Skin Deep (Wounded Hero Series) (18 page)

They all knew Zane was right, Butch was going to have to come to terms with the ultimate betrayal, and this one cut deep. Daniel looked at Dillon and he could see that his friend was hurting in the worst possible way. His woman was out there somewhere with a mad man and he was helpless to do anything about it. Daniel knew exactly how he felt. He had been there and it was a total head fuck. Dillon was the most focused person he knew; when it came to a mission Dillon checked and double checked each and every detail. He was always able to distance himself for the emotional aspect of the mission. Daniel could see that his friend was in deep shit.

Suddenly Archer spoke up for the first time, everyone focused on him. “I don’t know about anyone else but I’m hungry. If you don’t mind, I thought I would fix us something to eat.” Archer’s simple statement seem to bring them all around. “I’m not hungry but knock yourself out. I’m going to watch that tracker and make sure our boy is not on the move again.” Dillon turned and headed toward the desk; he sat down and looked at the screen and the flashing red dot. That damn dot represented his whole world.

Archer headed for the kitchen and Zane was right behind him. Daniel stayed behind to talk to Dillon. “We are going to get her back, because failure isn’t an option.” Dillon looked up at his friend, and for the first time since he was a kid, he wasn’t sure of anything. He was afraid that the outcome wouldn’t been a good one. What if he failed her
again and that failure cost Camille her life? How the hell was he suppose to live with that?

“I... I’m not sure.” Daniel held up his hand. “Don’t you fucking do that, I need the cocky SOB that I know you can be. Front and center. I know this is hard and your mind is going over all the ifs. I need you to be tight and do what you do best.”  Dillon looked at his best friend and knew he was right, if he fell apart now it wouldn’t help Camille. “You’re right.” Daniel nodded and headed for the door. Dillon ran his hand over his face and hoped like hell he could do this. Because he wasn’t sure he could. He’d never felt such sheer and utter impotence in his entire life. All the rescue missions he’d been involved in should have prepared him for this. The thing was it was totally different when the person you had to save was the one person who meant the most to you. This wasn’t just any mission. They had Camille, she was his light. This was a defining moment in his life. It was as if something snapped deep inside him, in that moment everything was clear. The fear was replaced with resolve, that part of himself that he always tried to keep in check. Came to the forefront. For the first time he embraced that dark side of himself, it had helped save his life on more than one occasion. Now it was going to save Camille. For her he would sell his soul to the devil if it meant getting her back safe and sound. He was good with the blood he was going to have to shed. 

Trace was washing his hands in the kitchen sink when Xavier walked in. “How is our patient?” Trace looked over his shoulder at
Xavier; he was beginning to hate the other man. The only thing that kept him focused was the money. “She’s in bad shape but she will be ready when the time comes.” Trace turned and pulled a towel off the rack and began drying his hands. Xavier regarded him closely. I didn’t realize our little friend was back he said as he watched Trace carefully. “If you have something to say about what I did. Go ahead.” Xavier smiled as he thought to himself; Trace was so much like him when he was that age. He knew without being told that something very bad happened to Trace, something unspeakable. It was those horrors that made the man standing before him now.

“I suppose it was only a matter of time, let’s not give it another thought. I have some news to share with you. We will be having a
visitor; he should arrive in the morning. I would like for you to stay with the girl until I need her.” Trace knew better than to ask any questions, he nodded and walked past Xavier. He would check on Camille again.

When Trace was gone, Xavier walked over to the sink and looked out of the window to the large barn that sat directly behind the old farm house. He thought about the way things would play out in the coming hours, he hadn’t been able to talk his client out of making the trip. There was something different about his client, something he couldn’t put his finger on. He would adjust his
plans accordingly. He’d known what Mason was up to and he had planned to let him have his fun, but the little deviant was like a cat that had to toy with its prey before killing it. He wouldn’t spare him anymore thought. That’s what happened when you had poor impulse control. He had to stay the course, to avenge his death.

Trace unlocked the bedroom door and stepped inside, Camille was showered and dressed in the clothes Xavier had for her. She still didn’t look good. “I brought you something to eat; it might make you feel better.” Camille sat on the side of the bed, watching him carefully. “I’m not hungry.” Trace walked forward and sat the plate of food on the nightstand next to the bed along with a glass of milk. “You need to eat to get your strength back.” Camille gave him an incredulous look. “Why do you care about me getting my strength back?” she asked sounding agitated. Trace walked over to the window and pulled the dusty curtain back, so he could peer out of the dirty window. His back was to her.

“I know a little something about what
you’re feeling; you see I am a victim of rape... I was eight the first time that bitch of a mother of mine; let her dealer have me in exchange for what she owed him. After that it was a regular occurrence, him his friends anyone who wanted to take a turn. I was glad when Butch came for me, after two years of being used sexually like that, I felt like I was dead inside. I still feel dead inside. I couldn’t tell Butch because he would have looked at me differently. Like I was damaged goods, I couldn’t stand that. I looked up to him, wanted to be like him in some ways. So I killed her, I slipped back into the states on leave and I went to her drug dealer and brought the purest stuff he had. Then I killed him and went to see her, I told her I had a surprise for her. I watched that dirty bitch shot up for the last time. I looked into her eyes when she took her last breath and I made sure she knew I was the one sending her to hell.” He stood there looking out of the window at nothing at all. Camille was the first person he had ever told his story to. He wasn’t sure why he felt compelled to tell her, maybe it was because she wouldn’t live long enough to tell anyone else.

When he turned around she was looking at him, but what he saw wasn’t what expected. In her big brown
eyes he saw compassion. “I’m sorry that happened to you, no one deserves that.” He nodded unable to speak around the lump in his throat. Finally when he was able to speak he told her to eat, and then he turned and left the room. He stood outside the door. She hadn’t shown him pity. Even that damn shrink Butch had sent him to, seemed to pity him even though he never told Butch anything about what happened to him. After telling Camille she still had compassion for him. How was it possible? That someone could actually feel something other than pity or disgust for him. He had no conscience to speak of, and loyalty was just as foreign to him as motherly love. He shook his head to get rid of the thoughts that seemed to come from nowhere. Along with the emotions that went along with them. Anger and rage, those emotions he understood. Anything else was foreign to him. Those kind of emotions seemed to elude him. He became very good at pretending he felt emotions. It was the pretending that kept his true identity from everyone, even Butch.

Camille sat on the side of the bed, she was still trying to wrap her mind around the story he told her. She felt profound sadness for him. No child should ever have to experience what he had. Something like that changed a person, it had the ability to warp their sense of right and wrong it was obvious Trace had no conscience. None of them knew who he really was or what he was truly capable of. God, how had her life come down to this? She knew that Dillon, Daniel, Zane and Butch would stop at nothing to get her back, but at what cost? The last few weeks where the best of her life despite everything that was going on. Dillon loved her, she could die knowing that. It was all she ever wanted and for a brief moment in time, she had it.

Chapter Eleven

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Butch was up early, he hadn’t slept at all. He was still trying to think of what he could have done differently with Trace. He should have pushed to know what those fucking addicts had done to him. Even the shrink wasn’t able to get anything out of Trace. She was sure that Trace had been abused in some way. The signs where there. He was ten when Butch took him from his Heroin addicted mother. Trace became agitated anytime Butch mention taking him to a doctor to check him out. Where was Trace’s loyalty? How could he do this to Dillon and Camille? They had been nothing but good to him; treating him like family.

He jammed the filter into the coffee machine, added the coffee and water then started it. Everyone would be up soon and the tracker on Trace’s truck hadn’t moved. He gathered his gear together. He needed to admit, he was hurt and the feeling of betrayal was like a sour taste in his mouth. His own personal code was clear. He would die before he betrayed those he considered his family. He tried to teach Trace that code. It was obvious now that he had severely failed.

Archer was the first to come in. He was dressed in all black, the standard issue long sleeve black tee shirt, black cargo fatigues and black combat boots. Along with the uniform he was armed with one Sig on his hip and a large, deadly looking hunting knife. Behind him was Zane who had his rifle case along with the twins, his two Beretta pistol’s on each hip. Next was Dillon and Daniel. One look at Dillon and Butch knew he hadn’t slept any better than he had. There was something different about him the fear and worry that was there the night before was gone. It was replaced with a dead calm. If there was any doubt about where his head was, that was gone. Butch made a platter of sandwiches along with coffee. Each man eat and drank coffee, no one said much while they were eating. It was about efficiency, they needed to be focused. An empty stomach was never a good idea. Once they were finished. They all gathered in Dillon’s office.

Butch started. I’ve been watching the tracker the truck hasn’t moved all night. I printed out a lay out of the farm and the surrounding land. I’ve checked and double checked all our equipment were set.  He looked at Dillon as he unrolled the large map on a table. “Here’s the layout. It’s a very remote area, no other houses for miles. There is a tree lined ridge that will be the best place for Zane to set up shop. Myself and Archer will take up point in the field across the road. Our best shot at this is to hike in on foot.” Daniel and Dillon looked at Butch. Dillon was the first to speak up. “Have you been up all night working on this?” Butch met Dillon’s gaze. “Yeah, I have. This will
work; it covers the front and back. If Xavier decides to do this in that barn in back of the house, Archer and I can move in closer it will give us a better vantage point. We will all ride in together, then you will drop us off about four miles out and we will cover the rest on foot. Zane and I can cover the four miles in no time, I don’t know about Archer.” he said as he looked at Archer.  Everyone turned to look at Archer who hadn’t said much so far. He met their gazes. “Don’t worry about me, I can keep up.”

Dillon nodded his approval. “Okay let’s all check our weapons, make sure we have everything. We’ll meet back here in thirty minutes.” Zane walked over to Butch and clapped his large hand
on his friends shoulder. No words pasted between them, everything was unspoken. Butch nodded it was obvious he was barely holding it together. When everyone was gone except for Dillon, Butch busied himself by rolling up the map and stuffing it in his backpack. Dillon’s deep voice quietly calling his name got his attention. He turned to face Dillon, the emotion showing on his face. “Are you alright? It doesn’t look like you got much sleep last night.”  Butch looked into the eyes of one of his best friends. What he expected to see wasn’t there. Instead what he saw was concern and that seemed to bring him up short. “Don’t look at me like that, I would rather you hit me or yell at me.” Dillon understood where his friend was coming from, and in his shoes he would feel the same way. “This isn’t your fault, I don’t blame you. Let’s put the blame where it needs to be. Right now I don’t have the energy. I trust you with my life and with Camille’s life that hasn’t changed. Let’s get through this and get her back.”

Dillon watched as Butch struggled with his emotions. In the end Butch nodded and pulled himself together. He knew his friend needed to know that nothing had changed between them because of Trace. Dillon thought about it long and hard and the truth was simple, nothing had changed. He knew he could trust Butch, that his friend would never betray him. Butch needed to hear that just as much as Dillon needed to say it. Their friendship had endured many situations, which under the right circumstances would have sent them all in different directions. Their bond was absolute. Each man would give his life for the other. They would get past this.

“Come on Butch let’s get this show on the road.” Dillon turned and was heading for the door. When Butch called his name. He stopped but didn’t turn around. “Thanks.” Was all that Butch could manage without completely making a fool of
himself? Dillon nodded and walked out of the room without another word.