Battle Scars

by Cara Carnes

“You cavorted with a known gang member. It’s not my son’s fault you chose drugs over the love he offered so freely.”

  “Right. I guess I missed the lesson on punches and kicks being proper ways to express love,” Ellie clipped. She stood beside the bed and wobbled as dizziness assailed her. “Thanks, by the way. I appreciate the asshole pounding my head into the hospital floor. A TBI is exactly what I needed as the final parting gift in scraping your crazy asses off.”

  “That’s what you get for associating with the wrong people, Ellie,” the man said. “Call them off before I get angry, little girl.”

  “Call me that again and I’ll hunt you down and kick your ass. Let’s get back to the ugly, Herman. You don’t think getting me fired was a low blow? You don’t think that was ugly?”

  “You got away easy. Clean. Call off your eunuch and I’ll stay out of this. Otherwise I’m gonna make sure everyone in the tri-county sees exactly what you are, little girl.”

  The threat hung between them, and even though she didn’t want to hear the details of what he meant, she knew HERA likely recorded the line to the cottage. Evidence. Proof Herman Perskins was as bad as his bastard son.

  “What do you mean?”

  “A picture’s worth a thousand words. In this case, video’s worth so much more.” The man chuckled into the phone. Icy tendrils of fear slithered through her and squeezed until the breath swooshed from her lungs. “I didn’t ever think you were worth the effort to bag, but I gotta admit, seeing you all teary-eyed, begging on your knees while my boy took what was his—what he owned…” He trailed his statement off and smirked.

  “You sick son of a bitch. He never owned me.”

  “He did. Bought you lock, stock, and dying mom.” The man laughed. “Call them off or I’ll make sure everyone sees how you whored yourself out to my boy. By the time I’m done with you, you’ll be wishing that gangbanger had killed you.”

  The line went dead. Ellie let the phone land beside her as she sank to her knees and curled into a ball. Nausea pitched her stomach, but she didn’t move. Frozen into place, her mind processed the threat.

  Phil had recorded their “sessions.”

  Revulsion rolled through her. Jesse couldn’t ever find out what she’d endured. What she’d done. A good, kind, loving man like him wouldn’t ever understand. A brave, strong, courageous soldier like him wouldn’t understand.

  No one would.

  Voices drifted around her as she shivered. She glanced up and blinked until the hazy fog closing off her vision dissipated. Dylan and Nolan stood in the bedroom.

  No. No. No. They couldn’t know. They’d tell Jesse.

  She rocked on her ass and buried her face into her knees. They’d leave. They had to leave.

  Herman had won this round. She’d figure out how to call them off Phil. Then they wouldn’t see.

  “She’s in shock.” Nolan crouched beside her. “Ellie, look at me.”

  She turned her head away and blinked back the tears. Why couldn’t she be strong and kickass like Mary or Addy or Zoey or Vi or Riley? Even Bree and Rhea were pretty damn tough. Bree had shaved her freaking head to stand in solidarity with Zoey. That took guts.

  “Ellie.” Nolan grabbed her chin and forced her gaze to his. “What’s he threatening you with?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It does,” Dylan said. “Tell us.”

  Mary shoved past Dylan and stood in front of Ellie. Shock and worry pulled Ellie out of her terror and self-pity as she frowned at the new mother. “You can’t be here. It’s the middle of the night. You need your rest.”

  Anger rolled through the woman’s gaze. Mary rarely displayed emotions like the rest of the makeshift friendship tribe Ellie had become a part of.

  “No one calls my friend in the middle of the night and threatens them. Read me in. If you don’t want Jesse’s brothers to know, they’ll leave.”

  “To hell I will,” Nolan growled. “She’s family. No one fucks with family.”

  “I don’t need any of you,” Ellie said through clenched teeth. The lie hung there a moment as she forced a breath. She had no idea how to battle a man like Herman Perskins.

  His son was in jail—a fact that’d likely been a direct result of everyone around her weighing in on her troubles. She breathed freedom from Phil’s bullshit because of them.

  And now she was gonna pay the price.

  If Phil had recorded things…

  Ellie powered through the what-ifs and accepted that he had. Otherwise Herman wouldn’t have threatened her. He’d watched. Gotten off on watching.

  Her stomach pitched again. She clasped her hand to her mouth. Nolan rose with her and steered her to the bathroom. She heaved the contents of her stomach into the toilet as he held her hair. Dizziness assailed her when she stood, but he was there supporting her with a hand at her back.

  “Mouthwash,” he said as he handed her a small cup of liquid. “It’ll get the taste out of your mouth. Some TBIs heighten your senses. You don’t want to get sick again.”

  Right. Ellie clung to the matter-of-fact explanation and swished her mouth out with the mouthwash. She spat in the sink and watched through the mirror as he turned on the water and rinsed out the sink.

  Intensity resonated within Nolan’s green gaze—a gaze so like Jesse’s she almost collapsed beneath the emotions emanating from him. “It’s not going away. It’ll fester beneath the surface whether you do what he wants or not. It’ll rot away inside you.”

  “You don’t know,” she whispered. “He can’t ever know. None of you can.”

  “Jesse will rip the entire tri-county apart for answers. He’ll hunt the bastard down and get what we need, Ellie.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I do,” Nolan said. Determination and anger flashed across his face. “I know because that’s what I’d do if you were mine. If a woman I loved was threatened, I wouldn’t stop until the danger was gone and the bastard was six feet under.”

  “He’s right,” Mary said. She took Ellie’s hand and guided her back into the bedroom.

  Ellie sat beside the woman on the mattress. “Phil was verbally abusive. He must’ve recorded some…things.”

  “I’m taking it you aren’t going to be more detailed,” Dylan said.

  “It wouldn’t be good for anyone to see what he…” Ellie swallowed. “What he made me say and do. What he said and did.”

  “Jesus.” Nolan paced and dragged his hand through his hair. “We’ll get the tapes, Ellie. No one will see them.”

  “Please don’t tell Jesse. He has enough to worry about.”

  “We don’t keep secrets from one another,” Dylan said. “Not something of this magnitude. We’ll tell him when he returns. I promise we have his back and yours on this. Okay?”

  They had no idea how horrible those videos would be, but she nodded. For now she had no choice but to trust them with it.

  19

  Ellie carted the Doctor Who tote bag holding Jesse’s journals and Cord’s files with her as she tramped down the winding corridors leading to medical. She hadn’t bothered doing more than yank on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt before sliding on a pair of flip-flops and heading out.

  It was a few minutes after ten the next morning, and she’d stayed up all night reading after the horrible phone call had woken her up. She’d managed a couple hours sleep, but nightmares created by the haunted words she’d read and the threats Herman lobbed demanded she remain awake. Since she couldn’t do a damn thing about Herman Perskins, she’d directed all her focus on Jesse’s journals. There were questions to ask. Answers to get.

  Doctor Logan Callister was a handsome man. His semi-long, unruly hair tumbled around his face in a messy warning that he wasn’t the sort of doctor most folks were used to. He glanced up from the clipboard he’d been holding as she walked in and plopped down on the nearest examination table. The tote bag was heavy in her arms, but not from weight.

  The enormity of th
e contents left her…

  Confused.

  Pained.

  Determined.

  She’d win the war to get Jesse fully out of that hell. One way or another.

  “Ellie. This is a surprise.” He set the clipboard down and sat on the small stool near her. “Are you okay? Is your mom?”

  “Mom’s fine, thanks to you. Never better actually. What’s in those shots, Doc?”

  A sad but resilient spark flared in his gaze. “Something to make her comfortable. Brant knows.”

  “Thanks.” Ellie had fed her mom pot-filled cookies before she’d been moved to The Arsenal, so she was fully onboard with whatever helped ease the suffering.

  “You’ve been under a lot of pressure caring for her alone as long as you have.”

  “That’s what family does.” Ellie thumped the tote bag down on the small step up to the examination table. “Let’s talk about Jesse.”

  “I’d rather chat about you a few minutes. Have you spoken with Doctor Sinclair?”

  “No, and I won’t.” She crossed her arms. “She’s Jesse’s.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “She’s his sanctuary—where he goes when he needs to get dragged out of whatever nightmare has him in its clutches. She sorts his head and keeps him here with us rather than in…” Ellie cut the words off. She wouldn’t ever share what she’d read in Jesse’s journals. He’d trusted her with the contents. “She’s his.”

  “From what I’ve seen and heard, you’re his sanctuary. Amanda is the light guiding Jesse’s path to you.”

  Ellie gasped as the steely admiration in the man’s words appeared in a faint smile on his face. Maybe coming to chat with him hadn’t been such a good idea. What did she really know about the man? He’d been a Ranger in the Army, then did a stint in the CIA. Somewhere before or during those two, he’d become a doctor. Details were vague, but she’d heard enough to know Mary, Vi, and the Masons respected and trusted him.

  Which meant she would, too.

  She reached down and pulled out the two sheets of carefully constructed questions she’d listed out. “These are the most important of my questions. I filtered out the stuff that can wait a while.”

  Logan’s eyebrows rose. Amusement flickered across his face as he took the papers. His brows furrowed as he read, then flipped. Read, then flipped again. The stool creaked beneath him as he shifted his large, muscular frame.

  “This is quite a list.”

  “It’s quite a problem I’m solving.” She reached down and dragged out the folder of Cord’s data. Color-coded sticky notes matching the ink colors in the list stuck out amongst the papers. “Help me make sense of this, Doc. I’m a teacher turned office manager. This doctor-speak is above my head. I need this in laymen’s terms.”

  “May I?” Logan held out his hand.

  Ellie turned the file over. He was Jesse’s doctor and likely had the medical portion of these records—if not all of it. Maybe even the unredacted version. Her pulse quickened with nervousness as she waited. A stillness settled within the open area. Only a small curtain separated the examination bay from the rest of the large room.

  He thumbed through the file, going to the sticky notes as though the confusion in her brain that’d drawn her to color-coding the questions made perfect sense. She ran her hands over her thighs as she waited. By the time he’d set the file aside, she was a wreck.

  “Take a deep breath, Ellie,” he advised.

  She obeyed, remembering the “in for four, hold for four, out for four” method Jesse used. A temporary reprieve of calm filled her, but she felt the need already building up again. The compulsion to demand answers.

  There had to be answers. Why had that shit happened? Her eyes burned.

  Why had those monsters carved him up? Tears spilled out.

  Why?

  She blinked and swiped at the tears. “I need to know why.”

  Logan took her hand but rested his fingers at her wrist. “There’s not always a why, Ellie. I know you’ve spent a lot of time taking care of your mother. You’re a fixer. You want to make everything that’s wrong around you right.”

  She did. She totally did. Starting and ending with Jesse.

  She forced a watery breath and took a tissue from the box he held out. Jesus, talk about being a mess. “Sorry. I didn’t intend to come here and erupt. I’m gonna get stronger, like the others. I can handle whatever you tell me. I promise.”

  “The others?”

  “Mary. Vi. Zoey.” Ellie sighed. “Bree. Rhea. Riley. Addy.”

  “Ah.” He folded the papers she’d given him in half. “Everyone has a superpower, Ellie. An inner or outer strength stronger than others have. For Mary it’s her steely determination, her resolve to solve every problem and avert any danger using her intelligence and forward-thinking.”

  Wow.

  “You’re trying to attack this like it’s a mission,” Logan said.

  “It is.”

  “You aren’t an operative or a handler. You’re Ellie. His Peanut.”

  A gasp escaped her. What did that even mean? It sounded so right, yet her mind refused to process it.

  “Your superpower is your heart. The way you make this compound feel more like a home than most of the operatives here have ever had. Mary and the others are the bone—steely strength. You’re the heart.”

  “I’m his heart.”

  “You’re more than that,” Logan whispered. “There won’t ever be any sense made of what he endured. We’ll likely never hear it all. All that matters is what lies ahead.”

  She shook her head. He’d given her the journals for a reason—so she’d understand what he went through. Crap like that changed a man, had changed her man. There may not be a why, but she damn sure needed the how. “How do I make this right for him, Doc?”

  “By doing what you’ve always done,” Logan answered. “Love him.”

  Ellie swallowed.

  “Your mom says you aren’t sleeping. Want to tell me why?”

  She chewed on her lower lip.

  He sighed. “Jesse’s got Sinclair. If you won’t talk to her, you need to talk to me. You’ve been through a lot, Ellie.”

  “The accident,” she whispered.

  “The hospital attack,” Logan said. “Assaults are scary and often leave residual side effects. Post-traumatic stress.”

  “The car accident,” she clarified. “I can’t get it out of my head. The blood. Seeing Momma Mason’s blood on me. Stopping the bleeding so she’d live, so Jesse wouldn’t arrive and find the most important woman in his life dead. I can’t get it out of my head.”

  “That’s why you need Sinclair.” Logan leaned forward. “For the record, I think you’re the most important woman in Jesse’s life, and he’s finally getting into a position to accept that.”

  Ellie swallowed. Her heartbeat accelerated at the idea.

  “I can’t talk about Jesse’s injuries with you, Ellie. I’m sorry.” Logan wrote on a prescription pad. “Here’s something to help you sleep. It’s not a sleeping pill, just a mild anti-depressant.”

  “I’m not depressed.”

  “No, but you’re traumatized. Your mind needs help relaxing so it can heal. Staying up all night and reading those journals likely left you with some horrible headaches. Right?”

  Heat rose in her cheeks. Her head still hurt.

  “Go get some real rest and then talk to Sinclair. She can help you through this, Ellie. She may be helping Jesse, but that doesn’t mean she can’t help you, too.”

  Ellie wasn’t sure what to think by the time she left the doctor. She went back to the cottage and secured Jesse’s journals. Then she went into the kitchen and did the one thing guaranteed to make her feel better.

  She baked.

  Jesse entered the cottage and inhaled. Sugar and chocolate wafted through the air. His stomach rumbled an angry protest he couldn’t ignore. He went into the kitchen and stilled.

  Jesus.

  Piles and
piles of cookies. All were covered with plastic wrap. Containers were stacked up with sticky notes on the sides. His heart expanded as he read the names. Levi. Sol. Brooklyn. Lex. Howie.

  Jesse’s team.

  The other three teams were there as well.

  But the massive plate of cookies on the counter drew his attention. His pulse quickened when he picked up the note labeled with his name.

  Honey,

  Welcome home. Milk’s in the fridge.

  Love, Peanut

  Warmth flowed within him as the tension he’d carried around since finding out Addy’s team was in trouble melted away beneath the aroma of Ellie’s cookies. He undid the wrap at the side and snagged two cookies, then bit into both as he turned to grab the milk from the fridge.

  Another note was stuck to a foil-covered plate.

  In case you’re still hungry after those cookies. :)

  Meatloaf and homemade macaroni and cheese. He grabbed a fork, leaned against the counter, and ate. Though the meal might seem ordinary to most people, it was the best thing Jesse had ever tasted—even if it was cold. The cottage door opened. Jesse glanced up and watched as Dylan made his way into the kitchen. He reached toward the plate of cookies.

  “Touch those and you die,” Jesse said, his mouth full of meatloaf.

  Dylan smirked, but folded his arms and leaned against the island. “She baked all day. The girls finally got her into bed a few hours ago.”

  Fuck. Ellie baked when she was stressed or worried. “She okay?”

  “She will be.”

  “There a reason you’re darkening my dinner by being here?” Jesse shoveled macaroni and cheese into his mouth and chewed.

  “Depends.”

  “On?” Jesse sat his plate down and studied his brother. Dylan was the most cautious of them all, except Marshall. “She’s not okay.”

  “Herman Perskins phoned her.”

  “What the fuck? How?”

  “Vi and Zoey are looking into that. The call went directly to the landline here in the cottage, so they suspect one of the subcontractors Burton Construction used.”

  Son of a bitch. Jesse ran a hand down his face. “What’d the bastard say?”