Jagged Edge (The Arsenal Book 1)

by Cara Carnes

  “You didn’t know. No one did.” Dylan glanced over at Marshall. “We thought the world of your brother. Everyone did.”

  “We assume the worst and assess the situation before going in. If this is Peter, he’ll be ready. He’s one of the best there is,” Marshall said over the line.

  The occupants of the other vehicles following them sounded off. They had what they needed. Now they went to war.

  “Any word on Logan?” Graves asked from the back seat.

  “Chopper just landed in Nomad. He’s headed for surgery. That’s all we’ll know for a while,” Vi answered.

  They’d found Logan outside the barn and helicoptered him to a slightly larger town twenty miles up the road. The small hospital there had wanted to airlift him to San Antonio, but there hadn’t been time.

  Dylan looked over at Marshall, who’d interrogated the bitch psychologist while the vehicles were loaded. “She talk?”

  “Didn’t know enough to merit a long discussion. Dan Hennessey is her half-brother.

  “So he took Mary. Left via the front door because the men on rotation trusted him.” Dylan asked. “We need to fix these security holes. This shit can’t happen again.”

  “It won’t,” Marshall said. “I owe your woman an apology.”

  “We’ll get her back and make things right.” There was no other option, not for Dylan.

  DYLAN STUDIED ADDY from across the unpaved road. They’d descended on the area twenty minutes ago, but Marshall held them back as Cord (with Vi’s help remotely) did the geek drone-scanning thing. His brother was in a truck a few yards away, so into their data feeds they probably didn’t hear the thirty-six people waiting impatiently to storm the house a mile down the way.

  Marshall shouldn’t let Addy participate in the op. She was an unknown. Even Graves admitted as much. There was no way she was in on whatever her brother was doing, but how she reacted could jeopardize Mary’s rescue.

  Penetration of the house wouldn’t be simple. At least fifty operatives armed to the gills rotated in and out in sporadic sweeps. Drones flitted high overhead, surveilling the interior and gathering data, but Dylan suspected the results wouldn’t be good.

  Everyone took a position to surround the area as they identified a weakness no one expected to find. Peter Rugers wasn’t an idiot.

  Screams echoed from the loudspeakers. The shrill cries sliced through Dylan, sharp and vicious. Mary. He rose from his position, but Marshall dragged him back down.

  “It’s not her. It’s not live at least. It’s a recording,” Vi said through the headset. “Cord’s found an in for the drones. We’re sending them in now.”

  Dylan donned headgear without comment and willed the little cameras to move into position. They needed eyes on Mary. Peter. Any clue what her condition was would ease the agitation boiling in him. Or prepare him for the worst-case scenario.

  No. Mary was tough. The Edge.

  She wouldn’t break. Even if she did, he’d put her back together. They’d get through anything.

  Almost there, sweetheart.

  A drone rolled across the interior floor. The view jumped and jiggled with its odd movements as it halted. Legs. Ropes wrapped around soft skin. Ankles.

  Mary’s ankles.

  Dylan absorbed every morsel of data the camera offered and gripped his weapon. His protective side wanted to storm the house and shoot everyone who dared stand in his way.

  The bastard had Mary two hours. Too long. Way too long. Seconds ticked by as the drone slid up. Water dripped from her tattered clothing. Blood dribbled from a busted lip. Both eyes were swollen, barely open.

  But they were focused, glinting with rage and strength as they settled on the drone. Dylan swore he saw the relief, the tension fleeing her body. She knew they were here, ready to swoop in.

  Her good hand fisted, then fingers started moving.

  “What’s she signaling, Quillery?” Dylan asked.

  “Tripwires inside. Ordnance under chair.” Vi’s voice rose with the last words. “The bastard has her wired.”

  “What else?”

  “Second team hitting ranch. Secure Bree and Rhea.” Vi repeated the words a second time.

  Marshall pushed a couple buttons on his cell. “We have eyes on Edge. She’s signaling a second team is infiltrating the ranch. Yeah, they’re coming for Bree and Rhea.”

  Dallas, Nolan, and Sanderson had remained at the ranch with half the operatives cleared and vetted by Vi via Mary’s background checks. Dylan had been against leaving so many at the compound, but it seemed Jesse’s suggestion was spot on.

  “All I need is a location. Where did you secure the data? Give me the access codes and the data, and I’ll stop. It’ll all be over.” He wheeled a second cart near her, attached car jumper cables to the metal chair.

  “Son of a bitch,” Graves muttered through the line. “Are we done holding our dicks and watching this bastard?”

  “Wait. She’s moving hands again. Shit, he’s in the way.” The drone maneuvered a bit. Mary’s gaze tracked.

  “Go to hell, Peter. I’m never telling you anything,” she forced through busted lips.

  “Two minutes. We’re jamming the detonation device’s signal. Cord, you handle that. I’ll keep monitoring her. She’s pretty mouthy for a hostage.” Vi sighed heavily. “Always so bossy.”

  Dylan breathed a bit easier hearing the banter back and forth between Vi and Cord as they prepared for entry. “How’s he not seeing the drone inside?”

  “Oh, it’s the new model we just finished. An interior wooden colored one. It’s a bit flatter, harder to detect when it’s immobile, which is why I’m working hard to keep it near the ground. Things flying around people’s faces tend to get seen.”

  “Can it knock him out? If he’s the only one in there, why not do that?” Marshall asked.

  “Because we see four heat signatures behind her and three behind him, so seven extra unfriendlies. This model can only handle four, sorry.”

  “Don’t chance it. We knock him out, one of the others could get trigger happy,” Dylan said.

  “Signal is jammed,” Cord offered.

  “Mary’s suggesting two snipers on the roof. Holes on the south and east areas of the room. I’m flying another drone up to scope out angles.” Vi’s voice was a barely audible whisper.

  Dylan summoned his patience as he worked his way to a better position to climb the roof. Marshall could determine who the other sniper would be, but he was number one.

  “Get up there with him, Chet,” Marshall ordered. “We go on Dylan’s mark.”

  Graves appeared to his left and started clearing the area as Rugers’s men turned the corner on their sweeps. Three snapped necks later, Dylan was perched on the roof and lying on his belly.

  The interior of the building was small, trashed, and a nightmare for entry. Tripwires covered the area, so many the slightest movement near the windows and doors would detonate something, assuming it wasn’t run via a signal Cord jammed.

  Dylan couldn’t take the chance.

  “Wired tight,” he commented.

  “Recommend Graves first wave,” Vi added.

  “Go when ready. We have you covered from above.”

  “Roger. Clearing entry along western wall.”

  “Vi, I want another three drones in there. We’ll drop flash bang to cover entry. Let’s neutralize whoever we can with the drones on first wave.” Dylan pulled a couple flash bangs out and waited for the drones to appear near him. “On three.”

  Chet popped and dropped as he did. Shouts and alarms rose from inside the building. The drones swooped down. Gunfire filled the area, but Dylan’s focus remained on the interior of the building as he downed whoever he could reach from his limited view.

  Marshall led the other operatives into a battle with the surrounding people under Peter’s command. Dylan tied a line to the side of the roof and descended through a hole he breeched with his foot.

  He landed in a squat and s
canned the area. Graves knelt near the chair. Peter’s gun was trained on the man, who’d put his hands behind his back.

  “You know this isn’t going to end well,” Graves said. “Surrender now, and maybe you’ll leave here breathing.”

  “You’re the one who won’t be breathing much longer, not after I get what I want.”

  “You’ll never get that, Peter. Not from her. Not from us.” Dylan rose and entered the fray, weapon focused on him. He stepped over tripwires and swept the area, noting most of the men were down. Drones flitted around Peter and the chair, angry bees looking for a target.

  He guessed they hadn’t attacked Peter because he had a second weapon pointed to Mary’s temple, finger on the trigger. He lifted his weapon up in a mock surrender and settled it at his feet.

  “Let her go, and you can walk away. No harm, no foul. Leave her and the others in peace, and you were never here.”

  “It’s not that simple. You stupid idiots, you and your precious brothers are part of my end game.”

  “No,” Mary shouted.

  Peter struck her with the butt of the gun. “I told you to shut the hell up.”

  Rage distorted Dylan’s vision a moment. He edged forward, stance ready. “Name your price, Rugers.”

  “This isn’t about the money, not anymore. Once I get what I need from her, I’ll be set. This is about security. The people I work for are very irritated The Arsenal is gaining ground so quickly. They fear you’ll be a thorn in their side too soon.”

  “You drew us all here to kill us? Not the smartest plan.”

  “With you all here, there’s no one to defend your precious ranch, the compound. Weaponry ripe for the taking. A tragic fire, a massive explosion. Everything and everyone killed. Quite unfortunate, really.” He smiled.

  “You made a couple grave mistakes with the plan, Rugers,” Graves commented.

  “Oh really? What was that?”

  “One, it doesn’t take everyone on The Arsenal payroll to take your stupid ass out. They’ve doubled their size since they gained the Quillery Edge,” Graves said.

  “Which leads to fuck up number two, the really big one.” Dylan allowed a cold, calculated smile as Peter stared at him. The weapon moved from Graves to him. “You didn’t factor in Mary and Vi, their system. Even if we’d been dumb enough to leave our compound unmanned, HERA is on the job. Since my Edge designed the program, I know it’ll kick whosever asses you send in.”

  A drone buzzed rapidly toward the hand holding a gun on Mary. Peter yelped as electricity arced between the machine and him. Dylan fell to his knees, grabbed the weapon, and fired.

  Gunfire echoed in the area as a second, then a third blast filled the room. No. No. No.

  He stumbled forward, unsure whose blood coated the area. “Mary!”

  “Don’t. Stop!” Graves pushed on his chest. “I need to secure the bomb. She’s okay. Breathe through it, man. Look. She’s okay.”

  She’s okay.

  The words struck center mass and neutralized the fear in him. He tracked the blood pouring from two head wounds on Peter’s lifeless body. Blood spatter covered the area, including Mary.

  Her gaze remained on him.

  “I’m okay. You’re here. I’m okay because you’re here.” Mary looked down at Graves. “Fallon will have me out of this in no time.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Even though Graves did the brunt of the work deactivating the ordnance, he stepped back with a wink and let Dylan cut her loose. Tears burned her eyes as she wrapped herself around him and sobbed the relief, the regret, the sorrow.

  “I’ve got you, sweetheart. It’s over. It’s finally over.”

  Mary doubted it was really over. Peter turning was huge, an epic earthquake of the covert ops arena. They’d suffer tremors from his actions for years to come. Her mind didn’t allow thoughts beyond the carnage in the room. The man holding her so tight she could barely breathe.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.

  “You have nothing to be sorry for, sweetheart. I was a dick,” he muttered into her ear. “Never again. They worked everyone, drove a wedge between us. I’m not ever letting that happen again.”

  “No. Never.” She whispered the words as others boomeranged in her mind. She loved him.

  But the dust was settling, and they both deserved to take their own pulses on where things stood. He had a huge family, one who loved him unconditionally. A thriving empire within the paramilitary operations arena. He needed time to figure out if what they’d enjoyed was worth continuing.

  As for her. Well, Mary had a lot of decisions of her own to make.

  Vi sprinted toward them and vaulted her way into their midst. “You scared the shit out of us. Don’t ever leave an op like that. I’m sorry I was a bitch.”

  “We all regret what went down. We’ll learn from it and move on.” She hugged Vi. “It’s over. God, I can’t believe it was Peter. Where’s Addy?”

  “Outside, desperate to see for herself that you’re okay. Marshall won’t let her in.”

  Mary’s stomach lurched when her gaze reflexively fell on Peter’s covered body. Dylan had taken the shot. For her. Graves did as well. She’d heard Fallon telling him they’d never know where the kill shot came from.

  Mary was relieved in a way, but knew her man would carry the lost soul as his. For her. She wanted to be back at the compound, in his room. In his shower. Scrubbing off the day and crawling into bed sounded like a beautiful idea.

  She and Dylan had a lot to hash out. Everything else, everyone else, could wait. The only thing that mattered to her was getting his pulse, making sure he was okay with what’d happened, what he’d done to get her safe.

  “Parsons gave us everything we needed. Logan wasn’t involved. We found him, sweetheart.” Dylan kissed her cheek. “He tried to keep Dan from taking you. I watched the footage.”

  Pain overwhelmed her. She sank against him. “Logan. God, Dylan. He killed Logan.”

  “Shh, sweetheart. He’s okay, or will be. We choppered him into emergency, and he toughed it out through surgery. It’ll be a slow healing process, but he’ll survive. We’ll go see him tomorrow.”

  Logan was alive. The relief assailed her as she nodded. “Take me home.”

  “We need to take you in, have someone at the hospital check you over. Are you hurting? What’d he do to you, sweetheart?” Concern pushed the words out in a jumbled wave as his gaze turned intense, assessing.

  “I’ll be fine. We’ll go in tomorrow I’m sure you all have patched up worse. I just want to be home.”

  Home. The word repeated itself often in her conversation when she thought about the compound, Dylan’s family ranch. It was the closest to a real home she’d had. Even though she was living in what equated to a very low-grade motel room, the entire facility, the sprawling land, and the huge main house were everything she could ever want. And so much more.

  “My pleasure, Mary. My pleasure. Let’s go home.”

  “SHE’S ALL RIGHT, JUST exhausted. Emotional distress takes a big toll on someone, and she’s been through a lot from what Marshall told me.”

  Mary tensed. The voice was somewhat familiar, but still strange enough to spike her adrenaline. Her pulse raced.

  “Ah, someone’s coming around. You’re okay, Mary. I’m Brant, remember me?”

  Mary blinked and stared up at the man sitting on the side of her bed. Her gaze swept the room. Dylan was on the other side. The relief flooding her was immediate, and she slid herself nearer him.

  “Marshall called, asked me to come out and make sure you were okay. I’m afraid I’m the only doctor around. My uncle’s under the weather right now. Do you mind if I take a look?”

  “I’m fine,” she whispered uncertainly. “Just tired.”

  “Well, you took a few blows to your head. Do you have any dizziness, nausea? Confusion? Ringing in the ears? Memory loss?”

  “I didn’t until you started asking all those questions,” she mut
tered. “How’d I get in here?”

  “I carried you. We got in a couple hours ago. You fell asleep in the truck. Remember?”

  Kind of. Mary remained quiet. She didn’t want to get hauled into a hospital. Brant’s gaze narrowed. Yeah, he was a bit smarter than she wanted. She coughed. Pain shot up her side as the burning sensation radiated in her chest.

  He dragged out a stethoscope and guided her into an awkward, forward lean. Dylan grasped her shoulder and helped her stay in position as she did the whole breathe in deep, exhale slow routine. Brant’s lips tightened, gaze narrowed even more, which was a shame because he had pretty cinnamon eyes. Such a pale brown they were almost gold.

  “You have some water in your lungs.”

  “I breathed at the wrong time I guess,” she said flippantly. What’d the man want to hear?

  “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable, Mary. But I need to know how hurt you are so we can get you better. If you help me out, we might avoid a trip into Nomad.”

  “Nomad?” she asked Dylan.

  “Twenty miles up the road, bigger town. Small hospital there.” Dylan cupped her cheek gently. “Sweetheart, did he waterboard you again?”

  She hiccupped as tears escaped her eyes. “Yes, but I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I know. Give it to me once, then we won’t mention it again until you’re ready, okay?” Dylan’s lips thinned. Concern and regret filled his watery eyes. “Did he rape you, sweetheart?”

  “No,” she said emphatically. “It wasn’t like last time. I swear. Nothing like last time.”

  “Okay, so he waterboarded. What else?”

  “Shocking. He liked that one.”

  Outrage wafted from the two men. She held her breath and finished. “He was more into psychological torture, filling me in on the way he trained Addy, the things he’d done over the years. What he’d do once he got you.”

  That was the worst. The things he’d promised made her hurl. She slammed her hand over her mouth and stared wide-eyed into the room. Brant moved quickly for a tall, muscular man. Mary didn’t know what they had in the Resino water supply, but they had more than their fair quota of sexy men.