Carson lighthouse securi.., p.1
Carson: Lighthouse Security Investigations West Coast, page 1
CARSON
LIGHTHOUSE SECURITY & INVESTIGATIONS WEST COAST
MARYANN JORDAN
Carson (Lighthouse Security Investigations West Coast ) Copyright 2022
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author, except where permitted by law.
If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, then you are reading an illegal pirated copy. If you would be concerned about working for no pay, then please, respect the author’s work! Make sure that you are only reading a copy that has been officially released by the author.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Cover by: Graphics by Stacy
ISBN ebook: 978-1-956588-03-3
ISBN print: 978-1-956588-04-0
Created with Vellum
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
Also by Maryann Jordan
About the Author
1
Carson Dyer slipped silently through the scrub brush at the edge of the Mexican vineyard, his night-vision goggles providing an eerie green glow to his path. The air was dry, and only a slight breeze blew down from the mountains in the distance, barely rustling the grape leaves but sending the scent of earth and vegetation his way. The north-south rows were meticulously laid out, the vines lush although not all were heavy with fruit at this time of year. With stealth, he moved down the alleyways and rows, focused on his surroundings due to the mission at hand, not the beauty of the landscape.
Many wineries used dogs to guard their vineyards, but their intel indicated this estate had none. Hardly surprising considering the owners would never expect anyone to dare to step foot on this land. This estate was guarded more by the threat of cartel retaliation than any real need for foot soldiers or dogs although armed guards still patrolled the area.
Coming to the last alleyway at the end of the row, he signaled to the others with him, waiting until they reported.
“In position,” came each voice through his radio.
“Stay on target. Get as close to the house as possible. Note security guards. Send all feeds to Jeb. Do not engage unless necessary.” He turned toward the man on his left to see his nod, knowing Rick would follow his instructions. Rick Rankin was a former SEAL and had experience with Carson’s business partner in the original Lighthouse Security Investigations firm based in Maine.
Radioing similar commands to the two others circling around the vines toward the winery barns, he received affirmatives from Leo and Poole. Both Lionel Parker and Frederick Poole had served with special ops as had all his men. These two also worked for several years for Carson when he’d first started a security firm hiring out bodyguards to the stars. Fuckin’ nightmare of a job.
Continuing reconnaissance as he stealthily traveled on the dirt path toward the mansion on the hill, he grinned. This. This job. Right here. Right now. This is fuckin’ worth it.
The massive estate included the family mansion, several guesthouses, extensive lawns and gardens with patios and a pool, the grape farms, the large buildings where the grapes were pressed and the wines produced, barns for equipment, and the public wine tasting area. There were several entrances, each with a guardhouse, and then guards and workers that lived in housing nearby.
Getting eyes on the property and buildings’ security of one of the winery owners in the Guadalupe area of Mexico was their mission. Not just any winery. One that was a suspected cover for smuggling drugs to the United States by a cartel drug lord. Tasked by the FBI and DEA, Carson was ready to show that LSI-WC could handle the private special op missions at this level.
Their reconnaissance had let them know the entire family was not in residence at the moment, giving them the perfect timing for their mission. The guards would be lazier, and the entire winery estate would be easier to access. The electronic security system on the winery was tight, and Carson needed his men to physically tap into the cameras so that the override of the system could be accomplished by his computer guru, Jeb Torres. Jeb, normally back at their compound, was currently on a boat off the coast, waiting for their return.
His gaze narrowed as he slipped around one of the buildings. “Dolby, I see a light in a guesthouse. You take the main house, and I’ll check it out.”
“Roger that.”
Peeling away from the dirt path leading to the main house, Carson changed his trajectory toward the lighted window of the smaller guesthouse. The mansion was L-shaped, with gardens and a pool to the east. A guesthouse was down the hill and on the other side of the pool.
Crouching, he moved through the shadows to the side of the guesthouse, staying hidden. The windows were covered with lace sheers, offering transparency while blurring the images of those in the room. Peering in from his vantage point, he observed a coiffed, older woman sitting in a chair, her feet propped onto an ottoman. Wearing a deep purple robe with a monogram embroidered on the lapel, her grey hair styled, and holding a china cup in her hands, she was smiling at someone just out of his view. His pre-mission preparation had identified all the family members, and he recognized her as an American relative by marriage to the winery owner but wondered why she hadn’t traveled with the others to their vacation home on the coast in Los Cabos.
Taking another step closer to see who she was smiling at, he spied a younger woman in nursing scrubs, her head thrown back as she laughed at something the older woman said. She has a nurse. If she’s not well, that must be why she didn’t go with the rest of the family.
He could only see the nurse’s profile, but as her head lowered, she turned slightly, giving him a partial glimpse of her face, still somewhat obscured through the sheers. Porcelain skin tinged with blushing cheeks. Dark brown hair with auburn highlights, the waves hanging over her shoulders. Crinkles emitted from the sides of her eyes as her mouth curved upward into a smile. Beautiful.
He appreciated an attractive woman but not the plastic Hollywood beauty he’d encountered with his years in the bodyguarding business. He’d spent time with some of Hollywood’s premier actresses, and outward beauty was something he’d seen a lot of. He considered himself immune to the distraction while on a mission… or building my business. But, to his surprise, his gaze stayed on the nurse for an extra beat, wishing he could see her more clearly. Hell, appreciation of beauty is about all I have time for anymore.
A magnetic force seemed to pull him closer, the desire to see her more clearly filling his mind. As though she could hear his thoughts and felt the pull as well, the woman stood with a puzzled expression on her face and walked toward the window. He stayed hidden while keeping her in view. There’s no way she could tell I’m out here. Through the filmy sheers, he could see her eyes a little more clearly as she peered out into the darkness. They appeared shadowed as though full of things seen that couldn’t be unseen. That’s what you get when you work for a drug lord even if you stay in a luxury guesthouse.
He jerked at the path his thoughts had wandered and stiffened his stance. Shutting down all thoughts of her, he stepped away, veering toward the wiring where the security panel entered the house, needing to keep his mind on his task. Unable to keep from looking over his shoulder one last time at her, a strange sense of déjà vu slithered through him as though he’d seen her somewhere else. Another time. Another place.
Shaking his head in irritation, he dislodged those thoughts. I’d tear into my men if they let their minds wander like this. Opening the panel on the side of the house, he worked on the wires and slipped a drive into a port, radioing for Jeb to check the connection. Given the affirmative, he removed the drive and turned to head toward the main house. Skirting the pool, he stayed in the shadows.
Easily finding Dolby, he waited as his man slipped inside the main house after Jeb disarmed and overrode the security system. Following, they moved stealthily to the security panel just off the massive kitchen. Having studied the estate, they knew exactly where to go, moving unnoticed. He stood watch as Dolby worked quietly and efficiently. As soon as he performed the same task on the security panel that Carson had with the guesthouse, they slipped back outside. Once more given the okay from Jeb, they made their way to the large winery building where Leo and Poole had completed their same checks. This location was trickier given that workers still monitored the barns, their work often running through the night. But his men had no trouble getting what they needed, and once again, he grinned in pride. This job… these men… fuckin’ perfect.
Jeb radioed, “With this, I can patch into their guardhouses and winery buildings, as well. We’re done when you’re ready, boss.”
“Roger that,” Carson replied. Motioning to his men at the rendezvous, they slipped past the lazy guards and into the scrub brush, heading for their hidden vehicle. With a small mountain to traverse to get to the coast where their boat waited, they began their return journey. Staying quiet until they passed the closest town, Carson breathed easier as they used satellite images, knowing there were clear roads ahead. One hour later, they were at the small coastal town, the vehicle wiped down and abandoned, and the signal was given to Jeb.
Their rafts were taken from hiding, and they were soon on board where Jeb met them, piloting the boat back to a safe harbor near San Diego. Once there, they drove to a small airport where Hop, another employee, and their pilot met them. As the wheels lifted and the plane became airborne, the smiles, congratulations, and beer broke out.
Carson settled in for the short flight, staring out the window but not focusing on the lights below. His thoughts were on the mission’s success, and that included getting everyone back to the compound safely. As the others laughed and joked, he leaned his head back and closed his eyes, a smile playing about his lips.
They’d recently accomplished the exact same mission at another winery in California, almost the exact duplicate of the one they were just on with a mansion, guesthouses, pool, gardens, winery, and warehouses. The estate in California was owned by the brother of the man who owned the one in Mexico. Alonzo and Vincent Garza. Alonzo, the eldest, had spent his adult life taking the small farm their father had worked and turning it into an award-winning winery. Vincent moved to America, bought an already-established winery, and together, he and his brother produced wines and managed to transport drugs for one of the cartels based in Mexico. But while the DEA had checked trucks traveling between the two wineries, they came up empty, unable to find the exact transportation link. Carson was sure his team could, and they were a lot closer than they had been before they made the security breaches.
By the time he’d analyzed their movements for the evening, they landed and piled into a large SUV. Jeb drove to the Lighthouse Security Investigations - West Coast compound.
Carson had purchased a decommissioned lighthouse on the coast, one that was small, not seen from the closest road. It was tucked into the hillside overlooking the water. Seventy-five acres of undeveloped land adjoined, mostly part of national forests. It afforded privacy, a place to train, and with the house and compound built into the hillside, it gave him the satisfaction of knowing Lighthouse Security Investigations - West Coast actually had a lighthouse. Not that the lack of one would have stopped me.
“No celebrating till the equipment is checked in,” came a rough order from the tall, lean Teddy, his silver hair still cut high and tight. As the group filed into the equipment room, laying down their weapons, radios, goggles, vests, and everything else that they’d checked out, Teddy eagle-eyed the process.
Theodore Bearski had been a true find for Carson. Sixty-three years old, former sniper, never married, and looking for something to do in his retirement, Teddy was now LSI–WC’s weapons and equipment manager as well as a sort of caretaker, looking after the acres of training grounds.
“Good to see you back safe and sound,” Rachel said. Her eyes caught Carson’s, and she smiled. “If there’s nothing else you need tonight, I’ll head home.” Rachel Moore was another bonus that he’d hired. In her late fifties, the former Naval Intelligence officer was their administrative manager. She was widowed with two adult children, both in the Navy. Like Teddy, she was looking to fill her retirement with something more than sitting around with her military memories and waiting for grandchildren. And, thank God, she keeps us straight.
“Jesus, Rachel, you didn’t have to stay through the night,” Carson said, shocked to see her still there.
Teddy shot her a narrow-eyed glare. “If you’ll wait, I’ll make sure you get home safe, Rachel.”
Lifting a brow, she retorted, “I’ve been handling myself for a long time, Theodore. I think I can get myself home, thank you very much.” With a nod toward everyone, she turned and walked out the door, leaving behind a lot of grins and one tight-lipped, crinkled brow.
Carson cast his gaze around the room, a sense of deep satisfaction filling him. When he’d started his bodyguarding business, he hadn’t been as discriminating with his hires. Brawn over brains had been the biggest headache. Well, that, and entitled, rich starlets who acted like bodyguards were there to hold their purses or dog leashes.
When some of his former employees had accepted the job of a bodyguard with hopes that they’d hook their own star to a celebrity, be discovered as the next actor in a breakout role, or hit magazines as a model, he knew he needed to change his focus to what he’d always dreamed of. And knowing his former Special Forces team member, Mace Hanover, had accomplished that very dream gave him hope. Approaching Mace as a potential partner and allowing Mace to expand his business while allowing Carson to manage his own team was the smartest thing he’d done since leaving the military and CIA operations.
Now, thanks to an excellent partner and smart hiring, LSI–WC was a reality. He’d hire more employees as the business grew but could not be happier with the team he’d assembled so far. Richard Rankin came with experience from Mace. Lionel Parker, known as Leo, a former Delta, had been one of his former security employees, worth his weight in gold, and he’d jumped at the offered position with Carson’s new business.
Jeb Torres, a former SEAL, was a communications expert and their computer guru. Hop, call sign for Frank Hopkins, was their pilot, experienced in the field as a former Air Force special operator. Adam Calvin was a former Ranger. Frederick Poole, a former SEAL. Terrance Bennett, a former Ranger sniper. And Jonathan Dolby, Army Special Forces like Carson himself. With these eight special operators, they were already able to handle most job offers coming their way. No more bodyguarding unless it was a special request, usually from the government. Contracts were offered through the FBI and other agencies. And the ability to pick and choose which contract offers they wanted to take.
Continuing to follow Mace’s direction, his staff were known as Keepers after the lighthouse keepers of old, guiding those in need toward the light, offering protection.
The others offered chin lifts and waves as they filed out of the room, each heading home, as well. He’d thought of purchasing a small home not far from the lighthouse, but after looking at several, he knew he’d spend most of his time at work. Using the old house at the base of the lighthouse as his personal home, he still had privacy but proximity, both important to him. Tonight, like so many nights, after everyone had left and the compound was secured, he sat on the deck of his house overlooking the water.
The rocky cliff below led to the water. The churning waves fit his mood. The sun would soon be rising, and while the other Keepers would sleep late after their midnight mission and trip back home, he still wasn’t sleepy. Instead, a strange restlessness moved over him.
Usually during a mission, his mind would roll over the tasks at hand, analyzing, organizing, and calculating the next step. Distractions were not acceptable. Not in the field, and not even back at the compound. But tonight, the image of the nurse continued to push to the forefront of his thoughts. The graceful way she moved. The long column of her throat when her head was thrown back in laughter. The sound of her enjoyment of the other woman’s company.
