by Cara Carnes
“Then you assume full field control, like Peter had?” Marshall asked.
“Yes. I’d accept all missions, assign all personnel, and run operations. He would go back to the quiet money man in the background.”
“Driggs started pushing the envelope on what contracts we accepted. Suddenly, we were going into areas Peter never agreed, taking on the shadier business we’ve always steered away from,” Mary added. “Missions became riskier, downright impossible sometimes.”
“Then the bastard focused on Mary and me, forcing us to pull eighty hour weeks so he could charge top dollar by offering us up as the back office handlers. We both refused, of course. If we’re not in top condition, the field suffers,” Vi said.
“Then he started pressuring us to hand over HERA, even went so far as to threaten our jobs if we didn’t agree.” Mary shook her head, then grimaced as pain shot down her neck. “He said he’d blacklist us in the paramilitary arena. We’d never work again.”
Dylan and his brothers all laughed. Warmth seeped into Mary’s clenched belly when she caught his lazy grin and amused gaze. Heat stained her cheeks.
“And HERA...” Jesse trailed his voice off on an expectant tone.
“It stands for Heuristic Engagement Recovery Apparatus,” Rhea supplied.
“Wait. I thought the ‘R’ was Reconnaissance. You know, because she’s a badass and she’s covering badasses,” Bree argued.
“She?” Marshall asked.
“Well HERA couldn’t be a guy,” Bree snapped with a duh tone. “She thinks for herself, learns from her mistakes, and is impenetrable.”
The men looked at one another in a mixture of confusion and concern. Bree got a bit too emotionally invested when she talked about HERA. While Mary and Vi had done the bulk of the work on the program, Bree and Rhea had been instrumental in so many invaluable ways.
“Bree, let’s let Vi explain HERA, okay?” Mary suggested.
Crimson rose in her friend’s face as she looked around, then nodded.
“It’s an offensive and defensive intelligence system that provides real-time feeds to the field. Surveillance cameras attached to the network also do live facial recognition scans and flag any threats in a variety of measures, including limited offensive measures,” Vi began.
“It does everything but the kitchen sink,” Addy finished. “The two computer geniuses coded the entire thing, started in their dorm rooms back at MIT, where they met Bree and Rhea here. Bree provided the savvy, new age power source, one which is completely self-contained, impenetrable, and totally kickass. Rhea, the innocent-looking one, created not one but three different biochemical agents and two gases to weaponize the drones you saw today and the surveillance cameras.”
“Christ,” Dallas muttered.
“And those are only the high points. The system has been our baby for a long time. It started off as a hacking tool, one aimed at trolling the asshats on the Dark Web. The intelligent facets of the program not only hack into a target’s systems and networks, it copies all data and provides real-time, instantaneous analysis based on pre-programmed parameters,” Mary explained. When the men looked at her blankly she added, “It reads what it copies and summarizes the data immediately.”
“Damn,” Cord whispered.
“Like I said, there’s nothing the system can’t do,” Addy repeated. “Edge and Quillery here even designed a field assessment portion of the program, which allows team leads to provide feedback and reviews of the team’s physical, psychological, and skill readiness before, during, and after a mission with a few keystrokes. I got to test that one, and I’ve gotta say it’s pretty sweet.”
“How does that help?” Nolan asked.
“It gives us and HERA the data we need to accurately assess possible solutions and provide the best recommendations. A team is only as strong as its weakest member. Sometimes that changes, and knowing could have a huge impact on how a mission is handled,” Mary explained.
“And you’ve managed to keep that out of Hive’s grasp,” Marshall commented.
“Peter understood the ramifications if it fell into the wrong hands. He trusted our judgment, so we used it on a few more complicated missions, where we had full control and trusted all the field operatives implicitly.” Vi sat and rolled the chair to the console. “Driggs only caught wind of it because the blowhard entered the control center without permission, and we were neck deep in baddies.”
Mary’s gut clenched. They’d almost lost an entire Delta squad because Driggs interrupted the operation. “That was two weeks before Peter died. Things didn’t end well.”
“Edge showed how she earned that name and knocked his ass out.” Vi chuckled. “I have it recorded. It’s awesome.”
“So HERA is probably what he’s after,” Colt surmised.
“Or Addy’s portion of Hive,” Jesse added.
“Not to be the naysayer, but how do we even know this is Driggs? Could it be someone else?” Logan asked.
Leave it to a spook to point out something no one else had considered. Mary had been so focused on Driggs and Hive being the problem that she hadn’t considered anyone else.
“The timing’s too right for it to be anyone else. We’ve been gathering data proving Driggs’s corruption. Mary’s even established links to key government personnel,” Vi argued. “I can’t see anyone else with the motive Driggs has to keep us quiet.”
“Then why didn’t he kill her?” Dallas asked. “And he had you in a jungle. Why not put two in your brainstem and move on? Or in Addy’s if he was after controlling interest in Hive?”
Mary looked at Vi and felt sick. Good question.
“Watch it,” Dylan threatened.
“No, he’s right. That’s why we need your help. We’re too close to see all angles,” Mary whispered into the thickening silence. “The short answer, the only one I can reason out, is that we’re the only ones smart enough to run it. There’s no operations manual. More than half of it is a shortcut code only she and I know. It’s still in very early beta stage.”
“He needs you,” Marshall said.
“Yeah,” Vi replied. “So that’s what we know in a nutshell. What are you going to do about it?”
“There’s another reason they kept you alive,” Dylan commented as he approached them. “I’m thinking they didn’t know who else was involved with HERA, Bree and Rhea.”
My God. Of course. Mary hadn’t realized the obvious. Driggs had no way of identifying the power source or bio weapon creators. Now they were exposed. In danger. “This is all my fault.”
“Hey, look at me.” Dylan’s voice boomed near her. Firm hands grasped her chin. “No one’s hurting you or them. We’ll find Driggs.”
“She needs rest,” Logan said.
“Agreed. I’ll get the ladies secured in a bunker, and then we can all get some rest.” Marshall looked around the room. “We’ll start hunting tomorrow.”
Even though Vi hadn’t shown off HERA or any of the evidence they’d gathered, Mary was relieved the debriefing session was over. Pain coursed along her side and down her back. Sitting up was exhausting.
Another part of her wasn’t ready to return to the hospital bed and rest. Fear crawled up her throat. As long as she was awake and focused on something else, someone else, the memories stayed away. Once they all left, though, she’d be vulnerable, defenseless to the chaos and terror of what’d happened.
“We’ll see you in the morning,” Bree whispered as she kissed her forehead.
“Love ya,” Rhea called out.
“See you before dawn with coffee. I know you wake early,” Addy said.
“You want me to crash with you?” Vi asked.
“No, I’m okay.” Mary forced the words despite the unease swelling in her chest.
She clenched her good hand into a fist and bit her tongue as Logan wheeled her away from her friends and the guys. All except Dylan, who remained steadfastly at her side.
“I’m okay,” she whispered.
<
br /> “You will be.” He held the door open and swept his gaze across the yawning landscape as they exited the operations building and headed toward the other large structure next door. They really should’ve enclosed the walk areas between for security purposes, but she didn’t mention it. There’d be time to comment on security measures later, when she’d rested more and she didn’t have a madman trying to get her and her friends.
“Here we are,” Logan commented moments later.
Mary peered into the clean, quiet room. The entire area was graveyard silent. Maybe they had a remote for the television she could turn on when everyone left. Logan wheeled her near the bathroom first. Grateful for the chance, she grasped the doorframe and hauled herself in before either man offered to help. Talk about mortifying.
The bathroom was more like a personal one than a hospital, but there were handlebars on each side of the toilet, which helped Mary haul herself up and down with her good hand. Wrestling the gown had been a bit problematic, especially since it wasn’t one of the open in the back ones.
She wondered where it’d come from for a few moments, then realized it didn’t really matter. With this many men around, there were probably tons of women. Love interests. Wives. Did Dylan have someone in his life?
Probably.
Men like him never went long without a woman in their bed, important or otherwise. Women like her, on the other hand, learned to rely on no one. She’d spent her entire life helping others, doing what was needed. That was her calling, though, and she wouldn’t do anything differently.
The men she’d dated never understood the secret life she couldn’t share. The too frequent emergencies in the dead of night, the unexplainable cancellations for dinner dates, the travel to undisclosed locations.
None of the men lasted long, except Dean. Dean Strickland had been a sweetheart, an accountant at a big four firm. He was the suit and tie-wearing, middle-income man seeking a suburban housewife to raise their two children. He even had the requisite family dog, a Golden Retriever named Darth. Dean was just enough of a geek to make Mary feel accepted.
Sadly, he couldn’t handle the abrupt departures and unforeseeable problems. I need to be your number one in life, Mary. I’m sorry. I can’t do this anymore.
Really, she couldn’t blame him. She hoped he’d found his pretty, ordinary wife because he deserved happy. So did she, but sometimes you didn’t always get what you wanted. You accepted what you had and moved on.
Mary washed her hand and opened the door. Dylan grabbed her about the waist and hoisted her into his arms before she could utter an argument.
“What are you doing?”
“Putting you in bed where you belong.” He set her gently in the middle of the bed and covered her up. “Doc went to get a couple things. You need anything? Water? A snack?”
“Water would be good.”
Dylan reached over and poured some from a pitcher. He stuck a straw in the cup and brought it up to her lips.
“I’m not an invalid,” she whispered.
“No, but you’re hurt, exhausted, and weak. Drink, then you can get some rest.”
Mary complied with the gruff order and ignored the intensity in his gaze as it remained on her. The man was just too...everything. Fortunately, he settled into the recliner across the room when Logan entered.
The doctor pulled a couple syringes from his pocket and smiled at her. “I know you aren’t a fan of drugs, but these are mild. One’s the antibiotic we have you on. It’s working with what’s in your IV drip to keep infection away. The other’s a mild sedative to help you sleep.”
Thank God.
“Thanks, Doc.”
“If you need anything at all, I’m crashing in a room at the end of the hall. Push the buzzer on the side of your bed, and I’ll be here in a few. Or have Dylan grab me.” Logan left before she could comment.
Or have Dylan grab me. Mary’s gaze flashed to the man in the recliner. He’d hauled a blanket from somewhere and kicked off his combat boots. His sock-covered feet peeked out from the edge of the blue covering. She swallowed, her throat suddenly too dry as she studied the man lounging in the corner of her room like he belonged there.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m not leaving you alone here, Mary. Go to sleep.”
“You don’t have to...” Mary bit the argument off. She wanted him here. Well, anyone, but Dylan being here felt...
Right.
Secure.
“Go to sleep, Mary.”
CHAPTER FOUR
One week later...
“Mary’s wondering why you haven’t let her out.” Dylan settled into a relaxed stance between Logan and the door. He’d finally cornered the man; he wasn’t leaving without answers.
“I’ll have a chat with her.”
“No, you’ll chat with me. What’s up?” Dylan motioned toward the room. “What aren’t you telling us? Is something wrong with her?”
She’d scared the shit out of everyone the first night. Her fever spiked to one hundred four, and it took hours to get it down. She’d cleared the illness scare days ago, though. He’d even ceded some of the guard shifts to his brothers, keeping the nights for himself.
Mary was too proud and scared to admit she had nightmares, flashes from her captivity. They were common in PTSD patients, but she wasn’t ready to ask for help, much less admit she was haunted. He’d been there enough to recognize the symptoms though, the way she gasped awake and clutched the sweaty sheets.
He’d done what he could. Waited it out with her. Gave her space. Waited for her to ask for help. She’d share when she was ready.
“I can’t talk about it with you,” Logan argued.
“Bullshit. Take a look around, doc. This isn’t a normal hospital. Fuck HIPPA. Why is she still holed up in a bed rather than out living her life and moving on?” Dylan’s voice rose.
“I told him to keep her,” Vi whispered from behind him.
“What?” Dylan turned on the quiet best friend, the one who spent almost more time at Mary’s bedside than he did. “Why?”
“Mary has boundary issues. To her, all that matters is work. Driggs has worked her into the ground since Peter died. She’s not the best friend I knew, the one who’d go grab a beer with me after a shitty day.” Vi’s eyes filled with tears. “What we do is important, but she’s what I care about. Hive, Driggs, and all this other stuff can rot, for all I care.”
“Look, Mary and Vi were trained in handling high-stress situations and even how to handle themselves if taken captive. But what was done to her affected her more than I would’ve expected. They made it personal,” Logan said as he looked at the door into Mary’s room. “The rest is to reboot her system. She needs to learn to walk away and focus on herself. Something other than work.”
It was a common problem, one Dylan and his brothers battled at times. A hard work ethic sometimes danced the tango with obsession. I’m disposable. Mary’s words rattled around in his mind. “She thinks she’s the job, only the job.”
“Yes,” Vi said. “She and I didn’t exactly have the best of lives before we met at MIT, but even I step back, escape in the mountains, go to a con or two. You know, DEF CON, ShmooCon.”
“You take a step back by attending hacking conferences,” Logan offered.
Vi shrugged. “What can I say? It’s in my blood.”
“She doesn’t go with you,” Dylan commented.
“She used to, but then we started getting pressured to handle more ops. Hive billed extra when we were involved, and Driggs was all about the bottom line.” Vi bit her lower lip. “I’m worried about her, and she won’t listen to me. In a way, this whole mess is like a huge intervention. If we’re risking our necks to get out of this, I want my BFF back. The old one, not the work zombie one.”
“You told her that?” Logan asked.
Vi bounced from one foot to another and looked away. Of course she hadn’t. The last thing he needed to do was stage an interventio
n with a workaholic handler, but someone had to look out for Mary. Did she have family they should call? Anyone important in her life other than the women already there?
Dylan rubbed his chest to ease the burn there. She wasn’t his problem. He was still nursing the wounds the last wounded dove he rescued caused.
I’m disposable.
“I’ll make sure she rests,” Dylan promised. “Get her out. Time with her thoughts isn’t what she needs right now.”
“She could relapse,” the doctor replied.
“She won’t. Release her when we get back. I’ll handle the rest.” Dylan glanced at Vi. “Mary will be okay.” He emphasized the name, making sure not to use Edge. The woman was who he was protecting, not the asset.
SWEAT BEADED HER BROW. Her vision tunneled on the wall across the room. Was it closer than before?
Don’t be ridiculous, Mary. You’re going crazy.
I want out. They didn’t rescue me, they just put me in a fancier cell.
She expended a weary breath. Even she couldn’t argue with herself over that one. Besides, her BFF was sitting in the chair near the window.
Vi’s eyes narrowed. “You’re doing it again, aren’t you?”
“Doing what?” Mary asked with mocked innocence.
Her lungs burned as she paced, flashed a leery glance at the wall. Chalk. Maybe a marker. Mark the wall and floor intersection. Proof over theory.
It’s still a prison. They’re never letting you out.
Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.
Hands grasped her shoulders. She punched and shoved.
“Easy, girlfriend. It’s me. Vi.” The firm voice whispered beneath the screams. Pleas.
No, please, no. Not again.
Mary!
Words bled together, severed her grasp of reality.
The grip tightened around her arms. Screams ripped from her throat.
“Breathe, dammit!” The gruff voice thundered through the screams. “Breathe for me, Mary.”
Air struck her face. No water. She blinked back the cloying black tunneling her focus. Freshly cut grass and a hint of manure overrode phantom urine, blood, and pain. Her back burned. Her body ached.
