"Bailey put her life on the line to help me, got us into the Trenton offices in time to save Stephanie and picked up on the whole Russian thing. She got raped! Winter and Danny gave their time and resources for free to help us out and Jer and Kelly dealt with Richmond Nevis. What more would you have them do, man? We needed their help and you know it.
"Is that why you won't take this job, because you don't like the morals of the people that we're working for? Get over yourself Tank, how many dope heads could have died at your hand, and you didn't give a shit! Are you afraid of who you are, what you are becoming?"
"Fuck you, man!" he shot back. "I know right from god damn wrong."
"Are you saying that I don't anymore, Tank?"
Tank turned his back on me and walked away. Stopping about six feet from me, he glanced back over his shoulder. "I don't know what you think anymore, and that's God's honest truth, Ricardo. But I know that you're on the path of self destruction. I've seen how many dangerous bastards you've dragged in over the last few weeks single handed, makes me think you've got a death wish.
"You always had a strong moral code, but that changed when you met Bailey. Sometimes I wish that you'd just turned her in like the rest of that scum. She must have put out right from the start to win you over like that. Did she just spread her legs when you walked into her motel room in Phoenix?"
Tank turned around again and walked smack into Lester.
Lester was scowling and his fists were clenched. "I'd watch your mouth if I were you, Pierre."
"Fuck off, Lester," he spat.
"Just what is your fucking problem, man?" He shoved Tank hard in the chest, making the bigger guy take a step backwards. "You worked fine with them last month, and you got blood on your hands like the rest of us. Why the fuck do you think you have the ethical high ground here?"
"Enough!" I shoved myself between my cousin and my supposed best friend. "Tank, get in the truck, I'll call you when we get settled. Les, get on the damn plane, we need to get out of here."
Tank stepped away, glaring at us both. "I'm telling you both now that this will end in tears, but go ahead and have your fun. Just don't come crying to me to fix things when it fucks up."
Lester opened his mouth to no doubt give Tank some sort of snide reply, but I silenced him by squeezing his shoulder hard.
Tank hauled himself into the truck, gunned the engine and tore off, spraying gravel and dust behind him.
"Just what the fuck has crawled up his ass and died?" Les muttered as he brushed the sand colored dust off his black tank top and olive fatigues.
I shrugged. "No idea."
"You sure?" Lester gave me a hard stare.
I nodded, "Yeah, not a god damn clue, man."
Rafael walked over and looked between the two of us. "You two finished now?"
Lester rolled his eyes and brushed past him, clambering into the jet.
Rafe cocked his head. "Problems?"
I shook my head and shut my emotions down. "No, everything is fine, Rafael."
He raised an eyebrow, but had the sense not to push the issue.
