One week later...

“Mary’s wondering why you haven’t let her out.” Dylan settled into a relaxed stance between Logan and the door. He’d finally cornered the man; he wasn’t leaving without answers.

“I’ll have a chat with her.”

“No, you’ll chat with me. What’s up?” Dylan motioned toward the room. “What aren’t you telling us? Is something wrong with her?”

She’d scared the shit out of everyone the first night. Her fever spiked to one hundred four, and it took hours to get it down. She’d cleared the illness scare days ago, though. He’d even ceded some of the guard shifts to his brothers, keeping the nights for himself.

Mary was too proud and scared to admit she had nightmares, flashes from her captivity. They were common in PTSD patients, but she wasn’t ready to ask for help, much less admit she was haunted. He’d been there enough to recognize the symptoms though, the way she gasped awake and clutched the sweaty sheets.

He’d done what he could. Waited it out with her. Gave her space. Waited for her to ask for help. She’d share when she was ready.

“I can’t talk about it with you,” Logan argued.

“Bullshit. Take a look around, doc. This isn’t a normal hospital. Fuck HIPPA. Why is she still holed up in a bed rather than out living her life and moving on?” Dylan’s voice rose.

“I told him to keep her,” Vi whispered from behind him.

“What?” Dylan turned on the quiet best friend, the one who spent almost more time at Mary’s bedside than he did. “Why?”

“Mary has boundary issues. To her, all that matters is work. Driggs has worked her into the ground since Peter died. She’s not the best friend I knew, the one who’d go grab a beer with me after a shitty day.” Vi’s eyes filled with tears. “What we do is important, but she’s what I care about. Hive, Driggs, and all this other stuff can rot, for all I care.”

“Look, Mary and Vi were trained in handling high-stress situations and even how to handle themselves if taken captive. But what was done to her affected her more than I would’ve expected. They made it personal,” Logan said as he looked at the door into Mary’s room. “The rest is to reboot her system. She needs to learn to walk away and focus on herself. Something other than work.”

It was a common problem, one Dylan and his brothers battled at times. A hard work ethic sometimes danced the tango with obsession. I’m disposable. Mary’s words rattled around in his mind. “She thinks she’s the job, only the job.”

“Yes,” Vi said. “She and I didn’t exactly have the best of lives before we met at MIT, but even I step back, escape in the mountains, go to a con or two. You know, DEF CON, ShmooCon.”

“You take a step back by attending hacking conferences,” Logan offered.

Vi shrugged. “What can I say? It’s in my blood.”

“She doesn’t go with you,” Dylan commented.

“She used to, but then we started getting pressured to handle more ops. Hive billed extra when we were involved, and Driggs was all about the bottom line.” Vi bit her lower lip. “I’m worried about her, and she won’t listen to me. In a way, this whole mess is like a huge intervention. If we’re risking our necks to get out of this, I want my BFF back. The old one, not the work zombie one.”

“You told her that?” Logan asked.

Vi bounced from one foot to another and looked away. Of course she hadn’t. The last thing he needed to do was stage an intervention with a workaholic handler, but someone had to look out for Mary. Did she have family they should call? Anyone important in her life other than the women already there?

Dylan rubbed his chest to ease the burn there. She wasn’t his problem. He was still nursing the wounds the last wounded dove he rescued caused.

I’m disposable.

“I’ll make sure she rests,” Dylan promised. “Get her out. Time with her thoughts isn’t what she needs right now.”

“She could relapse,” the doctor replied.

“She won’t. Release her when we get back. I’ll handle the rest.” Dylan glanced at Vi. “Mary will be okay.” He emphasized the name, making sure not to use Edge. The woman was who he was protecting, not the asset.

SWEAT BEADED HER BROW. Her vision tunneled on the wall across the room. Was it closer than before?

Don’t be ridiculous, Mary. You’re going crazy.

I want out. They didn’t rescue me, they just put me in a fancier cell.

She expended a weary breath. Even she couldn’t argue with herself over that one. Besides, her BFF was sitting in the chair near the window.

Vi’s eyes narrowed. “You’re doing it again, aren’t you?”

“Doing what?” Mary asked with mocked innocence.

Her lungs burned as she paced, flashed a leery glance at the wall. Chalk. Maybe a marker. Mark the wall and floor intersection. Proof over theory.

It’s still a prison. They’re never letting you out.

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.

Hands grasped her shoulders. She punched and shoved.

“Easy, girlfriend. It’s me. Vi.” The firm voice whispered beneath the screams. Pleas.

No, please, no. Not again.

Mary!

Words bled together, severed her grasp of reality.

The grip tightened around her arms. Screams ripped from her throat.

“Breathe, dammit!” The gruff voice thundered through the screams. “Breathe for me, Mary.”

Air struck her face. No water. She blinked back the cloying black tunneling her focus. Freshly cut grass and a hint of manure overrode phantom urine, blood, and pain. Her back burned. Her body ached.

But the grass. Green blotted out the black. Horses strutted in the distance. Cows.

“You’re safe, Mary. Breathe. You aren’t in a cell.” Addy’s voice boomed near her ear. Too close. Tension coiled her muscles. The presence along her back moved. The firm grasp on her arms loosened. “You’re safe. You’re at the Arsenal.”

The Arsenal. Dylan.

Safe.

She breathed the fresh air, fought back the angry tears burning her vision. Damn the bastards who’d done this to her. She wasn’t weak. Yet they’d broken a part of her.

She was The Edge.

The Edge wasn’t supposed to rely on grass and animal shit to keep a grip on reality.

They’d pay.

“I’m okay.” She forced the words even though her voice cracked at the end. Concern glinted in Addy’s steely gaze, but she backed away. “Thanks.”

“H-how did you get her to hear you?” Vi asked in a whisper.

Mary closed her eyes and leaned her forehead against the window.

“It’s a grounding technique,” Addy replied. “We keep objects, sounds, and smells near Mary that help her remember where she’s at. It’ll help.”

“Right, okay. We can do that.” Vi stood, headed toward the dresser. “You should rest, Mary.  You’re starting to look like a raccoon.”

Rest wasn’t an option. Not when the blackness behind her eyelids was tantamount to torture. Mary couldn’t explain the hell that unleashed when she shut her eyes. Or how phantom terrors from her confinement overwhelmed the cloying silence in the ten by twelve room. Flashbacks destroyed any hope of rest.

Vi and the girls left her alone too much. To rest.

She’d rather be waterboarded than take another day of rest.

“Get me out of this room, Vi, or so help me God, I’ll unleash a virus on your hard drive.”

Vi gasped, her eyes wide. She leaned back in the chair beside the bed. “That was uncalled for.”

“I should be in operations helping you track down Driggs. Logan can’t keep me here forever.” Mary glared at the open door. “Where is he anyway?”

Damn spook doctor.

“Stealthily avoiding you,” Addy replied from the doorway. “He and Dylan went into Resino to grab supplies. He’s helping stock the clinic here.”

Preparing for a war, one she’d missed out on entirely so far. A nasty infection had spiked her fever sometime after she’d initially fallen asleep.

A fresh breeze whistled in from the open window. She’d spent countless hours watching men haul hay around. A few mounted horses and headed out to the sprawling acreage every few hours. Were they tending the herd mooing in the distance, or were they patrolling the perimeter?

Dylan and his brothers took turns with Edge duty. That’s what Dallas called it. He’d brought a chess board the first time. She’d kicked his ass a few games. Cord brought a laptop—bless his soul. Then Marshall saw it and hauled it away. “You need to rest, not work.”

Jerk.

Jesse and Nolan were quieter than the others, though they did kick ass on the Playstation Cord hooked to the television. Dylan and Marshall growled when they saw games like Call of Duty, but what the heck did they expect her to play? Candy Crush? Wheel of Fortune? Pft. As if.

Despite the unpredictable shift rotations, Dylan was always the one bunking on the recliner every night. She’d gotten good at pretending to sleep. The nightmares plagued the little rest she got, but so far, she’d roused herself without too much embarrassment. Sweating, labored breaths, things easily hidden in the dark, or so she hoped.

The fact he always wandered over once she was fully awake and under control left her suspicious. He gave her the distance she needed, yet remained nearby. She couldn’t handle too many shirtless, unzipped jean moments, though. The sleepy, bed head, barely dressed Dylan awakened something in Mary she wasn’t ready to welcome.

“Good news!” Bree rushed in pumping her fists in the air. “Logan’s coming down the hall to spring you. I heard him tell Marshall.”

“Finally.” Mary motioned toward the small dresser. “Addy, grab my clothes. Vi, you’re shower sentry. I’m washing this room off me and not coming back.”

“I’ll keep Logan occupied,” Bree offered as Rhea wandered in.

Since Mary had talked the doctor out of removing the itchy IV and other assorted tubes and wires a couple days ago, movement was easier than it’d been before. Loads easier. Honestly, the rest had done her more good than she’d ever admit to anyone else, especially Logan and Dylan.

Vi helped her tie a plastic trash bag around her cast, then sat on the toilet in case Mary needed help with anything. There’d only been a couple awkward showers where her best friend had climbed in, clothes and all, and helped shampoo her hair and do other stuff she’d been too sore to handle.

Movement didn’t hurt like it had, and she’d become somewhat adept at shampooing with one hand. The dispenser Dylan installed helped a lot. By the time she was scrubbed clean, her mind was rebooted, ready to start the battle.

So far, they hadn’t found Driggs. He’d gone to ground before Dylan and his brothers tracked him down. Mary wouldn’t let the bastard get away with what he’d done. Had he been there watching?

Face masks. All the men had been unidentifiable in matching black ski masks. They’d all donned colored contact lenses, so black they engulfed the entire eyeball. Mary shivered and reached for the towel. Damn.

“Hey, Vi. I need a towel.”

The towel appeared at the edge of the curtain. She froze, noting the hand holding it was definitely not Vi’s. A tingle went down her spine. She snagged the thick, white covering and wrapped it around herself. Hair dripping, she yanked the curtain back.

“What the hell are you doing in here?”

“Setting some ground rules.” Dylan approached, his gaze sweeping down her before settling on her wet head. He reached over, snagged another towel from the counter and shook it open.

Mary watched it land over his broad shoulder and took a step backward when he reached out and settled both hands on her head. Some foreign expression softened his face as he wrung the water from her hair, then proceeded to towel it dry.

Dylan turned her with practiced ease, as though he had been tending her hair for fifty years. A knot formed in her gut. How many women had he done this for?

“Mom had six boys before she finally had the little girl she wanted. We were a handful, I’m sure she’d tell you more than a few handfuls.” His voice was molten velvet, sliding through her as he guided her into the other room.

The empty other room. Traitorous witches. Where had they all gone? Her pulse quickened as he sat her in a seat and ran his fingers through her hair, his nails scraping her scalp in a sensuous glide. She bit back the sigh but leaned into the contact.

“Jesse and I were her little helpers with Riles. Mom thought we six were a handful. Riley showed us all what that really meant. She was a hellion, always in more messes than we ever got into.” Amusement lilted Dylan’s voice. She imagined a toe-curling smile on his face even though she was turned the other way.

“Jesse and I spent our time hauling Riles in and out of the shower, scrubbing mud and horse shit off her. She loved rolling around in the stables, playing with the animals.” Dylan picked up the hairbrush and started slowly brushing her hair.

Mary wished it was thicker, sexier. Though she kept it long, the thin stringy mass spent most of its days in a lump atop her head. Or a ponytail. She closed her eyes and relaxed into the silence as he brushed. The methodical motion halted halfway down her back, then returned to the top of her head.

“The only time she ever settled was when we’d do her hair. To this day, the hellion is a little hurricane, always on the go and ripping through one problem after another on the ranch. Every now and then, she’ll slow, wander over to Jesse or I, her hair a ratty, wet mess, brush in hand, and plop down.” His voice lowered, a barely audible whisper along her earlobe. “It wasn’t until Jesse came home from a mission that’d gone south that I realized what she was doing.”

Mary’s breath froze in her lungs. Her pulse thundered in her ears. She waited. Deft fingers separated her hair, folded one section over another, then another.

“He’d sustained injuries no man should endure. Most wouldn’t have tried. He was home, but checked out. Once he was ambulatory, Riley was there, wet, ratty hair and brush in hand. Giving him the calm, a piece of what no war could take. Home. Family. Comfort.”

Mary blinked away a couple tears, wanting more than anything to hug him. And Jesse. Dear God, Jesse needed a big, big hug. She didn’t know what injuries he’d sustained, but she could imagine. Riley gave them the calm.

Why did Riley still give Dylan the calm?

He snagged a band she hadn’t noticed on the dresser and tied off the braid. Firm hands helped her stand and turned her around, settling on bare skin. Heat spread through her, a brush fire of awareness. Mary settled into the fiery green depths of his gaze.

“You remind me a lot of Riles. You’ve got the same whirlwind spirit to fix all the wrongs, not stop until you have everything handled and everyone in your world secure.” Dylan caressed her face. Thumb at the edge of her lips, he halted. “I know you’re wanting out of this room, but I’m asking you to give me the calm when I ask. No matter how ugly things get, take a deep breath and step into the calm with me, okay?”

“Dylan, I have to...”

He squeezed the back of her neck enough to halt the words flowing from her. His hot breath danced near her mouth, a soft promise scant inches away. One lean, and she’d be there.

“I still hear your words from that night. I’ve gotta know you hear me, Mary. You are not disposable. You are more than Edge. So, give whatever you’ve gotta give of yourself so Edge can do her thing, but when I ask you to, step back and settle into the calm, be Mary. She’s who I’m protecting, not Edge.”

“We’re the same person, Dylan.”

“No, you aren’t.”

“You don’t even know me. You can’t say those kinds of things.” Mary pulled away. He’d thrown her. “Edge matters. I can’t promise to pull back from a situation, Dylan. If I can help I will, no matter what.”

“I’ve heard the ops,” he said.

Mary froze.

“Had Vi upload any you ran for Driggs since Peter’s death. You give and you give, never holding a piece of you back. You can’t help the team in the field if you don’t take care of yourself.”

“I don’t need a lecture,” she spat angrily.

Who the hell did he think he was? She’d been working for damn near fifteen years. She knew what she was doing. Sure, she got tired. Everyone did. She got run down. Everyone did. She pushed herself too hard.

Everyone did.

“This isn’t a lecture, it’s an explanation. We run things on a regimented structure here. Rest and recreation are requirements if you don’t want Marshall breathing down your neck.”

“I’ve had enough rest for a lifetime.”

“We’re in this fight for the long haul, Mary. The second I think you’re not taking care of yourself, I’ll haul you right back here.”

“I don’t need a sitter, Dylan, and I definitely don’t need you.”

His face shifted, he smirked.

“What?” she asked.

“Nothing, sweetheart.” He leaned in ran a finger across her bare shoulder. “I just put two and two together.”

Mary gulped. What the hell did that mean? Her stomach somersaulted, her knees knocked together, but she managed to not look like a total idiot. She peered up at him, not trusting her voice.

“Get dressed. We’ll check in with Cord in ops. I know he has a long list of questions for you.”

Yes! Mary almost pumped her fists and did the Bree dance from earlier. She was finally leaving the hospital bed and getting back into operations where she belonged, where she mattered. Adrenaline hummed in her veins as she grabbed the clothes Addy had set out and headed into the bathroom to change before Dylan or Logan changed their minds.

By the time she was dressed, the decision she’d been warring with all day had been made. They’d wasted enough time trying to find Driggs. Now it was her turn. She exited the bathroom and looked up at Dylan. “I have a plan. Let’s have a meeting.”