Taking Chance

Taking Chance

Willow Springs Ranch, Book Three

By Laura Harner

Copyright

Taking Chance is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2012 by Laura Harner

Cover photograph by DWS Photography

Cover Art by Laura E. Harner

Edited by Jae Ashley

All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-1-937252-30-4

Smashwords edition published by Hot Corner Press.

Warning: All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any many without written permission, except for brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. Criminal copyright infringement, including infringement without monetary gain is investigated by the FBI and is punishable by up to five years in federal prison and a fine of $250,000. eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this book.

Contact the publisher for further information: Hotcornerpress@gmail.com

Dedication

For you, my wonderful readers. Thank you for loving the boys at the Willow Springs Ranch as much as I do. We’re along way from finished, my friends!

Acknowledgement of Trademarks:

Arizona Diamondbacks: AZPB Limited Partnership

Wal-Mart: Wal-Mart Stores, Inc.

Table of Contents

Copyright

Dedication

Trademarks Acknowledgment

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

About the Author

Prologue

Willie sat on the small ridge overlooking the makeshift round up. Fucking feds. Thought they knew what was best for everyone. Well not this goddamn time. Him and T-bone had it all planned. When they were done with the two boys heading this little federal operation, the world would know the Bureau of Lies and Manipulation for what it really was.

Once the general released his videos to show the truth behind the wild horse and burro round ups, the citizen-sheeps would quit believing the lies told by the illegally operating federal government. They would rise up to take arms, as was their God-given Constitutional right.

Fucking liberals. Every damn idiot in Washington was too far left for what needed to be done. Things in this country had gotten out of hand and Willie was proud to be a trusted member of the Armed Resistance Militia. When they pulled this mission off, the general would be the most powerful member of the Western Coalition, and would easily be elected as council lead in the upcoming election. Then they would see some real change. Citizens would once again be fully armed and beware to any of them illegals crossing over the border to steal and rape.

Was only a matter of time before the general got this mess straightened out.

Chapter One

Chance Carter hated getting his ass reamed. Check that…he hated getting his ass chewed. No, that wasn’t right either. He grinned at his reflection and raked his fingers through his jet-black hair. It might have been a while, but he was pretty sure he’d still enjoy being on either end of a good ass reaming. Just not the one he was about to get from his supervisor.

This was his first day back in the office after a two-month field assignment that had come on the heels of an even longer field assignment. They were supposed to alternate field and cubicle duty, but it didn’t bode well that his schedule had been changed to take an earlier than planned turn in the cubicles. Particularly when you considered the approaching holidays. As the single guy, he could usually count on working the Christmas and New Year’s shifts.

He made a futile attempt to smooth the mass of unfashionably long hair—meaning he didn’t have a buzz cut—and headed for the conference room. Having transferred in a year ago from a sister federal agency, Chance just hadn’t managed to fit in with the Yes, Sir mentality of the conservative management team in the Southern Arizona Office of the Border Patrol. Their agents were supposed to be military precise in all matters, including haircut, uniform, and following orders.

When he opened the door to the conference room, Chance stopped and took a moment to survey the piles of paper spread in some version of orderly chaos he was never likely to understand. His gaze briefly landed on the corner of a photo at the bottom of one of the stacks, and the mystery of what he’d done wrong was solved. The only real question was how bad was this going to be.

Earlier in the year, Chance had stepped outside official channels and helped his old friend Holden Titus track down some undocumented workers. They both had known it was a risk, but the men in question were victims far more than they were criminals—and Holden was the only one looking for them at the time. The feds were chasing bigger fish.

Chance would stick to the story they’d established and he’d be fine. There wasn’t anything much they were going to do to him. He had status, the federal employee’s equivalent of tenure.

Good to see you, Chance. Have a seat. Samuel Trapp didn’t stand or offer to shake his hand. Sam was a forty-year veteran of the agency, and unfailingly loyal to management. His pinched face and lack of manners indicated his extreme disappointment in Chance.

What can I do for you, Sam? Chance didn’t believe in putting up a false front. He’d just as soon get the shit over with and get on with whatever was next. He rolled the chair out and sat. Resisting the pull of the documents, he kept his gaze on Trapp.

It’s come to management’s attention that you may have failed to maintain the confidentiality of an ongoing investigation.

Chance blinked, but didn’t take the bait. It was hell questioning another cop and both he and Sam knew all the tricks.

After a long pause, Sam’s lips twitched and he looked down at the folder directly in front of him. With a measured slowness, he removed a single piece of paper. He frowned at the sheet as if it had somehow offended his sensibility, then placed it face up, in front of Chance.

This is a letter of administrative reprimand. You are entitled to representation, entitled to read over the document, and entitled to look at the evidence of wrong-doing. However…should you—

For how long? Chance interrupted the litany of required notices of his rights and responsibilities. He was tired of the conversation before it began.

As this is a first violation, I have recommended to management that the suspension without pay be limited to twenty-four hours. However—

Give me your pen. Chance held out his hand.

Sam’s eyebrows nearly crossed in the middle, even as he slid the pen across the wood surface of the conference table. I am compelled to remind you of your union policy—

With a flourish, Chance slid the paper and pen back to Sam and rolled his chair back. When does it start?

Sam took a deep breath, then let out a sigh. The administrative officer will let you know. Now, since I seem to have greatly over-estimated the time necessary for this meeting, allow me to offer this observation. You are a good investigator but a lousy officer. It makes for an uncomfortable situation for both of us.

Chance laughed, pleased at the candor. Yeah, I suspect my transfer to this agency might have been…misguided.

Sam opened the folder once more and pulled out another sheet of paper. Federal employees may accrue a maximum of two hundred forty hours of leave. You have exceeded that amount by seventy-three hours, plus your credit bank hours from the last operation. You will lose the excess leave if you don’t use it prior to the end of the year. Take some time off, think about what you want to do next.

We both know you can’t fire me. Hell, you can’t even mark me down on my fitness report.

Don’t be obtuse…that’s not what I’m talking about here. I’m talking about taking some time to decide whether you want to change, because this agency isn’t going to. If you don’t want to make the effort to fit between the lines here, then find someplace else you do fit. Life is too damned short to be miserable forty hours a week.

Chance nodded. He remembered that Sam had also supervised an officer killed in the line of duty along the border last year. Maybe that explained the attitude of fatherly regret. The decision made itself—he would take that time off—otherwise it was money lost.

I didn’t request holiday leave. Is that going to put you in a bind?

Son, I get in a bind when people have Use or Lose. It counts against my annual supervision report, so I’ve had you on the holiday calendar for a month. Fill in the rest of this leave request and put it on my desk. Make sure it’s not for anything less than one hundred and twenty hours. Once the admin folks tack on the paid holidays, and the suspension, I don’t expect to see you until the middle of January at the earliest.

It took Chance less than an hour to finish out his time sheet, leave request, and close out the final report on his last case. Then he pushed his way out into the warm December sunshine so typical of a Yuma winter. Now what?

Climbing into his truck, Chance pulled out his cell phone. First things first.

How the hell are you, Agent Carter? Holden said, by way of answering the phone. You had to love caller ID.

Hey, Holden. I’m good, but I might have a little bit of a situation here.

What’s up?

My boss believes I might have leaked certain information regarding the location of an undocumented worker a few months back.

Does he now? Holden said. Chance could hear the concern in his friend’s voice. Neither one of them would mention any further details on the phone. What does your boss plan to do?

It’s already done. I’m now on an extended vacation until the middle of next month. Just wanted to give you a heads up.

Huh. Until next month? An unattached cop off duty over the holidays. Whoever heard of such a thing? You are still unattached, right? I can’t imagine anyone in Yuma would have your ugly ass.

Chance laughed. Fuck you, Titus. Just because you’re all cozied up with the delicious Drew. Unless…do you need me to come up there and take over for you, old man?

The growl that traveled the airways