Battle Scars

by Cara Carnes

  Nolan chuckled. “It’s not smart business to assume someone isn’t a member because of what they wear.”

  “Certainly, sir. If I could see a membership card or get a name, I’ll gladly offer you some sufficient attire.” The man looked to the side as if expecting reinforcements to come and assist.

  Jesse headed into the dining area. Nolan could deal with the details. He bypassed the filled tables with the fancy linen tablecloths. Pale blue—a point his mom found refreshingly original. A few people offered smiles and waves while they watched his progression.

  Phil Perskins sat in the centermost table of the large dining area. The center of attention. Two older gentlemen were with him. Jesse recognized the one to the left as the vice president of the credit union in town. They’d been trying to get Marshall to move The Arsenal’s accounts for months.

  The one to the right of Phil was Aaron Patterson—a slug of humanity they’d tried to take down back when Kamren’s troubles had erupted. But he was slippery like rich criminal assholes typically were. Patterson had just earned a new mark in the asshole ledger, though. He’d foreclosed on Ellie’s childhood home after overextending credit to a dying woman.

  Yeah, Patterson would get his day in Jesse’s crosshairs. But not today.

  “Can I help you?” Phil asked. “We’re in the middle of something.”

  “Stay away from Ellie.” Jesse raised his voice. “Get anywhere near her or her family and I’ll destroy you.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me.” Jesse gripped the back of Phil’s seat with one hand and stuck the other on the table next to him so he could leaned forward until he was in the man’s personal space. “Stop messing with Ellie.”

  “I don’t see how my ex-wife is any of your business, but I assure you I am quite done with that mistake.” His thin lips shrank further. “She’s not worth my time.”

  “She’s an Arsenal employee, which makes her safety my business, but I’ll clarify so your pea-sized brain follows along. Ellie Travers and everything to do with her was my business before you realized she existed.”

  “Ah. You’re the ex.” Phil wiped his mouth with his napkin and set it on the table.

  The Marville education system only went until the sixth grade, which meant kids were either bused to Nomad or Resino. Most went to Nomad, but Ellie had been at Resino because her mom was a teacher there. Perskins hadn’t done either. His parents had enrolled him in a private school.

  Their social circles hadn’t collided with Phil until their final couple years in high school. Even then Jesse hadn’t ever spoken with the bastard. How had Ellie hooked up with him?

  “I’ll admit I thought you were rather stupid for choosing war over her. Now I understand,” Phil commented.

  Jesse remained silent and pushed the rage aside.

  “Perhaps since she’s your employee now you can insist she get the help I offered. I’ll pay,” the man offered. “Rehab facilities are rather expensive. I’m not sure what your finances are like, but I’ll help fund her recovery—despite all she’s done to me.”

  A few guffaws and outright laughs sounded around them. Jesse ignored the responses from the tables nearby. Anyone with half a brain knew the Mason name. He and his brothers didn’t tout the power it held because there was rarely a need.

  “It’s rather coarse to come to my club and insert yourself into my day with threats. Please leave before I have you escorted off the property.”

  “Go ahead and try,” Jesse advised.

  “I know you’re a war hero, but you don’t want to mess with me. It won’t go the way you think.”

  Jesse grinned. “You’re on our radar now. That’s a problem for you, one your daddy can’t wipe away. Activate your connections and I’ll activate mine. Let’s see who wins.”

  He stood fully and looked about the room. “I’d steer clear of Phil here. We’re digging deep into him and everyone associated with him.”

  “Are you through?” Phil asked.

  “We’re just getting started.” Jesse turned and left.

  Nolan chuckled as they got into the vehicle. “That was more than a small nudge. Ten bucks says we get a call from his daddy by the end of the day tomorrow.”

  “Good.” The sooner they got some answers, the better. The last thing Ellie needed was to deal with that asshole. That part of her life was through. She was Arsenal now.

  4

  It took longer than Jesse expected to get Ellie’s mom situated into a cottage. By the time they’d finished, darkness had descended on the compound. He’d received more than one text from Mary and Vi. Their team’s next mission had rolled up to the docket.

  Jesse made a run through the mess hall and grabbed a protein shake from the fridge and a few nutrition bars for his pack. Then he made his way to the briefing room where his team was already assembled, along with Cord and Zoey. Nolan and Dylan sat at the table as well.

  Jesse glowered at his brothers. “There a reason you’re here?”

  “She still as bitchy as I remember?” Nolan asked.

  Zoey gasped. “You didn’t just say that. She has cancer.”

  Nolan glowered. “Woman is ten levels of bitch rolled up into about a hundred more.”

  “He’s not wrong,” Jesse commented. He looked at Levi, then Lex, Howie, Brooklyn, and Sol. “Sorry I wasn’t in touch. You cool?”

  “We’re solid,” Sol answered. “You need help sorting Ellie?”

  “Brant’s handling the details. He insisted.” The man had a way of calming Ellie’s mom—a troubling fact since the woman had always hated Jesse. “What do we have?”

  “This is for the underground,” Zoey said. “Your team is up next for one of those, but Nolan and Dylan have both offered to go if you want to tap out.”

  “Read us in,” Levi said. “Then we’ll decide.”

  Jesse nodded his approval of the decision. Though Jesse was officially the team leader, Levi had taken the reins many times. The man was an exceptional operative and a natural born leader—a fact that couldn’t be ignored much longer.

  “The Dark Web crawler Cord and I added to HERA a few weeks back has snared quite a few assholes. This one took longer to ferret out. He’s got deep pockets and is heavily tied to old money and big politics.” Zoey motioned toward the table where a man’s image flashed up.

  A heavyset man in his early 60s. Gray hair. Wrinkling skin.

  “Meet Oliver Tundstill of Tundstill Pharmaceuticals. He’s made billions charging hundreds for drugs that only cost pennies to make per bottle,” Zoey said through clenched teeth. “His perversions make him a frequent flyer in the auctions, but he’s somehow avoided capture. Either he’s got someone from the FBI in his pocket or he’s a lucky son of a bitch.”

  Jesse grunted. Assholes like him needed to be taken down. Jesse picked up the electronic pad in front of him and thumbed through the data. The bastard was one state over in Louisiana. A plantation in the bayou.

  “We have any details on who we’re rescuing?”

  “Honestly? I’d expect more than one trafficking victim. More than likely a child or children. The crawler found financial records for six transactions in the past year. Details for the auction facility he used are limited. They’re smarter than most about not leaving much of an electronic footprint. We know he bought someone—just not who.”

  But her program had still found them. Jesse smiled at the woman who’d come into her own over the past few weeks since her ordeal. Since she’d finally come forward with the Dark Web scanning technology she’d created off-book during her downtime, she’d helped Cord merge it fully into HERA.

  The results were startling. They’d unearthed nest after nest of sick shits. The Arsenal had taken them all down, gathered any evidence on-site, and turned them over to authorities with full warning The Arsenal would be watching to ensure the assholes were properly prosecuted.

  Even though Jesse didn’t want to leave Ellie, they didn’t have enough information
to proceed with her problems, and he’d be better off as far away from Phil Perskins as he could get.

  “Schematics for his mansion were filed by the previous owner, but the county doesn’t require it. We expect heavy modifications,” Cord said. “You’re going in blind.”

  It wasn’t the first time. Most of the missions they’d run for Zoey’s underground network had been blind. At least this time they had a name. He glanced over at his team, but already knew they were onboard. Go bags were against the wall nearest the entry. None of them liked the idea of leaving a kid or anyone else in the hands of a psycho.

  “Let’s do this.” Jesse pounded the table. “Departure ETA?”

  “Twenty,” Levi said with a smirk. “I’ve already started the jet’s prep. Z has a transport cache at the airstrip we’ll be flying into. Arriving late night will keep us under radar longer. We can slip into recon position while everyone in the area is sleeping.”

  “Authorities won’t be notified ’til after the mission is completed,” Cord said. “We’ll use our national FBI contacts rather than locals.”

  His team headed out with their go bags. Jesse kept an extra in a locker at the hangar so he was always ready. He waited out the silence as his three brothers looked at one another. He recognized a setup when he saw one.

  “Erm, should I leave and pretend nothing awkward is unfolding, or do you need a witness? An alibi will cost you.” Zoey shut her laptop and folded her arms in front of her. A purple and pink unicorn do-rag covered her head.

  “You want point on Ellie,” Nolan said.

  “That a problem?” Jesse asked.

  “We do this one by the numbers to avoid trouble later on,” Dylan said. “You aren’t alone. Wherever you go, one of us shadows you.”

  “You think I’ll lose it, take the fucker out.”

  “I would,” Nolan said. “You went code red on her troubles faster than I would have.”

  “I saw what Dallas went through with Kamren. I’m not letting Ellie’s problems get out of control.” Jesse looked at his hands. “I didn’t know the mom was sick when I left.”

  “We figured,” Dylan said. “That’s heavy shit. You talk to Sinclair about it yet?”

  “No, but I will.” Jesse rose. “We done with the forced therapy?”

  Nolan and Dylan grinned. Cord didn’t comment, but Jesse hadn’t expected him to. Baby brother had been quiet and withdrawn around Jesse a while. Eventually he’d have to ferret out the why, but not today. They were done.

  Jesse trudged across the well-manicured lawn leading up to the mega-mansion nestled within the Piney Woods. Gargoyles perched on light posts every fifty feet along both sides as if warning no one to tread any closer. Light splayed into the inky darkness of three a.m.

  It’d taken less than two hours after landing at the out-of-the-way landing strip to make their way to the Tundstill plantation and establish a perimeter. Within half an hour they’d surveilled long enough to form a loose penetration plan.

  “Security cameras on every other light post,” Zoey stated into the com. Drones flitted overhead, well above the limited range of Oliver Tundstill’s security system.

  Jesse pulled up the scans on his display and sighed into the com. Movement on the thermal scans of the house indicated clusters on the northwest sector of the first floor. Another grouping on the second.

  And two souls in separate areas on the third floor.

  None of what he saw was a problem. It’s what he didn’t see.

  “Scan again,” he ordered into the com.

  “There’s a basement. There has to be,” Zoey stated into the com.

  “I agree,” Levi said.

  Jesse grunted.

  “Are you sure your intel is right? This is the place?” Jesse asked. It was too…normal. Silence greeted the inquiry. “Right.”

  Amusement echoed through the otherwise quiet com as his teammates chuckled. Yeah, asking one of the geeks if they were sure of their info was a bit suicidal. But he owed it to the team fanned around the mansion to make sure the risk was worth the payoff.

  “You’re green lighted for entry,” Zoey stated. “And yes. The intel is credible.”

  “Move into position one on three,” Jesse said. Coms would remain silent from this point forward unless a problem arose.

  No one on his team needed guidance. They’d done this song and dance more than a few times. Gain stealth entry into the domicile. Eliminate the threats by whatever means necessary. Find and secure the target.

  One by one, clicks chimed on the com. Yellow lights on his display turned green with each one. Jesse moved to the first position he’d selected—the southwestern corner of the mansion. From there he slowly scanned the lower level and ground. The drones had done an excellent job providing images, but no tech would ever beat human eyesight.

  Jesse had spent years in reconnaissance and recovery within the military. Countless missions had honed a sixth sense he couldn’t explain to others. Fortunately no one at The Arsenal ever asked him how he managed to see what no one else could. It was a skill.

  An asset.

  A curse.

  “Electrical panel located,” Levi stated. “HERA’s patched into all systems.”

  A glimmer of metal captured his attention. He moved a couple feet closer and crouched. Bingo. He pinged the image to the visual displays of his team. Coordinates immediately displayed. No words necessary. No orders needed.

  “Alarm sensors down,” Zoey commented. “Looping security feeds now.”

  Brooklyn appeared a couple moments later. She was one of the best ordnance and entry specialists Jesse had ever worked with. Though he could’ve easily gained entry into the secured hatch, she did so swiftly and without sound.

  Jesse read the data feed on his visual display. Levi had entered via a second-story balcony on the east side of the house. Howie used a southern facing first-floor window, which left Lex to breach from the western side and make his way up to the third floor.

  Sol would remain in his perch and snipe any assholes who got in the way.

  Jesse descended the narrow stairwell first and plunged into darkness. His headgear immediately switched to night vision. A drone whizzed by him and headed into the catacombs of darkness. The display shifted as images were fed from its surveillance.

  Brooklyn followed him, her movements as quiet as his.

  The second display provided intel on the rest of the team’s progress. Two drones had assisted Levi’s takedown of the largest cluster on the second floor. He’d secured all targets there and moved to the third to assist Lex.

  A second drone appeared. Jesse grunted at the unnecessary presence. Baby brother was on drone duty tonight and taking no chances. Cord never did. He was the most cautious of the seven Masons.

  Pale shafts of light loomed at the other end of the narrow corridor. Wooden boards braced the otherwise earthen tunnel Jesse was in.

  Concrete replaced the dirt walls when they arrived at the sconce. A red light flashed from the drone ahead. Jesse followed but kept his progression slow. Methodical.

  “This is too easy,” Zoey commented. “Last time I fed intel to a team for a place like this, the guy…” Zoey paused, as if measuring whether they needed to know.

  “Z,” Cord growled into the com, making his presence known for the first time.

  “The crazy bastard had a self-destruct system,” Zoey said. “He blew the house up. And everyone in it.”

  “I’m thinking you should’ve led with that before we were wheels up,” Levi commented.

  “You think…”

  “Everyone keep eyes open for it,” Jesse ordered. “Let’s find our…”

  Target. He hated the word, but it kept the humanity out of the mission so he could focus on whatever was necessary. If he thought about the fact that they were here to rescue a little girl…or a little boy…or a woman.

  Damn.

  His gut churned as adrenaline surged within him.

  Find and secure
the target.

  “Movement on perimeter. Five, no, six vehicles inbound,” Sol stated. “Permission to engage?”

  Translation—could the best sniper The Arsenal had on payroll take out unknown civilians?

  “Soft engagement,” Zoey said. “Dispatch drones to assist.”

  The women had insisted they take three extra sets of drones with them. The nerd collective of The Arsenal was always prepared for World War III.

  Two men stood at opposite sides of a doorway at the end of the corridor. Jesse loaded two darts into his weapon and fired before the drone aimed. He sprinted down the corridor and took the largest man while Brooklyn dragged the other. Neither would wake anytime soon, but he zip-tied their wrists behind their backs anyway. Rhea’s new knockout compound lasted hours.

  Sound drifted from behind the locked door, which was metal reinforced with crossbars. Brooklyn placed ordnance and nodded. Jesse covered his face and looked away. The explosion was a soft swoosh rather than a concussive boom, but the sound on the other side of the door halted.

  Jesse switched back to his primary weapon and kicked the door in. The drone whizzed in. He directed his attention at the red light flashing on his display.

  A fat, bald man whirled, gun drawn. The brisk movement parted his robe further, putting his hairy, round stomach on full display.

  “Drop the weapon and put your hands up,” Jesse ordered.

  “Fuck,” Brooklyn said.

  Jesse ignored everything except the asshole with the weapon. Zoey wanted him alive because she thought he’d have information they needed. Moments like this tried his patience, his humanity.

  No amount of focus prevented him from hearing the terrified sounds coming from behind Oliver Tundstill. The man’s large body blocked a visual and the drone offered no glimpse.

  “Fuck,” Brooklyn said. “Drop the weapon, Tundstill, or I’ll drop you.” The woman aimed her weapon and positioned herself closer.

  “Who are you?” The man’s surly voice rose. “You have no right to come into my home. You have no idea who you’re messing with.”