Razor's Edge (9 page)

Badass special operations babysitter, indeed.

 

 

Nelson Bower was in trouble—the kind that could cost him his life. Everything his men did was his responsibility, and one of them had fucked up. Big-time.

He knocked on Dr. Stynger's door, knowing she'd still be awake, in spite of the late hour. He wasn't sure how she did it, but the woman slept only two or three hours a night on the nights she slept at all.

“Come,” she said.

Nelson opened the door and stepped onto the plush carpet of her office. The room was dark except for the glow of the lamp on her desk. The stark white walls did little to brighten the gloomy place. Locked white file cabinets lined one wall. Along the opposite one was a white leather couch where the doctor sometimes slept. Files were stacked on one corner of her desk, and in front of her was a worn, singed leather-bound journal he'd seen many times before.

He wasn't sure exactly what was in that book, but the woman guarded it with her life.

Dr. Norma Stynger was rumored to be in her late fifties, but she looked much younger. Bright red lipstick lined her mouth, and her pale green eyes looked almost colorless behind a dark fringe of long eyelashes. Nelson had thought she was pretty before he'd gotten to know her better.

As he entered, she closed the journal and set down her pen. She slid her reading glasses from her nose and looked up at him in expectation. “Yes?”

“One of our subjects has been taken into police custody.”

Her red mouth tightened before her face once more relaxed into a regal kind of calm. “Which one?”

“Brad Evans.”

She waved her hand in annoyance, showing off bright red fingernails at the end of long, bony fingers. “I don't know names. What was his number?”

Nelson had to look at his notes. “S-eleven-seventeen.” “The one we sent after the leak?”

He nodded.

“Do you know if he recovered the documents?” she asked.

“Nothing like that was listed in the police report.”

Dr. Stynger stood. In her high heels, she easily met his nearly six feet in height. Skinny as a stick, she leaned forward, splaying her fingers on her desk.

Nelson backed up. He couldn't help the gut reaction to move away from this woman. He wasn't squeamish, but the things he'd seen her do were worse than anything he'd seen in his nineteen years of military service. To her, people were things, objects to be used and discarded when they ceased to serve their purpose. Even her own daughter.

Nelson was in charge of recruitment and security at the compound. The capture of one of his men had been a huge mistake he was sure she would not overlook. For all he knew,
his
usefulness to her was now at an end.

He'd rather eat a bullet than let her get her hands on him. Men who had spent time with her in the white room came out changed. Broken.

“Did he locate the woman?”

“His last report stated that she was no longer living at her previous residence. It's for sale.”

“Clearly the protocol failed with him. I wish I had his body to autopsy so I could determine the root cause of the failure.”

“He's not dead, ma'am.”

“Pity. He's a security risk while he's still alive.”

“He won't say a word,” Nelson hurried to add. “He'll stick to his training.”

“I don't care what he says. He'll sound like a raving lunatic and trigger the control device. I'm more concerned with physical evidence—evidence I entrusted you to find and bring back.”

“I'll send another man. One who's responding better to the program, one who is more equipped to handle any obstacles that get in his way.”

“Who?”

“Trevor Moss.” Dr. Stynger frowned, and he hurried to add, “S-eleven-fifteen.”

She shook her head. “His conditioning isn't complete. I haven't tested him yet.”

“Why not let this be his test?”

She tapped her shiny red fingernail on her desk as she considered his suggestion. “Because he's not ready. He'll fail. I want this finished. We need to know where that diary is—where the woman who has it is. Bring S-eleven-sixteen in for questioning.”

Nelson nodded. “Staite won't talk. That man is made of pure steel and grit. That's why I recruited him. You'll kill him before he spills his guts.”

“He won't have to say a word. Jordyn will do all the talking. Bring her, too.”

Nelson didn't know what the doctor was going to do to her daughter next. Whatever it was, it couldn't be worse than Jordyn's punishment for breaking compound protocol by mailing Staite's diary. She'd screamed for a whole day before her voice gave out. “She just left the infirmary a few hours ago. I'm sure she's still sleeping.”

Not a flicker of emotion crossed the doctor's face. “Then wake her.”

“Yes, ma'am.” Nelson saluted before he turned on his heel and left. He wasn't a real general, but Dr. Stynger didn't care. She had faith in him. She'd given him a job when his own country said he wasn't good enough to serve. He owed her his loyalty, and because of that, he'd do whatever it took to make her proud.

R
oxanne couldn't sleep. She'd showered, eaten, and lain down, but she couldn't stop thinking about Jake's box sitting locked in her gun safe.

Aware of Tanner sleeping down the hall on her couch, she slipped a robe on over her short summer pajamas and tiptoed to the spare bedroom. It was still stuffed full of boxes waiting to be unloaded, but she'd kept a path to her gun safe clear. She punched in the combination and pulled out the sealed shoe box.

“I was wondering how long it would take you to get to that,” said Tanner from the doorway. He wore only a pair of jeans and his chest was bare, showing off just how wide his shoulders were and how beautifully he was built. Dense layers of muscle shifted beneath his skin as he leaned against the doorframe. He crossed one bare foot over the other and regarded her with a steady stare. A dark trail of hair led down below his waistband, which sat low on his hips.

Roxanne stared for too long, soaking in the sight of him. She hadn't wanted a babysitter, but the least she could do was acknowledge Bella's good taste in one.

Her skin warmed, and the bedroom suddenly felt too hot with his body filling the doorway. She had to fight the urge to strip out of her robe and let the air pull heat away from her skin. Only the fact that she wore short summer pajamas beneath held her back. She really didn't want him to think she was coming on to him by stripping down.

She had to work with this man. Getting involved with him was out of the question, no matter how much the idea appealed. If ever a man had been built to make her body melt, it was Tanner O'Connell.

“Did I wake you?” she asked.

“I'm a light sleeper.”

“I'll take this back to my room and won't bother you again.”

“It's no bother. I want to know what's in there, too.”

“I'm sure it's no big secret. Probably just a stash of dirty magazines he didn't want me to know he had.”

Tanner raised a brow in disbelief. “We both know that's not true.”

“Guess we'll find out.”

She took the box to the kitchen table and cut the tape open with her kitchen shears. Inside was a simple spiral notebook. Paper-clipped to the notebook was a short letter in Jake's own writing, using their childhood code.

Roxanne looked at Tanner, hesitating to turn the page. “What if it's something horrible?”

“Like what?” His eyes were fixed on her, not the notebook. He sat still and relaxed, as if what happened next was no big deal.

“I don't know. Stolen military secrets of some kind, I guess.”

Tanner leaned forward, propping his elbows on the table. Muscles in his shoulders bunched, distracting her for a precious moment.

“Is he the kind of man to commit treason?” asked Tanner.

“No. Never.”

“There you go. There's nothing to be worried about. And there's one sure way to find out, rather than tearing yourself apart with curiosity.”

He was right. She was stalling needlessly. Jake was a good man. Whatever was in this notebook would certainly bear that out.

Roxanne looked at Tanner and nodded. “Do you mind letting me do this alone? Jake's my friend. If this is personal, I'd rather not let anyone else see it. It's bad enough that I'm being nosy.”

“Sure,” he said as he stood. He placed his hand on her shoulder and gave her a quick squeeze of reassurance. “I'll be close if you need anything. Just holler.”

Roxanne took a deep breath, opened the cover, and started reading.

 

 

Tanner was twisting with curiosity. He kept his distance for as long as he could, flipping through crappy late-night TV for an hour, before slipping back into the kitchen.

Razor hunched over the notebook, completely ignoring his presence.

Figuring this might take her a while, and knowing she had to be exhausted, he fired up a pot of coffee and slipped a mug onto the table beside her. He was careful to keep his eyes off what she was reading out of respect, but he was sure he'd sprained something resisting the urge to peek.

“Thank you,” she said, but her voice was too unsteady for his peace of mind. Whatever she had read wasn't sitting well.

Tanner went back to the couch and sipped his own coffee as he searched in vain for something decent to watch. A few minutes later, Razor came into the living room with the notebook clutched in her shaking hand. Her skin was pale, and there was a fear in her eyes he hadn't seen even when her attacker had been choking the life from her body.

The way she wavered unsteadily on her feet made him wonder if she was going to topple at any minute.

He bounded up, took her by the arms, and eased her down onto the couch.

“This has to be some kind of joke,” she whispered.

“What does?”

“This journal. It's Jake's. He started keeping one when he got his new assignment, thinking he'd use it to write a book someday about all of his adventures.”

“What did it say?”

She stared at the carpet, shaking her head. “It started out fine. He talked about how excited he was for the new position, how proud he was to have been chosen. They recruited only the best.”

“Recruited for what?”

“He didn't know. The man who recruited him didn't say. It was all a big secret, and he didn't find out any details until after he signed on.”

“Did he mention anything about Delta Force or the Rangers?”

“No. But I think I know why.”

“Why?”

“Because those groups are legitimate. The journal went through his initiation into this group, but it was really vague, as though he was being careful not to write down anything he shouldn't. There was a big gap in time with no entries. And then in the next one, his handwriting was different—sharper. The indentations he left were deeper. I could still tell it was his writing, but he was afraid.”

“What did he say?”

“He talked about one of his friends who went crazy and killed himself.” She sucked in a deep breath. When she let it out, Tanner could hear her fighting the urge to cry. “He said he thought it was the drugs.”

“Drugs?”

“They were giving him something. They were giving it to all the men who were recruited with him. Shots every day. He said it . . . changed them. Made them sick.”

A flash of the skinny soldier with track marks and a crazy gleam in his eye rushed through Tanner's mind. When he met Razor's golden gaze and saw the tears shimmering there, he knew she'd thought about that, too.

He pried the pages from her hand and set them aside. He covered her chilled fingers in his and looked her right in the eyes. “We'll get to the bottom of this, Razor. I'm sure Jake is okay.”

A tear broke past her lashes and fell onto the back of his hand. “He said he was going to try to convince someone to mail this for him as proof of what was going on, but he couldn't escape. Not without his friends.”

Never leave a man behind. Tanner would have felt the same way, but he didn't think saying so would make Razor feel any better. “He must have made it out with his buddies, then, because you got that e-mail today. We just have to find where he's hiding.”

She swallowed, and her chin trembled. “If he made it out, he would have said he was safe. He wouldn't have just told me to burn his journal. He wouldn't have warned me they were coming. He would have come and found me himself.”

“You don't know that. He could be protecting you by not making further contact.”

“Or he could be in trouble. Either way, I need to find him.” Tanner didn't like the idea. While he definitely wanted to get to the bottom of what was going on, it sounded as though Jake was in serious trouble and he didn't want Razor anywhere near it. From what she'd told him about Jake, he wouldn't have wanted her to put herself at risk, either. “If you go after him, you could make things worse.”

“How? From what I can tell, he's already neck-deep in trouble. He needs my help.”

“Think about it. That man who attacked you—he has to be connected to all this. He said you had stolen secrets, and he was probably talking about that journal. That was why Jake warned you to burn everything. He knew you'd be at risk.”

“I'm not going to burn it. It's evidence of what's going on.”