Razor's Edge

by Shannon K. Butcher

  “I’ve got her,” said Gage.

  “Go!” yelled Clay.

  There she was, limp in another man’s arms.

  There were no real thoughts running through Tanner’s head, just surges of instinct. He had to get Roxanne out, get himself out. He pushed to his feet and ran. His eyes never left her boots, which flopped limply over Gage’s arm.

  Headlights bobbed over the uneven ground. It was the MCC.

  They piled in, sloshing around as Reid turned the RV way too fast.

  “We may have company,” he said. “I wounded the guard, but not enough to keep him from reporting back.”

  Gage set Roxanne down on the floor. Clay crowded beside him. Tanner couldn’t see her. He grabbed Clay’s arm and jerked him back to make room.

  “Geez, Tanner. It’s not like I was—”

  “Back the hell off,” he barked. “She’s mine.”

  “Dude. Do not let her hear you say that.”

  Tanner didn’t care what she heard him say, so long as she woke up and heard something. He didn’t see any obvious signs of blood. There was a smudged spot in the paint on her jaw. She could have been punched, but he wouldn’t know until he wiped the paint away.

  Her chest rose and fell, and that was the only thing that kept him breathing himself. If anything had happened to her...

  Reid said something Tanner didn’t catch—something about a prisoner.

  “He’s secure,” said Gage.

  “Which way are they coming from?” asked Reid.

  The buzzing of his brother’s voice inside his head irritated him. They were taking too damn much, distracting him. He had to figure out what the hell was wrong with Roxanne.

  He pulled the small earpiece out of his ear and tossed it aside.

  Tanner patted the uninjured side of her face. “Wake up, honey. We have to go find Jake.”

  Her eyes fluttered open. “Jake?”

  Relief bore down on him, making his hands shake. “Where does it hurt?”

  “Side.” Her voice was weak and hard to hear over the noise of the straining engine.

  Tanner unfastened the straps of her vest. As he moved her arm, he saw the hole a bullet had made.

  His heart stopped beating. Two inches lower, and the bullet would have gone below her body armor. And even though it hadn’t—even though the Kevlar had done its job and kept her safe—the alternative was now in his head. He could see her bleeding and writhing in pain.

  She was so fragile. As tough as she was, her life was still so tenuous. She could have easily lost it tonight.

  But rather than tell her that, he kept his mouth shut and continued his search for other injuries. He removed the vest and pushed her shirt up, shielding her from the other men with his body. There was a bruise on her waist, below her ribs. His fingers moved around it, feeling for other problems.

  She became more aware as the seconds passed, watching him. He found a scrape on her elbow and a knot forming on the back of her head. His fingers slid through her hair, carefully searching for signs of blood.

  “You hit your head.”

  “Guess so. I think it’ll stop spinning if I sit up.”

  She was going to whether or not he wanted it, so he decided to help her up. “Slowly.”

  She held on tight, gripping his arms as if he were the only thing holding her to Earth.

  The MCC slung around a turn, and Tanner pulled her against his chest to protect her from being thrown about.

  “Slow down,” he yelled to his brother.

  “Not until we lose the tail. I know they’re back there.”

  “We’ll never lose them in this,” said Clay. “We’re too slow. Let me out and I’ll stop them.”

  “Alone?” asked Reid.

  “Of course not. I’ll bring a weapon. I’ll slow them down and call you to pick me up when it’s all done.”

  “Splitting up is a bad idea,” said Tanner.

  “So is getting caught with a hostage,” said Clay.

  It wasn’t until then that Tanner realized there was someone in the MCC with them. He was unconscious and slumped over. His hands were cuffed behind him, and Gage watched him with an unwavering gaze.

  “Roxanne hit him with a dart. He’ll wake up soon,” said Clay, “and when he does, we’ll get him to talk.”

  Reid said, “Assuming we don’t all get killed before then.”

  “Let me out here. I’ll take out their tires and buy us some time.”

  “Do it,” said Gage, never taking his eyes off their prisoner.

  Reid hit the steering wheel in frustration and said, “Don’t jump. I’m stopping.”

  The MCC slowed. Clay grabbed a bunch of gear and a toolbox, tossed them out the door, and jumped off before the wheels had completely stopped moving.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Clay hit the ground running. He had only a couple of minutes to find what he needed and lay a trap. He readied his rifle as he searched for the toolbox, doing his best to ignore the pain in his ribs and shoulder.

  It was dark out here, and as soon as the MCC disappeared over the next rise, it got even darker. He positioned his night vision goggles in place and went to work.

  There was plenty of barbed-wire fencing to be had. It didn’t take long to snip some of it free and lay it across the road. He tossed a handful of dust over it to help cover any shiny patches and then scouted for a good location to lie in wait.

  The land sloped up slightly, then dipped down where water runoff had carved a shallow groove in the earth. Clay settled in that depression, which was angled perfectly to see any oncoming traffic.

  Less than two minutes had passed since he’d jumped from the MCC, but that was all it had taken for the reinforcements to arrive. They weren’t using their headlights, but Clay saw them all the same. Two men rode in a Jeep, speeding over the rutted road.

  No way were they Ma and Pa Kettle out for a midnight drive.

  The barbed wire was a few yards ahead of them. Clay held his breath and sighted them through the night scope. He led the front tire, breathed, and fired.

  The Jeep skidded, but he couldn’t tell if it was because of his shot or because they’d spotted the wire and were trying to stop. He fired again, missing.

  The wire clattered as it hit the bottom of the Jeep. The men kept driving. Clay could hear them shouting inside the vehicle, one screaming at the other, “Don’t stop!”

  Shit. They were going to get away.

  Clay aimed again and took another shot, and this time, he heard the tire hiss as it blew out. The barbed wire must have gotten caught around one of the wheels, because their passage was ripping the fence apart, the wire singing as it broke free of each fence post. The aged wood splintered, marking their progress.

  The Jeep slid to a dusty stop, and one man got out, weapon in hand. He scanned the area.

  Clay froze. He really didn’t want to kill this guy. Sure, these assholes had locked him and Gage in a room, and yes, they allegedly had Razor’s friend held hostage, too, but a bullet in the head was a long way from a day in court, and Clay didn’t like playing judge, jury, and executioner. He didn’t sleep well as it was. He sure as hell didn’t need more nightmares than he already had.

  The man lifted his rifle. The barrel swung toward Clay as he searched. The deadly end lined up, pointing right at him.

  Something inside Clay popped, as though a fuse had been blown. Rage poured into him like acid, and a low, feral growl rose from his chest. And then everything went black.

  Roxanne’s head throbbed and her side ached as though someone had clamped her in a vise for a few days. Other than bruises, a few scrapes, and a pounding headache, she seemed okay. Considering what could have happened, she was counting her blessings.

  Tanner had wiped away the greasepaint on her face before taking care of his own. It didn’t matter that she’d said she could do it. He seemed compelled to fuss over her. Whenever she pushed him away, he grew a bit angrier and more determined. Since she
was too exhausted to argue, she finally gave in and let him fuss.

  “I need to sit up,” she told Tanner. He was crowding her, hovering over her, and keeping her body from sliding around as the MCC sped over the road.

  “Not yet.”

  Vertigo grew between her ears until the spinning in her head was too much to ignore. “No, Tanner. Now. I’m going to be sick if I don’t sit up.”

  His mouth tightened in frustration, but his big hands slid under her head and shoulders, and he eased her to a sitting position.

  She kept her eyes shut tight, blocking out the motion of the world around her. Tanner’s hands stayed on her, so warm and solid they became the center of her world.

  Slowly, the vertigo eased, and as soon as she was sure she wouldn’t vomit, she opened her eyes. He was staring down at her, concern marking his features. Lines that hadn’t been there before formed around his mouth, and there was a deep wrinkle bisecting his forehead.

  “I’m fine,” she told him.

  “You’re not fine. You were shot.”

  “Only a little.”

  He cupped the side of her face, his touch gentle. “A little was more than enough. If I’d lost you . . .” His throat moved visibly as he swallowed back whatever else he might have said.

  A warm comfort rose up inside her as she realized his words intimated that he had something to lose. In the concussed recesses of her head, she liked that idea. Sure, it was just the adrenaline and fear talking, but she liked the things they said. “You didn’t lose me.”

  He nodded but remained silent. His fingers curled against her skin, stroking her and easing the last of her dizziness.

  The man had a magical touch, and while she knew the time he’d spend touching her was fleeting, she was going to enjoy it for as long as she could.

  “Help me up?” she asked.

  Tanner stood and helped lift her to her feet. “Sit here. I don’t want you walking around yet—not until we get your head looked at.”

  “My head is fine. Sore, but fine.”

  “Yeah, well, we’re not taking any chances.”

  Rather than arguing with him over who was taking what chances with her body, she ignored his statement.

  Gage was sitting next to the side door, his denim blue eyes fixed on something she couldn’t see on the other side of the bathroom. The passenger seat was empty. “Where’s Clay?”

  “He’s slowing down our tail,” said Tanner.

  “We’re being followed?”

  He frowned at her. “What’s the last thing you remember?”

  She remembered getting ready to go into the building. Everything past that was a blank. Whatever they’d done must have worked, because the men were free—at least she hoped so. Clay was smart. He was skilled. If anyone could evade capture on his own, Clay could.

  “My head is fine,” she told Tanner. “Just fill me in. Where are we headed?”

  “Right now? Away.”

  “I want details.”

  “Fine. Stay put. I’ll find out what our plan is.”

  He left, and Roxanne laid her head on her arms. The Formica table was cool beneath her skin, drawing away some of the remaining heat of battle. Her whole body was buzzing, and she couldn’t seem to slow her racing heart.

  At least they’d rescued the men. Now all she had to do was rescue Jake.

  Tanner came back, his face grim. “We have one of their men. We’re going to find a place to stop soon so we can question him, but the MCC isn’t exactly built for stealth. It’s going to be hard to disappear.”

  They had a prisoner? Someone who might have seen Jake?

  Roxanne pushed herself to her feet and tried to shove Tanner out of her way. He was too big to budge, and he grabbed her arms. “Whoa. Where are you going?”

  “To talk to him. He might know where Jake is.”

  “You’re in no shape to be interrogating someone. And right now, he’s still unconscious, so sit down before you fall down.”

  She sat, but she pulled out her phone. They had to find someplace to stop so they could get the man to talk.

  “Did you find Clay?” Mira asked upon answering the phone.

  “Yes. He’s fine.”

  “I want to talk to him.”

  “He’s working, but I’ll have him call you back. In the meantime, I was hoping you could help. We need a place to hide the mobile command center. We’re being followed and need to lie low. Got any ideas?”

  “Hang on.” Keys clicked on the other end of the line.

  “There’s a ranch not far from you that’s gone through foreclosure. It’s vacant. There’s a lockbox on the gate, and the code is one five four eight.”

  “How do you know that?”

  “I hacked into the MLS system. The bank’s selling it, and the info sheet says real estate agents can show it whenever they like since no one lives there. It’s got a nice big outbuilding with an oversized door. Unless it’s full of crap, the MCC will fit.”

  “Thanks, Mira. You’re the best.”

  “You can thank me by getting Clay to call me. He’s been . . . under the weather. I’m worried about him.”

  “I’ll have him call as soon as I see him. Cross my heart.” Mira gave her the directions, which Roxanne entered into her phone’s GPS. “Give this to Reid. Tell him to go here and we can hide.”

  Tanner gave her a skeptical look but did as she asked. A few minutes later, they were safely hidden inside a run-down outbuilding, sharing space with a rusted truck with no front axle.

  Reid turned off the engine. The silence was nearly overwhelming.

  Roxanne was so tired. The blow to her head and shot to her body armor had made her sore, but they’d done more than that. She felt demoralized and worn out. Jake was still out there, and their only lead was an unconscious man who’d tried to kill them.

  That didn’t bode well for Jake’s safety.

  She was his only hope, and it was time to buck up and come through. He deserved no less, no matter how tired she was. At least she was breathing free air.

  Roxanne stood slowly, conscious of Tanner’s concern. He held her arms, ready to catch her if she passed out. Which she refused to do. There was too much work left for her to take a concussion break.

  “Let me pass,” she said.

  “I think this is a bad idea. You’re not at the top of your game, and this guy’s going to see it. You can’t interrogate from a position of power.”

  “Then I’ll interrogate him another way.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll appeal to his compassion. Jake’s my family. This guy probably has a family, too, and will get where I’m coming from.”

  “It won’t work.”

  “You don’t know that until I try.”

  “This is a bad idea, Razor. We may get only one shot at him. If you screw it up, you’ll never forgive yourself.”

  “He’s right,” said Reid, who’d come back to join them. “Do you have any experience with this kind of thing?”

  “Questioning people? Not if I’ve done my job. Their fingers in the cookie jar tend to speak loudly enough.”

  “Chances are this could get ugly,” said Tanner.

  “I don’t care. Jake is my family. I’m doing this.”

  Tanner and his brother shared some silent guy-speak over her head. Then he sighed. “Okay, but I’m going on record that this is a bad idea.”

  “Noted,” she snapped. “Now let me pass.”

  She moved toward the front of the MCC and could now see the man they’d taken captive. He was young—maybe midtwenties. He had a lean face and a body straining with muscles under his camouflaged uniform. His hands were cuffed behind his back with plastic ties, and he was duct-taped to the seat at his ankles and around his torso. Another strip of duct tape covered his mouth.

  Roxanne gave the three men a hard stare. “Back off. I’m doing this.”

  Gage stepped back, leaning his hip and shoulder against the wall. Tanner and
Reid crossed their arms over their chests and took on identical, protective poses.

  She stepped up to the man who looked like a soldier and ripped the tape from his mouth. His eyes popped open, and he let out a snarl of pain. A cut on his lip reopened and bled over his mouth.

  “What’s your name?”

  He glared at her and said nothing.

  “No one’s coming for you, and we’re not letting you go. Either you play ball, or things are going to get unpleasant. Now tell me, who do you work for?”

  He scrunched up his mouth and spat blood at her. She jumped back, dodging the spray. Before she’d landed, Tanner had lunged forward and backhanded the man across the face.

  She glared at him for the interference, but the sudden movement had made her dizzy, and she was sure her look lacked the heat she’d intended.

  Roxanne ripped a small strip of duct tape from the roll and taped his wound shut so he’d have no more ammunition. “Do that again, and you’ll be bleeding from more places than just your mouth.”

  “You won’t do shit to me,” he said. “You can barely stand.”

  She was not going to give either Tanner or this man the satisfaction of being right. She wasn’t weak. She would be as strong as she needed to be for as long as she needed to be to see Jake home.

  “You’re right,” she said, settling the heel of her boot against his balls. “I could lose my balance at any moment, so you’d better talk fast.”

  He paled for a moment, then gathered himself again and looked away from her as if dismissing her.

  Roxanne put some pressure on his crotch—just enough to get his attention. “Jake Staite. Where is he?”

  “You’ll never find him.”

  “So you do know where he is.”

  “Dead,” spat the young man. “We used him for target practice when we found out he’d broken the rules and spilled his guts. You should have heard him scream. He was such a fucking pussy. He died a traitor and a coward.”

  His words crashed over Roxanne, chilling her. She started to shake as the images he’d put into her head bloomed to life. It didn’t matter that he was lying. The thoughts were in her now, tearing down her little-remaining strength and crushing her hope.