Razor's Edge

by Shannon K. Butcher

  She had fifteen minutes to make a twenty-minute drive before the loophole she’d put in the security system closed and she was locked out of the compound. If she wasn’t back by then, her mother would know what she’d done, and she’d be right back in the white room before the day was over.

  As weak as she was, Jordyn didn’t think she’d survive a second punishment.

  Chapter Four

  Razor was in trouble. The fact that she couldn’t seem to see it, or preferred denial didn’t sit well with Tanner.

  He spent the next three hours stewing while they cleaned up the carnage left behind. The more he saw, the angrier he got. There was thousands of dollars in damage, and just sweeping up the broken glass wasn’t going to cut it. Much of the carpet in the house was ruined. Some of the hardwood floors were gouged, as if someone had tried to pry them up. The drywall in several rooms had been bashed in and pulled away from the studs.

  Part of him was convinced this act had been motivated by revenge—the kind a pissed-off ex-boyfriend and his buddies might commit if they got drunk enough. But the rest of him questioned that. Not only had furniture and walls been destroyed, but the destruction had continued. If someone wanted to ruin a mattress, slashing it was enough. They didn’t also have to gut it.

  Unless they were looking for something.

  Over and over, he saw signs that whoever had done this had ripped up floorboards and torn down walls in search of something.

  He thought about bringing it up with Razor, but she seemed to wilt before his eyes as she moved from room to room, repairing the damage she could.

  “That’s enough,” she finally told him, sounding defeated. “This is going to take us hours. I’m calling in a repair crew to see if they’ll haul off the junk as well.”

  Tanner dumped a dustpan full of broken glass into the trash bin and wiped his hands off on his jeans. “Sounds like a good idea to me.”

  Razor looked at his jeans and frowned. A second later, she was marching across the room toward him. She now wore the workout clothes she’d had stashed in her trunk. That wide cuff bracelet was out of place next to the clinging gym shorts and tank top that showed off every feminine curve. The long length of bare legs showing nearly drove him to his knees. All dressed up in her designer clothes, she was a knockout, but dressed down like this, she was so much more alluring, because a man like Tanner felt he might have a shot.

  Sure, it was a crazy notion, but there was no accounting for hormones.

  “You’re bleeding,” she said, looking down at his legs.

  Sure enough, a bit of blood was smeared across his jeans. He checked his hands and found a small cut he hadn’t noticed. “It’s nothing.”

  She took his hand in hers and turned it toward the light. Her fingers were gentle and soft against his skin. He stared at the top of her head, holding very still, letting her do what she wanted.

  “I don’t see any splinters,” she said. “It doesn’t look deep. Does it hurt?”

  His voice seemed to disappear for a moment before he regained the ability to speak. “No. It’s fine. I’ll just wash it out.”

  Still holding his hand, she stared at him with the oddest look on her face. “Thank you for helping. You didn’t have to do that.”

  Tanner shrugged, being careful not to pull away from her grip. He liked her touch—the feel of her skin on his. Sure, it was just his hand, but he was acutely aware of said hand and the warmth of her fingers against his. “I didn’t mind. Besides, it beat chasing you all over town.”

  Her cell phone rang with an imperious chime. She let go of him and looked at the screen for a few moments, frowning in confusion. “It’s from Jake, only it’s not his e-mail address.”

  He was still mourning the loss of her touch, which made him slow to process what she’d said. “Jake?”

  “My best friend. He’s in the military, and I haven’t heard from him in three months. The last letter I sent him was a few weeks ago. He never responded.”

  “Where is he stationed?”

  “Afghanistan. I don’t know what he does, though. He never likes to talk about it.”

  That meant he’d probably seen some action. Heaven knew Tanner didn’t like talking about the couple of close calls he and his buddies had had over there.

  He nodded to her phone. “What did he say?”

  Her frown deepened until her expression was a mix of fear and skepticism. “Burn everything. They’re coming.”

  “What?” That didn’t sound good. Heedless of bad manners, Tanner stepped behind her to read the ominous text over her shoulder. All he saw was a bunch of garbled words that meant nothing. “It doesn’t say anything.”

  “It’s written in code we used when we were kids. That’s how I know it must be from him even though it’s not his address.”

  “Code?”

  She turned to face him. Her cheeks turned red, but he couldn’t tell if it was from embarrassment or anger. “My parents didn’t like that I was friends with the hired help, so we slipped notes back and forth, hiding them in vases and the central vacuum tubes. We were worried we’d get caught, so we made up a secret code.”

  That short explanation hit Tanner like a blow to the stomach. Not only did it tell him that her parents had been dicks; it also made him wonder how lonely she must have been to risk angering them just so she could have a friend. But all of that he could have shrugged off. The part that really bothered him was that her friend was using that same secret code now, sending ominous messages from an e-mail address not his own. Why would he do such a thing?

  “What does he mean?” asked Tanner.

  “I have no idea. Maybe it’s some kind of joke. He used to play pranks on me all the time when we were kids.”

  Tanner seriously doubted that was the case now. “Does he always write to you in code?”

  “Not since we were kids.”

  “Could he be in trouble?”

  Roxanne was standing close enough that he could smell her skin and see her bottom lip waver for a second before she controlled it. “I don’t know. Maybe he told me something in his letters he shouldn’t have.”

  “Is he the kind of man who would spill classified information?”

  “Not purposefully. But if there’s something in his letters to me that would get him in trouble, I need to do what he asks. He sent me a box of things a couple of months ago and asked me to store them until he got back.”

  “You’re going to burn evidence? Do you have any idea how much trouble that could get you in?”

  “I don’t care. He’s my best friend. I owe him at least that much.” She turned and scooped her keys from the kitchen counter. “Let’s go. It’s going to take me some time to find his letters in all those boxes, and I want this finished tonight.”

  Tanner grabbed her arm before she could run off without thinking about this. “If he did something wrong, it’s not your job to cover up for him.”

  She looked at where his fingers wrapped around her arm, right above the thick band of her bracelet. Beneath his fingers, he could feel her pulse speed.

  Against his better judgment, he let his thumb slide across her wrist, grazing the smooth satin of her skin. Goose bumps rose along her arms, and Tanner had to fight the urge to rub his hands over her to warm her.

  Roxanne’s voice dropped to a near whisper. “I know him. If he broke the law, he didn’t know he was doing it.”

  “Then he’s not the kind of man who would ask you to become an accomplice, either. You need to slow down and think. Do you really care about him enough to go to prison for him?”

  Her golden eyes flared with determination. “I love him. I’d die for him if I had to.”

  Whoa. Okay. So maybe they were more than just friends.

  As much as that idea bothered Tanner, he didn’t take the time to dwell on why. Instead, he forced himself to let go of her arm. His fingers felt chilled without the heat of her skin.

  “He’s a good man, right?” he asked. />
  “The best.”

  “Then that’s not what he’d want for you. Think about this. Put the letters in a safety-deposit box where no one can find them, but don’t destroy them. Not until you know the facts. If you burn them, you can’t take it back.”

  “Which is why I’m doing it now, before I can talk myself out of it. Jake would never ask me for anything that wasn’t necessary.”

  Tanner wondered if Jake knew just how precious a gift he had in Razor’s unquestioning loyalty. A man could only dream of having someone with such unwavering faith in his life. Jake was one hell of a lucky man.

  Tanner only hoped that Jake was worth the trouble. He had no idea what kind of a mess they were getting themselves into, but he couldn’t bring himself to turn his back on Razor and walk away, even though that would have been the smartest thing do to. Heaven knew he didn’t need any more complications in his life. Taking care of his family, trying to hold them together through this grief and torment, was more than enough. His brother’s paycheck went almost completely to medical bills. If Tanner didn’t keep this job, it was going to cause his family mountains of pain—especially Mom. He couldn’t do that to her. He had to keep his job at the Edge and do his part to keep his family afloat.

  “Just slow down,” he said, stroking the inside of her arm with his thumb. He was touching her again, and he wasn’t sure when that had happened. All he knew was that it felt good to have her bare skin against his. “We’re jumping to a lot of conclusions here. We don’t even really know what that e-mail means.”

  Razor pulled in a deep breath. “You’re right. I need to e-mail him back and ask him what’s going on.”

  “If he hacked into someone else’s account, he’s not going to get it. Could he be using an alias?”

  She nodded. “I can’t risk it. No one else can know he made contact with me. I need to figure this out, but I can’t do that here. I need to go through his things and see if there’s something I missed.”

  “Did you read every letter he sent?”

  “Yes. Several times.”

  “Was there any sign of something he might want to cover up?”

  “Not that I remember.”

  Tanner held out his hand. “Why don’t you let me drive you home, and you can think about it on the way.”

  She hesitated for only a moment before she held out the keys. “Thanks, Tanner. I don’t know why you’re being so nice to me when I kept trying to blow you off.”

  He didn’t tell her that he was only doing what any decent human being would do. He got the feeling that she’d been around too many people in her life who weren’t decent. Instead, he winked and gave her a grin. “I’m just doing it so I can drive your Mercedes.”

  A hint of a smile played at her mouth, reassuring him she was tougher than she looked. “Ah. A user. I’m used to guys like you.”

  As sad as that statement was, he let it slide. He had to stay on her good side long enough to make sure she didn’t do anything that would land her ass in prison, even if he had to steal those letters and hide them from her to make sure of it.

  Brad shook his head to clear it. Everything was all jumbled up again.

  He was in a car, but he didn’t recognize it. A graduation cap tassel hung from the rearview mirror. A cell phone car charger dangled over the gearshift. A gym bag sat open on the floorboard of the passenger seat, revealing a pair of pink-and-white Nikes.

  None of these things was his. He couldn’t remember how he got here, driving down the highway at ninety miles an hour. There was a nagging sense of urgency that had his foot pressing hard on the accelerator.

  This wasn’t right. He didn’t even know where he was.

  A swell of nausea rose in his gut, and he hurriedly pulled the car off the road before he puked all over the steering wheel.

  He shoved the door open and bent over, throwing up bile onto the cracked asphalt.

  Waves of air shook the car as traffic passed, blasting hot wind over his sweaty face. He sat there, panting, spitting acid from his mouth and waiting for this horrible sickness to pass.

  When he finally thought he was no longer in danger of puking again, he sat back in his seat and shut the door. Cool air from the vents poured out over him, driving back some of the queasiness.

  He found a napkin shoved between the seats and wiped his mouth. The hand he saw was not one he recognized. It was thin, bony, pale. Small cuts dotted the back of his hands, and a splinter of reflective mirror was still lodged within one. He jerked it out, only to find more splinters running up his arms—arms also not familiar. They’d once been thick with muscle and tan from hours in the sun, but no longer. They were skinny sticks, bruised with needle marks both old and new.

  Panicked, he angled the rearview mirror and stared into it, seeing a stranger. Dark circles ringed his eyes, and his cheeks were sunken as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks. A scraggly growth of beard shadowed his face—something he couldn’t stand. It was against regulations.

  He tried to remember how he had gotten here. The last thing he could recall was being transported to his new assignment with several of his army buddies. They’d all been recruited into some secret hush-hush type of group—the kind that was invitation only. He’d been proud to be one of the few selected and had to fight the urge to tell his family—something that was strictly forbidden.

  It had been winter then. The trees had still been bare. Everything was green now, as if several months had passed without his notice.

  A heavy sense of anger and loss wrapped around him. Someone had hurt him. They’d stolen his life. They’d done things to him. Made him do things.

  A strangled scream of rage burst from his chest, and he pounded his fists against the steering wheel. He was going to find who’d done this to him and kill them. He was going to shatter their skulls like glass.

  An image of a white rose burst inside his mind, blinding him with the intensity of the vision. He heard children screaming and saw blood splatter the rose. It trembled in pain, and that same pain detonated inside his skull, radiating down to his limbs until he was shaking with it. A woman’s voice washed over him, easing the agony.

  Don’t you have a job to do? she asked inside his mind. Brad did. He had to find the rose and pluck it. He had to bring it back for her. It was important. His life depended on it. So did the lives of his friends.

  He reached for the keys to start the car, only to find that there were none. A memory popped into his mind. He’d hot-wired the car—stolen it from the mall parking lot, where he’d left his last stolen car so the woman he was following wouldn’t see him.

  That was right. There was a woman. She had stolen something, and it was Brad’s job to get it back, even if he had to torture her to find out where she’d hidden it. And then he had to bring her back, just like he’d promised.

  She was the white rose. She was the one who would be splattered in blood and shivering in pain.

  Chapter Five

  Roxanne let Tanner drive her to the storage facility where she kept Jake’s things for his return. A few hours ago, she wouldn’t have let him come with her, but now she was glad for his company.

  Seeing her childhood home destroyed had shaken her more than she was willing to admit. She had no fondness for the place, but whoever had done it had vented some dangerous rage.

  She had no idea that anyone in her life hated her quite that much.

  Roxanne kept trying to tell herself that it had nothing to do with her—that whoever had done it had simply seen the vacant house as an opportunity for mayhem—but there was something about it that wasn’t sitting right. That level of destruction was no teenage prank. It was vengeance.

  Tanner pulled into the storage facility. She’d paid extra for twenty-four-hour access, since her work schedule was often chaotic. She swiped her key to open the gate and directed Tanner to the numbered unit that housed Jake’s belongings.

  She unlocked the padlock and lifted the overhead door, displaying three r
ows of boxes and a few pieces of furniture she thought Jake might want when he finally settled down and got his own place.

  “There’s not much here,” said Tanner.

  “Jake never was much for things.”

  Tanner shifted a snowboard to a more stable position, propping it against the wall. They were at the back of the facility, and the evening traffic was barely audible.

  “Does he talk about coming home?” asked Tanner.

  “Not much. He loves what he does. He got a promotion recently and some new assignment he was really excited about. He said he couldn’t tell me what it was, but that he was sure I’d be proud of him.”

  And she was. He was the one person in her life she thought about every single day. When she was younger, she’d hoped he’d see her as more than a baby sister, but it had never happened. Now she was glad. If they’d tried some awkward romantic relationship, it could have ruined everything.

  Tanner opened a big pocketknife and slit open the tape on the first box. “Do you remember where you put the letters?”

  Roxanne forced herself not to look at the gleaming blade. She’d been rattled enough today already. “Not exactly. I just labeled boxes with his name so I knew where they went. The moving company loaded everything in for me.”

  He pulled the flaps open but didn’t look inside the box. Instead, he met her gaze. “Are you going to let me help you look?”

  It was stuffy in here, even with the sun now below the horizon. The heat of the day had built up, making the whole unit and everything in it uncomfortably warm. The sooner this was over, the better. Besides, she was starting to trust Tanner just a bit. He’d helped her today when he could have just walked away or stood there, watching her do the work. “Knock yourself out.”

  Tanner passed her the knife, and she flinched. She hated that every time a blade moved toward her she lost control, just for a second. She’d been working for years to overcome her fear, but so far, she’d failed.