Authors: Shannon K. Butcher

Razor's Edge (29 page)

BOOK: Razor's Edge

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Fear exploded behind his eyes. She'd been hit. He knew it. He could feel it.

“Roxanne!”

Smoke billowed in the air, dissipating too slowly for him to see. He charged toward where he thought she was, keeping low.

He saw her bootâtoo small to be a man's. It wasn't moving.

Another boot came into view. Someone was standing over her.

Rage took over, pouring through his body. No one was going to hurt his Roxanne. Ever.

Tanner charged, flinging himself at the man. His rifle hit first, clashing with the man's weapon. Tanner let his go and slammed his fist, targeting a head he couldn't see. His fist hit something hard. His knuckles split open.

They fell backward under Tanner's momentum. He reached for his knife only to find the sheath empty. His rifle was locked in place between them, and the only weapons he had now were his fists.

The men hit the ground hard. There was the sickening sound of bone hitting concrete. Tanner slugged him again, and this time, his head snapped to the side. He was out cold.

Tanner shoved himself up, crawling under the smoke. “Roxanne!”

“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 wasâ”

“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 catchâsomething 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'tâeven though the Kevlar had done its job and kept her safeâthe 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

C
lay 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 yetânot 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 freeâat 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.”

BOOK: Razor's Edge

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