Skin Deep (Wounded Hero Series) Read online

  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 mil
es 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.

  Trace noticed that Xavier seemed nervous, he had been busying himself all day. Each time Trace asked about the visitor, Xavier became increasingly more agitated. So he left him alone and tended to Camille. She wasn’t having the seizures anymore. Xavier had instructed him to have her cleaned up and ready for their guest’s arrival. This wasn’t part of the plan, and if there was one thing Trace knew for sure. It was when you deviated from your original plan things got out of control quickly. This wasn’t his show, so he would do what he was told until it affected his plans. He knew that Xavier didn’t plan to leave him alive, he was a loose end. It would have been what Trace would have done if it were him. However, Trace considered himself smart enough to have a backup plan. He put that thought at the back of his mind, there was work to do. He went in to check on Camille. Her color still wasn’t good and she still couldn’t stand without help. All things considered she was still alive and that was saying a lot. Camille looked up when Trace came into the room. He walked over and looked at the tray of food sitting at the end of the bed. The sandwich was half eaten and the chips hadn’t been touched. The glass of milk however was all gone. Trace smiled a little at that. “I’m glad to see you ate a little more this time.” he said watching her closely. I’m still not hungry she said. “Okay, it’s time to get you ready for tonight.” he said keeping his voice casual. As if he was talking about getting her ready for a party or something. He moved toward her and she flinched. Camille, I’m not going to hurt you. I think I’ve proven that already.” Camille looked at him and wondered if anyone really knew Trace at all. It was obvious that he was a total stranger to them all. However he was right he hadn’t hurt her. “I would like to take another shower.” Trace smiled again. “Good that’s what I had in mind and there are clean clothes for you to change into. Come on I’ll help you with your bath.” Camille looked embarrassed. “I think I can manage that on my own.” she said not looking at Trace. She stood and took a shaky step and her knees gave way. Suddenly Trace was there to catch her. He lifted her up into his arms and carried her into the bathroom. He sat her down on the counter and began to unbutton her shirt. Camille put her hand over his to stop him. “Trace I...I can do it please.” She looked up at him searching his face. She was trying to see what his intentions where. Trace seemed to read her mind. “Camille, I just want to help you, this isn’t about sex. If I wanted to rape you, I have had plenty of opportunities for that. I don’t want to leave you alone and then find you face down in that tub.” He let that sink in before he went any further. Camille sighed and moved her hand. She knew that what he was saying was true. When her life ended it wouldn’t be a random accident, it would be at the hands of the man who was paying him. He was right he could have done anything to her; she had been unconscious for hours at a time. Instead he had saved her from Mason raping her.

  Camille turned her head and looked at the wall, as Trace began to unbutton her shirt again. He made quick work of it. She wasn’t wearing a bra, so when the cool air hit her breasts, she could feel her nipples harden. Trace didn’t seem to notice, he lifted her off the counter and sat her on her feet as he began to unfasten her pants and lower them. She heard him tell her to lift her foot. When she was naked before him he turned and started the water in the bathtub. Camille tried to cover her breasts with one hand and then she used the other hand to cover her core. When the tub was full he shut off the water and turned back to her. He moved in and lifted her again, sitting her down in the hot water. Camille closed her eyes and sighed when she felt the hot water hit her skin. It felt like heaven. She flinched when she felt a sponge moving up her arm. She turned her head and looked up at Trace. He met her gaze making sure not to look any place else. “Would you like to do this part yourself?” he asked. Camille nodded her head. He handed her the sponge. He stood up never taking his eye’s from her face. “I will go lay out your clothes. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” Before she could respond he was gone.

  As Camille was enjoying her bath, It reminded her of Dillon and the last time they were together. She missed him and deep down she knew he would find her. The thought of it gave her comfort, but would they survive this. It was that thought that seem to be her undoing. She began to cry, as the hot salty tears streamed down her face, she couldn’t seem to control the profound sense of sorrow that was washing over her, pulling her down into darkness. Her life was going to end in a few short hours, unless Dillon and Daniel could find her and somehow get them all out alive. Her confidence in her lover and brother and their team was without doubt. It was Trace’s unexpected involvement that made this whole situation more difficult. It was obvious that Trace wasn’t going to help her. What really made her blood run cold was the fact that Trace didn’t seem to care. He was unaffected by their relationship. He was perfectly capable of watching Xavier kill them all.

  When Trace entered the bathroom again, Camille was sitting up with her knees pulled up to her chest. She turned to met his neutral gaze. He gave nothing away. He walked over to a shelf in the corner and pulled a towel from it. Walking toward her holding the towel up. “Do you think you can stand on your own?” Before she could answer he closed his eyes and turned his head to the side. Camille put her hands out and grabbed the sides of the claw footed bathtub and stood up. Trace wrapped the towel around her and lifted her out of the tub. He carried her into the bedroom and sat her down on the bed. “I laid out what Xavier wants you to wear he said. Camille turned and saw the black dress lying on the bed. She turned and looked up at Trace, his face showed no emotion.

  “How can you do this to me? You know what’s going to happen. Do you even care? Do you care what this is doing to Butch, he’s done nothing but take care of you. Sacrificing his life so you
had what you needed. I can’t believe you don’t care Trace.” she said in a shaky voice. She tried to tap down the anger she was feeling.

  Trace looked at her; there was something in his eyes. That calm emotionless expression was slipping. “What would you have me say? That I regret how things have played out. Of course this isn’t the way I would have preferred things to happen. Sometimes you have to accept, that if you want your dreams to come true, you have to be able to handle the nasty things. Make no mistake, I won’t lose any sleep. The money will help my conscience, was that what you wanted to know?” Camille looked at Trace and what she saw was a monster. She turned away from him; she couldn’t look at him anymore. “I’ll leave you to get dressed; if you need help I’ll be right outside the door. The makeup is on the nightstand. You know Camille I learned early in life not to put much stock in feelings. I know what and who I am. I can thank that dirty slut of a mother of mine for what I am; I wish this could be different Camille, Because I really like you I guess as much as someone like me can.” he said before he turned and left the room. A cold chill ran down her spine. They had all been blind to the monster he was.