Razor's Edge (7 page)

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.

R
oxanne 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 rows 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.

“Sorry,” he said as he folded the blade shut and held it flat in his hand. “I should be more careful.”

“It's not your fault. I'm just on edge.”

“After seeing the mess some asshole made of your house, anyone would be.”

Roxanne picked up the pocketknife and set it aside without using it. She ripped the tape off and dug into the first box.

After about fifteen minutes of searching, she finally found some of the letters and the box Jake had sent her recently, asking her to put it with his things. The box was sealed with a ton of tape, and the letter to her had been outside the box. She'd left the box sealed, thinking whatever was in there was personal or he wouldn't have bothered with all the tape. Now she was beginning to wonder if that had been the right decision.

Did he mean this box? Or was there something she missed? Was something taken from her parents' house before she got everything moved?

Roxanne dumped out the moving box she was searching and put the letters and the sealed box inside to carry them home.

Tanner picked a box from the top of a tall stack and set it down on the concrete floor. Muscles in his back shifted beneath his shirt, and for a moment, Roxanne forgot all about Jake.

It had been a while since she'd noticed a man on the same deep level that she was noticing Tanner. Kurt had been fun and completely into her, but the chemistry had been lacking, at least on her side. Kurt was good-looking, but he was too . . . artificial. Everything about him was meticulously planned, trimmed, and groomed, down to his waxed chest.

She'd bet her trust fund that Tanner had never even considered doing the same. He was manly in a natural way and unapologetic about his testosterone. And she appreciated it more than she would have thought possible, given her oh-so-proper upbringing. Mother never would have approved of her speaking to Tanner, unless it was to give him orders about cleaning the pool. Then again, Roxanne's mother had always been a fool—one who'd had more than one affair with the hired help.

Roxanne had always wondered if her dad knew about Mom's liaisons and had suspected she wasn't his child. Maybe that was why he hadn't wanted her back when she'd been kidnapped.

Not that it mattered. That was a long time ago, and he couldn't hurt her with his casual indifference anymore. She was her own woman, and Jake was the only family she needed.

“Did you find something?” asked Tanner. A solid wood headboard was in the way of the next row of boxes, and Tanner hefted it over his head as if it weighed nothing.

It was terribly inappropriate for her to stare, but she couldn't help it. She was used to soft executives. Watching his casual display of strength was mesmerizing.

Her body heated in a way that had nothing to do with the searing confines of the storage unit. A languid softness slid through her, making time lengthen as she stared. His T-shirt stretched over his shoulders and arms, clinging to mouthwatering muscles. Her pulse kicked hard, and her mouth went dry with want.

Inconvenient, inappropriate want. They had to work together. Anything beyond friendship was frowned upon at the Edge, though if any man was worth risking her job for, it would be one built like Tanner.

Her silence stretched on, and until he gave her an expectant glance over his shoulder, she'd totally forgotten his question about whether she'd found something.