Sight Lines (The Arsenal Book 2)

by Cara Carnes

  “Put together everything we have on Jian. His involvement with what went down with Hive is our way into the Arsenal.”

  “Right.” Jacob glanced over at him. “Does that mean we can finally do something about him selling kids?”

  Jud cursed. “Told you to stop digging in my shit.”

  “Your shit stinks.”

  He wasn’t wrong. “Jian’s side business is a battle I had to ignore. He’s painted a target on himself by mediating that contract. I can’t turn a blind eye on him anymore. If we’re giving the Quillery Edge a warning about him, we can give them whatever we have on his operation.”

  “Good. They’ll kick his ass and take down the whole operation. We can help.” Jacob tapped on his computer.

  “When you’re done, I want you to send a message.” He started up the vehicle. “Blast it everywhere.”

  “What am I saying?” Jacob glanced at him.

  “Go after the Quillery Edge and I’ll go after you.”

  3

  The situation was worse than Vi expected.

  Someone had put a contract out on her and Mary—a two-million-dollar payout that went up to six if HERA was acquired. She sat back and glanced at the screen. The contract hadn’t concerned her. Been there, done that.

  It was the communication in the Shadows in response that startled her. The message echoed swiftly within the Dark Web and everywhere else she looked.

  Go after the Quillery Edge and I’ll go after you —The Judge

  Who the heck was the Judge and why was he involved? She rubbed her temples and expended a weary breath. She’d figure out the Judge issue later, after she figured out the Arnie mess. Mess being the operative word.

  It’d taken six hours of hard scouring to get a hit on the recordings. Arnie’s mysterious buyer was Adil Al-Abadi, an Iraqi extremist and former informant of Peter Rugers. He lived on the seventh story of an apartment in Harlem, so she’d called in a couple of favors and had the NYPD haul his ass in on outstanding arrest warrants.

  That was two hours before. Now she paced, to hear if they had him in custody. Once he was secured they could send a team to get him, and she could get some answers.

  The door to the operations area opened. Her best friend entered. The compulsion to share what she’d learned about the contract was on the tip of her tongue, but Mary had enough to deal with. Vi needed to look into the situation closer, assess the severity. A multi-million-dollar hit might seem pretty damn serious. If it didn’t have the monetary backing, it was a flaming pile of bogus, which meant it wasn’t worth worrying Mary over.

  “You need to get some sleep,” Mary said. She set a cup of coffee down beside Vi. “I’ve never seen you like this. When was the last time you slept?”

  “I’ll crash as soon as our guy’s locked up tight downstairs.” She halted her pacing and noted the worry lines on Mary’s face. “Have you slept? Where’s Dylan?”

  “He’s on patrol. Believe it or not, we do separate on occasion.” Red tinged her friend’s cheeks as she took a sip of coffee.

  Dylan Mason and his family were the best thing to happen to either of them in a long time. He’d given Mary the calm she needed and stood at her side as she recovered from what’d happened. Vi admired the hell out of the man—he understood Mary needed to fight her own battles. He just made damn sure she’d never do it alone, not again.

  He wouldn’t fail her like Vi had.

  “If I had a man that fine and awesome, I’d never come up for air.” Vi smiled. “How are the wedding plans?”

  “No clue. Momma Mason has full control. Dylan and I don’t care what she does as long as it’s soon and we’re married when it’s over.”

  Vi couldn’t be happier for her friend. At least she’d moved on from what happened, thanks to Dylan and his family.

  “You know it’s not your fault, right?” Mary asked.

  Damn. She’d avoided the conversation up until now, but Dylan had warned her days ago it was coming. The new psychiatrist had worked miracles with Mary. Miracles which translated to her verbalizing her thoughts about her capture and subsequent torture.

  Rape.

  “I’m the reason we stayed too long. I’m the one who believed the bullshit mission to Bogotá was real. I should’ve seen something was wrong the day those orders came through,” Vi whispered into the room. Eyes averted, she let the guilt surface for the first time.

  “Why…” Mary settled a hand on Vi’s arm and forced eye contact. “You seriously believe that? Why?”

  “Why? Mary, we’ve worked together since we got out of MIT. We’ve never, ever been separated. I should have known. You’d been wanting to leave Hive for weeks, had already looked into Dylan and The Arsenal.”

  “And for all we know my digging got us flagged. Don’t you get it? We’ll never know why they chose to grab me.” Mary squeezed Vi’s arm. “I thought I got taken because I was the weak one.”

  “What?” The breath swooshed out of Vi’s lungs. “You’re nuts. Why would you think you’re the weak one? I’m the one who screwed up, not you. It wasn’t your fault. Don’t you dare think that.”

  “I don’t,” Mary whispered. “Not anymore, and I want you to get there, too. They were monsters. Monsters don’t play by the same rules. We’ll probably never know why they took me, why they thought I’d break easier.”

  “We’re getting answers. Fallon will make Adil talk.” Vi grasped her friend’s shoulder. “You and Addy are getting closure.”

  “I don’t want closure if it means losing you in the process.”

  “I’m right here, Mary. I’m not going anywhere.”

  “You’ve been so lost in your head, you’ve been gone since we got here.” Mary’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears. “Dylan says I need to give you time, says you’ll work through it on your own, but you aren’t. I’m terrified you aren’t going to, either. Hive’s gone. Peter’s dead. I have the only closure I need every night when a good man, the very best man, wraps his arms around me and I sleep easy knowing everyone I love is safe. For the first time in my life I breathe easy knowing you, Addy, Bree, Rhea, and I are okay. We aren’t alone, not anymore. We have something good here, and we’re going to make it great. We can make this a real home, Vi.”

  Home.

  Vi squeezed her eyes shut. They’d agreed long ago not to bring up the past. Neither of them had a spectacular upbringing. MIT had been a new start for them both, one they’d both desperately needed. Then they’d gotten mixed up with Peter. Hive.

  She prayed The Arsenal was the fresh reboot they’d wanted long ago. A real do-over that’d last.

  “We can’t let the ones who got away keep breathing. You know backlash from laziness gets people every time.”

  “There’s no way in hell anyone here’s going to let them get away with it, Vi. No. Way. In. Hell.” Mary emphasized each word with the bone-deep confidence she’d used for years during operations. “You aren’t the only one in the hunt. They won’t get away. Take a deep breath and let everyone around you help. This isn’t your fight to handle alone. We’re a team. Every single person on this compound is on the team, Vi. You going lone wolf undermines everything Marshall and Dylan and everyone else is trying to do here. It’s an insult to everyone, especially me.”

  Vi tightened beneath the accusation. Her mind processed the words, analyzed the facts, but her friend didn’t understand.

  “Team trusts one another. If you aren’t sharing, that means you don’t trust them.” Mary’s voice lowered. “Or me.”

  “You know that’s not true. I trust you, with anything and everything.” She hugged Mary close. “I’m not undermining you or anyone else. I’m doing my job.”

  “No, you’re doing yours, mine, Marshall’s and everyone else’s. Take a moment away from your mission lists and think. Step back and self-evaluate your actions since we’ve been here. Ask yourself this one question. If the roles were reversed, would you be okay with me doing what you are? Would you stand here and
say it’s okay if I take the blame for what those bastards did?”

  Vi tried to shut down what her friend said, but the words hammered away at the niggling doubt, the small worm in a cesspool of guilt and anger she’d wallowed in. She was right. Vi couldn’t have singlehandedly prevented what happened.

  But she still shouldn’t have left them at Hive so long.

  That was a guilt she’d carry because there was no refuting the cold, hard truth she was the reason they stayed too long.

  “Now, I swear this isn’t a setup to get you to talk to Doctor Sinclair.” Mary’s eyes turned pleading. “She wants you to come to a session or two with me. I-I’m working through some issues. She says it’ll help if I have a few group sessions with the people I work most with. It’s part of the healing process.”

  Sure it was. Vi didn’t doubt the honesty in her friend’s voice. They’d never lied or done the half-truth thing with one another. That didn’t mean the new psychiatrist wasn’t pulling one over on them both. “Sure. Just tell me when.”

  “Great.” Mary sat and motioned toward Vi’s seat. “Sit and tell me what’s wrong. Something was eating at you when I came in and it wasn’t Adil.”

  Vi chewed on her lower lip a moment, then sat. Mary’s words from earlier echoed in her brain. She had been hoarding intel and working the op without Mary and the others. She called up what she’d stumbled across and ran through the information, including the mysterious warning.

  “Weird. He must be an operative we helped,” Mary guessed.

  “Maybe, but why wouldn’t he come in like all the others?”

  “Guess that’s another mystery we’ll have to solve.” Mary grinned. “Together. I’ll let Dylan know about the contract. He and Nolan already have new security parameters established for when we need to raise the threat level. They have color codes. It’s awesome.”

  A knock sounded at the door. They both turned in time to see Riley walk in and throw herself against the closed door. She fanned herself as though she were about to swoon.

  Riley Mason was a loon. Vi suspected she was like that because all six of her older brothers were ultimate bad ass commandos. Having that many overprotective siblings was bound to have an impact.

  “Are you okay?” Mary asked.

  Vi sat back at her station and got back to work mining data on Adil, but she turned her head to make sure the woman was okay.

  “Oh, yeah, more than okay.” Riley’s gaze narrowed and pinned Vi. “We’re friends, right?”

  Vi’s fingers hovered over the keyboard.

  “Leave her be, sis.” Cord shoved his way through the door. “Whatever you’re up to, it can wait. It’s been a long day.”

  Riley crossed her arms. “You realize you aren’t the boss of me just because Mom spewed you out a few years earlier than me, right?”

  “Jesus,” he muttered. Exhaustion aged his otherwise handsome face. “Now is not the time.”

  “He’s right, sweetie,” Mary whispered. “What’s up? Is Rachelle okay?”

  “No, actually. She’s far from okay, but we’ll sort her out on another day because I listen. I’m a friend and recognize now is not the time. Now, back to my question. We’re friends. Right, Vi?”

  “Uhm, sure.” Vi shoved the pencil back in her mouth and kept tapping.

  “Friends share things with one another.”

  “Okay.” Mary stretched the word out. “What’s this about?”

  The perky blonde smirked. “Viviana has a guest up front, a very sexy, nuclear smile flashing guest.”

  What? The pencil tumbled from her mouth. She whirled the chair around. Mary’s eyes were narrow, concerned.

  Cord stood. “What’s wrong?”

  “I don’t know any sexy, nuclear smile flashing people,” Vi argued.

  “Erm, yeah you do.” Riley crossed her arms. “Fallon.”

  Oh, right.

  “Gage,” Mary added. “Dylan.”

  “And me,” Cord added.

  Pfft, right.

  “Logan,” Riley added into the silence.

  Vi’s heart clenched. Mary’s face softened. Logan had gotten shot saving Mary. He was on the road to recovery—a very slow, painful road. “Right.”

  She stood. Some Hive operative had probably scoped out The Arsenal and decided to come out of the cold, check out the operation and apply. Almost every one of them had thrown either her name or Mary’s out to whichever poor, unfortunate soul was manning reception. The fire hydrant of visitors had slowed to a trickle the past week. Getting through the front gate was damn near impossible now.

  Yet someone managed and asked to talk to her.

  She sighed in frustration.

  The last thing she needed was to trudge to the other building and look some poor has-been operative in the eyes and tell him—or her—“You aren’t good enough for The Arsenal.” She knew the route of the conversation because she and Mary had personally tracked every operative worth a damn down themselves. They’d all said hell yeah because they weren’t dumb. They recruited five. Five out of hundreds. To say they were selective was an understatement.

  She hadn’t studied the backside of her eyelids in two and a half days. She had enough caffeine flowing through her system to fuel the entirety of NASA. Her stomach rumbled. Oh, yeah. Food. At least the useless trek to the other building took her by the cafeteria. She wandered in, flip-flopping her way to the back counter. Although it was well past dinner, the majority of the tables were filled with people, most of them former military personnel taking part in the Warrior’s Path Project.

  Vi admired the hell out of the Mason’s for starting the project, which gave those coming out of military service a safe haven to decompress and acclimate to civilian life. The people helped by the program may have hung up their fatigues and turned in their guns, but that didn’t mean they’d sloughed off the excess baggage of military service. Post-traumatic stress, injuries. The extensive list rolled through her mind as she opened the first of five industrial-sized fridges and snagged one of the pre-made sandwiches Momma Mason made every morning. She grabbed an icy Coke from the door and headed toward the chips.

  “Late night snack?” Dallas asked. Amusement glimmered in his gaze as it swept past the sandwich. “Tuna. Excellent choice, though Mom’s egg salad is to die for.”

  Dallas was unlike Dylan in many ways. Though he was younger, he had a darker edge to him, one she and Mary had analyzed the whys of ad nauseam. He wore the requisite dark Mason hair longer than his brothers. It hid his upper ears. The eyes set Dallas apart, a lush blue instead of green.

  “I’ve never seen one of those,” Vi commented.

  “Probably because it’s my and Jesse’s favorite.” He looked down at the chips and motioned.

  “Sea salt and vinegar, please.”

  “Where you headed?”

  “Up front. Someone has the nerve to show up and ask to see me,” she grumbled. “It’s almost nine in the evening. This isn’t a freaking twenty-four hotel. And now I’m schlepping my tired ass to reception rather than waiting on the call saying the NYPD has Adil Al-Abadi in custody.”

  She blew stray hairs out of her face and noted the surprised expression on his face. “Interesting, I got a call from the guards saying someone was on their way who used my name. I’ll carry the chips, escort you up there.”

  “I’m good.”

  “Yeah, but you’ll be better if you let me walk you up there,” he replied. “It’s been a rough day on us all.”

  Vi learned to pick her battles a long time ago. Sometimes you just had to let a bad ass be a bad ass, even if it was unnecessary.

  “Fine,” she added into the silence as she flip-flopped through the cafeteria and out the door. Down the walk toward the main visitor area in the other building. “We need golf carts.”

  “I’ll mention it to Nolan,” he commented dryly.

  Vi was serious about the golf carts, but didn’t figure operatives thought much about having something with an en
gine cart them between buildings. By the time they entered the visitor’s building and spilled into the lobby, she’d worked up a full head of steam. She didn’t appreciate her name being bandied about without permission. The nerve.

  Dallas tightened beside her. He settled the chips atop her sandwich. “Stay here. Call Marshall and Nolan.”

  What?

  She tracked his progression across the lobby. The scent of freshly installed carpet filled her nostrils. Pale beige melded with soft blues along the walls. The massive man looming just inside the door commanded her attention. Riley was right. He was nuclear.

  Thick waves of light brown hair tumbled around a strong jawline that hadn’t seen a razor in a couple days. He exuded control. His gaze trekked the room like a hunter seeking prey. Her pulse quickened when he pinned her with a look. His eyes flared. Lips set in a grim expression, his attention settled on Dallas, who stepped into the man’s personal space.

  Vi set her food down and snagged the reception phone.

  “Yeah, what’s wrong now, Riley? I know it’s boring, but it’s your shift.” Marshall’s exhausted voice filled the line.

  “Dallas and I are up here. He’s in some guy’s face. Not sure who, but it’s intense and he said to call you and Nolan.”

  “Fuck.” The line went dead.

  Vi powered forward, closing the distance between her and Dallas, who was pointing at the man.

  “You have a hell of a lot of nerve showing up here.” Dallas clenched his teeth.

  “Not here for you, man. Used your name at the gate, though.” The man shrugged off any apology.

  He didn’t strike Vi as the sort who apologized for anything. She swallowed as his gaze settled on her again.

  “Viviana,” he greeted. “I’m sorry for the late arrival. It took longer than I expected.”

  “Erm, I don’t know you,” she responded.

  His attention swept behind her a brief second, but returned. He offered a smile. “I’m Jud. Or, The Judge.”