Jagged Edge (The Arsenal Book 1)

by Cara Carnes

  But she and Vi had intended to change that. Anger seeped into her thoughts.

  Hive was burned.

  Everything she’d worked for was gone.

  Vi....

  Fear pulsated beneath her skin, an uncontrollable beast roaring in her veins. “I’m expendable. Secure Vi. That’s an order.”

  “Not taking orders from you, Edge. Not today.” His lips thinned. Gaze narrowed, he ran his hands along her from head to toe. “Bravo, Charlie requires medical exfil.”

  “I can walk,” she argued through a wheezed cough.

  “Take a backseat on this one, Edge. We’re doing this by the numbers.” Concern flickered in his voice, softened the edges.

  “To hell with the numbers. Get your ass to the next cell and secure Vi.” She grabbed his arm and squeezed. Damn, he was big. In a different time and place, she’d appreciate that. All that mattered right now was getting Dylan to help Vi.

  “You’re smarter than the average operative, Mason. Secure Vi. That’s an order.” She swallowed. “You always follow orders.”

  The right side of his mouth upturned. The sexy smirk beat some of the hazy fog in her brain aside. Her pulse quickened.

  “That so? I’m wondering how you’d know, but you are the Edge. You have your ways.”

  “Oh, but do I. I have so many ways,” she mumbled. “We’ve been watching you, The Arsenal. Things were getting hot at Hive. We needed out.”

  “You never called.”

  “Didn’t get the chance,” she admitted. “Vi’s hurt. Please, help her.”

  “Edge, Quillery isn’t here. The cell is empty.”

  “No.” She shook her head and crawled toward the opening, but he crouched in her way.

  “She’s not here, Edge.” His lips thinned. “She never was.”

  “No. I heard her. She’s here.” Screaming. Begging.

  “Let’s get you secured, then we’ll get Vi on the comm, prove she’s okay.”

  “Get out of my way,” she gritted through clenched teeth. Pain stabbed up her thighs and arms.

  Dylan muttered something about stubborn women. He stood, crouched, and she was suddenly in his arms. Tension coiled in her body as she settled against him. “This will be quicker.”

  A few long strides later, and she was in...

  An empty cell.

  No. Vi was just screaming from this cell. She stared at the empty cot and dry floor. There wasn’t even a sink or a hose or restraints or...

  “How? Why?”

  Mary knew the why and the how. It was all a ruse, an elaborate hoax designed to break her faster. Vi hadn’t been there.

  Thank God.

  While the woman in her was grateful her best friend was safe and unharmed, the operative in her reeled from the betrayal. The anger.

  They would pay. Whoever did this would pay.

  “How did you get in on the exfil?” she demanded.

  “I’m thinking debrief can wait until you’re secured and your injuries are tended to.”

  “Don’t manage me, Mason. I’m not a civilian.” She peered up into his intense green gaze. “I need answers. Retribution.”

  “You’ll get what you need, Edge. We’ll make sure you do.” His jaw twitched when silence ticked by a few heartbeats. “Jesus, you are more stubborn than I heard. We got a call. We’ll debrief later at The Arsenal. We need you secured first.”

  Secured. What a joke. Mary had once thought there was such a thing as safety. Security.

  What a crock of horseshit.

  Pain crawled along her back. Her entire body throbbed and ached. Dylan set her on the narrow cot.

  “I shouldn’t have moved you.” He stood. “I’ll be back with Medical. They want you checked out before we proceed with exfil.”

  DYLAN MASON PROWLED the narrow corridor leading to Edge’s cell. Twenty minutes. Doc Logan had been back there with her for twenty minutes.

  The spook didn’t take that long. Ever.

  “Cord’s rounded up all the surveillance footage and all computers,” Marshall said. “No sign of other prisoners. Vi was never here.”

  “Someone wanted Edge broken. But why?” Dylan put a hand on his hip and glared at his brother. “What the hell did we just step into?

  “No clue, but we’ll sort it out.”

  Edge. They’d done a number on her. He’d barely recognized her from the photo sent. The fierce operative who’d pulled him and a couple of his brothers out of more than one FUBAR situation had been in hell. If they hadn’t taken the call seriously.... “Any luck tracking the anonymous call?”

  “Cord’s working it.” Marshall motioned down the narrow hall where Logan prowled silently toward them.

  Hands fisted at his sides, the man glared at Marshall, then Dylan. “Whatever this is, I’m in.”

  “The Agency might have a different take on your participation,” Marshall commented. “Though you’re always welcomed at The Arsenal.”

  “Consider it done.” The man looked over his shoulder at the cell. “She’s stabilized. For now. I’ll need a medical facility to assess internal injuries.”

  “And the loud mouth?” Dylan asked.

  “Beaten. Injured leg.” His jaw twitched. Eyes narrowed, he shook his head. “This whole thing smells.”

  “Agreed,” Marshall said. “We’re taking her to Texas, the compound. Is she stable enough for transport?”

  “Since I’m going, yeah. We’ll need a quiet, secure area for her. I know you have former soldiers in and out, both for your organization and The Warrior’s Path Project. The less eyes on her, the better, until we get everything sorted.”

  “You handle the healing,” Dylan growled. “Leave the rest to us.”

  “She’ll be traumatized when she wakes. You should track down Addison Rugers, Addy. She’s in real tight with Quillery and Edge,” Logan offered. “If you can’t find Vi, Addy’s a good alternative.”

  “We sure bringing Vi into this is a good idea?” Dylan asked.

  “You think she’s dirty,” Marshall said.

  “Mary thought she was here. What if she’s involved?”

  “No way,” Logan replied. “Those two are tight, yin and yang. No way they’d turn on one another.”

  “I agree. Everyone knows when you get one you get the other. Quillery’s an obvious weakness for Edge, and vice versa. Nolan’s hunting Vi and Addy. They’ll be notified. We’re closing the circle there, for now.” Marshall crossed his arms and rocked back on his heels. Big brother was ten shades of angry. “First Peter Rugers has an accident, now one of the best back office computer operators in existence is nearly killed. What the hell is up with Hive?”

  “We’ll find out,” Dylan promised. “We owe that to Edge. Quillery. They’ll both want blood. Then there’s Addy. I doubt Peter’s little sister will be okay with what happened here.”

  Though they’d had very little interaction with Hive since Peter’s demise, Dylan and his brothers had heard rumors Hive was dirty and losing cred fast, which explained why The Arsenal had more work than they could handle, even though they’d barely hung up their shingle.

  “Let Nolan know we’re incoming and to expect visitors. I’ll have Cord reach out to Vi. He says Martin Driggs has her in some backwater village.”

  Martin Driggs was an idiot. Peter Rugers had been the brains and brawn behind Hive, the leading private paramilitary organization. Until Dylan and his brothers formed The Arsenal. Dylan grunted. They’d track down whoever hurt Edge. At least one of the men they’d secured would have answers. He intended to get them.

  I’m expendable.

  Two hours later, the words still haunted Dylan. Edge broke and, for a brief moment, exposed a small piece of the woman beneath the ice-cold handler known throughout the black ops community.

  If a team—any team—needed a guaranteed success, they roped in Hive and demanded the Quillery Edge duo. Vi was the voice, the calm amid the storm, gathering data and dispensing lifesaving solutions like she was handing
out birthday cake.

  And Edge? Edge was the rarely heard, lethal solution machine, the brilliant mind who earned her nickname with fearless, unbelievably dangerous solutions when there were no other options. Rumor had it she had a one hundred percent success rate, but there was no way. No one was that good.

  Dylan had assisted in many joint ops that used Hive’s dynamic duo. The standard joke on teams was Vi was the seduction, the balls deep fucking after a shit day. She got you off every time. Edge was the one you never wanted to hear, the voice that wrapped around your soul and latched on. She dragged you to safety while kneeing the Reaper.

  A man lost a piece of his soul to the Edge—payment for a life saved.

  “You good?” Marshall asked, though he already knew the answer.

  “I’m point on this.” Dylan ran his hand through his hair. “They might still have Quillery. We need answers.”

  “We’ll secure Edge, then go from there.” Calm, collected, and contained. Marshall never lost his cool.

  Dylan nodded. Yeah. Securing Edge made sense. They’d handle Vi’s extraction once they got the bastards they’d captured talking.

  And they would talk.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Dylan collapsed beside his brothers in a small living room-style waiting room in their unused-until-today surgical ward. Hell, The Arsenal didn’t even have a medical team on site yet. Fortunately, Logan had come along and recruited a trusted surgeon to assist. Edge had dragged the spook doctor from a certain death, and he wasn’t about to bug out when she was down. He’d called in favors to make sure she got the best treatment possible.

  Logan’s surgeon friend, Maisey Winn, seemed competent enough for a bitchy piranha. She took one look at Dylan “helicoptering” her patient and tossed his ass out. The door was locked.

  He grudgingly admitted he’d gotten too close to this one. The protectiveness would go away once Mary was okay. He and his five brothers had a weak spot when it came to women getting hurt. The fact she was an operative who’d saved Nolan’s ass made it personal. She was a fellow operative, deserved their respect and protection. Whoever did this would pay.

  Jesse, Marshall, Nolan, and Dallas kept him company in the small area. Cord was at a table pounding away at the laptop. He hadn’t so much as twitched except for his fingers on the keyboard.

  Dallas flashed an empathetic grin only little brothers offered. Something was up. Dylan supposed they’d handled whatever crept around the corner. They always did. For now, he paced. What was taking so long?

  The double doors swished open, and Logan came out in scrubs. He collapsed on the leather couch and settled elbows on his knees. Exhaustion created thick circles beneath his eyes, but it was the glinting rage in his gaze that unnerved Dylan.

  “I’ve got a bead on her girl. Driggs dragged her to some Bogota hellhole,” Cord added from the table. “I’m trying to spoof into her feed, assess the situation.”

  Damn. They’d already known it was an elaborate ruse. How would Edge react? The bastards had played one of the best back office operatives in the business.

  “They used enhanced interrogation techniques on Edge. She was drugged, which would explain the dizziness and stumbling. Losing consciousness,” Marshall finished.

  “Son of a bitch.” Dylan sat.

  Martin Driggs was the money man behind Hive who’d struck gold when the real brains and balls behind it died in a car accident. Dylan didn’t trust the son of a bitch.

  “I’m glad you were available on short notice. How is she?” Marshall asked.

  “I have Edge stabilized. Her arm’s set, her injuries are all treated—what I can, at least. Three ribs will mend on their own, but I’ve wrapped them. Since we found the drugs onsite, I was able to put her on a detox regiment.”

  “And the rest? Walk us through what happened,” Jesse ordered. “You’ve treated enough people in her condition to give an accurate account.”

  “I really hate that question.” Logan dragged his hand across his face. “Interrogation likely started off fairly routine. Waterboarding. Sleep deprivation. White noise.”

  The pause thickened the silence. The man’s jaw twitched.

  “Rape,” Nolan finished.

  Logan nodded.

  Fuck. Dylan focused the rage rolling through him and waited for the rest.

  “The cocktail skewed Edge’s reality enough to make enhanced interrogation methods plausible. It could’ve been anything. Between the beatings, the untreated broken arm, and the drugs, I doubt she maintained silence.”

  “You think they got what they wanted,” Cord commented. “That she broke. No way.”

  “More than likely, yes. Not many could’ve remained silent under those conditions, especially for the duration she endured. They had her for at least four days.”

  “She’s Edge,” Dallas replied. “Cord’s right. She didn’t crack.”

  “Good thing we arrived before they decided she wasn’t worth the continued effort,” Jesse glared over at the table. “You got a line on Quillery yet?”

  “Enough of one. I embedded a coded message in her data stream, to come to Texas with all haste. She’ll figure out the rest.”

  “I’ll clear my calendar and let my employer know I’m out of pocket indefinitely,” Logan replied.

  “We’re not reading anyone in on this,” Marshall warned. “The Agency can’t know, especially if this is Hive related.”

  “Understood.” Logan rose from the sofa. “That woman in there bailed my ass out of a cesspit last year. She was on vacation. Quillery was drunk, so she handled the mission alone, leading a SEAL team and two Hive operatives straight to my location through an eleven-hour, one-way trek through jungle when the Agency denied the fact I existed. I’ll pick having her back over theirs every time.”

  “You’re in on whatever this is.”

  “I’m in on whatever this is,” Logan repeated. “Someone will need to fill Edge in when she’s awake. I recommend sedating her until she’s recovered some.”

  Marshall nodded.

  “Has anyone tracked down Addy yet?” Logan asked.

  “Cord’s working on it,” Nolan replied.

  “I am?” Cord’s voice rose from the table. “I’m not the back-office genius.”

  “You’ll do,” Marshall commented.

  Dylan smirked as his brothers went at one another. The gallows rapport eased the tension in the room. Logan captured his gaze and nodded.

  He followed the doctor through the double doors and into a small bedroom that’d been turned into a hospital room. Jesus. Too many wires came from her. Machines beeped and squawked. How could anyone rest with all the noise? And the lights.

  Obnoxious fluorescents spilled into her eyes from just above her bed. Dylan reached over and flicked them off. There. That’d be more comfortable. He lowered the noise on the machines and dragged a chair near the bedside.

  Edge was paler than before. He grasped her good hand and squeezed gently enough for her to feel the contact. “You’re safe, Mary. They aren’t getting to you again. We’re here.”

  WATER FLOODED HER NOSTRILS. Don’t breathe. Don’t breathe. Her lungs burned. She kicked and punched. Pain shot up her arm, down her legs. Water continued flooding her nose, her mouth. The wet rag molded against her face. Dying. She clawed at the invisible hands pinning her down.

  Alarms blared around Mary. Confusion silenced the screams ripping from her throat. Pain engulfed her, signaling she was alive. Her side hurt. She forced a shallow, hesitant breath. A strong, warm hand held hers. A rugged, gravelly voice boomed in her ear.

  “Open your eyes, Mary.”

  Soft lighting in the corner helped ease the transition as she ignored the pain and focused on the man looming above her. Fear clawed her insides, but her mind fired off a name before panic ensued. Dylan. She tugged her good hand from his grip and reached for the mask over her face.

  “Easy, Edge,” he whispered. “They’re going to switch it out, okay? You’re sa
fe, you’re at The Arsenal. Breathe for me, sweetheart.”

  Mary took a hesitant breath, then another. Cool, fresh oxygen entered with each inhalation. She maintained the death grip on his hand and focused on the green depths of his eyes as she dragged in one breath after another.

  Not drowning.

  At The Arsenal.

  Safe.

  She repeated the three thoughts, allowing no others as her mind buzzed and her senses battled to understand her surroundings. A cool breeze swept across her skin from the left. Her right hand was in a cast up to her elbow.

  “Hi there, Edge. Remember me?” A handsome man with dark brown hair falling around his stubble-covered jawline appeared in her peripheral vision. He seemed familiar. “Logan Callister.”

  Ah, yes. The spook doc left in a jungle by his bastard comrades.

  “You ready for me to switch you out of that mask?” he asked gently, his movements not bringing him any closer.

  Mary nodded and earned a smile. She took another hesitant breath and angled her body closer to Dylan on the other side. Logan showed her a clear tube, which he set on the bed beside her.

  “This will help you breathe until you’re doing better on your own. It goes into your nostrils, but won’t obstruct your face in any way, okay?”

  Mary nodded. Breathing was good. Great. He switched the stuff out with a practiced efficiency, never once making her feel frightened or uncomfortable. Not that she’d feel comfortable anytime soon. Everything hurt. Painkillers numbed some of the aches but did nothing to erase the memories.

  They’d almost broken her. If Dylan and his brothers hadn’t....

  What ifs didn’t solve problems. Focus on facts. Get answers.

  She relaxed back into the pillow behind her and watched Logan cautiously.

  Dylan must’ve called him in.

  Former Army Ranger. CIA doctor. An unknown variable. She hadn’t wanted outsiders involved. Too many lives hung in the balance as it was.

  Vi.

  Machines screamed as she caught Dylan’s hand.

  “Vi.” The name squeezed out of her sore throat.