The complete scars series: Books one-four

by Tonks, Rachael

“Fuck you, Carter. Get out here and fucking talk to me. Man to man. I need answers,” I yell, the pain in my torso increases with the volume of my voice.

  “Shit, Brax.” He glares at me with hatred in his eyes as he pulls himself up on the side of the pool. “Seriously, I’m not in the mood if you are gonna whine at me like some little bitch.” He reaches down, grabbing the towel and dragging it across his face.

  I don’t bite, I get straight to the point. No time for messing around. I need answers and fast. “Why haven’t you done anything, Carter?”

  “I’ve done plenty,” he drawls, “I’m not quite sure what you are referring to?”

  “Izzy… Isabelle… did you somehow forget that she’s been taken, and I was shot in the process? You’re as good as my brother, why aren’t you avenging the motherfucker that ripped us off, that ripped you off?”

  “The girl is your business, not mine. If you want us to do something, then we will. But I will take your lead on this. It’s not my place to go jumping the gun while you’re laid up in bed. You need to recover, fully, then we can talk about what you want to do.”

  “You?” I say, glaring at him. “Don’t you mean, we?”

  “Yeah, sure. That’s what I mean,” he quickly counteracts, stepping toward me, stopping right in front of me, continuing to rub the towel through his dripping wet hair. “Anyway, you shouldn’t be down here. You’re not ready. You need longer to recover. I need you fighting fit, we have the Savages to appease.”

  “Get someone else. I’m out,” I say, throwing my hands in the air, allowing them to land by my side with a thud.

  “Out,” he repeats slowly. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

  “I’m not fucking around. Until I’ve found Izzy and mutilated every bastard that was involved in her kidnapping, count me out.”

  “Life goes on, Brax. Money needs to be made, it doesn’t just fucking grow on trees.”

  “You go do the fucking deal then.”

  He scoffs loudly, rolling his eyes with annoyance. “The boss doesn’t do the deal, Brax. Come on, you know this.”

  “I’m the boss, too. You call me your partner, yet treat me like the fucking hired help. No more. I’m your equal. It’s about time I stepped out of the fucking firing line you keep placing me in.”

  “So, this is all some motherfucking power struggle now, is it? We are a team, and having you on the firing line, as you put it, is what works. It isn’t because you’re not my equal, of course you are. It’s because when it comes to making money, closing a deal, I can’t just trust any old cocksucker. I chose you, Brax. Because you are loyal to a fault and we’ve built this business to what it is now. Together. With me in here, and you out there. Making shit happen.”

  He rests his hand loosely on my shoulder, his head tilted ever so slightly to the side. The patronizing look he’s giving me only adds to my already out-of-control anger. Placing my hand over his, I squeeze as hard as I can, my face contorted as he looks at me with wide eyes.

  “I’m not the lost boy I once was, Carter. You don’t get to call the shots anymore.”

  “Get your fucking hand off me,” he says, wrestling his hand free from my weaker-than-normal grip. “I think that gunshot didn’t just mess up your body, it fucked up your mind in the process. What is wrong with you? We have to stick together.”

  “Really? Because where I’m standing, you ain’t backing me up, bro.”

  “What? Were you expecting me to go charging over to that bastard’s over-the-top, high-tech fucking mansion and demand Izzy back? Huh? Is that what you really want? Because that would be like sending me to the motherfucking lions. They are expecting us. Something. They will be well-prepared and well-armed. Rushing in there will only lead to the kind of devastation you encountered last time. You know, when all our fucking men and money were lost.”

  “Well let’s go together. You, me, and as many men as we can hire. I need her back. There’s no ifs, ands, or buts when it comes to Isabelle. God only knows what that fucking freak has done to her already.”

  “I understand, Brax. I mean I get it. Time is of the essence. But time is also our enemy.”

  I snarl at him with disgust. “Stop with all the bullshit. I tell you what. I’m outta here. You call me when you’re ready to take this shit seriously.” Turning away from him, I block out the words he yells at me as I leave. I grab my jacket hung by the door, patting the pockets as I check for my keys. Reaching in, I retrieve them as I open the door, storming out toward my bike. My hands shake uncontrollably and I’m not sure if it’s the pain I feel throughout my body, or the anger. Either way, I have to pull myself together and work out a plan. One that doesn’t include Carter.

  Jumping on the bike, I start the engine, and pull away hastily, revving the engine noisily. Somehow the noise it makes resembles the way I feel. I want to yell. I want to scream. I want her back and I expected his help. My partner. Someone who has been more than just a friend for years. But no. All he can think of is making the next deal. Making more money. Well, there’s no price on the love I have for Izzy. That fucker is priceless and I will walk through hell if it means I get to spend the rest of my life with her.

  I pull into the driveway of my home; dread sits heavily in the pit of my stomach. This is where I last saw her. This is where the fucker shot me. I shudder as I jump down from my bike, making my way to the front door. I need more security. I need to be smart. What if they return? I need to be ready for them.

  Reaching upward, I push my key into the lock. My eyes scan the floor for any evidence of what took place here. But I can’t see anything. No traces of blood, nothing out of place. I turn and lock the door, dropping the bolt, just to be safe. I place my hand over the wound on my stomach; the pain is now at its worst. Shuffling over into the kitchen, I notice that everything seems so clean and tidy. Someone has been here. My phone is on the countertop, a small piece of paper wedged beneath it. I lift my cell, pressing the button, lighting the home screen. Missed calls and text messages flash up on the screen, and I immediately check through the names, hoping to see her name. My shoulders slump and I let out a huge sigh when her name doesn’t appear in the list. Slamming the phone down against the counter, I reach for the small piece of lined paper. Opening it, my eyes narrow on the words scribbled onto the paper. I read the letter, then crumple it up and throw it in the trash can. Fucking Tara. Telling me she’s cleaned up the mess. Shit, she must still have a key. Grabbing the phone, I start looking at local security companies, while searching for some damn painkillers. Rifling through cupboard after cupboard, I finally locate some Tylenol. I pop open the bottle, allowing the pills to drop into the palm of my hand. I open my mouth, throw back my head and allow the pills to drop in, before downing them with a gulp of water. I don’t know how many pills were there, I’m just hoping that it takes the fucking edge off. I have shit to do. Important fucking shit, and right now I can’t think of a damn thing, other than the stomach-splitting pain. I stagger back into the living room, dropping down onto the couch. I can’t help but grimace as the pain increases with every damn movement of my body. I feel so damaged, so damn weak, and that feeling alone is fucking killing me. I can’t be weak. Isabelle needs me to be strong. I fist the side of the couch, my arm resting over my eyes as I try to force back the dwelling frustration just waiting to burst through to the surface. I feel like an explosion waiting to happen. My heart is broken and my mind is so fucked up with hate and frustration that I’m struggling to hold it together. I have to take my mind off things. I have to make plans. I roll over on my side, my body falling from the couch as I land on all fours. Unconventional I know, but so much easier for my fragile body right now. I use my hand to push me up from all fours and slowly make my way to the counter, grabbing my phone.

  Calling everyone I need, I set up a plan. I have someone coming to change the locks and improve the security. No fucker will ever make it to my door again once I have it all in place. Secondly, I’ve arranged a meeting. One that cou
ld change my life forever, but one that needs to happen if I ever stand a chance of finding Isabelle and bringing her home. I rest my head back, the meds slowly starting to take effect. I’m tired, and so is my body. Placing my head back against the sofa, my eyes close almost instantly. All I can think of is her. Isabelle. Me and her together, under the tree was the single best moment of my life. How we lay there, without a thought or care in the world. Just us. Together, the way I’d dreamt for so fucking long. I swipe my hand across my chin as I remember how her fine white-blonde hair tickled my chin as it stuck to the dark stubble that lines it.

  An unexpected, loud knock snaps me from my daydream. I shoot upright, immediately regretting it, clutching my hand to try to stem the shooting pain in my stomach. “Fuck,” I growl, using my free hand to elevate me from my seated position. I hobble over to the door, expecting to see the security company, only to find it isn’t them.

  I should have known she would come around. Dropping the lock, I open the door, my hand resting just beside the frame.

  “Lynette, what the fuck do you want?”

  “Where is my daughter?” she roars, her voice loud but shaking. Her eyes are narrowed on me and her lips are pressed together. “Well?” she asks, her arms flailing into the air.

  “You actually care now, do ya?” I snap back, pressing my hand against the door in an attempt to close it.

  “Oh no, you don’t.” She stomps her foot out in front of her, blocking the door from closing. “I want answers, and I want them now,” she demands. “She should’ve stayed away from you. I tried telling her, I tried to get her to listen, but she wouldn’t, would she? Oh no. All she remembers is the handsome young boy she was infatuated with. She doesn’t know the real you, does she, Brax? She was so blind to it. The crime, the murders, she was just so unaware. You took advantage of that. You got inside her head. If you really loved Isabelle, you would have left her alone, allowed her to find her own happiness. And now what? She’s caught in the middle of your war with some other psycho.”

  “That psycho had nothing to do with me. He came back for her.”

  “But you were dealing drugs with him?” she asks, tilting her head to the side as she questions me with her narrow eyes. “So you must’ve already known this guy? Huh? You two were friends?”

  “No, that’s not how this shit works, Lynette. I’d never met the guy before I turned up to do business. This was all set up by Carter,” I reply, annoyance lacing my tone. I’m quickly getting fed up with having to answer to the world’s shittiest mother—besides my own of course.

  “Interesting,” she replies, tapping her index finger against her chin. “So Carter must be involved somehow.”

  “If he was, he would be dead. It’s that simple. He understands how important finding Isabelle has been to me.” I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. “Listen, Lynette. I really don’t have time for your bullshit right now. I have business to take care of. Your daughter needs me.”

  “How do we know she’s even alive?” She raises her voice again. “You let him take her. You did nothing to stop the bastards. Have you any idea what she must be going through…” Her words trail off as she clamps her hand across her mouth, stifling a cry. I watch as tears swell in old-looking eyes, and I can’t help but think the emotion she’s displaying is real.

  “I didn’t stop them, no. You’re right about that. But I took a bullet trying.” I lift up my shirt, revealing the huge dressing that covers my wound. “I would have died trying to protect her.”

  I watch as she closes her eyes slowly, her head dipping in agreement. “I can’t deny how much you love my daughter, but what I also can’t deny is that you’re no good for her. Trouble follows you, Brax. She deserves better than this, better than us.”

  Cocking my head to the side, I’m amazed by the words that fell from her mouth. “I think that’s the most truthful thing you’ve ever said.”

  “I don’t care what you think about me, about how I raised my daughter. All I care about is her having her freedom, whether I’m a part of that freedom or not.” She lets out a deep breath, her chest heaving as she does. She drops her head, her eyes focusing on the ground. “Did anyone think to call the police? They have the power to bring her home.”

  “And say what?”

  “The truth, Brax. That she’s being held against her will, by this… uh… by this madman.”

  “We can’t get the police involved. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Dangerous for who?” she asks, her eyes burning into me. “Dangerous for you and Carter; you selfish son of a bitch.”

  “No,” I say, taking a step closer to her. “Dangerous for Izzy. Alvrez is dangerous and clever. He’ll cover his tracks. Hell, he didn’t become the criminal he is because he’s careless. It’s because he will already have a plan. Shit, you don’t understand how this works.” I push my hand through my rough hair that hasn’t been washed for days. “I promise you, here and now, I will do every-fucking-thing it takes to make sure Isabelle comes home and is safe. They think I’m dead. They won’t expect the shit I have planned for those motherfuckers.”

  “I don’t care about your revenge plans, Brax. Just bring her home.”

  Nodding my head, I watch as she turns and walks away from me. I pause, my eyes following her as she walks down the drive and away from my house. If I say I’m surprised, it would be a huge understatement. She was the last person I expected to see. I close the door, my mind tumbling with a thousand ideas on how the hell I can save Izzy. I walk up the staircase, my hand grabbing the railing as I pull myself up. I stop at the top, my breathing all over the fucking place, and my own body giving out on me pisses me off. I need to be stronger than I’ve ever been, but I’m weak. The weakest I’ve ever felt. I continue into the bedroom, dropping to my knees and pulling out the metal case from under my bed. I flip the clips, opening the lid to grab my handgun. Loading it with bullets, I push it into the band of my jeans. Closing the lid. I slip the case back underneath the bed, feeling a little more at ease now that I’m armed. Another knock on the door causes me to rush back to my feet, but my head is spinning and it stops me for a second, hoping the dizziness will clear. Whoever is at the door knocks for a second time. “I’m coming,” I yell out, letting them know someone is home. It has to be the security guys. Slowly, I make my way downstairs and over to the door, stopping to catch my breath. I open the door, only to see Tara standing in front of me.

  “Oh Jesus,” I moan with an exaggerated roll of my eyes. “What the fuck do you want? I’m busy.”

  “I’ll help you,” she says with a smile. “You gonna let me in?”

  “No,” I say as I start to close the door on her.

  “Please,” she cries out. “I heard what happened with Carter and I want to help. You need my help.” She sighs loudly, her palm pressed flat against the door.

  “I’m expecting someone. I don’t have time for this…”

  “Time for what?” she interjects. “I’m genuinely here to help you, even if you are an asshole.”

  “Why though? If I’m the asshole you say I am, why are you here?”

  “I don’t know,” she says, her arms flying into the air. “Maybe it’s fate, maybe it’s my good nature. All I know is when Carter told me what happened between you two, I knew I had to get over here and see that you were okay.”

  “So, you’ve seen what you came to see. Now leave.” I step toward her, placing my hand on her shoulder, pushing lightly to get her to back the fuck up. But she doesn’t move.

  “I think this,” she gestures with her hand toward me, “this is proof enough that you’re not okay. Look at you, Brax. You’re as white as a ghost and you look like shit. Let me help you. You rest, I do whatever it is that needs to be done. Let. Me. Help. You.”

  I look at her, pausing for a second before stepping back. “You better come in.” I try to force a smile, but it doesn’t work. She laughs and the sound fills my empty home and I can’t deny it’s a good soun
d. It replaces the voices in my head, the memories that hurt so deep in the pit of my stomach. I struggle over to the couch, dropping down heavily, letting out a huge, pent-up breath. I rest my head back, my arm covering my eyes as I try to get a handle on the pain. “Make sure the door is locked,” I say, my voice low and scratchy as I strain for it to be heard.

  “Got it,” she replies in an upbeat tone. I stretch back, positioning myself comfortably on the couch. My eyelids are heavy; a haze takes over my consciousness as I feel myself drifting into sleep.

  A cool hand against my warm skin jolts me awake.

  “What… who…” My eyes search my surroundings in an attempt to work out what the fuck is happening.

  “It’s just me, Brax,” she coos. “The security guys have been here. Everything is done. You’ve been out for hours.” A little chuckle escapes her and my eyes land on her smiling face just in front of mine.

  “What?” I croak, pushing myself up, unable to believe that I could sleep through that.

  “Yep, all done,” she says, stepping back and sitting on the coffee table. She slowly crosses her legs, resting her clasped hands on her kneecap.

  “Shit,” I murmur, swinging my legs off the couch and against the wooden floor. I stand up slowly, expecting more pain than I actually feel. I move my stiffened body over to the door. Sure enough, it has new locks. I side step, looking through the window to see the huge metal fence and gate that is now placed around the perimeter. “He left these,” she interrupts me, holding up a clear bag containing three key fobs. “You need these. It's the only way you can get in and out of the premises.”

  Nodding, I take the bag from her hand, making my way over to the screen now positioned by the door. It has a camera and shows clear pictures of who is at the gate.

  “There’s one of those upstairs too,” she adds, stubbing her thumb over her shoulder. I nod, pursing my lips together.

  “What’s wrong? Are you angry I didn’t wake you?”

  “Fuck no! I feel better for the nap. As long as the job is done that’s all that matters.”