Close to the Edge

by Dawn Ryder

  All in all, Ricky sort of liked the guy. Or maybe it was better to say, Kagan was the sort of man Ricky could do business with.

  The building he’d been imprisoned in was a dark, crumbling mess on the outside. Located in a suburb of Washington D.C. in what had once been a bustling manufacturing plant. Now it was being reclaimed by nature on the outside.

  “What do you want?” Ricky asked. “Or have you come to escort me to my execution?”

  Kagan tilted his head to one side. “Bram Magnus would like me to do that. Run and I’ll let him know where you are.”

  Kagan climbed behind the wheel of a Jeep. Ricky opened the passenger side and got in.

  “I need you to reconnect with Carl Davis,” Kagan said.

  Ricky scoffed. “I killed his boy Tyler Martin. What makes you think Carl wants anything to do with me?”

  “He’ll want to tie off the loose end you represent,” Kagan answered.

  Ricky grunted. “So you’re feeding me to him?” He looked out the window, but they were going too fast for him to dive out of the Jeep.

  “I want him rattled,” Kagan stated clearly. “Knocked out of his stride. Seeing you will make him realize he’s not as confident in his position as he believes.”

  Ricky enjoyed the idea enough to grin. “He is an arrogant puss bag alright. What’s the deal you’re offering?”

  “I’m offering you a chance to earn a passport from me. Your accounts are still where you left them, all you need is the freedom to exit the United States and enter Ireland legally.” Kagan kept his eyes on the road. “Leaving the U.S. won’t be much of a challenge for a man like you.”

  “Setting up a legal life in Ireland will,” Ricky answered. “Why are you willing to work with me? I tried to take out one of your precious Shadow Ops teams.”

  “You work with scum,” Kagan replied. “The kind of scum I need you to rattle so I can do my job. I sort of thought you’d enjoy getting a chance to mess with Carl Davis. He left you to rot in Mexico.”

  “You left me to rot in that apartment,” Ricky growled.

  “I put you on ice for a bit. My teams weren’t the only ones trying to kill you,” Kagan corrected him. “If you can’t see the difference, you’re not smart enough to see the value in my offer.”

  Kagan abruptly pulled off the highway. The tires spewed dirt and gravel, the Jeep rocking because of how fast Kagan stopped.

  “Enjoy your freedom,” Kagan said.

  Ricky was tempted.

  He looked out the window of the Jeep at the thick trees and bushes growing along the side of the highway.

  He’d be gone in a flash.

  Yeah, but gone to where, boy-o?

  The life he’d played so hard to get, the money that would allow him to open a fight club, have a big house and live like a king wouldn’t be his. Sure, the money was waiting but without a passport, he’d spend the rest of his days avoiding any place with security cameras and face-recognition software.

  “I’ll enjoy it more with that passport you were talking about,” Ricky admitted.

  Kagan nodded. “Kill any of my team members and the deal is off.”

  Ricky slowly grinned. “Noticed you didn’t include Carl Davis in that warning.”

  Kagan slowly grinned. “I’m not hiring you to kill him. That isn’t how I work.”

  Ricky laughed. “You’re not too bad.” Kagan was pulling back onto the highway as Ricky contemplated him. “I’m not saying I like you but you’re not too bad at all.”

  “Hope you don’t cross the lines I lay down,” Kagan replied. “Because I can make you look like a nun and that place in Mexico a spa.”

  “I’m going to try and kick your ass someday, just for the fun of it.”

  Ricky caught the hint of a chuckle from Kagan.

  “So give me the details of the job,” Ricky said.

  * * *

  “Sure you want off here?”

  Dare nodded. “Appreciate it.”

  The truck driver shook his head but shifted gears and pulled his big rig to a stop. “That’s the quietest baby I ever met.”

  He winked as Jenna climbed down, doing her best to look like she was cradling a child.

  “Thanks for the company!” The driver called as he started back down the road.

  He hadn’t stopped talking the whole way.

  “He knows it’s not a baby,” Dare told her. “He had a revolver stashed beneath his seat.”

  “You could have told me,” she groused as he started off the side of the highway. “My shoulder is stiff from holding it.”

  “I’ll rub it out for you.”

  Dare was cutting under an overpass that allowed for river water to flow under the road. The water level was low because of the season, leaving a tangled mess of dead tree limbs mixed in with garbage.

  People really needed to learn to use trash cans, she decided.

  Dare fought his way alongside the concrete embankment that supported the highway. He was pushing at limbs of trees, baring the wall hidden behind the foliage.

  Whatever he’d been looking for, he found. There was a groan, like metal grinding, and then he was pulling a door open.

  “Stay here.”

  He pulled his gun and ducked inside with the weapon leading the way.

  Her curiosity was impossible to ignore and she moved closer, peeking inside the door. All she saw were stairs leading down. There was a flicker of lights from a room below.

  “Come on down, Jenna,” Dare said. “Pull the door shut behind you.”

  She eased through the doorway, angling the rifles so she could get them inside in spite of the branches. When she tugged on the door to close it, she heard the limbs scraping across the surface of it on the other side.

  The air was stale, but the stairs were surprisingly clean of dust and cobwebs. It was a narrow set of stairs with a low roof. When she reached the bottom, she stared at a control room.

  “Whoa…” she muttered as she put the rifle baby down.

  “Cold War−era communications bunker,” Dare explained. “It was cutting-edge technology in its day.”

  Now the control panels looked ridiculous because of how big they were. Two padded chairs faced an entire wall of screens and buttons. Five separate key locks were installed in the dashboards of the systems.

  Dare was across the room, punching a large button. There was a groan and then fresh air was suddenly blowing in the vents above their heads.

  “That will make it better in here,” he muttered. “Living quarters will be back here.”

  “As in … there might be a shower?”

  Dare turned and winked at her. “I think we’ve earned a little reward.”

  She followed him through a doorway. Above their heads, she heard a distant rumble and realized the bunker was built directly under the highway.

  “We’re in the middle of nowhere,” she said.

  Dare had moved into a small kitchen. He reached out and turned the faucet. A little groaning and suddenly water came out of it.

  “But we’re in the middle of nowhere in Florida.” Dare shut the water off. “Which was somewhere back when listening to Cuba was essential to defense. One of the reasons the theme parks were able to pick up such a large chunk of undeveloped land. The government had kept it tied up.”

  “Right,” Jenna replied.

  Dare was opening cupboards and pulling out a few packages to read the labels. “The food is less than fresh but soap doesn’t really have a spoilage issue. Try the bathroom. See what there is.”

  Jenna moved through a doorway and ran her hand along the side of the wall looking for a switch. The light flickered on to show her a bunk house. Two bunks on either side of a concrete walled room. A door was at the far side of the room, and it opened up into a bathroom.

  The shower didn’t have a door. It was just one side of the room, tiled from floor to ceiling with a shower head and shelf for a soap bar.

  She turned the control and smiled with del
ight as clear water started flowing from the head. Turning it off, she rummaged through the small cabinet until she found a tin with soap bars. They were a little dry but she pulled one out and headed for the shower.

  She shied away from thinking about what was going to happen next.

  One emergency at a time.

  Being clean would help her recharge.

  At least that was the plan she was going with.

  * * *

  Being free was better than he’d remembered.

  Ricky Sullivan tipped his face back and let the sun bake his face.

  Oh yeah … the darkest hour was always before the dawn.

  His mother had taken solace in faith when his father ended up in prison, leaving her to fend for herself. There had been a few pictures in the dump he’d grown up in to show what a beauty she’d been before time and poverty had taken their toll on her.

  He’d learned to fight to bring home scraps for them to share.

  He’d been good at it, too. And smart. He’d learned to find the fat cats who he could milk. Men like Carl Davis thought they were entitled to more than other men and that the rules didn’t apply because they had money. They happily let men like Ricky’s father take the fall for their grand ideas. His father had gone to prison for making a bomb in the interest of freeing Ireland and Carl Davis’s man Tyler Martin had tried to use Ricky to make sure there was no one left alive to incriminate Carl while he ran for President.

  Like father, like son …

  Money turned brother against brother and made good men turn their principles over in favor of being successful. A man such as Carl would smile and swear he was honest but that was just another lie.

  “Remember,” Kagan advised him softly, “stick to the plan. It’s simple enough.”

  “It’s also likely to get me shot,” Ricky replied.

  “You can leave anytime,” Kagan reminded him.

  Ricky shrugged. “I want the passport. You know it, old man. No need to bust my chops.”

  Kagan didn’t give him so much as a raised eyebrow. Ricky lifted two fingers to his temple and offered a mocking salute before he was off. With money in his pocket and an identification card, he had places to go.

  And be seen.

  That was the deal.

  Ricky snickered as he climbed into a taxi and headed for the airport. Carl Davis was going to shit himself. At least, Ricky sure hoped the man was startled by Ricky’s reappearance.

  Kagan was a smart son of a bitch.

  A crafty one, too.

  After so much time on ice, Ricky was going to enjoy being in the ring again.

  * * *

  “Yes, sir,” Vitus Hale growled the expected response.

  “I know you’re not happy,” Kagan said. “If you weren’t there, I wouldn’t trust him near the congresswoman. It’s a chance we have to take.”

  “Understood,” Vitus replied.

  “Shoot him if he crosses the line,” Kagan said.

  Vitus grinned and killed the call. Miranda was waiting for him to fill her in. “Kagan is sending in a resource. One he feels will knock Carl Davis for a loop.”

  Miranda softly smiled. “I’m in favor of that.”

  “It’s Rick Sullivan.”

  Miranda’s eyes widened. “Excuse me but I don’t believe I heard you correctly.”

  Vitus nodded. “You did. The man who tried to kill all of us during Bram Magnus’s wedding. Kagan’s had him on ice but feels it’s time to put him into play.”

  Miranda surprised him by thinking the situation through for a long moment. “Carl really will not be very happy about seeing the man.”

  “Carl needs to feel vulnerable,” Vitus explained.

  “Yes,” Miranda answered. “I can see the wisdom of the plan.”

  Vitus watched his mother-in-law for a moment.

  “I will be right here,” he said.

  Miranda sent him a smile. “You should be with Damascus.”

  Vitus slowly grinned. “She’d send me straight back to your side after tearing a strip off my hide for leaving you.”

  “I believe you are correct.”

  * * *

  Dare Servant was a magnificent specimen.

  Jenna froze with her fork in her mouth when he came out of the bathroom wearing only his pants.

  But she was suddenly recalling the moment in the sky suite when he’d looked the same.

  Water glistened in his dark chest hair, but a look of solid determination was on his face.

  She dropped the fork and stood up.

  “I was a dick,” Dare stated clearly and firmly.

  She’d started to turn toward the sink under the guise of cleaning up her dish.

  “Guilty as charged,” he continued as he closed the distance between them. “We spotted you in the box seat and that was too much coincidence.”

  She wanted to be pissed. Her pride sort of demanded it, and yet there he was talking to her, not just telling her the way it was going to be. She turned to face him.

  “I don’t make the connection,” she said.

  But she wanted to. Or at least she was trying to listen to him when all she really wanted was to hit him. Somehow inflict the same amount of pain he’d given her.

  Jenna made a get-going motion with her hand. “I think we might actually be having a conversation here but I’m confused as to the coincidence you mention.”

  “Kirkland,” Dare said. “He owned the house we first met in.”

  “What?” Her brain was having trouble. It was too crazy an answer to the entire mess.

  “I am investigating Kirkland Grog for human trafficking,” Dare clarified. “You were resettled and showed up in a box seat at his concert. Something you didn’t have the money for.”

  Oh fuck …

  “Kagan gave me the tickets…” she muttered. “Seemed stupid to sit at home doing nothing … Damn I knew he took me shooting for some reason.”

  Dare grunted. “I don’t know why he put you in play, but I can guess it’s because Kirkland is very good at making clean get-aways.” Dare perched on the edge of the table. “Kagan knows you wanted to help gather evidence against Kirkland on the docks. Looks like he gave you a shot.”

  Jenna was in too tight a space. She wanted to pace but only had a few feet on either side of her.

  “That’s insane,” she said.

  “It’s logical.” Dare’s voice was smooth and soft. “I should have seen it.”

  “Don’t put on the kid gloves now, Servant,” she muttered. “Anyway, I told you not to pity me.”

  “It’s not pity to feel bad about … treating you like a case,” he argued.

  “No,” she agreed. “I’m pretty sure you deserve to feel like crap except…”

  Dare lifted an eyebrow. “We’re having a conversation … remember?”

  Jenna locked gazes with him. “Except those pictures of the dead girls sort of justify your motivation.”

  Which just returned the shine to his good-guy image.

  Oh, she was happy about that end of the deal.

  “So what now?” She opened her hands. “What is the plan to deal with the people trying to kill you and your men?”

  Dare straightened up. “We’re not changing topics, Jenna.”

  “You were doing your job … I get it. Understand it … sort of agree.”

  His lips twitched. “You’re still pissed.”

  She sent him a raised eyebrow back. “Wouldn’t you be a little worried if I weren’t?”

  Which earned her a chuckle that turned into full laughter. “You’re a minx.”

  “Because I don’t go for having your team listening in while we’re in the bedroom?” she asked.

  Dare shook his head. “Because you don’t take my shit and push me over lines I would have bet my last dollar against me never crossing.”

  “You’re losing me.”

  His face tightened. “I’m trying to gain you back, Jenna. Let me break this down for you. I have al
l the authority backing me up to do everything I did and worse. Shadow Ops means we take the cases from the gutter and there’s only one way to win a street fight, baby…” He came closer, pinning her against the range. “Fight dirty.”

  He was looming over her. She witnessed the battle in his eyes and it struck something deep inside her. Moving past all the bruised emotions to touch her heart. “I saw her, the girl. I get it.”

  Dare reached up and stroked her cheek. “My dad used to do this to my mother, before he went to work.” His tone had lowered. “I never got it until I met you.” His eyes glistened with emotion, freezing her in place with the level of intensity. “He loved her.”

  Dare was suddenly pushing away from the range, the tiny concrete room too small to contain all the rage coming off him.

  “He was a cop…” Dare turned and pegged her with a hard look. “His work followed him home and they killed everyone except for me. While he watched and they made sure he lived long enough to know the pain of losing his family.”

  Jenna wanted to retch. Her belly was rolling with the need but she wanted to soothe him more.

  Dare recoiled from her. “I can’t love you.”

  It wasn’t a rejection. No, what she heard in his tone was far more intense. It was the need to shelter her, protect her, and it was by far more of a declaration than any muttered “I love you.”

  His face was a mask of determination as he shook his head and took another step away from her. “The sort of criminals I deal with don’t just come after me. Letting you go is how I protect you, Jenna.”

  Something snapped inside her.

  “Sounds great,” Jenna replied. “Except for one detail.”

  He raised an eyebrow in question.

  “The moment I met you, fate grabbed hold of me and doesn’t seem to give a fig for what I logically think or decide.”

  She moved toward him, feeling like she was actually in control of the moment as he stood and watched her approach.

  Damn, sometimes she forgot how big he was …

  She had to tip her head back to maintain eye contact. “So don’t…” She laid her hands on his chest, feeling the connection between their flesh like a live wire. “Don’t whine about dealing with the exact same thing happening to you…” she threaded her fingers through his chest hair. “This is happening … to both of us.”