Jagged Edge (The Arsenal Book 1)

by Cara Carnes

  “The brilliance of Edge’s handling of me should be in every training manual around the world. No one else, nothing else but sheer smart ass and bitchy comebacks would’ve kept me and my team going. Her giving me shit and getting in my head at every turn kept us moving. A pissed off team leader, so far in his head because of the voice on the com, kept the team fueled and battle ready even though we were falling apart.”

  Nolan’s voice cut off. He cleared his throat and looked away a moment.

  “Edge called in favors with the Agency, got a company copter in, piloted by someone who owed her a favor. In heavy enemy fire, he dropped in and picked them up,” Dylan added. “Now, Dan, I’ll ask you again, do you have a problem with Edge and Quillery leading office operations?”

  The man paled a bit as everyone looked his direction. He crossed his arms and puffed up. “She’s not a soldier, sir. I can’t support a civilian behind my com.”

  “Then you’re out,” Dylan replied.

  “What?” Dan asked.

  “You. Are. Out. I don’t want anyone on a team who won’t respect our decisions and those of the people we have on the com. You’re gone. Dallas, get him out of here before I lose my temper.” Dylan glanced around the room. “Anyone else?”

  No one spoke.

  “Dismissed,” Marshall added. “Red, blue, and orange teams prepare for wheels up in two hours. Report to my office in thirty minutes.”

  Mary sat and waited for the room to empty. None of the Masons moved, even though she kind of hoped they’d file out as well. Vi smiled from across the table as Addy sat beside her.

  Nolan sauntered over after the room emptied fully. Her nerves rattled like a drunken congo line. Face to face with operatives she pushed in the field sometimes got a bit awkward. She did what was necessary to get them home, even if it went over the line. Hell, she lived her life over that line. It’s why she was the Edge.

  Dylan settled a hand on her shoulder from behind as she rose and faced the man she’d pulled from the jungle. He’d spent a week in hell because of idiots in a government building, but he’d survived. He smiled down at her.

  “For the record, Edge, I totally rocked the Tarzan swing and the cry.” He thumped her nose with his finger and smirked. “And I still get twitchy when I see worms. You’ve ruined fishing for me.”

  “I can die happy then. Nemo and Sebastian are safe.”

  “Whatever you need, Mary. Anything at all, just ask,” Nolan said. “Welcome to The Arsenal.”

  “Thanks.” She nodded and motioned toward the table. “I have a list of contracted assets from Hive. I’d like to review them with whoever makes decisions, recommend a few to undercut Driggs.”

  “Dylan can work with you on that and whatever else you have,” Marshall replied. “He’s point on all things Hive.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Women weren’t worth arguing over. Bros before hos. Dylan and his brothers had practiced the mantra their entire lives, a necessary survival skill in Resino, Texas. Mary had a connection with Nolan. Dylan didn’t like the fact it existed, but she’d pulled Nolan’s ass out of an impossible situation. Dylan should’ve seen this one coming.

  “Maybe Nolan should run point,” he suggested.

  Marshall’s eyebrows quirked. Nolan jolted. Mary tensed. Dylan needed about a dozen beers to knock back the day, the shitty thoughts mucking his brain up. More importantly, he needed to numb the urges chewing away in his gut.

  “Outside,” Nolan said.

  Fuck. Big brother number two needed to chew a piece of his ass. Fine. He deserved it. He followed him into the hall and across into the next room. Arms crossed, gaze focused straight ahead, he waited.

  “What’s up?”

  “I’m stepping back. I get it, really. Should’ve realized.”

  “Come again, I’m not following.”

  “Mary. I’m stepping back.”

  “Didn’t realize you’d stepped up, but okay.” Nolan sighed. “It’s not like that, man. You’ve heard the banter, the way she goaded me. Fuck, it was like having Riles in my head all week nonstop, except for the blackouts. Even then, she always left me hanging, thinking of flesh-eating maggots and other creepy shit.”

  “She’s not our little sister.”

  “No, for you she’s not, but to me she may as well be. What’s this really about?” Nolan’s voice lowered. “She’s not Hailey, nowhere close. No worries on that front.”

  Hailey Suthers was a sore spot, one everyone knew better than poke. Dylan fisted his hands and looked away. “This isn’t about that.”

  “Then what the fuck is it about? You start handing everything over because you think I’m vibing on a woman but say you aren’t stepping up. Newsflash, man. You said you were stepping back. That means at some point you’d stepped the hell up and decided to pursue Mary.”

  Fuck. Dylan’s head was a mess. He settled his hand at the back of his neck and stared at the floor. He needed a ride, a fast one going about a hundred fifty. Or a jump from thirty thousand feet. Anything to get the adrenaline high and knock his brain into a different gear, one not focused on women with soft curves and issues a mile wide.

  “I’m not going there with her, or anyone else. Not anytime soon.”

  “Fair enough, but I’m wondering why you and I are having this conversation since we both know there’s a talk you’ve never had with a different brother. What happened in there to get your head twisted?”

  Damn nosy big brothers. Being the middle kid sucked rotten eggs.

  “Hearing her with you, the confidence, the seductive lilt in her voice when she pushed just a bit too far. It made me want to...” Dylan cursed and turned away.

  Fuck. Mary had crawled under his skin and settled in like she belonged. He wanted to protect her, push her to see what reaction she’d have. Who did she rely on when everything crumbled around her?

  He’d been on edge ever since Vi shared her concerns. Then he noticed the little things, the way she didn’t accept compliments. Everything she exhibited pride in was Edge, not Mary. Not her, but her work. She buried herself under a crushing weight of responsibility. Why?

  And why the hell did he want to be the one there with the shovel to dig her ass out when she suffocated beneath the weight? He should’ve learned his lesson with Hailey. There was the real blow. Nolan was right. He’d never had the conversation everyone expected. He’d gone wheels up an hour later, stayed away long enough for the dust to settle and Resino to move the hell on.

  But he hadn’t. He compared every woman to her, expected the same end. Waited to see which brother circled for the landing first, always the first to back off. Then Mary swooped in and sank her claws in before he noticed.

  “She’s a wonderful woman, man.” Nolan’s comment forced him to the present. “Go slow. She’s had it rough, as you know.”

  No shit. He turned toward the door.

  “By the way, find out what third of our people she doesn’t like. I want us to review them.”

  Dylan was glad they were on the same page about something.

  “F67CHARLIE.”

  What the hell was Fallon Graves doing on the team com? He was the best damn asset Hive had in the field, but he never ran coms, mainly because he hated them and he was contract. He wasn’t allowed. Unease pricked along Mary’s neck. Dylan settled beside her, as if preparing to handle whatever problems arose.

  “Edge here. Where’s A323Bravo?” She paced in The Arsenal’s operational theater and waited for the video feed to go live.

  She’d decided to take the India situation on alone and let Vi tackle the other one. Divide and conquer. Since she was one hand down, Cord had offered to supply his fingers to the keyboard, but he wasn’t savvy on Hive lingo, and there wasn’t time to read him in.

  “Fuck, Edge, you know I don’t do the coded numbers thing.”

  “That’s fine, Graves. I’ve got an assist not savvy in it either. We’ll do this clean.”

  “Well that’ll be the only t
hing clean in this op,” the man muttered through the speaker. “Be advised the fearless Hive team lead high-tailed it out of the zone with half the operatives in tow. I am solo with the new guy, Lucas Donovan.”

  “Roger, Graves. Hive is compromised. Are you go for asset retrieval?”

  “You tell me. Am I watching my six with Donovan, or should I put a bullet in his gray matter now?”

  Cord had Lucas Donovan’s record pulled up. Close quarters combat, sniper, former Delta. A ton of redacted records not worth a damn. Of course. Damned red tape always got in the way. She reached over, tapped a few buttons on the keyboard with her good hand, and the real, clean reports came through.

  “Okay, this should be a fairly easy in and out if you apply ordnance as you go. The boom can serve as your support team. You packing enough for a large perimeter?”

  “I’m almost offended you asked.”

  Mary laughed into the com. She rarely enjoyed every moment with an op, but she always did with Graves. He was one of the rare ninjas. “Let’s free a team then.”

  Hopefully, the Delta boys would hold their own once freed. A two-man team couldn’t carry four out, no matter how decent they might be in the field. She looked over at Cord, who’d been skimming Donovan’s service record. He highlighted a few things.

  “Your buddy’s former Delta, sniper certified, close quarters combat, ordnance qualified. Recommend dual entry and ordnance drop.”

  “You want me to let another man handle my treasures?” Graves teased.

  “Only if you’re man enough for a little competition. You let me know, and we’ll fly with your read on this one. He’s fresh in the field for me.” Mary waited for the man’s judgment. She accepted few opinions, but she’d take his without question.

  He muttered a few curse words into the com, then started barking orders to the other guy. Another headset clicked on, and she keyed in Lucas’s presence on a second com.

  “Donovan, Edge here. How are you holding up?”

  “I’m holding. I’m go for breach, if that’s what you’re asking. Not leaving boys behind.”

  Pride swelled in her chest a moment. Of course he’d be in for breach. Delta boys were in there. She suspected it wouldn’t matter. He probably wouldn’t leave anyone behind. “They’re getting out in time to have a beer stateside soon. We’re doing ordnance drop on entry. Controlled explosions will cover and assist exit. Sending suggested patterns. Graves, your call on approval.”

  “Jesus, these are some kick ass toys, Edge.”

  “Come over to my new playground, and I’ll let you play with the really cool toys, Graves. Guaranteed.”

  “New playground, huh? Where’d you land?”

  This wasn’t the optimal time for a 411 session, but he needed the intel and could listen while reviewing the route. “The Arsenal. Driggs and his cronies hauled me in, worked me over.”

  “You’re shitting me.” His anger thundered through the overhead speakers. “We’re a go for boom. Suddenly I’m in the mood to blow some shit up. When we’re done here, Edge, you and I are having a long conversation.”

  “Roger,” Mary said. “Clock set for fifteen minutes.”

  “Roger.”

  “He’s close to you,” Dylan commented.

  Mary turned and rubbed her neck. “Fallon Graves is one of the best I’ve ever worked with. He’s saved more missions than Vi and I could count. He’s always Plan B if we can secure him. He’s number one on my you’ve-gotta-snag-him list.”

  “Good, then we’ll see him in action,” Cord commented. “How’d you do the unredacting move?”

  Mary showed him the keystrokes to activate HERA’s decrypting protocols. The program made things so much simpler. Cord called up Graves’s records and got to work reading. He’d be at it a while. The man had a jacket almost thicker than Dylan’s and Marshall’s, which said quite a lot.

  “I can send this to the guys?” he asked.

  “Yeah, just hit F-5 then click on the recipients. As long as they have sufficient clearance, HERA will send the files. Otherwise, you’ll get an error message.”

  “Sweet.” He grinned and tapped away like he’d just gotten a visit from Santa.

  “Closet nerd,” Dylan quipped.

  Mary didn’t think there was much closet left where Cord’s geekiness was concerned. “About earlier, with Hennessey. Thanks. I didn’t mean to cause trouble.”

  “You didn’t. Our word should’ve been enough. He was on the edge for entry into The Arsenal as it was. I’d rather oust him now than have him be a problem in the field.” Dylan motioned toward the board to the side of the monitors. The three colored teams Marshall had called out earlier. “I’m orange. We’re wheels up in a few minutes, just wanted to make sure you’re good until I get back. If you need anything, let Cord or Nolan know.”

  Blood settled in Mary’s feet. Her stomach somersaulted, her heart thudded against her breastbone. “Right. Of course you’re a team lead. You’re going for one of the yellow markers.”

  “Yeah. When I get back, we’ll chat about your list, okay?”

  List. Right. Operatives. Okay. Good plan. Mary forced her brain to work. She couldn’t let Dylan distract her from the job. He was an operative. A team leader. Going into the field. Working, like she should be.

  So why did she want to grab him and beg him to stay?

  Who would sit in the chair while she slept?

  The thought had no place in her mind, yet it repeated a few times before Mary shook off the fear clawing her insides and focused. The job. Work. Duty and responsibility kept her focused. Always. No matter what, there was always someone she could help. Something she could do.

  “Okay. Well, thanks for telling me. Be safe.” She motioned toward the screen. “I’ve gotta go. Graves and the new guy are in a hot op alone. They need me.”

  “Right.” Dylan’s jaw twitched. “I’ll see you later.”

  “Okay.” Mary turned and forced herself to remain focused on the monitors rather than the man charging out of the operations room. She wouldn’t ask which location his team was being sent to.

  But it’s right there. He said he was orange. Just take a peek.

  No. Graves need you. Forget about Dylan.

  “We’re green for target, Edge.” Fallon’s voice startled her a moment.

  “Roger. Go.”

  Cameras mounted to their headgear activated. The world around Mary faded away as her mind swept into the ratty side streets of an Indian village. It’d taken her eleven days to track them down. The radicalist bastards who overwhelmed them had a twisted agenda she’d yet to unravel. Not her circus, not her monkeys. The why didn’t matter. Not now. Get them out, get everyone stateside.

  That’s what she did. That’s who she was.

  Edge.

  “YOU SHOULD GO BACK in there. She gets distracted, goes away in her own head. When she’s running controls, she isn’t Mary. She’s rarely Mary these days, not since Peter died.” Addy looked away and shoved a clip into her sidearm. “Did you tell her I was tagging along?”

  “No. It doesn’t matter. Why should it?”

  Dylan hadn’t heard the flirtatious Edge except with Nolan. Then again, how many ops had she assisted? More than four hundred, she’d said. How many of them did she tease and flirt her way through with the operatives?

  He’d assumed she was like that with Nolan, pushing his buttons and making insinuations because that’s what he needed to get through, survive. The Edge he heard with Graves was a different person than the woman Mary seemed to be outside the control room. Which was the real one?

  Did it matter?

  Addy confirmed what Vi had said, though. Mary changed after Peter’s death. Threw herself even more into work. She’d definitely been in her head rather than in the conversation with Dylan earlier.

  Someone needed to help her get a grip on whatever was eating her up inside. Why the hell hadn’t any of her friends handled it already? What were they waiting for? And again, did i
t even matter? He zipped his go bag shut and ignored the answer rattling in his brain.

  Fuck yeah, it mattered because he wanted to know what made the woman tick. He’d promised to keep her breathing. Marshall knew damn good and well Nolan could’ve led the orange team. He needed to be here with Mary, not in some fucking backwater Mexican town chasing idiots.

  Get wheels up, find the targets, get the hell back. Easy. That fucker Graves had the right idea. Knocking some heads and blowing shit up sounded like an epic way to work off the aggressive rage banging away in him. Bring it on.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Mary stayed at the edge of the clustered group as the jet landed on the narrow runway. Runway was a bit generous of a term for the barely paved thatch of area carved out between cow pastures. The Arsenal had two personal Lears and a chopper in a large hanger a couple miles deeper into the Mason property past the compound.

  It made sense but left her nervous about security. It was remote enough to be an open target. She and Vi hadn’t even considered going deeper into the pastureland for reconnaissance. Mary wondered what else they’d missed.

  None of that mattered. Dylan’s team filed out of the small vehicle. She held her breath, counting and silently assessing their condition. She peeked between Mark and Gage’s massive arms as Addy descended. Thank goodness. A bit dirty, but uninjured.

  Dylan.

  He prowled down the narrow stairs like a panther being released into the wild. He swept the perimeter, his gaze moving in a slow, meandering perusal. It honed in on the two men in front of her, and she gasped, held her tummy to appease to rioting flutters deep inside. Gear slung over his back with one hand, he wandered their direction.

  She memorized his gait, the way he favored his right and instinctively angled his free hand toward that knee. No blood or torn clothing. Was it bandaged? Addy was field certified. Surely she’d taken care of it.

  Dylan strolled past Logan without a pause. Mary shoved through the two men she’d tucked herself behind and closed the distance. He halted a couple feet away as she chewed up ground with her harried stride.