Retribution: NCA Security, #1

By Breanna Riley

Nicolai Levin lost his brother to cold-blooded murder, and finding his killer has been his number one priority for a decade. Building his whole company–and life--around his need for justice, he is taken aback by the woman he meets in pursuit of revenge. Courageous and beautiful, but full of anger and fear, Jordan Burns has been spending half of her year atop Heron Mountain in Central Oregon for three summers straight. Alone on her mountaintop, she looks for smoke all day and tries to forget the past. Jordan made a conscious effort not to trust men ever again… not after the horrific events that have plagued her life for ten years. Not until Nic.

 

Following leads on intel that NCA Security has gathered, Nic comes into Tilly to infiltrate the townspeople and question locals about the man responsible for his brother's death. He never could have guessed that the spitfire bombshell that is Jordan Burns could be linked to the murderer, too. As he gets to know her, their whirlwind romance has him reconsidering everything in his life. As the weeks of deception go by, he has to ask himself… is the pursuit of retribution worth losing Jordan? Does he truly need revenge, or just peace?

Guaranteed happily ever after (HEA), no cheating!

THIS BOOK IS INTENDED FOR AUDIENCES 18 YEARS AND OLDER. Go to my website for more information.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Breanna Riley
• Release date: May 19, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201225070

Breanna Riley

Breanna Riley is a millennial mom of four boys, and personal assistant to six overbearing cats. She and her husband raise their kids in the Portland, Oregon area, where Breanna has spent her whole life. A breakout author, Breanna has been a romance enthusiast since before it was appropriate. She picked up writing during the Covid pandemic and hasn’t been able to stop since.

Book preview

prologue

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He drove down the deserted stretch of highway in a rage. Not many came this way at this time of night; since town was so out of the way, all the tourists tended to stick to daylight hours to come and go. The road was lined thick with juniper and ponderosa pine, the soil red from oxidation. Once he rounded a bend he slowed to a crawl and turned down one of the many disused logging roads sprinkling central Oregon. After a leisurely ten minute drive, taking a few random turns here and there, he finally reached a ridge that could serve his needs.

God dammit, he thought. Why did this bitch have to stick her nose where it didn’t belong? I should be snorting coke off the ass of Bend's finest strippers right now. With an irritated sigh, he hopped out and popped the hatch, the only noise the crunch of his feet on gravel. Grunting under the weight of the body, he lifted the tarp covered figure onto his shoulder and stumbled to the top of the ridge. His lithe frame was strong, but not meant for hauling around the weight of another person. Stumbling and hitting his foot on a rock, he swore loudly. A groan emanated from the tarp.

Fuck this, I don’t feel like playing tonight, he thought. Throwing the body as far down the ravine as possible, he started after it as the woman inside moaned softly, catching on a snag of sagebrush. Well, as good of a place as any, he mumbled to himself.

Pulling his handgun out of the waistband of his jeans, he took aim for the end he knew to contain the head and emptied the clip into the heap below him. Collecting the discarded shells quickly, he didn’t look back as he tramped back to his car and drove off. It would take a while for anyone to find her, and, even if they did, he doubted anything could be traced back to him. His hands were wiped clean of this week's problems, and now he could head north on 31 to Bend and forget the dirty work he usually delegated to his underlings.

chapter one

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Breathing in the juniper and sage laced air of dawn, all Jordan could hear was the sound of her sneakers hitting the gravel trail, her own breath, and the cacophony of morning birds sung out. She enjoyed listening to music, but it wasn’t safe this far in the backcountry. Cougars were always being spotted, and, even though she didn’t fear cougars, the thought of one watching her made her skin tingle.

Normally she would bring Sydney, her Australian cattle dog mix, with her, but Syd had a habit of barking at everything, and Jordan really did enjoy listening to the sounds of nature around her. She also didn’t want to push her anymore, as she had gone on a five-mile hike the day before, and Jordan had been training hard. Somewhere around mile four, coated in sweat and panting hard, she overlooked a meadow sprawled out beyond her, the rolling central Oregon valley opening up over miles and miles of vast nothing.

In the distance, if you squinted hard, you could see the two-lane road connected to Highway 31. The tower itself was only fourteen by fourteen inside, but the base of the tower was more than twice that. On ground level, someone had built a storeroom sometime in the 60s, and had a slew of ancient refrigerators run by propane, water storage tanks, and emergency supplies. She grabbed some frozen sausage from a fridge, a gallon of water, and hit the stairs. She tried to be quiet, but, somewhere around the second landing, Syd started howling.

Damnit, she internally swore. There goes sleeping in for those poor moms. Sydney despised being left in the tower by herself, but, in order to stick to her training regimen and not overwork the eager dog, she had to leave her a few times a week. Jordan reached the top and grabbed her keys. Shh, shh QUIET you idiot dog, there are people sleeping here this morning. Shh. You already used the facilities. Want some breakfast? Lifting the lid of a bench doubling as storage, she scooped Syd some food, and used the jug of water to refill her bowl.

Ugh, I think I only have a few more of these left downstairs. I’m going to have to head to town soon. Jordan plopped down on her bed, a double with a plush mattress. It got too cold inside to simply use sheets and a comforter, so she’d opted to cover the mattress with a protective sheet and slept in her sleeping bag instead. Taking a few deep breaths, she pulled out her pack of baby wipes to wipe off some of the grime. It was hard to get a shower in if people were here visiting or camping. She preferred to do it out in the open with her hanging camp shower, as the tower afforded little privacy. I can’t wait for a hot shower tomorrow.

Stripping off her dirty workout gear and stuffing it into her overflowing laundry bag, she ran a brush through her thick brunette hair. The color of milk chocolate that shone mahogany in the sun, Jordan had inherited her beautiful locks from her Italian mother. Paired with her curvy but strong frame, olive skin tanned to the color of a cappuccino, and hazel eyes circled with a blue ring the color of the sea, she turned heads wherever she went, though she rarely noticed. Frequently lost in her own thoughts, though sarcastic and quick-witted, she just didn’t have the mental energy to care lately. Her best friend Aspen was convinced she was going to end up an old lady in a large house with two dozen cats. Really, it’s not healthy, Jordan. Your bits are going to shrivel up and fall out. Aspen always knew how to cheer her up.

After finishing her ponytail and putting on a clean pair of running shorts, a USFS tee, and a worn Central Oregon Community College cap slung low over her eyes, Jordan slipped into a worn pair of Danner Mountain hiking boots she had snagged at the REI garage sale the previous November. She normally wouldn’t splurge on such an expensive item, but her boss, Dallas Hughes, swore his pair had lasted him five years already. At half off, she couldn’t pass them up.

She eyed Syd, who was now noisily pushing her bowl across the floor in a bid to lick every last speck off of its interior. Girl, you’re gonna look like a potato with legs if you keep that attitude up. You need your figure to climb those stairs. Let’s go spin the weather. Writing down the data she collected in her daily record sheet, Jordan grabbed her radio and checked in with Dallas to report her starting time. You still got those Girl Scouts up there? Over. Dallas asked with an amused air in his voice.

Affirmative…it was a late night. I don’t think we had a chipmunk within a five-mile radius of the mountain with how loud those girls were howling. Over.

They were just there for the night, right? Over.

Affirmative, heading home after breakfast around 0900. I promised them I would give them a tour before they left. Over. Chuckling at the thought, Dallas failed at hiding the smile that came through in his voice. He knew she hated huge crowds.

Alright, take it easy up there today, and expect more visitors. One of the out-of-town hippies in a blue Toyota FJ came asking about the lookout today. I told him you would be there. Said he wanted help identifying geography or some crap about aligning his chakras in mountaintop yoga. I don’t know, some new age bullshit. Over.

Biting her finger so as to not laugh out loud, Jordan managed a 10-4, over and out before letting out the laugh she had been holding in. Everyone, regardless of political affiliation, hated the out of towners. They were disrespectful, left crap all over the forests (trash and actual feces), and forced the price of rent up locally. Families that had been in Tilly since the turn of the century logging boom were being forced out because of the exploding vacation rental market locally. Developers weren’t exactly clamoring to build new houses in a town that were over two hours from the closest Starbucks.

It took Jordan three tries to get the ancient propane stove lit. Dallas kept promising a new one, but everyone knew the Forest Service had a tight budget. Upgrading facilities they were quickly replacing with independent sensors, drones, and satellites was not high on the priority list. The only ones that got makeovers were the ones being decommissioned and used as popular secluded rentals. What could be more romantic than a weekend atop a mountain with your other half? Plenty, she thought with a huff. Like scouting the local dump for appliance parts, or clearing brush. Hell, watching paint dry may be better than being cooped up with a man.

Once her sausage heated through, coffee brewed in a thrift store percolator, and eggs cooked, Jordan looked at her plate with a groan. What I wouldn’t give for a fresh mango right now. She didn’t mind the frozen foods, but, before a day in town, her fresh food always looked slim. You just can’t keep fruit fresh at seven thousand feet for very long. Days closer to civilization came once a week, and, while she enjoyed her solitude, it came at a price. She missed fruit, hot showers, a toilet 15 feet from her bed, and hell, just not having to get dressed to go pee.

Her biggest pain in the ass and scarcest resource up here, forty-five minutes up on the top of a mountain and another 20 from town, was electricity. She had a generator in the storeroom, but gas was expensive and there was only so much in the budget from the Forest Service for each season. She had a small solar panel to charge her laptop and phone, and, if the day was too stormy, she could go and fire up her 1998 Subaru Outback. Worn and dusty, sitting in it listening to music that came in clear as day since the radio towers were just two mountaintops away, she would bask in the air conditioning while her phone charged.

Jordan polished off her breakfast and put her paper plate into the burn bin. She popped in one ear bud and phoned in to the morning briefing that included her direct supervisor, his direct supervisor, all the surrounding fire lookouts, and their contact with the National Weather Service. Nothing major upcoming today or tomorrow, thank god. Once she heard the lookout from the neighboring mountaintop get on the line, she zoned out. She had worse views to zone out to…and he was a massive douche.

5′10 and looking like he stepped out of an advertisement for a summer camp, fake smile and all, Brock Kelly was a thorn in her side. When he got bored, which was often, he would hop on the local radio channel and try to hit on her via radio. She wasn’t supposed to shut it off, so, if she didn’t respond, he would just keep talking. He had asked her out more times than she could count, and his fake smile made her skin crawl. She didn’t know what secrets that man held, but she was not digging to find out more.

Just as Dallas was bringing the morning check in to a close, Jordan got a chirp in her ear telling her a text had come in. She ended the call and opened it.

Charlotte: Have you heard from dad or Derrick last night or today?

Jordan: No, why?  

Charlotte: Dad never came home last night. Thought maybe Derrick let him sleep it off in the office on the couch again. 

Great. Just what she needed, her drunk dad going AWOL again. Jordan took a deep breath and rubbed her hands across her eyes in a move to alleviate some of her climbing anxiety.

Charlotte: Heads up the shower drain clogged again, and we got another letter from the bank.

Jordan: Thanks, set it aside and I’ll take a look when I come into town tomorrow. Should be a bit before lunch.

Charlotte: Yup.

Knowing Charlotte had likely reached the end of ‘doing her due diligence’ as far as responsibility for their now unreliable father, Jordan scrolled through her phone to find Derrick Anderson’s number. Owner of the bar she worked at in the off season, Derrick often called Charlotte to come pick her dad up and peel him off of the bar before calling the sheriff to haul his drunk ass to dry out overnight. Derrick had the patience of a saint, but, at forty-two and running a business, his patience had its limits.

Huh? came Derrick’s drowsy response after the third ring. Hey Derrick, I’m sorry, I realize you’ve probably only had a couple hours sleep at this point, but did you have Dad in there last night? Charlotte said he never came home.

No, he was in here with some of the older farm hands last night, but he left around midnight. If you haven’t heard from him, you may wanna call Will. Need anything else?

Deep breath. The local sheriff was done with her dad’s bullshit. He had threatened to file charges of public drunkenness if he had to haul him into the single holding cell their tiny town’s police station had to sober up again. Dealing with William McDonald was not high on her list of enjoyable activities.

No, that’s it. I’ve got a day off tomorrow; I’ll pop in and say hi.

Kay. Can I go back to sleep now? he begged softly.

Yeah, sorry for waking you. Thanks, see you tomorrow. Sleep well.

Staring off into the distance as she started her hourly smoke spotting, Jordan took in the surrounding valley, canyon and gullies below her, and the distant mountains, and did a few calming breaths.

She wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take with her father. Ever since her mother’s death, he had spiraled deeper and deeper down into a bottle of whiskey. She wasn’t sure how much further there was to go before he hit rock bottom, and the worst part was that he refused to admit there was a problem.

Wait, yes, she did. He’d already lost his business...next was the house. The house he and her mother had scrimped, saved, and poured their blood sweat and tears into. The house they had brought Jordan and Charlotte home to, early in their marriage. The house had her mother’s memory imprinted onto it in every corner of its carefully crafted, DIY décor. Lucia had spent years reading Better Homes and Gardens, and checking out How-To manuals from the local library to create the warm, happy home Jordan and Charlotte knew from their childhood. Eight years and almost complete neglect later, the bank had come calling, and, when they did, she wasn’t even sure foreclosure could save her father’s financial troubles.

chapter two

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Nicolai Levin pulled into the NCA Security parking lot, parked his Ford Raptor, and killed the engine. Stepping out into the golden, dry air of Central Oregon’s high desert, he swore as the heat hit him full blast. He still hadn’t grown used to these hot summers and cold, snowy winters. Coming from Portland, the temperate summers and wet winters of Bend had been a climate and culture shock when they had moved their headquarters here.

He opened the door to their office–a new construction, two story building with a glass front and angular metal supports Nic took great pride in. The lobby, done in a white tile floor, grey paint, and an exposed-beam ceiling with industrial light fixtures , had dark teal and bronze accents to polish off the look.

Cameron Castillo, the tech brains of their operation, leaned against the front lobby desk with his usual shit eating grin he swore made women’s panties drop faster than he could order shots of tequila. Their young new receptionist, Colette, sat behind the desk, blushing and looking up at him bashfully with a laugh.

God dammit Cam, what did I say about flirting with the new hires? The HR manager would have a field day with your bullshit. Colette shrunk down into her chair and turned back to her computer, avoiding eye contact with both.

Nic had met Cameron during an investigation where he had been called in by the local school district for suspected hacking of their grading system. Turned out Cam had genius hacking skills; on top of changing classmates’ grades for cash, he also did under the table hacking jobs for money on the black market. When the Silk Road got shut down, Nic convinced him to use his superpowers for good rather than evil; he learned business acumen doing white hat hacking jobs for companies who needed security loopholes found in their websites and systems. 

For starters, we haven’t hired an HR manager yet, so empty threats, my friend. Second, look at her—you have embarrassed the poor girl. It’s okay Colette. Nic has had a giant stick up his ass ever since we expanded. He’ll get used to being around beautiful women all day eventually. I don’t bite, so don’t let his blustering fool you.

Cam pushed his lithe form off of the desk and walked down the hall. His sandy brown hair reached the collar of his shirt, usually a faded band tee. Joggers and basketball shoes completed his everyday casual look. You coming, asshole, or were you planning on skipping this early-ass meeting you insisted on?

Yeah yeah yeah. Is Alex here yet?

M-hmm, he’s in the conference room setting up already.

Alexander Bennet, at forty, was the oldest of the three. He crammed his thick, muscular, 6′4 frame into a plush but comparatively tiny computer chair. With black hair cut in a high and tight, and his menacing steel-blue eyes, Bennet had an air of danger about him. His corded arms with tattoos from wrist to shoulder didn’t help, although they did help him in the dating department. Although quiet about his dating life, Nic and Cam both knew Alex had never been short on female companionship. He had been in the marines before being medically discharged after a car accident shattered his femur.

After the military, Alex had joined the civilian police force, where he systematically enjoyed pushing the envelope as far as well-deserved pummelings were concerned. Pimps, wife beaters, child abusers, you name it, Alex had the itch to bash their faces in. Eventually, it got him fired. A fifteen-year-old who resembled his little sister too much for his liking had been dumped at the station, beaten within an inch of her life. He tracked down her pimp a few days later, and, during the interview, Alex worked him over so well they had to call for medical assistance. He avoided charges, but his career in the public sector was officially over. After that, he called up Nic and Cam, and together they had started this company from the ground up.

NCA Security Inc.—their baby—had started in Nic’s Southeast Portland apartment, with peeling wallpaper and some questionable mold in every closet. They had worked up to this beautiful building in Bend, Oregon, where they had a staff of about fifty now. Alex had pulled his weight by landing them some government contracts. Personal safety for low profile politicians, security systems for various city and state-owned buildings, and under the table, hush-hush investigations, which is where the real money came from.

Cameron and a small team of off-the-books investigators, mostly ex special forces, handled that branch of their company. Their accounts receivable had grown large enough they could afford to be in Bend while sending employees all around the state and country for various tasks and jobs. The high desert location afforded Nic a central location for his goals.

Nic and Cam filed into the conference room they often worked out of. Alex sat at the end of the table, his long legs crossed at the ankle. He leaned back in his plush office chair while frowning into his phone.

What’s eating you, dude? Cam pushed Alex’s chair with his foot.

Fuck off, Alex responded. Quiet and stoic, it was frequently hard to tell what mood he stewed in at any one time.

Do you have the file I asked for? Nic huffed.

Yeah, right here, man. Let me pull it up on the screens. Cameron grabbed his laptop and switched on the large screen hanging on the opposite wall.

Did you have any trouble putting this one together, Cam? I know sometimes with rural folk there isn’t as much info online.

No trouble at all. Everything after her mother’s murder was easy to access, and that was widely publicized for a hot minute. Then she did a lot of schooling online through community colleges and public universities. Entered US Forest service at age 24. Our FBI contact gave us access to the database, so I didn’t even have to hack anything.

Looking up from his phone and arching one eyebrow, Alex cocked his head to the side and asked, Which one is this? he asked, his voice deep and gravelly.

Jordan Burns, twenty-eight. Daughter of Weston and Lucia Burns. Sister is Charlotte, twenty-four. Lucia was murdered when Jordan and Charlotte were eighteen and fourteen. Jordan dropped out of college when her dad was arrested for drunk and disorderly… again. The house Wes has owned since 1989 is on the brink of foreclosure, and he is unemployed after losing his small engine repair business. Charlotte has a slew of arrests, but nothing stuck. Jordan spends six months of the year in a fire lookout, with only random hikers and four-wheelers to keep her company. Comes to town once a week. No major relationships I could locate. Is friends with the mayor of Tilly’s daughter, Aspen.

So, she’s a workaholic with only a few friends? Is that what I’m hearing? pressed Nic. What, is she a recluse? She sounds like your typical homely small-town bore. Even doormats will do stupid shit for money I guess. Nic took a long pull from his bottle of water.

I don’t know, man, but I don’t think she’s homely… Cameron said with mild amusement. Hitting a button on the remote, a photo taken from a telephoto lens one of their investigators shot popped up on the screen. Nic promptly choked on his water. Trying to wipe some of it off his chin, he looked at Cameron incredulously.

"That? That might work with Raymond Walker? Holy shit. Alex sat upright and doubled over with laughter at Nic’s reaction, pointing at him with humor in his voice. How on earth are you gonna threaten her? She looks like she volunteers at the homeless shelter and knits hats for orphans for fun."

In the photo, Jordan sat inside the back hatch of a dusty, late model Subaru Outback. The photo had obviously been taken somewhere far out, because the background was filled with vistas of a rolling valley, and a blanket of trees surrounded the mountaintop below her. She’s looked at her phone with earbuds in, the sun is filtering through her wavy, mahogany hair hitting her mid-back. Though wearing an oversized t-shirt and a pair of running shorts, her petite, toned legs hinted at a killer figure obscured by her baggy clothing. Her bronzed skin practically glowed, and Nic noticed a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her narrow, gently upturned nose. He wished to all that was holy he could see her eyes… he knew heaven would look back at him.

Looks can be deceiving, said Alex quietly. What’s the plan with this one?

Nic ran his hand down the back of his hair and neck, taking