Close to the Edge

by Dawn Ryder

  “Jenna, you aren’t trained for this.”

  She lifted one hand in a no-shit gesture that earned her a tiny twitch from his lips.

  “But you’ve got guts.” He swept the area again as he closed his fingers around her upper arm. “So let’s do this.”

  * * *

  She was scared.

  Hell, he’d be fucking concerned if she wasn’t.

  But she wasn’t backing down.

  Dare liked that … too much.

  There was a sting of arousal burning through him that he needed to ignore as Jenna moved back toward the container. She was making it up as she went, reaching for strength instead of crumbling into a weeping mass.

  No, she wasn’t a victim.

  He’d give her the respect of not thinking of her with that word.

  She’d earned the respect.

  He picked up the gag and caught the way her eyes widened before she turned around and stood still for him to tie it back in place.

  At least he could do it without pulling her hair.

  “I’m leaving the cuffs unlocked,” he whispered as he closed them around her wrists. “Just twist … and you’ll be free.”

  He reached down and pulled open the small holster secured around his ankle with the sound of ripping Velcro.

  “If you use this,” he warned her softly as he wrapped it around her upper arm, where her T-shirt sleeve would cover it, “aim to kill. You won’t get a second chance. We’ve got this can wired, he wants you to talk, so talk. Tell him whatever he wants to know. I won’t leave you in here very long. Just long enough to prove he didn’t just come in here by accident.”

  * * *

  Her brain was working strangely.

  Jenna clearly heard each step as Dare and his fellow agent left her. They walked lightly, but she would have thought her eardrums were going to burst because her senses were locked into some sort of heightened awareness.

  Lying down was almost impossible. She settled for sitting against the wall where she had a good view of the door.

  Waiting sucked.

  At least this sort of waiting did. She’d never realized how pitiful her frustrations were. Stuck on jury duty? That wasn’t really waiting.

  Nope, she knew better now.

  Ignorance is bliss …

  No shit.

  And yet, there was an undeniable sense of satisfaction moving through her. It came from the hard surface of the metal beneath her and the knowledge that the girl was lying there still.

  Whoever the boss was, Jenna was going to fight back.

  * * *

  Dare forced himself to hold position.

  It wasn’t the first time he’d had to melt into the shadows and wait for his case to develop.

  That was the official way to phrase it.

  Case … develop …

  Fuck.

  Jenna wasn’t an agent. She was who he put himself on the line to protect. He was tormented by the circumstances, feeling like he was being frayed alive.

  But she was fighting to control the crash and burn her life was enduring.

  He had to let her salvage something from the mess. Some measure of accomplishment.

  So he’d wait.

  No matter how much he hated it.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Someone aimed a spotlight into her face.

  Jenna withered as the bright light sent pain through her optic nerves like acid. Her feet pushed against the floor as she tried to escape because closing her eyelids was pitiful protection against the light.

  Whoever was arriving, they came closer as they aimed the light straight at her face. It was so intense, it warmed her chilled skin.

  But she still shivered as she heard another set of footsteps crossing the distance from the door to her. These were unhurried, and someone was closing the door behind whoever it was.

  “Want me to take the gag off her?”

  Soft steps.

  Measured ones.

  One … two … three …

  Pause …

  “Break one of those toes first.”

  Shock flashed through her at the cold-bloodedness of the command. Sure, movie villains said shit like that. Not real people.

  This one did though and his thugs were quick to comply.

  The crack of her bone being snapped bounced off the walls of the shipping container. Jenna was fighting to escape, even though it meant using her feet to push against the floor. The level of pain was off the scale she’d known until that moment in her life.

  So hot …

  Throbbing pain …

  Bone deep.

  She reeled and snarled through the gag.

  “That’s right,” the boss informed her in a husky tone. The guy was hanging out somewhere behind the light, where she couldn’t see him because her night vision was so blitzed by the spotlight. “You know I mean business now.”

  One of the thugs reached out and ripped the gag off her.

  Jenna sucked in a gulp of air, determined to grasp her composure.

  This guy was going down.

  “Where is Dare Servant?”

  “What?” she exclaimed, the question catching her by surprise.

  The thug responded by lifting his foot and stomping on her unprotected shin.

  Jenna yelped and rolled away.

  “Get the fucking light back on her.”

  The boss man had raised his voice, forgetting to hide in the husky whisper he’d been using. She concentrated on it as one of the thugs worked the light, aiming it at her again.

  “Dare Servant,” the boss man repeated. “You were fucking him about two hours ago. Where is he?”

  Jenna had to catch the handcuffs because they were trying to fall off. She settled in the corner of the container, the light in her face again.

  “He’s not the sticking-around-for-the-sunrise sort of man,” she said.

  “What is he looking for?”

  Jenna squinted, but her sight was still useless. “I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about. Now why am I here?”

  There was a snicker from one of the thugs.

  “You’re going to tell me where to find Dare Servant and his team.”

  “Who are you?” she demanded.

  “Break her leg this time.”

  To hell with her plan. Jenna dropped the cuffs and grabbed the gun.

  “What the fuck?”

  She wasn’t sure who asked the question because she was struggling to get to her feet while aiming the barrel of the pistol at the man hiding behind his thugs.

  “Aim to kill…”

  She heard Dare’s words and acted on them, the pain throbbing in her foot and shin fueling her determination.

  The sound of the gun firing was earsplitting, the bullet hitting the far side of the container with a harsh sound.

  “Fuck!” the boss yelled. “Servant set us up!”

  Dare’s advice had been sound. She’d missed her target, and, in a split second, the man hiding in the shadows crossed in front of her and grabbed her by the neck. He pressed a gun into her throat as he pushed her toward the door.

  “Servant will be waiting for us…”

  * * *

  Dare wasn’t planning on waiting.

  The gunshot was his cue. He surged forward, Greer on his six, as Thais and Zane moved in from the opposite side of the dock.

  The door of the container came open, the men pushing Jenna in front of them.

  “Federal agents,” Dare called out. “Hands up!”

  Dare was looking down the sights of his gun, his finger caressing the trigger.

  A moment later, the night erupted in a flash explosion. The shock wave sent him reeling as he instinctively flattened himself against the side of the metal container.

  * * *

  Jenna was reeling.

  Something exploded, but it was a flash of ultra-bright light. Somewhere in the back of her mind she recalled flash grenades. But her brain was too affected by the blow to real
ly grasp anything. She staggered, her knees buckling.

  “Dumb fuck!” someone growled behind her. “Now I have to drag her.”

  Someone grasped her by the back of her shirt, and the fabric drew tight across her front, digging into her breasts as she was hauled by it.

  “Stay back or she’s dead!”

  One thing penetrated the disorientation gripping her and that was the hard, cold presence of a muzzle being jammed into the side of her neck. Her captor pressed it up into the soft flesh beneath her jaw as she struggled to regain her wits.

  And then the gun was gone.

  Jenna felt herself flying through the air, a hard body hitting her from the side and pushing her sideways. She was flailing, falling, and then rolling as she hit the ground.

  But she wasn’t alone.

  Dare closed his arms around her, encasing her as he rolled with the momentum of the tackle he’d used to move her away from her captor. They started to slow, giving her a chance to drag in a deep breath, but a sharp popping sound hit her ears and Dare sent them rolling once more.

  Pain was a constant presence now. Jenna couldn’t distinguish different points. There was just the constant agony as she realized the sound was gunfire. She caught the scent of the gunpowder, felt a new wave of fear sweep through her before they were free-falling once more.

  “Fuck.”

  She heard him grunt a moment before they splashed into the ocean. Jenna struggled to swim, fighting against Dare’s hold so she could use her arms.

  A new wave of agony went through her shoulder.

  This one was precise and focused, like the stupid tracking beacon had turned red hot.

  Her lungs began to burn, but Dare dragged her deeper, pulling her through the dark water and leaving the lights of the dock behind them.

  Drowning was better than having her bones broken one by one …

  And yet, she wasn’t ready to quit. She struggled to swim in the same direction, succeeding in kicking. With her help, they moved faster, flowing with the current. When he let them surface, she gasped for air, tasting salt water as she struggled to get her head farther out of the water. She dragged in air, opening her eyes to gain a glimpse of men standing on the edge of the dock, looking down the barrels of their guns.

  “Deep breath,” Dare rasped beside her. “We have to swim farther out.”

  Ready or not, he took her down beneath the dark surface of the water once more.

  Jenna went, the need to survive fueling her like a double serving of an energy drink. She fought to move through the water, desperate to place distance between the dock and herself.

  At least the current was in their favor. She felt the motion of the ocean helping them escape. They surfaced for breath and dove again. Her heart pounding, demanding more breath, even as Jenna dismissed the need in favor of making it farther away from the men trying to kill her.

  Escape was the only need she could answer.

  Time was being cruel. Slowing down so she could live every moment like it was an hour. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she recalled a lecture on how shock made the human brain perceive time differently as it tried to compute massive amounts of data during crisis.

  “Here.” Dare’s tone was harsh as he panted, pulling her closer to something.

  Whatever it was, Jenna knocked her nose against it before getting her arms up and out of the water.

  “Up,” Dare ordered her with a hard hand on her bottom.

  She didn’t have time to care too much about the lack of propriety. Getting out of the water was more important.

  “Grab the ladder.”

  Jenna managed to close her stiff fingers around a length of metal that felt even colder than her digits. She groaned as pain snaked through her hand but reached for the rung of the ladder above as Dare shoved her over the side of the boat.

  It rocked as she landed in a heap. Dare came over the side with a lot more skill, landing on his feet in a crouch as he scanned the small cabin sitting on the front of the vessel.

  “Stay here,” he muttered. “Going to see if anyone is home.”

  The boat had settled into a soft rocking motion. Jenna sat still, her heart rate slowing enough to let her stop worrying about the organ bursting. Which granted her the clarity to watch the way Dare approached the doorway of the cabin. He came at it from one side, looking inside before he exposed his body to anyone who might be inside. She heard the lapping of the waves against the side of the vessel but never his footsteps.

  “It’s clear.”

  Dare was back, reaching down to hook her bicep.

  “It’s no palace, but you need shelter from the wind.”

  “I’m really ok,” she said.

  A moment later she was crying out. Dare had lifted her by her arm and pain went shooting through her shoulder. The intensity of it stole her breath. She landed on her backside as Dare released her.

  “How bad is it?” he asked.

  Jenna was busy dragging a breath of air into her lungs to fend off the darkness threatening her with the ultimate humiliation of passing out while her companion was dealing with their circumstances so very adeptly.

  Seriously, she needed to dig deeper.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re hit,” Dare announced. “Come on, I need to see what we’re dealing with. Inside, where I can risk a light.”

  He wrapped a hand around her waist this time, hauling her to her feet with that incredible strength of his. It made her feel inadequate. Jenna fought to get her legs to function, succeeding in stumbling along beside him as he moved her toward the opening of the cabin.

  Once inside, she caught the scent of pot.

  “Whew … seems we found the party boat.”

  She thought she heard a snort from him as he released her and ripped open one of the pockets on his vest. The sound of the Velcro tearing bounced around inside the little cabin.

  “Don’t let your guard down,” Dare advised with a thick coating of experience in his tone. “The smugglers who own this heap are either on their way to the shore or coming in from the open water to get it.”

  There was a flash of red light. Dare leaned over behind her, aiming what looked like a pen light at her shoulder. He grunted.

  “It doesn’t feel bad,” she offered, still trying to absorb the fact that she’d actually been shot.

  Seriously, things like that didn’t happen in her world.

  But they did in Dare’s.

  He was aiming the light around the interior of the cabin, giving her a view of the lack of furnishings. The entire space had been cleared out. Only a single pad was left against one wall and a dusting of marihuana was scattered across the floor like straw on the floor of a stable.

  Dare moved toward a hatch, pulling it open. The red light kept their night vision intact. He peered inside before pulling the contents outs.

  “Get out of those wet clothes.”

  Her pajamas were sticking to her like a second skin but she still recoiled from the idea of stripping. Dare was shaking out a sweatshirt. He turned and contemplated her.

  Don’t look like a startled nun …

  Jenna dug for a handful of composure and sent him an unconcerned look.

  His expression made it clear she wasn’t fooling him.

  “I need to bind that wound,” he explained. “And you’re slipping into hypothermia. I’ll use what’s left of your shirt to bind the wound, and you can wear this.”

  “But,” she muttered as she looked toward the door of the cabin. “Isn’t your team nearby? I mean, you don’t have to deal with me.”

  The light flicked off.

  “Trust me, Jenna,” he spoke softly. “We’re not out of the woods yet. My team would be here if we were in the clear. There is no fuel in this craft. We’re dead in the water and drifting out to open water. Exposure is a serious threat.”

  He found the hem of her shirt and pulled the wet fabric off her. She ended up hugging herself, another one of those inst
ant reactions she seemed to have no limit of when it came to Dare Servant.

  “But … the tracking thing … you put in my shoulder…” she said.

  He was ripping her shirt into strips.

  “The bullet took it out.”

  Jenna laughed. “That takes horrible timing to the max.”

  “Yeah,” Dare agreed with a hint of humor in his tone. “Seems the joke’s on me.”

  He leaned around her and she felt the touch of wet fabric against her skin as he looped the strip around her body and pulled it tight across her back.

  Jenna sucked in her breath as pain went through her like a train.

  “Easy,” he cooed, knotting the strip over a piece of her shirt that he’d folded up and laid over the top of the wound.

  “It’s not so bad,” she said.

  He turned and grabbed the sweatshirt. It landed next to her on the floor. “Get out of those wet pants.”

  Dare took the moment to look over the steering wheel and gear shift. He used the little red light again, illuminating the dashboard where a few battered gauges were.

  Jenna struggled with her wet pants. She was shaking, her fingers so stiff that trying to use them hurt. The sweatshirt was a man’s and came down over her hips to her thighs. With nothing to dry off with, she was left with wet skin, covered in goosebumps, that made the cotton feel as rough as burlap.

  “You’re wet, too,” she muttered.

  Dare turned and sent her a raised eyebrow.

  Jenna sent him a narrow-eyed look in return. “Fact is, females have more insulation. Higher body fat percentage.”

  “My pants are wool,” he responded as the little pen light turned off and she watched him replacing it in his vest pocket. “Wool retains ninety percent of its insulating factor when wet. Which is why I wear it. Even in warmer climates.”

  He’d always be prepared.

  Jenna smiled. “Go easy on me, Agent, it’s my first day. I’m used to needing water to put out the fires I start.” She poked at her wet pants. “It seems water has turned on me.”

  His lips twitched. She shrugged and instantly regretted it. Focused on the pain, her teeth started chattering while she was distracted.

  “It’s more than the water,” Dare said as he reached down and picked up another item he’d pulled out of the compartment. There was a crinkle as he broke it open and shook out a thin sheet. “Shock is taking a bite out of you as well.”