Battle Scars

by Cara Carnes

  “We know,” Jesse said.

  “Leave now, and I’ll forget about this,” Oliver offered.

  “Drop the gun or you die.” Jesse glanced at Brooklyn. The muffled screams were louder, more desperate. A clang of metal on metal sounded. “Secure her. I’ve got him.”

  “Don’t touch her.” The man growled and aimed his weapon at Brooklyn.

  Jesse fired. The bullet nailed the bastard’s knee. A loud scream echoed through the chamber as he fell to the ground.

  And Jesse saw the cage.

  Wide brown eyes so filled with terror they were almost saucer sized. Tears. Jesse’s gaze followed them as his mind tried to process what he was seeing. But Brooklyn was there, looming between him and the little girl as she undid the cage.

  The tiny girl crawled to the back of the confined space and huddled into a ball, as if protecting her naked body from any further harm. Round, dark, red-and-black spots marred her skin along her back and arms and legs. A tiger-striped tail scraped against the floor.

  He tracked the tail upward.

  Jesus.

  “Likely an anal plug inserted,” Zoey said. “Nolan’s crew had one last week.”

  “Hey there, sweetie. I’m Brook. We’re here to take you home.”

  The girl sniffled. “Daddy hates me. He said so when he gave me to the mean man.”

  “Oh, honey.” Brooklyn motioned. “Come on out. Lots of people have been worried sick about you.”

  The partial lie hung in the room. How long had the little girl endured this sick hell? How long had she been trapped in a nightmare while not one single person noticed? Or cared.

  If the newly enhanced tool Zoey had created to crawl through the Dark Web hadn’t been installed in HERA, would anyone have ever found her? Disgust churned in Jesse’s gut as Zoey’s orders tumbled through the com.

  The girl wasn’t secure yet.

  “Perimeter clear,” Sol said.

  “Clear on two and three,” Levi said.

  “Clear on one,” Howie added.

  Jesse assessed the young girl’s condition. They were far from clear. Blood oozed from long gashes on the bottoms of her bare feet. Cigarette smoke hung the air. Butts were scattered on the floor along the cage. Burns. That’s what the red-and-black spots were.

  Fuck.

  Bruises along her legs and arms. And face.

  Urine and feces were in a shallow pan on the edge of the cage. Nausea pitched Jesse’s stomach. Who would treat a little girl like this?

  “Give me a reason to let you breathe,” Jesse growled as he shoved the butt of his weapon against Oliver’s temple. “One reason your sick ass deserves to live.”

  “I-I’ll give you the others.”

  “Others?” Brooklyn asked.

  “My club.”

  Jesse’s gaze swept to the entry as Levi entered. “Take this sick shit out of my sight.”

  “My pleasure.” Levi grabbed the man and hauled him up, despite his injury. “You cry or bitch about that knee and I’ll double tap the other one.”

  Interrogating Oliver would wait until they returned to The Arsenal. He wouldn’t be turned over to authorities until they had every scrap of intel the man had.

  With Oliver out of the room, Jesse could focus on tending to the girl’s injuries. Most would have to wait until they were at a hospital, but he needed to make sure she was medically secure for transport.

  “There’s a doctor in the network six miles down the road, but he’s new,” Zoey said. “Get her home if she can wait. Logan is the best option until we figure more out about this supposed club. Tundstill’s too connected. Anyone could be in it.”

  Jesse wanted the asshole father who’d sold his baby girl into…

  He bit back the disgusting thought and focused on the little girl huddled against Brooklyn. “Hey there. I’m Jesse. What’s your name?”

  “Sonja.” The girl’s voice was low, hesitant. Her expressive brown eyes never stopped moving. They wandered from Brooklyn to Jesse, then toward the door.

  “He’s not coming back, sweetheart.”

  “He hurted me.”

  “He won’t hurt you or anyone else ever again.” Jesse sat outside the cage. There was no way his large bulk would fit in it with Brooklyn and Sonja. “I know you’re hurt and scared, but you’re safe now.”

  Did the girl even understand the word safe?

  Anger rode Jesse hard. His nephews had been put through hell by their mom before Dallas had found them. DJ and TJ had come a long way since their rescue, and so would Sonja. Jesse backed up when Brooklyn motioned her intent to leave the cage.

  It took a fair amount of coaxing, but the girl followed Brooklyn out. Sonja’s torso was covered in the same wounds. Revulsion rolled through Jesse. Most of the injuries could wait until they got back to The Arsenal.

  “We’ll have a female doctor onsite,” Zoey said.

  Blood trailed a line along the filthy concrete floor when the girl moved to follow Brooklyn farther from the cage. Jesse tracked the trail and silently cursed. She was bleeding, but he couldn’t determine whether it was vaginally, anally, or both. Unshouldering his backpack, he grabbed the blanket he carried and handed it to Brooklyn.

  “Sedate her, Jesse. It’s the best way,” Zoey whispered.

  He’d already reached the same conclusion. He reached in and took out the sheaf of stickers Rhea had made for occasions like this. The fact that a scientist as brilliant as her had spent no telling how long creating stickers with a sedative safe enough for children showed how dedicated everyone at The Arsenal was to rescuing anyone Zoey’s Dark Web crawler discovered.

  The girl’s eyes danced with curiosity as she watched Jesse unroll the stickers. Her tiny hand trembled as she reached out and stroked them. She burrowed her head deeper into Brooklyn’s embrace as she crawled onto the woman’s lap.

  “You want one, sweetie?” Brooklyn asked, her voice soft and filled with feigned merriment Jesse and his team hadn’t felt in ages. “Pick your favorite and Jesse will put it on for you.”

  The little girl bypassed the butterflies and ladybugs. She paused at the kitten and puppy, as if unsure which to pick. She landed on the puppy. Eyes on Jesse, she watched as he peeled it off and gently placed it on the back of her right hand. So fucking small and delicate.

  He’d used the stickers three times before this. Each time it’d taken only moments to take effect. Rhea was not only brilliant, but efficient. She understood that every second in the field was a risk.

  Tundstill knew where other children were, which meant the never-ending mission had now entered another leg. He glanced at Brooklyn and noted the resolve in her gaze as she stroked the girl’s hair. They’d find the others. For now, though, his sole focus was on stabilizing Sonja for transport.

  Sonja’s injuries had been too severe to wait. Jesse and his team had taken her into a nearby hospital where a vetted doctor within Zoey’s underground network had staffing privileges. The FBI and local law enforcement had been contacted. The Arsenal carved through most red tape, but there was only so much clout to be thrown around when a little girl was rescued from a billionaire’s basement.

  By the time her injuries had been dealt with and the authorities had decided whose custody the girl would be in, it was well past noon. FBI Special Agent Victoria Blevins was the lead investigator on the new case and would run point with The Arsenal on the remaining recoveries—whatever they may be. They’d worked with her on a couple of the other rescues, so Jesse knew the little girl was in safe hands.

  More importantly, he knew Tundstill was screwed because Blevins was as clean as they came.

  The jet landed at The Arsenal’s private hangar shortly before sunset. Late afternoon sunlight splayed across the landscape as if offering a promise of a better day. Jesse remained silent as he gathered his gear and followed his team off the plane.

  He’d been awake too long to remember the last time he’d slept, but that didn’t matter. Sleep never came easily. H
is gaze scanned almost a dozen people. Mary, Zoey, Cord, and Vi huddled together near the hangar’s exit. Jud and Dylan stood beside their wives. The latter flashed Jesse a smirk as if to apologize for the onslaught of people.

  None of them were Ellie. Was she okay?

  Every recovery ended the same, no matter which team had gone. Everyone converged as if there was a reason to celebrate, even though no one ever felt like the recovery was a victory. None of those gathered thought it was. They were there for moral support because the shit they saw…

  He bit back the memories of Sonja’s injuries. His gaze flitted past Doctor Sinclair. The shrink had become a given in Jesse’s daily routine. She would haunt his ass until he showed up at her office.

  Not today, Doc. Not today.

  “You good?” Nolan asked.

  “As good as can be expected,” Jesse answered honestly. Big brothers had a way of sussing out bullshit.

  “Tundstill’s already singing,” Dylan said as he joined the huddle.

  Levi grabbed Jesse’s gear and nodded as he followed the rest of the team to the storage vault. They’d need to inventory all ammunition and supplies before they were considered fully checked in from the op. It had been one of the newer procedures initiated and was a serious pain in the ass.

  “I’m surprised they got him in a box so quick.”

  “Blevins doesn’t mess around,” Nolan commented. “Sonja has a sister. A year older. We know her location. Addy’s team is on point.”

  Levi had flown the jet for them. Having an operative on his team who could fly helped Jesse’s team be ready faster than anyone. Having a female operative on recovery missions helped more than he wanted to admit because he’d never thought a soldier’s sex made a difference. It was the person’s skillset and courage that made them a good operative.

  The Arsenal had a pilot on call and was in the process of hiring a full-time one. Marshall had been pretty tight-lipped about the who but had said he’d only hire the best.

  They always did.

  “Location?” Jesse asked.

  Dylan’s jaw twitched. “Cuba.”

  Fuck.

  “Mom’s been asking about you.” Nolan crossed his arms and furrowed his brow. An unspoken order to go see her hung between them. “She’s heard Ellie’s out here.”

  Their mom had been through a lot the past couple of months. Three surgeries later, she was on the road to recovery, but it was a slow crawl—a pace their mom wasn’t down for.

  Jesse understood more than anyone how difficult recovery was. He’d been down that road so much he had his own personal lane. The sooner he filled out the mission paperwork and debriefed with his team, the better. He’d see his mom, then maybe grab a beer and try to forget the shit he’d just seen.

  “And Ellie?”

  Nolan smirked. “Think you can track her down and find out for yourself. We aren’t in grade school anymore.”

  Big brothers were a serious pain in the ass.

  5

  Jesse decided to stop in at the cottage Ellie and her mom were sharing before he went to the main house to see his mom. He knocked, but no one answered. Laughter he recognized drifted from inside.

  He entered.

  His mom sat on the sofa beside Ellie, whose mom was in a recliner nearby. Asleep. An IV stand was beside her. Jesse nodded at the two women watching him as his gaze tracked the small cottage. It’d undergone a metamorphosis. A partition separated the left section of the living room off. Except for the IV pole, you couldn’t tell anyone sick lived there.

  Jesse suspected that was a tremendous burden off Ellie. The other house had been…

  Dismal.

  He understood now why Ellie had made such a big deal about the environment for his mom’s recovery. She understood the importance because she’d seen its impact on her mom. She’d given his mom what she hadn’t been able to afford for hers. Jesse’s mom had made huge strides in her recovery the past three months since the accident.

  “You’re back,” his mom commented. “I thought for sure you’d let Nolan or Dylan take this one.”

  “It was our turn.” Jesse wondered how his mom always heard about the ops even though she never stepped foot near the operations area. Someone had very loose lips—a fact that bothered quite a few operatives at The Arsenal.

  A diffuser cast a vibrant scent of pine and wilderness. Though it was strong, Jesse found it far more pleasant than what’d been at Ellie’s house.

  “Ellie and I made chicken parmesan. There’s a plate in the oven on warm. Beers are in the fridge. I had Marshall go buy some earlier,” his mom said.

  Jesse didn’t comment on the beers or the fact that she’d had them put in Ellie’s fridge. If the woman scented the barest inkling of interest from him, she’d be unstoppable. She was bound and determined the rest of her babies would be married and having babies of their own within a year.

  He padded into the kitchen and grabbed one of the beers from the fridge. He chugged half before he made his way to the oven. The scents wafting from it activated a rumble from his stomach. He’d eaten a few nutrition bars but hadn’t had anything else all day. Or was it two days?

  Fuck. Exhaustion sucked.

  “Sit. I’ll get it,” Ellie ordered.

  Jesse stilled as the woman moved past him and got to work getting the chicken from the oven.

  “Give me a few and I’ll make some pasta to go with it. Your mom wanted to go ahead and make it, but it’s better fresh.” Jesse took another swig of beer and grabbed a second from the fridge. He’d need more than one to deal with the domesticity of the situation he’d walked into.

  His mom was playing house with his ex.

  Jesse’s jaw twitched. He didn’t want to give Ellie false hope that something aside from friendship could happen with them. Seeing her day in and day out was torture enough. Being friends?

  Well, that was one of the epically shittiest layers of hell. Seeing a woman he’d once wanted more than anything. Never touching her. Never tasting her.

  Never fucking her.

  She’d been his escape. No matter how bad shit in the hole had gotten, she’d been his out.

  Now she was in the kitchen of a cottage on his ranch humming as she fixed his dinner.

  Jesus.

  He should leave. A smart, sane man would get out while he could.

  But the scents were almost more tempting than the woman. He’d gotten off the jet tormented by what he’d seen. Sonja had endured so much a little girl should never experience. Her father had sold her to a depraved bastard.

  Jesse sat at a barstool and took another sip of beer.

  “Pasta will take a few minutes. I’ll pull the chicken when it’s done. Sauce is warming, too.” Ellie leaned against the counter and snagged the second beer he’d pulled out. She popped the cap and took a swig. “Not bad.”

  “You don’t drink beer.”

  “I’m not the woman I was back then,” she replied.

  “And I’m not the man I was. I won’t ever be him, Ellie.”

  Sadness haunted her gorgeous eyes a moment, then she looked down. Her fingernail scraped at the bottle’s label. “I know. I’m okay with that. The man you are now is pretty damn impressive. Nolan told me where you were. You okay?”

  “No, but this helps,” he admitted. Unsure why he’d given so much of himself away with the admission, he let the silence hang a moment. “I’m sorry.”

  Ellie’s sharp inhale drew his gaze to her. Shock resided in her gaze.

  “I’m sorry for not asking why you didn’t say yes to coming with me.”

  “I’m sorry for not telling you why.” She cleared her throat. “You don’t owe me an apology, Jesse. I never, ever blamed you for leaving. You’re the bravest man I’ve ever known. I’m proud of what you’ve done. Who you’ve become.”

  Jesse rubbed his chest as if he could massage away the ache. “I’m not a good man, Peanut. Some would argue I’m not even a man. Not anymore.”

 
; “Don’t.” Her voice was low, but angry. It drew his gaze away from his beer. She reached out and took his hand. “Don’t ever put yourself down, Jesse Mason. There are too many people in this world ready to knock us down. Don’t ever make their job easier.”

  “Ma’s gonna get the wrong idea,” he whispered.

  “So what?” Ellie turned away and turned the burner off. She lifted the pot and headed to the sink. “We’re adults, Jesse. We don’t owe anyone any explanations. I know what’s what.”

  “You do? What is what?” He took another swig of beer and watched her turn and drain the pasta like she was performing surgery.

  “You’ve said nothing can happen between us.”

  “It can’t.”

  “So it won’t.” She set the pot down and pulled the plate out of the oven using a hot pad. “We’re mature enough to be friends.”

  “Ellie…”

  “Friends. Nothing more.” She poured the pasta onto the plate, then added sauce. Sprinkled parmesan cheese on both. “You want to pretend with a salad for your mom? Or are you adult enough to risk a no-veggie night?”

  Jesse chuckled. “I think we can pass on the salad.”

  “Okay then.” She set the plate before him and left the hot pad beside him. “Careful, it’s hot.”

  He reached over and took a fork from the hanging utensil dispenser. “Thanks, Ellie. It’s been a long day.”

  “Or two. No offense, but you look like hammered dog shit right now.” Amusement danced in her blue eyes as she smiled.

  Warmth flowed through him. He hadn’t seen her smile at him in a long, long time. He tightened his grip on the fork to keep himself from reaching out and touching her cheek. Her hair. Her mouth.

  How many times had he closed his eyes and pictured her smile?

  Damn.

  He looked down at the plate of food. No one outside his family had ever cooked for him—not something like this. He cut into the chicken and ignored the woman silently watching. An awareness flowed within him. He felt…

  Alive.

  Connected.

  For the briefest moment he’d felt…