Skin Deep (Wounded Hero Series) Read online

  Zane watched his friend and knew it was killing him, to think that his own flesh and blood could so easily betray them. He knew that if given the chance Butch would do what was necessary. Putting a bullet between the eyes of someone you considered family was something that changed a man. Zane would never let that happen. Just then he looked up and met Dillon’s gaze. Dillon nodded slightly it was such a subtle movement that no one else saw it. In that moment there was an unspoken communication, neither one of them would allow Butch to take the shot. The room was silent as Butch sat back down and began to hit the keys. “I wanted to be able to keep up with him, you know just in case he got into trouble. So I put a tracker on his truck. Bingo I got him. He’s on the move; he’s coming back into town. He’s moving fast.” Butch never took his eyes from the computer.

  Zane stepped behind Butch and watched the little red blinking dot on his computer. Zane looked to Daniel and Dillon. “What do you want us to do?” Dillon hoped that Trace was on his way back to them, but his gut told him that Trace was the only person that could have gotten that close to Camille. She felt no threat that’s how he got her. “Just track him for now; If I was him I wouldn’t have her here in town. Let’s see where he’s going and where he stops. I want everyone ready to go when the times comes.” Each man nodded as Dillon looked at Archer. “This isn’t your fight, and we aren’t turning anyone in to the police so if you have a problem with that, your free to go.” Archer looked at each man, before he spoke up. “I think we all know I travel in and out of the boundaries of the law. I offered because I believe you will need me. So I’m in.” he said. “Okay, Zane you and Butch keep tracking Trace’s truck. Danny, Archer and I will get the gear together.” Archer followed Dillon and Daniel out to the garage. He wasn’t surprised when Dillon flipped a switch on the wall and a hatch opened in the floor. Dillon went first and then Daniel, Archer pulled up the rear. Once they were inside Dillon pushed a button and the small room was bathed in light. Archer knew they were heavy with the military, but what he saw made him feel as though he was a kid in a candy store. The shelves lining each wall had guns, rifles, night vision goggles and ammo along with a shelf with black cargo pants, army boots and black flak jackets and shirts. They had their own army surplus store going.

  “Well, Well this is very interesting, I thought I was a suspicious bastard but I think you have me beat.” Dillon turned to face Archer; the two men stared at each other. “Do you have your own weapons with you? If you don’t take what you need and the camo’s are on the shelf in the corner, we should have your size.” Dillon turned and joined Daniel as he was loading up on his own weapons. He picked two Sig’s and two boxes of ammunition. Archer walked over to the shelf where Dillon said the clothing was. He found black tee shirts, black cargo pants and black combat boots, Dillon was right, they did have his size. They were ready for war and didn’t that suite him just fine.

  Trace had been able to get what he needed; hopefully this would do the trick. He needed to get back; he had no choice but to leave Camille with Xavier and hoped that Mason wouldn’t get back before him. As he concentrated on the task at hand, his mind began to wonder to another time and place. It was four years ago, right after he got back state side. He hadn’t told anyone when he would be back. That give him the time he needed to take care of some loose ends. He arrived in Baltimore and the old neighborhood just after dark. His first trip was to the drug dealer that always supplied his mother with her smack. Julius welcomed him in. As luck would have it he was alone. Trace brought the purest stuff he had and paid top dollar. When Trace walked out of that little rat hole of an apartment, Julius was lying dead on his living room floor with a bullet to the brain. That had been pay back for all the dirty shit that had happened between them. Things that still made his skin crawl if he thought about it long enough. Along with being a drug dealer and pimp he was also a pedophile.

  Once Trace was out in the fresh cold air, he pulled the hood over his head and took the short walk to his old apartment. He was dressed in all black but in his old neighborhood no one noticed anything, He was like a ghost. When he arrived at his old home the building looked no worse for wear, it looked the same and smelled the same. He took the stairs slowly taking everything in. It had been ten years since he last saw his mother or the little shit hole they lived in. The trash that lined the stairs smelled foul and the drunks and drug addicts littered the stairs just like the garbage. The Six flights was nothing for him, he was in the best shape of his life. The music was playing, which meant that his mother was home alone. She had written to him a few times, after there was no reply she stopped. He knocked twice and waited for an answer, if she was true to form the door would be unlocked. Come on in its open. Her voice sent a chill up his spine; it wasn’t the voice of a loving mother. No it was the voice of something evil and foul. Trace looked around before he opened the door. The noise was the same deafening sound he remembered, he could hear people yelling and babies crying and loud music playing. No one would ever know he was there. He turned the knob and let himself in, the lights where dim and the place smell of cigarette smoke and sex. “I’m in the bedroom come on back.” she said in her usual raspy voice. Her speech was slurred so she had undoubtedly started without her date. He walked down the small hallway and the door at the end was her bedroom, the door was ajar and the light cast a glow on the dark hallway. The only thing that had changed in the apartment was him.

  He got to the door and pushed it open with his index finger, there she was lying on the bed. Her hair was gray now and her face was pale and splotchy. Her eyes were wide and glassy, and her lips where cracked and bleeding, she looked like death. She sat up and frowned at him, he waited for the recognition, then she smiled and he saw that half of her teeth were missing. She stood on wobbly legs that looked like tooth picks and she walked over to him. “Tracie baby is that you? Is it really my baby boy?” Trace stood still, even though the urge to turn and run was over whelming.

  “Yeah, Ma it’s me Trace. How you doing?” The woman standing in front of him, the woman who gave birth to him smiled at him and started to cry as he stepped forward she opened her arms. Trace swallowed the bile that was raising in his mouth and stepped into her embrace. She wrapped her skinny arms around his neck. When he returned the hug she felt like a sack of bones. She smelled like decay. “Oh baby it’s good to see you, why didn’t you call and let me know you were coming home?” It was the word home that brought Trace back to his senses. This wasn’t his home and she wasn’t his mother. She was just a crack whore that happen to give birth to him.

  “This isn’t my home anymore; I just wanted to see you one last time.” As the words sank in she stepped back and looked up at him. “That’s no way to talk to me. Come on come sit down and tell me how you’ve been all this time.” Trace shook his head. “I’m not staying, I brought you a gift.” Her eyes narrowed on him. He pulled the package out of his pocket slowly. “I went by to see Julius before I came here. I brought his best stuff just for you.” She smiled and reached her hands out toward him as she began to lick her lips. He placed the package in her hand. She snatched it from him and went to the table next to her bed, that’s where she kept her stuff the Bic lighter and the rusty spoon she used, along with the nasty syringe. As she plopped down on the bed she forgot all about her long lost son. He was a distant memory. Things never changed, the high was always more important than him.

  Trace walked around the bed and kneeled in front of her, as he watched her prepare her fix. She never once looked at him. When the needle was full she sat back on the bed and tied the old belt she used around her upper arm. The sores on her arms were infected. It didn’t stop her she smacked her arm a few times until she found the right vein. It was strange to him she had never been more beautiful than now as she began to shot up the heroin, he had watched her do it a thousand times. This time was different. “Ma, look at me.” She turned her glassy gaze toward him. Trace reached out and loosened the belt, just as her head be
gan to fall back and her mouth was wide open. He knew this was the best fix she would ever have. “Is it good Ma?” She lifted her head and looked at him. “Oh yeah baby it’s the best. You did good by your old mama.” Trace smiled at her and she smiled back. “Good I’m glad because it’s the last fix you will ever have. You see I got the pure uncut stuff and I didn’t cut it.” As his words sank in she looked as if she was seeing him for the first time. Just then her hands began to shake and he could see the pain starting to twist her stomach. “Yeah, that’s for all the times you let that sick bastard Julius and his friends have me for a hit, for all the times you let your boyfriends rape me, for the things they made me do to them. Yeah, I hope you rot in hell you filthy bitch!” As she began the feel the pain she reached out for him and he jumped up and out of her reach. What...What have you done she said before she started to convulse and then her eyes rolled back and she fell to the floor and flopped around like a fish out of water. Trace was mesmerized he couldn’t take his eyes off her. And then she was gone, lying on the dirty rug next to her dirty bed with her eyes wide open and foam coming out of her mouth. Trace breathed a sigh of relief; she was dead by his hand. He turned and walked out of the bedroom and down the hall and out the front door, never looking back. Feeling more free than he ever had before.

  Chapter Ten

  CHAPTER TEN

  Mason rushed back to the house and slipped in without Xavier seeing him, Trace’s car was gone which meant he would have some alone time with their captive before Trace got back. He slipped into the room where Camille was and as soon as he saw her lying on the couch, his cock came to attention. Damn, Xavier for not letting him have some fun, he promised him he would be able to have some fun with her. Well now was as good a time as any. He walked slowly over to her as he took her in from head to toe. He had watched her for years when they were young. Of course she never gave him the time of day; she was too busy chasing after that bastard Dillon.

  As he walked over to her he started to unbutton his shirt, he was going to enjoy this and by the time anyone found out, she would be dead. When he got to the couch he knelt down and ran his short fingers over her lips. It struck him how soft they were. It wasn’t like the corpses he had been having sex with. She was warm and soft, and just for a little while she would be all his. As he continued to stare at her his hand began to move slowly down to her neck, then her chest. Yes he had to touch her. He reached under the lace top she was wearing and found her firm breasts. He pinched her right nipple hard, her eyes flew open and she looked at him. The fear in her eyes was better than anything he could have fantasize about. Camille began to struggle and when she did, he gripped her breast even harder. “You hold still bitch and don’t make a sound or I will kill you, I don’t care about Xavier being mad at me. I’m going to have a little fun with you first.”

  He leaned in and kissed her hard, when he pulled back he bit her lip and she screamed. Mason struck her across the face hard. I told you to be quiet! he screamed at her. Then he ripped her top, exposing her breast. Camille was struggling harder now to get away from him. She dug her heels into the cushions and pushed her body up off the couch. “Please don’t do this, Please.” Mason smiled down at her as he began to undo his pants. “That’s right bitch, I want you to beg for it.” He reached out and untied the rope around her ankles. When he did she kick him as hard as he could in the balls. His scream was a blood curdling sound of pain and rage. “You fucking bitch, you’ll pay for that!” Camille was still trying to retreat when he lunged at her, then he was spun around fast. She saw him drop like a life size puppet. When she looked up she saw Trace standing there with a knife in his hand and blood dripping from the blade. Looking down Mason was lying in a pool of his own blood. Trace had slit his throat from ear to ear.

  When he stepped forward to check on her she began to shake, her sobs where quiet. When Trace reached for her she backed away and started to scream. He kept moving toward her slowly with his hand up in the universal sign of surrender. It was the blood on his hands that made him look sinister. “Camille it’s me and I am so sorry about that, I left to get you some medication. Let me help you.” he said in a calm voice. How could she trust him? He kidnapped her and handed her over to Xavier, knowing that Xavier was surely going to kill her. Camille could feel that strange feeling coming back, it was the same sort of out of body experience she had, right before she had a seizure. “I...I need.” She never finished her sentence, she fell over and started to convulse.

  When Dillon, Daniel and Archer got back to Dillon’s office, Butch was pacing in front of his lap top. He stopped when he saw Dillon and the look on his face said it all. Dillon stood still readying himself for anything. Daniel was the one to ask. “What’s wrong?” Butch had a sick look on his face as if he was going to throw up at any minute. Zane just clapped his large hand on Butch’s shoulder. “We tracked Trace’s truck to a pharmacy, then out of town about three hours to Bakersfield. Butch pulled up the address. It’s an old abandoned farm house hasn’t been lived in for ten years. The funny thing is we couldn’t find anything on the current owner or even if it’s owned by a bank.” Dillon breathed a sigh of relief at least they had a possible location.

  Dillon’s cell started to ring. He answered it on the second ring. “McLaughlin.” The line was dead on the other end. “Hello.” Just as he was about to close his phone he heard the voice. “I’m here; I think you know who I am, so there’s no need for introductions.” Dillon’s knuckles where white from the death grip he had on his cell phone. “Xavier, I want to speak to Camille now.” There was more silence. “I’m afraid that’s not possible right now, I give you my word she is just fine and she will continue to be that way as long as you do what you’re told.” Dillon took a deep breath to calm the rage that was slowly building; he could feel his blood beginning to boil. “How can I be sure she’s alive, you know how this works?” Another pause. “I will let you talk to someone who can confirm that she’s fine.” Dillon stood there waiting and the sick feeling in his stomach was getting worst. The bile left a nasty taste in his month.

  “Dillon it’s me Trace, Camille is fine there was a minor complication, it’s under control.” Dillon’s gaze shot to Butch and then to Daniel. “You sonofabitch! What have you done?” Before he could get an answer, Xavier was back on the line. “Listen to me Mr. McLaughlin, I have shown you my cards, if you want to find out anything else you will do what I tell you, when I tell you. Are we clear?” Dillon began to sweat. “If you hurt her I am going to gut you like a fish, are we clear?” Dillon spat out. There was a low and menacing laugh. “Yes, we are clear. Tomorrow night at seven o’clock you and Mr. Elliott will come to 4208 Simpson Road in Bakersfield. If I see so much as a police sedan cruising by the main road I will kill her, if you get fancy and bring your two other friends I will kill her. This is just between myself and Mr. Elliott, but seeing as I have your lover I will allow you to come along for the ride.” Before Dillon could respond there was a dial tone. Dillon closed his phone and looked directly at Butch. “They have her and Trace is involved, that bastard wouldn’t let me talk to her. Fuck! how can we be sure she’s alive?” he said while he ran his hands through his hair. All the color drained from Butch’s face. “Damn it she’s still alive, she has to be. That sick fuck wants to kill her in front of Daniel to make him suffer.” Butch didn’t say anything else he turned and left the room, Slamming the office door behind him. When Daniel started after him, Zane put up his hand. “Leave him, he has to get his head right. Nothing any of us can say is going to help at this point.”

  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.