Protecting Mari (Special Forces: Operation Alpha) (Counterstrike Book 1)

by Cara Carnes

  “Is she…” She let the question trail off. Way, way too invasive.

  He froze his movements. Intensity reflected in his gaze when he looked at her. “She’s alive. She’s in a facility in Boerne, a private one Milo and I had formed with our trust accounts while we were in the service.”

  A facility. Mari’s stomach churned. She forced the words poised on her tongue back, and waited through the silence as he continued making cocoa.

  “She has Chronic Traumatic Encephalopathy, or CTE. It’s happens with athletes, veterans, or anyone who sustains repetitive brain trauma. It didn’t start appearing until a few years after she’d finally gotten away from him, just when her life was finally turning around.” He turned, put the pot on the stove and turned it on. “That was several years ago. By the time Milo and I graduated high school, it’d progressed to early onset dementia. She made us promise we’d live the lives we wanted and not focus on her.”

  “Oh, God.” Mari swallowed, unsure what else to say.

  “Don’t let him win. You three living life to its fullest despite him is a win for us all. Make him pay. That was her request to all three of us,” Ethan said as he cleared his throat. “Milo is the public speaker of the family. He’s spoken at many functions over the years, shared Mom’s story. Ours. Sharing the story is testimony for her.”

  “Please tell me the bastard is dead,” she said. She fisted her hands on the bar in front of her and held her breath as she waited for his answer.

  “Blood thirsty,” he said with a grin. “I like it.”

  “Is he?”

  “No, but Milo and I ruined him. It took some doing, and too long for Mom to fully understand she’d finally well and truly won the war she’d fought for years. We didn’t enter the final stage of our plans until we were out of the service. By then, the trust funds set up by our mother were turned over to us.” He took Mari’s hand. “She was wealthy, very much so. He was from an affluent family. The marriage was a societal one arranged by her parents, back when the rich did that sort of thing.”

  “That’s horrible.”

  “Counterstrike is for her. We fight abusers, but we also fight social injustice. Anyone fighting a bigger dog in the yard deserves someone at their back. That’s what we do.”

  “You’re amazing,” she whispered. “What you and Milo and Jen are doing is amazing.”

  “No.” He shook his head and squeezed her hand. “What Mom did to get us away was amazing. All we’re doing is following the lighted path she carved out. Counterstrike was her idea—one she shared long ago, over cups of hot cocoa. Back then, justice and freedom were illusive dreams, but we never stopped dreaming. Because she wouldn’t let us.”

  “She’s an amazing woman,” Mari declared. One who’d escaped and gotten her three babies out. Safe.

  Thank God I never had kids.

  Mari suppressed the thought, ashamed that she’d had it just now. Mary felt as though she’d trampled on what his mom had survived by being grateful she’d never had children.

  Chester had wanted to.

  He’d tried forcing the issue many times. Fortunately there were lots of clinics with the three-month birth control shot. She’d gotten smart early on and kept the pills around as a smokescreen.

  She cleared her throat as he gave her a cup of hot cocoa. She’d never been much of a fan, but suddenly nothing sounded better than a warm, steaming cup of sweet, chocolatey goodness in the dead of night. Especially one shared with a hot, sexy, kind, and considerate man.

  Chapter 6

  “What do you mean I can’t go to work?” Mari stared at Ethan and Milo. They were crazy. “I have to work. Work pays my bills. Work keeps me sane. I need work.”

  Mari stared down at the uniform she’d salvaged from the pile of stuff Twitch and a couple other men she hadn’t met yet had brought from her apartment. She was wrinkled and running at least a good fifteen minutes late, which meant she had zero time for this conversation.

  “Look, I understand what you’re saying, but I’m going to be in a public place. Trust me, at least five hundred people will be in and out of that coffee shop while I’m there. No one will be able to mess with me,” she promised.

  “It’s not a good idea,” Ethan said, his voice calm even though his eyes cut to his brother, as if silently asking for backup.

  “He’s right. Stay away at least one more day, then we’ll figure out a protection detail.”

  “A protection detail?” She looked over at Jen, who sat at the small dining room table.

  The woman glanced up. “Oh, right. Work. They’re right, Mari. It’s not a good idea to go to work yet, but they’re also wrong. I understand you need the routine and normalcy work offers. And the money doesn’t hurt either.”

  Mari crossed her arms and watched the brunette stand and get into position in front of her brothers.

  “One man outside the shop just in case,” Jen said.

  “Two inside at all times,” Ethan countered.

  “Pfft.” The brunette crossed her arms. “You know that won’t fly. One inside.”

  The two men looked at one another. Milo shrugged.

  “Fine, but I’m going.”

  “No, you aren’t. You are both needed here and at the safehouses. Those Arsenal folks don’t mess around.”

  “Twitch and Milo can handle them,” Ethan said.

  “I was up at five a.m. this morning with those women going over plans and details. Then I schlepped my ass around town rousing little kids and scared mommas out of their beds and out the door without breakfast in their bellies so our safehouses were emptied out. Do you know how many McDonalds I’ve been to today? Do you know how many eggs I’ve scrubbed off little faces?” Jen put a hand on her hip. “Too many, Ethan Evans Davenport. So you’re on installations with Milo and Twitch and everyone else. Send Chatter.”

  “Chatter?” Milo asked, a smile on his face. “Why him?”

  “Because he’s Chatter,” Jen shouted. “This conversation is over. She’s going to work and Chatter will take her. We’ll discuss her schedule for the rest of the week later, after we get those babies back in their beds and their mommas calmed down—something you two Casanovas are doing cause I’m up to my eyeballs in momma attitude and baby spittle. I handle legal briefs, not baby briefs.”

  “You mean diapers?” Ethan asked. “They’re diapers, sis.”

  “Shut it. This conversation is over,” Jen said. She looked over at Mari. “I’ll text Chatter. He’ll pick you up in a few minutes.”

  Mari understood how Chatter got his nickname ten minutes into the ride to the coffee shop. He hadn’t uttered a word. And he was huge. At least six foot six with thick, corded muscle.

  Six hours into her supposed five-hour shift and he’d muttered a whopping ten words. She and Francine had a pool going with the two cooks on the grill. Mari had assumed he’d be forced into conversation at some point, but so far he’d maintained radio silence despite Francine’s many, many attempts at dragging him into conversation.

  Mari almost felt sorry for Chatter. He sat at the smallest, ricketiest table in the small eatery because it was the one closest to her at the register. His long torso was leaned back against the wall and although his eyes were shut, she suspected he was aware of every movement within the coffee house.

  She’d survived another shift.

  She breathed a sigh of relief when Francine latched the door closed and flipped the open sign over to display closed. The perky blonde trundled over on her four-inch wedges, grasped Mari’s arm and squeezed.

  “Okay, I was good and waited all shift to get answers. Spill. What happened to your poor face?” The girl’s blue eyes shimmered with unshed tears.

  Mari had bypassed explanations when she’d arrived when Chatter’s first gruff word boomed within the small coffee shop. Later. It’d been the only word necessary to get every employee far, far away from Mari.

  She glanced over at Chatter, whose deep, black eyes penetrated her. The man
was beyond intense. Hell, he likely snacked on intense for fun.

  “Someone broke into my place,” Mari said.

  “Oh my God!” Francine touched Mari’s face gently. “You poor thing. Do you need a place to stay? You can crash with me. That’d be fun. We could stay up all night and gab and I’ll show you how to use makeup to cover your bruises. I learned all about that growing up cause my sister was always fighting.”

  Mari couldn’t help but laugh. She’d never spent much time around the peppy, younger woman. She was working her way through part-time college classes “one java at a time” and had very little in common with Mari.

  But she’d just offered her a place to stay.

  “Thank you. That’s very sweet, but I’m covered.” She glanced over at Chatter.

  “Oh. My. God. Is he your boyfriend?” The woman shrieked the inquiry. Chatter chuckled and shifted in his seat. Arms crossed, he watched.

  “No, he’s a friend of a friend.” Mari lowered her voice. “Come on, let’s get to work on those dishes so we can get out of here. I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to call it a day.”

  “I’d imagine so! You’re likely exhausted from yesterday’s ordeal.”

  Mari didn’t offer comment. She was tired, but not nearly as tired as she’d been for months. Hell, years. Ethan had not only kept her head above the proverbial troubled waters, but he’d kept vigil at her side.

  Cocoa.

  She still tasted phantom dregs of the sweet concoction on her tongue, or she pretended to at least. They’d sat on the sofa in the living room and chatted about nonsensical stuff until her mind moved beyond the break-in, past the attack, and invested fully in getting to know Ethan.

  Mari got to work scrubbing pots and pans leftover from the late evening dinner crowd. Even though they primarily sold coffee, they also offered a limited menu of grilled items.

  “There you are.” Cindy’s voice punctured Mari’s happy bubble.

  To say Cindy was a spiteful bitch of a boss was an understatement. Mari swiped her hand on her sweaty brow and stood fully. Soapy water dripped from both her hands.

  “The police were here earlier today asking questions about you.”

  Oh God.

  “Did you get arrested?” Cindy asked.

  “No. I told you, someone broke into my apartment and attacked me last night.”

  “Then why were they here asking about you?” Cindy demanded.

  “I’m not sure. Maybe you should ask them.”

  “I’ve had enough of your attitude, Marisol. I’ve been more than patient with you,” Cindy said. Arms crossed, she glowered. “Punch out, go sit in the employee lounge, and wait for me. The police are on their way.”

  “What?” Fear crawled up her throat.

  “What’s wrong?” Francine asked as she exited the walk-in fridge.

  “Get Chatter.”

  “Don’t you dare,” Cindy warned. “That man has no business in this place, much less back here.”

  “Get Chatter,” Mari repeated. “Cindy, I have to go.”

  “You aren’t going anywhere. I called them before we closed. They’re likely almost here. Whatever you did, you aren’t getting away with it.”

  No. No. No. No. No.

  She’d told Ethan she’d be safe here because Chester and his minion friends had never, ever bothered her at work. It was an invisible line she’d started to take for granted. As long as she was at work, she was safe.

  But she wasn’t tonight thanks to Cindy.

  “You don’t understand. My ex-husband is a cop. An abusive asshole.”

  “I don’t care if he’s the King of England. You’re coming with me, punching out, and waiting for the cops.” Cindy grabbed Mari’s upper arm and jerked. Hard.

  Pain ran up her arm and along her shoulder. She moved to push the woman off, but Cindy was gone.

  Chatter stood in front of her glaring at the woman sprawled on the floor.

  “Wow. That. Was. Hot.” Francine’s declaration knocked a bit of the shock from Mari’s system. What the heck had just happened?

  “Car.”

  The single word was all the order Mari needed. He was right. They needed to get to the car and get the heck away before the cops came. She didn’t need Chatter getting arrested for assaulting her boss and whatever cops who arrived. Mari had no doubt he’d lay them all out if they moved to mess with her.

  She yanked off her apron, grabbed her purse, and moved toward the employee entrance to the café. Blue and red lights swirled. Two police cruisers parked behind the three cars parked in the rear lot.

  Blocked in.

  Adrenaline spiked within her.

  Her pulse thundered in her ears.

  “Stay behind me,” Chatter ordered.

  Mari obeyed. Her knees knocked against one another as two uniformed officers came from the left and another two arrived from the right. Two hovered their hands near their belt as all their gazes remained on Chatter.

  “Sir, step away from the woman with your hands locked behind your head,” one of them ordered.

  “She’s under my protection.”

  “Sir, step away from the woman with your hands locked behind your head,” the officer repeated.

  “Just do it,” Mari pleaded. She didn’t want Chatter riddled with bullets. “Call Ethan. And Jen.”

  “Marisol Santos is under Counterstrike protection. Her attorney is in route. Any move to take her into custody without cause will be deemed a physical threat to her person—one I will react to accordingly.” Chatter’s voice was steely as he stood his ground, hands fisted at his sides. “I will step aside and allow you to proceed once her attorney is present and you have demonstrated probable cause to be here. Or a warrant.”

  “We cannot discuss an ongoing investigation,” one of the officers said.

  “Investigation? About her break-in?” Francine asked, her phone up. “I’m recording this, by the way. Her crazy ex isn’t messing with her anymore. Nuh uh.”

  “Ms. Santos, you need to come with us,” one of the officers said. “Tell them to stand down or we’ll be forced to take them all into custody.”

  “Please try,” Chatter said, a leery smirk on his face as he turned to look at Mari.

  Of all the times for Chatter to start talking, why did it have to be now? Goading the police didn’t seem like a smart move, but she had to admit it gave them pause. They looked at one another warily, as if trying to figure out how to proceed.

  “Call it in,” one of them ordered.

  One of them stepped away. The one who’d issued the order moved forward and motioned for the other two to stand down.

  “I’m Officer Hampton. We’re within our rights to take Ms. Santos in as ordered, but we will wait as you requested. I’m fully aware of Counterstrike and what you do. If she’s under your protection, there’s more going on than we were told.”

  Chatter grunted, interlocking his hands behind his body. Mari took another step forward until she was fully at his side.

  “Behind me,” Chatter growled.

  “You aren’t getting riddled with bullets because of me,” Mari said.

  Officer Hampton’s gaze narrowed when his gaze moved to her. She suspected he hadn’t seen her face yet. None of them had since she’d been hiding behind Chatter.

  “Someone broke into my place last night and attacked me. Is that why you’re here?”

  “No, ma’am. We were asked to bring you in for questioning by the Homicide Division.”

  Homicide? Shock rolled through her system, followed quickly by anger. Chester was in Homicide. He had a hell of a lot of nerve dragging her in.

  “Who the hell did I supposedly murder?”

  “Ma’am, we do not know anything beyond the fact we were asked to bring you in for questioning,” Officer Hampton said.

  “Thank God you all are here. Arrest this man,” Cindy ordered as she shoved her way around Chatter. “He attacked me.”

  “Sir, did you assault t
his woman?” Officer Hampton asked with a sigh.

  “Yes.”

  Shock rippled through the assembled officers. They regarded one another.

  “She touched my charge without permission. I responded after she caused her physical harm,” Chatter said with a shrug. “I may have responded with more force than necessary, but no one harms a woman around me without feeling the consequences.”

  “I did not assault her, and I certainly did not harm her,” Cindy spat angrily. “He’s lying.”

  “You grabbed her arm,” Francine said. “I saw it my own damn self. And you yanked her. Hard.”

  “Is that true?” Officer Hampton asked.

  “Yes,” Mari said. “I bruise easily. You can probably see her hand print bruising my arm soon enough.” If it weren’t for the other ones already there. She forced the thought aside and looked at the officer. “I’d really, really like to go home, sir. Please. I promise I’ll go to the station with my attorney first thing in the morning. I’m tired, my body hurts, and I can’t deal with anything else today.

  “I’m afraid letting you leave isn’t an option, ma’am, but we’ll wait for your attorney.”

  “Ma’am, is one of these men the one who assaulted you last night?”

  Mari blinked and rubbed her eyes as Detective Higgs set a piece of paper with six pictures in front of her. Although exhaustion blurred her eyes slightly, it took less than two seconds for her to spot the bastard. The center bottom one.

  But he looked…

  Her stomach pitched. Words formed on the edge of her tongue, but she didn’t let them out. Instead, she reached over and squeezed Ethan’s hand. Terror crawled up her throat.

  “What’s wrong?” He leaned in. “If you don’t recognize him, that’s okay. We’ll find him either way. I promised you he’d pay.”

  Oh God. No. No. No. No. No.

  Whatever sick game Chester had been playing with her had just entered the next level of hell. She swallowed and forced the words out. “I need a moment alone with my attorney.”

  Jen tensed beside her. “You heard my client.”