Razor

by Heather Slade

  “And you never will again,” said Ava, kissing his cheek.

  “Sure as hell won’t.”

  —:—

  “Are you sure you don’t want to pick out your own dress?” Tabon asked on their way to the courthouse.

  “Whatever Aine picks out will be fine.”

  “Okay,” he said as though he didn’t believe her, but it was the truth.

  She’d given it a lot of thought when her mother asked if this was really the type of wedding she wanted. When Tabon told her they could elope if she wanted to, and then took her to the window and told her they could just get married on the beach with her best friends and his, it sounded so perfect to her that she couldn’t imagine doing it any other way.

  Ava didn’t even care whether they had food or a cake, but agreed to let Tabon’s mother and sister handle it any way they wanted to when they asked if they could.

  “What about me? Am I supposed to wear something…specific?”

  “I’ve seen your closet; you have plenty to choose from. But to answer your question, I was thinking shorts and Hawaiian-type shirts might be nice.”

  “Let me guess, someone is getting those for us?”

  Ava nodded. “Doc and Merrigan are in charge of that.”

  “How did things go with your mom?” Tabon asked when they pulled into the parking lot.

  “Great, actually. Although…I have news.”

  “Yeah?”

  “She kind of wants to live here.”

  “Kind of?”

  “As long as you’re okay with it.”

  Tabon’s eyes opened wide. “With us?”

  “Good God, no.” Ava started laughing. “The look on your face, though…even Aine doesn’t want to actually live with her.”

  “Is Aine thinking of living here too?”

  “Um…yeah.”

  —:—

  When they rounded the corner to go into the building, Razor pulled Ava into an alcove.

  He grasped her chin and put his arm around her waist—just like he had in the garden at Quinn and Mercer’s wedding—and covered her mouth with his.

  “I was so afraid you wouldn’t feel the same way about me as I felt about you,” he told her. “I guess that’s how I knew it was love. Anything but spending the rest of my life with you wasn’t something I’d let myself think about.”

  “I felt the same way, although it seemed like too much of a dream.”

  “I love you so much, Avarie.”

  “I love you too, Tabon.”

  Epilogue

  Three months later

  “Doc just sent this.” Razor handed Ava his phone. “He and Merrigan named him Laird.”

  “He’s beautiful,” she gushed. “Do you want to wait to find out whether we’re having a boy or girl, like they did?”

  “I don’t know. What about you?”

  “I keep changing my mind.”

  Razor looked out at the moonlit waves crashing against the shore. It had been two months and sixteen days since he’d heard from Gunner, the man who was as close to a brother as he’d ever have. Reports coming in from the team searching for Ava’s father were sporadic at best, but it was Gunner who had gone completely dark, even to them.

  He and Doc had talked about it last week. “It’s like when you were gone. For every smile, there were ten tears, twenty moments of sadness, and even more of fear and uncertainty,” Razor had said.

  “I know he wouldn’t want us to feel that way. I certainly didn’t want that.”

  “I knew you were still alive; I just couldn’t bring myself to say it out loud. I didn’t want to be wrong.”

  “How are you feeling now, about Gunner?”

  “If he weren’t alive, I’d know it.”

  “Me too.”

  “Are you thinking about Gunner?” Ava asked.

  “Yeah. I’m sorry.”

  “It’s okay. I think about him a lot too. You should talk to him.”

  Razor smiled. “Yeah?”

  Ava nodded.

  “He’ll just give me a smart-ass response.”

  Ava walked over, sat on his lap, and kissed him. Nothing in the world felt better than having her next to him.

  “Tabon, what was your grandmother’s name?”

  “Which one?”

  “Both.”

  “My mom’s mother’s name was Adelaide. And my father’s was Louisa.”

  “Perfect. Adelaide Louisa Sharp. I love it.”

  “What if it’s a boy?”

  Ava raised an eyebrow.

  “Okay, but we’re never calling him Six.”

  About the Author

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  Also by Heather Slade

  K19 SECURITY SOLUTIONS

  Coming Soon!

  Book Two: Gunner

  BUTLER RANCH

  Available Now!

  Book One: Brodie

  Book Two: Maddox

  Book Three: Naughton

  Book Four: Ainsley

  Book Five: Mercer

  Book Six: Kade

  COWBOYS OF CRESTED BUTTE

  Available Now!

  Book One: Fall for Me

  Book Two: Dance with Me

  Book Three: Kiss Me Cowboy

  Book Four: Stay with Me

  Book Five: Win Me Over

  Coming Soon!

  Book Six: Sing to Me

  Keep reading for a sneak peek

  at the next book in the

  K19 Security Solutions Series,

  Gunner

  Want more from Heather Slade?

  Keep reading for a short excerpt from

  Fall for Me

  the first book in

  the Cowboys of Crested Butte Series.

  Gunner

  It wasn’t just his name that Gunner wanted to change, it was just about everything else in his life—except what he did for a living. Although, there were times he wanted to change that too.

  The day that he’d decided he could never allow anyone to refer to him as “Paps” again, was the worst one he could remember. That was saying something, given in his line of work, he’d experienced a lot of shitty days.

  But that day, he was forced to kill a woman who had been under K19 Security Solution’s protection since the day he and his three partners opened for business.

  Prior to that, her detail had been the responsibility of an elite team comprised of active duty service members and CIA agents, called the Special Activities Division of the agency’s National Clandestine Service, or NCS.

  Had he loved her? For a while he thought maybe he could. In what felt like the briefest of moments, he’d seen the bright light of the woman she’d once been, before darkness reigned over her life. And in an instant, she was gone again, unable to pull herself out of what they now knew was mental illness.

  If only they’d known how to help her…but that didn’t matter now. It was too late. She was dead—and he’d killed her, and ever since, she played a starring role in his every nightmare.

  The other memories that had once invaded his dreams had been wiped out by that one event. Before that they’d varied, featuring one horrific reenactment after another of harrowing escapes, hostile gunfire, exploding IEDs, and other forms of death and destruction.

  Now, every time he closed his eyes, he’d hear her say, “Paps, I thought you loved me.”

  Lena had never actually uttered those words to him. They were only spoken in his nightmares when her eyes met his at the very moment she realized he’d killed her.

  “Don’t do this, Lena. If you think I won’t shoot, you’re wrong,” he shouted.

  Her eyes darted between him and his business partner—a man like a brother to him—who w
as on the ground, holding his leg, with his gun still pointed at her.

  Gunner watched as she took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and tightened her finger on the trigger. Before she could get the shot off, he fired. He ran toward her, catching her before her head hit the concrete.

  There was no question she was dead; he’d hit her square in the chest with a .45. No one could survive a shot like that.

  “Goddammit,” he cried, cursing her for forcing his hand.

  As he’d watched Lena’s lifeless body being taken away, he’d made two decisions. First, that “Paps” would be buried with her. Second, the man who remained, Gunner Godet, would be taking a long sabbatical from women.

  His resolve had lasted less than a handful of hours, when the woman he was now risking his life to rescue, wound up in his bed.

  He’d sworn off Zaryana “Raketa” Ivashov, one of United Russia’s best and most deadly operatives, so many times in the last few years, each time thinking whatever the hell the dysfunctional bullshit between them was, was finally over.

  And then, when he’d least expected it, she’d gone undercover on the same op that resulted in Lena’s death.

  Initially, Raketa had posed as Lena’s nurse and caregiver after an accident had left her blind and amnesic.

  When the operative was tasked with providing her safe passage to Moscow, she’d thanked the woman the intelligence world knew as the “Rocket,” by putting a bullet in her brain—or so she’d thought.

  “Shit,” Gunner gasped when he saw Raketa’s body lying in a pool of blood.

  He ran forward and checked for a pulse, nodding at his teammates when he found one.

  That she was still alive meant the bullet had either grazed her skull, or was still lodged in her brain. If it was the latter, the chance she’d survive was slim. Without immediate medical attention, however, it would be certain.

  Raketa’s eyes fluttered open when he whispered her name.

  “Fuck,” she said, trying to sit up.

  “Stay still,” he whispered, motioning for his teammates to go ahead.

  As risky as it was, he called for backup. “Send a medic,” he said into his radio mic.

  “Who shot you?” he asked, trying to get her eyes to stay focused on his.

  “Lena,” she groaned. “You have to find her. She’s…”

  When she lost consciousness again, Gunner closed his eyes and said a silent prayer, all the while keeping his finger on her still active pulse.

  When the medic arrived, he knew he had to leave her with them, as hard as it was to go.

  Later, he learned that the shot had only grazed Raketa’s scalp, resulting in enough bleeding that Lena had believed she’d successfully offed the woman.

  They’d spent that night pounding out the anxiety of their professions on one another’s bodies, and then in the morning, she left while he was in the shower, waiting for her to join him.

  Several weeks went by before he heard from Raketa again, and then, she’d wanted to make a deal. She told him she knew who had kidnapped the victims of his then-current op, and where they were being held. In exchange for that information, she wanted his help with an op of her own—leaving the employ of United Russia, or in other words, defecting.

  Agreeing was what landed him in the bowels of hell, otherwise known as Baku, Azerbaijan, trying to find where a Russian black market arms’ dealer had her held prisoner, and more importantly, why.

  —:—

  Makar Petrov was a cold-hearted sonuvabitch, but Raketa doubted he’d kill her. He’d had plenty of opportunity to do so over the course of the last three months.

  She would’ve gladly killed him, though. If it weren’t for Rauf “Topor” Evasov, she would’ve ended Petrov’s life last summer, but she ended up his captive instead.

  Raketa still cursed the emotional reaction she’d had that day when she saw Petrov put a gun to the head of a woman who shared her DNA. Letting her guard down, not pulling the trigger for fear she’d kill the woman rather than the man who was her target, was what allowed Topor to knock her out, and load her onto Petrov’s plane.

  The circumstances of her incarceration certainly weren’t what most would consider a hardship. Petrov had ensconced her in an apartment within his compound in Old City Baku. She was free to come and go within its ancient walls, which dated back at least to the twelfth century, although some contended they were constructed as long ago as the seventh.

  She could probably live out the rest of her life here; Petrov would keep her safe from United Russia, who’d put a price on her head of over a million dollars. But there were two reasons she couldn’t do that.

  First, she’d never work in intelligence again, unless it was for Petrov, and then it would have to be done within the confines of the Old City because she’d never be allowed out again in his lifetime.

  The other thing was, she’d never see Gunner Godet again. The last time she saw him, they were in the midst of an op involving hostages. There’d been no time for her to tell him how sorry she was for the way she’d left the last time they were together.

  “You shouldn’t be here. What the fuck are you doing here?” Gunner scowled through what was obviously a drunken haze when she found him sitting in the otherwise empty bar.

  “To see if you’re—”

  “Don’t,” he barked back at her.

  “Izvini,” she muttered. “I know Lena meant something—”

  In a flash, Gunner stood and grasped her neck with his hand, holding it tightly enough that it was difficult for her to breathe, but not enough that he cut off her air supply entirely.

  “Never say that name again. Do you understand me?”

  She couldn’t nod or speak with his hand on her throat, but her eyes bored into his.

  “Never,” he spat again, this time releasing her.

  She sat down at his table when he did, and lifted the half-empty bottle of vodka. “May I?”

  He grabbed it from her, stood, and stalked over to the bar. When he returned, he slammed a glass on the table in front of her and poured.

  She didn’t wait for the toast that typically would be expected. Things between them were anything but typical. She threw the shot back and poured herself another. This time she waited for him, since his glass was still full.

  Her eyes remained focused on his as she kept her hand clasped around the icy-cold vodka.

  “Leave,” he said right before he threw the shot back.

  Raketa shook her head, watching the only other person in the room, the bartender, follow a command intended for her.

  Gunner inched closer, leaning forward enough that she could feel the heat of his breath.

  “I want to be left the hell alone,” he seethed.

  “No.” She’d been where he was too many times before, but never because she’d killed someone she cared about.

  “Then I’ll leave.” Gunner stood, tucking the bottle of vodka in the crook of his arm. He swayed just slightly, but caught himself and backed away before she could touch him.

  “No,” she said again.

  He slammed the bottle back on the table and grasped her neck, this time from the back.

  “You saved my life,” she whispered.

  “You would’ve lived.”

  If Gunner moved any closer, their lips would touch. Instead of waiting for him to do it, Raketa brushed his mouth with hers.

  “Fuck,” he groaned as he wound his arm around her waist, pulled her body flush with his, and slid his tongue between her lips.

  When she slipped her arms around his neck and pressed her breasts against his chest, Gunner put his knee between her legs.

  “Take what you need, Rocket girl,” he taunted when she straddled his powerful thigh.

  “Not here,” she said as he moved his leg, backed her up against the wall, and put his hands beneath her bottom.

  “Put your legs around me,” he demanded.

  When she did, he ground himself against her.

&nb
sp; “Is this what you want, Raketa? All you ever want?”

  Available for pre-order now!

  Gunner

  Fall for Me

  Summer

  Liv raised her arms and swayed as the warm breeze of the Colorado night danced and swirled around her.

  Sitting in the sixth row of the outdoor amphitheater, she closed her eyes and sang along, as the opening band played her favorite song.

  She didn’t remember how she found them, or the first time she listened to their music, but this was the first time she saw them perform live.

  I don’t wanna play it cool

  Act like meeting you

  Ain’t got me all jumbled up inside.

  I don’t want to play along,

  Dance with you for just one song,

  Then politely step aside.

  Let’s don’t let go of this

  No, let’s don’t let this go.

  I don’t wanna move too fast

  If I let this moment pass

  May never get the chance again.

  Tomorrow I will either be

  Tangled up in you and me

  Or lost in thoughts of what could have been.

  “Open your eyes,” her best friend, Paige, whispered. “He’s singing to you.”

  When Liv opened her eyes, CB, the lead singer of the band CB Rice, was looking right at her. When she smiled, he nodded and smiled too.

  “Oh my God,” Liv’s daughter, Renie, giggled. “Look, Blythe.” Renie nudged her best friend.

  “How embarrassing,” Blythe murmured.

  “Ow! Jeez, Mom. Why’d you hit me?”

  “Let Liv enjoy this moment, and don’t be such a brat, Blythe.”

  The people behind them leaned forward. “Shh…”