Storm Warning (Security Specialists International Book 4) (3 page)

“What kind of deal?” Dev’s voice now had a darker, more feral edge. His hand squeezed her arm, but that was okay since he was angry on her behalf. While Andy’s curses sizzled in the cold air, he gently laid a warm hand on her shoulder, adding his support to his brother’s.

A devil’s deal.

“That Sean could now have me since I’d graduated high school. I guess they’d been making plans for a while.”

DJ looked at her lap and pleated and unpleated Andy’s handkerchief. She was embarrassed. Her father had bartered her away like a piece of property to curry favor with his boss. Dev and Andy had been raised by a decent man who loved his only daughter and would emasculate any man who threatened her well-being. They had to be disgusted. She was disgusted.

“You didn’t report the rape.” Andy’s voice was harsh. “Why not?”

She looked up. Even with all her training and years in the Army, she felt as helpless now as she had ten years ago. “Nothing would’ve been done. The three of them would’ve made me out to be a lying harlot.”

At their looks of shocked disbelief, she reached out a hand, pleading. “You have to understand. The Varneys had—still have—clout in Mingo County, both in money and power. They owned the then-Sheriff,” she let out a hysterical laugh, “just as much as they currently own the office of sheriff.”

She held her breath and clamped her lips shut. If she gave into hysteria now, she didn’t think she could stop and there were still things that needed to be explained … and done tonight.

Several seconds passed, then Dev asked, “What happened after your mom found you?”

She could tell he kept his tone, gentle, calm, to help her settle down. She looked at him and then Andy. “It’s okay, guys. I won’t go all crazy-woman hysterical on you.” Maybe.

“Jesus H. Christ, DJ.” Andy shook his head. “You don’t have to tell us that.” Yeah, she did since she was a flea’s whisker away from losing control. “But, hell, I wouldn’t blame you even if you did. You’ve got cause.”

Dev nodded. “You know you don’t have to face any of this alone any longer, right? We’re here … hell, the whole Walsh family would be here, if needed, to support you.”

And that was why she’d count her blessings every damn day that she’d been present when Dev needed a pilot.

“Now, tell us the rest. How did you get away?” Dev said.

“My father was visiting Donna that night. We were afraid Ed and his men would come looking for me. So, my momma hid me in an out-building and then called my English teacher Mrs. Binkley who got me out of town.” DJ shuddered and pulled her collar up around her neck. “She drove me to her nurse friend in Williamson and got me basic medical treatment. Then Mrs. Binkley had her cousin drive me to Cincinnati and I received more treatment. I lived at the YWCA until I’d healed enough to enlist in the Army and … that’s it.”

A pregnant silence settled over the vehicle.

DJ stared out the window. The snow had slowed a bit, but was swirling in the gusty winds. There was no traffic on the highway. No movement in the parking lot. It was as if she and the two men were alone in a snow-globe-universe of white and cold and dark.

Dev grunted then blew out a breath. “Besides being an employee, what’s your father’s relationship to the Varneys that he’d pimp his only daughter?”

Yeah, that was what her father had done all right. Could it be uglier or dirtier?

DJ couldn’t shake the shame of it all—had tried for years to figure out why her father hated her so much. Fathers were supposed to love and cherish their daughters. Or, at least, that was what she’d learned once she’d escaped from Red Bone.

She looked at the now horribly wrinkled handkerchief and twisted it even more. “My father is Ed’s right-hand man. Ed was … is…”

She shook her head and concentrated on swallowing and breathing past the lump in her throat. Until now, she’d been the victim of her past. What would they think of her when they learned the truth?—That half her DNA came from a degenerate crook.

And the other half comes from an angel incarnate.

“I’m such a wuss.”

“DJ,” Dev rubbed her arm, “you aren’t a wuss.” He leaned over and gave her a brotherly kiss on her cold cheek, his lips so warm she shivered at the difference in temperature.

Andy leaned forward and rubbed her shoulder through her thick shearling coat. “Give yourself a break. You were traumatized at an early age. You received no justice. No counseling. So, you’ve never fully processed the attack. You have post-traumatic stress disorder, not a thing to be ashamed of, but something that must be dealt with.”

“Once you get to Idaho, talk to Keely or Vanko’s wife Elana. Both of them have had similar traumas and deal with PTSD. They’ll listen … help you get you counseling, if you need it.”

Dev slid a finger along her cheek and then tapped the tip of her nose before sitting back in his seat. “So, to review the cluster to this point, your asshat of a father wanted to suck up to his boss and decided to gift his only daughter to the man’s scum-sucking rapist of a son to accomplish that.”

“Yeah, that sums it up.” DJ tilted her head back and frowned at the Jeep’s roof. “When Sean wanted something, his daddy got it for him. For some reason, Sean decided he wanted me all those years ago. Now, he wants revenge … and his daddy and my father will help him get it.”

“Why does fucktard Sean want revenge?” Andy asked.

She laughed, a harsh sound. “Because I’m the reason he wears an eye patch. I managed to hit him in the face with a rock after he…” She couldn’t say the words again. Once was enough. As it was, she’d be sure to have nightmares later, if this godforsaken night ever ended.

“Good for you,” Dev purred the words as Andy muttered, “Serves the fuckwit right.”

“Now, tell us exactly what the Varneys do that provides all their money and clout?” Dev asked.

She snorted. “If it’s illegal, Ed Varney does it.” At Dev’s raised eyebrow and Andy’s gimme-more grunt, she added, “When I lived in Mingo County, Ed ran guns, drugs, and moonshine. I’ve been told he’s expanded his criminal empire to include human trafficking to brothels in the Midwest.”

Her stomach lurched and she swallowed hard at the thought her father could be involved in something so evil and sick as selling humans. Yeah, her paternal genes sucked big time. “No matter who the elected officials might’ve been, Ed oversaw his little part of the world like a
Posse Comitatus.
Do you know what that means?”

“Yeah,” Dev said. “It means some elected official, or any asshat who has lots of political pull, runs roughshod over the area where he lives. Militias tend to be involved most of the time.”

“Exactly. Ed held most of the power in Mingo County while I was growing up,” DJ said. “With Sean as the elected Sheriff, he has solidified his control.”

“Do the Varneys have militia ties?” asked Andy.

“Oh hell yeah. Their unit is an offshoot of Christian Identity, one of the Aryan Nation militias. The unit has reciprocal trading agreements and vows of mutual support with other militias across the United States, including a few in Idaho, Washington State, and Montana.”

DJ eyed the two men. Their expressions were grim. “So, I’m not holding my breath that Sean and my father will never track me and Momma down even after we move to Idaho—if I still have a job after all this comes out. I never told Ren the details of why I left West Virginia and about my family’s criminal ties.”

“Fuck, DJ,” Andy drawled. “Ren won’t hold the Varneys’ and your father’s backgrounds against you. He was happy to get you. Your military training is just what he was looking for in a female operative.”

Andy was being nice. She had no doubt the Walshes had lobbied hard to get Ren to hire her on the basis of her Army record and after a few Skype interviews. She’d never be able to pay them back, but she’d work hard for SSI—and to make a new life for her and her mother in Idaho.

“Is there anything else we need to know before we go and get your mom?” Dev asked.

“No—that’s the whole mess.” She scanned the two men’s faces. Both wore the calm expressions of the highly trained Marines they were. But what was behind those facades now that they knew the mess they might be wading into? “You don’t need to come with me…”

Dev growled and Andy frowned. Okay, maybe that was insulting, but she had to give them an out. She had no clue who her father might have backing him up at the cabin. She needed to approach this from a different angle, one they’d understand from a military viewpoint.

“Guys, the mission has changed. This is more than getting my momma out of a lightly secured hospital…”

Now, both men glared. Okay, that approach was probably even more insulting.

“Dev … Andy … with Sean being the law in Mingo County, this could turn into a real goat rope…”

“Jesus,” Dev turned to Andy, “can you believe this?”

Andy shook his head. “Nope, she must not have processed the part about her being our new sister.” Then he turned, his gaze fierce. “Let me spell this out. Me and Dev would kill for you, bury the bodies, and lie like bandits about it. No militia or a fucking rapist bastard wearing a tin badge will make one bit of difference—we’re staying.”

Dev used his finger to turn her face toward him. “So, soldier … stop trying to protect us. We’re here. We’ll do what we need to do to rescue your mom and then take these assholes down once and for all. End. Of. Story.”

DJ let out the breath she’d been holding. The sense of relief knowing she wouldn’t have to go it alone was much bigger than she would’ve thought. She might’ve left her crew when she left the Army, but she now had a new crew, a new team, in the Walshes. It was a damn good feeling.

She turned on the Jeep and drove out of the parking lot onto the snow-covered highway. “Okay, here’s the layout of my family’s property and cabin…”

As she drove back to where her life had begun twenty-eight-years ago, she briefed her team and gave them as many details as she could about what to expect.

3:00 a.m., in the hills outside of Red Bone

The three of them hunkered down in a copse of snow-laden trees off to the side of her family’s cabin. A cold chill had settled in her belly. The area echoed with bad memories of arguments and abuse, diluted only by her mother’s love and sacrifice for her only daughter.

Please be here and unharmed, Momma.

DJ shook off the fear fileting her insides and fixed her attention on the target they needed to breach. As far as she could tell not much had changed since she’d left home, in either the surroundings or the character of the people who lived there.

The cabin built by her great-great-grandfather with hand-hewn logs and cement-sand-lime chinking still looked as if it would fall down any second. The fieldstone fireplace had giant cracks and tilted toward the back of the building. The wooden porch sagged, and the window to her attic bedroom was still boarded up from the time she tried to escape in her junior year in the middle of the night. Her father had never seen any need to “gussy up” the exterior.

There were some concessions to the twenty-first century—two satellite dishes hung precariously on the rickety eaves. Her father had probably justified those expenses as a cost of doing business.

“How do you want to do this, DJ?” Dev spoke in a low monotone.

After she’d briefed the guys on the way here as to the physical layout of the property, she’d offered the mission lead to Dev or Andy. Both men had declined in favor of her home field knowledge. Their continued faith in her went a long way in calming her nerves and tamping down the bad memories that coming home had brought to the surface. The images were still there, lurking under the surface of her consciousness, but for now she was in control.

DJ surveyed the surroundings once more, looking for anything she might’ve overlooked during her first go-round. No matter how focused she was, she could always miss some detail that might bite her or her teammates in the ass.

Several pickup trucks were parked in the side yard. Since several inches of snow had accumulated on the vehicles, they’d been there for a while. Lights were on in the cabin. Tendrils of smoke with an occasional flickering of bright red sparks rose lazily from the chimney. Her not-so-loving father was up with his drinking buddies, or maybe some of Varney’s militia men, keeping him company while waiting on Varney to call and report on her abduction.

“I’ll knock on the door,” DJ said. “While I distract father-dearest and whoever else is inside, you can go around to the backdoor. My parents’ bedroom is located at the back of the house on the main level. Find my momma and get her the hell out of there. Once she’s clear, I’ll bid my father a not-so-fond farewell.”

“One of us will get your mom,” Andy muttered. “The other will back you up and make sure you’re clear. You aren’t confronting that bastard and his buddies alone.”

She cast both men a look her helicopter crew would’ve recognized as her don’t-argue-with-me expression and found them looking mulish. How could she have forgotten that while Dev and Andy had ceded her the lead, they were still Special Ops and would argue with authority if they didn’t see things her way?

DJ shook her head and blew out a frosty breath. In the short time she’d known the two men, she’d discovered they were far more stubborn than she was—and bigger and meaner. Truth be told, confronting her father would be distressing—because deep inside, she was still the little girl who wanted her father to love and cherish her.

Plus, Andy and Dev were correct—she needed backup. Her emotional issues could rise up at anytime and throw her off the game plan.

“Okay … thanks.” She stood, brushed snow off her legs and butt. Then she pulled her weapon and flicked off the safety, just in case, and placed it in her jacket pocket. She felt for the switchblade in her other pocket. She was as ready as she’d ever be.

“Com check,” she spoke under her breath into the headset mostly hidden under her watch cap.

“All clear,” Dev said.

“Ditto,” Andy replied. “Don’t do anything stupid, DJ. Keep your com unit on so we can hear everything.”

DJ shot Andy the finger over her shoulder as she walked away and grinned as the men’s chuckles came over the headset. Her long legs made an easy and quick trip through the shin-high snow. When she was within a few meters of the front door, motion sensors activated exterior lights on the front corners of the cabin. Something else new since she’d been here last. Bet the local critters set those puppies off on a regular basis—and they’d be just as regularly ignored.

Unless they have cameras attached to them, Dahlia Jane.

Nah, her father was too cheap to pay for that kind of upgrade.

DJ paused and let her eyes adjust. She shoved her hand in her pocket and lightly gripped her pistol, just in case. Once her vision was clear, she mounted three steps, which had been half-assed repaired, crossed the small expanse of porch decking, and then knocked on the roughly hewn door.

“That you, Ed?”

Her father’s irritating whine came through the wood door. Her gut clenched at the all-too-familiar sound; it brought back too many memories of bare-assed strappings with his belt as he’d whined about what an ungrateful brat she was. She still carried faint scars from when he’d gotten carried away.

“Didn’t hear ya drive up. What the fuck took ya so long? Did you get the little bitch?”

Little bitch?

Her heart stuttered. Yeah, nothing had changed. But then why would it? The man was rotten to the core. Her only value in his worldview was as barter for more money and power in the Varney empire, and she’d deprived him of potential ownership in the Varneys’ dirty empire when she’d left. She wondered what her barter value was currently?

Too bad, Pa. I ain’t playing.

“We’re in. Shit locks—so no problem.” Dev’s voice came over the headset. “Your mom isn’t in the first floor bedroom. Andy’s searching the attic.”

Shit.
Was her mother even here?

DJ snarled as the sound of multiple locks being undone echoed in the snow-filled night air.

“Stop growling, DJ. It’s distracting.” Dev continued, “Someone’s been cooking meth in the kitchen. Front room—there’s three men on a couch to your left as you enter. They look drunk. Too out of it to be on meth. Guy opening the door, on the other hand, is practically bouncing. Watch him—he could get violent.”

“Roger that,” she muttered right before the door opened. She pulled her hand from her gun pocket and slid her other hand into the pocket with the knife. It was better not to shoot guns inside a meth house.

And then she was face-to-face with her father for the first time in ten years.

Her stomach curdled, and she swallowed the bile threatening to come up—fought the Pavlovian response to back away and cower.

The bastard was shorter than she remembered, or, maybe it was because she’d grown taller. He had a comb-over on the top of his balding head and a ragged, salt-and-pepper mullet elsewhere. Sort of a Billy Ray Cyrus meets Bruce Willis look.

She smelled booze wafting off his dirty flannel shirt. His breath could fell a bear. Yeah, he was twitching—bouncing just as Dev had said. His pupils were so dilated she could barely detect the pale blue of his irises. His facial skin was pasty and hung loose on his bones. His teeth were rotten and some missing.

Christ Jesus, he’s the frickin’ poster boy for meth addiction.

“You’re using meth? I knew you were rotten to the core. Never thought you were stump stupid.” She scanned his body and felt only disgust. “You look like shit, old man.”

“Dahlia Jane.” Her father looked over her—twice—then leered. The gaps in his teeth made him look like a sick jack o’lantern. She’d need a long, hot shower after this just to scrub the icky feeling off her skin. He was her effin’ father and he eyed her as if she were a hooker.

“My, my, my, you grew up good.” He smacked his lips. “Look just like your momma did at your age. Built like a brick outhouse, but you got my daddy’s family’s height. Damn girl. Sean might keep you alive for a while before he offs you. He do you yet? That why it took y’all so long to get here?” He craned his neck to look past her. “Where is Sean and his daddy?”

“Um, they’re tied up.” DJ walked toward her father and forced him to move out of her way. She spotted the other three men … all strangers. Her brothers weren’t here. Why that fact relieved her? She didn’t know. The fact they weren’t present didn’t mean they’d straightened up; it just meant they were elsewhere.

She wrinkled her nose. The place smelled like unwashed men and fresh moonshine overlaid by the sharp smell of the acetone used in the meth cooking.

A loud snort and then a buzz-saw sound came from one of the men on the couch. As if on cue, the other two began to snore. Yeah, they were drunk out of their puny minds.

Dev was a shadow among the shadows of the back hall. Knife in hand, he never took his eyes off the men on the couch.

DJ turned her gaze back to her father who blinked like an owl and whose meth-fried brain cells had finally processed her previous words. “Whatcha mean
tied up
?”

“As in hog-tied and gagged. They ain’t coming. I’ll be leaving once I get Momma.”

“Now see here, girl.” Her father lurched toward her, his fist raised.

As a young girl, she’d pleaded with him not to hurt her. As she’d grown older, she’d tried to run away from the violence. Now, she moved into him, blocked his arm, grabbed his other arm, and then used it to turn him around, twisting his arm up behind his back. She pulled her switchblade with her left hand. The snick of the blade sounded like a gunshot in the silent room. She placed the knife under his chin, the blade flat against his throat—for now.

“Where’s my momma, you disgusting freak of nature,” she gritted out over his ear.

“We got her, DJ.” Dev preceded his brother into the room, his focus, on the men on the couch who hadn’t moved and were still snoring in stereo. Andy followed with her mother cradled against his chest. He’d bundled her in a thick, fleecy blanket. She didn’t move. Didn’t make a sound. Andy’s expression was dark and ugly as he eyed her father.

“Momma…” DJ’s voice was a strangled whisper. What had the fucker done to her? As she was about to ask, her father began to struggle in an attempt to get away. She pulled the knife away so she didn’t accidentally slice his throat, while simultaneously jerking his arm up higher to stop his bid for freedom. He groaned at the pressure she placed on his joints. “Don’t fricking move. I really … really want to slit your throat right now.”

The Walshes joined her by the door. She could barely see her mother’s face, but what she could see was pale and bruised.

Fucking abusive asshole!
DJ couldn’t stand the foul creature being anywhere near her mother. She shoved her father toward the couch. He stumbled and fell to the floor, landing like a pile of pick-up-sticks, his legs and arms askew.

“You’ll fucking regret this, you little she-bitch. Sean and I will find you and my cunt of a wife. We’ll make you both bleed and beg for mercy.”

DJ saw red. Her asshole father could threaten and call her anything he wanted—but not her mother. She growled and started forward.

“DJ…” Dev sounded worried and moved as if to place himself between her and her father.

“I won’t kill him.” She waved Dev off as she strode over and lifted the waste of a carbon life form off the ground by his filthy shirt. “Shut the hell up, old man.” Then she shook him. “Never…”

She shook him again and then shoved him away. He stumbled, regained his balance, and came at her. She punched him in the gut as hard as she could. His pained expulsion of breath satisfied a bit of her need for retribution. “Ever…”

Proving just how dumb he really was, he came at her yet again. She easily avoided him and hit him on the jaw this time. “Call my momma a cunt again.”

DJ then kicked his legs out from under him and he landed on his ass. This time, he stayed down and glared at her. His rapid, wheezing breaths harmonized with the loud snores of the men.

She backed away until she reached Andy and Dev, who’d remained to guard her. Would they have stopped her from killing the piece of shit who’d fathered her? Yeah, they would’ve. They would’ve protected her from herself—that’s what teammates did for one another.

Gawd!
She mentally cringed. They’d seen where she’d come from—seen who’d fathered her. Their father was a damn hero, and hers was a piece of scum-sucking, drug-addicted shit.

He was never your father, Dahlia Jane, just a sperm donor.

“We done here?” Dev asked, his voice even and impassive.

She inhaled sharply and shook her head. “Got a few more words to say to my ex-father.”

“I’ll take your mom to the vehicle,” Andy said. “Short clock, DJ. I want to get your mom checked over by a doctor.”

“What?” She looked away from her father who now glowered at her as if he wanted to kill her. “Momma…”

“She’s been beaten pretty badly.” Andy peeled back the blanket.

DJ snarled under her breath as she could now see the full extent of the beating her mother had endured. She swept a lock of hair off her mother’s bruised forehead. Both her eyes were swollen shut; her jaw, red and purple. Her lips were split and had dried blood on them. Her breathing, shallow.

Sweet Jesus, her mother had to be in horrible pain. She wasn’t making a sound—was she even conscious?

“God, I’m so, so sorry I didn’t get here before,” DJ whispered, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes, down her cheeks, and then dripping onto her mother’s bruised face. “Forgive me, Momma.”

“No … baby girl … not your…” Her mother gasped, then moaned.

“Shh, Momma.” DJ stroked her mother’s hair. “Where else is she hurt?” she asked Andy. The words ground out of her mouth like stone scraping over stone.

“Everywhere. I’m mostly concerned about her ribs. Finish this up, or let Dev do it.” Andy walked out of the cabin, his words carried back to her on the wind.