Razor's Edge: Men in Blue, Book 2 (26 page)

The moist heat of her kiss soaked into him, warming the chill around his heart until the solid block of dread, anxiety and regret thawed. He melted in the rays of her affection. Her heartbeat slowed and steadied against his palm, which supported her elegant back. The consistent double thump paired with the glide of their tongues to mesmerize him.

Brilliant colors chased the blackness from his soul.

Isabella came up for air. She nuzzled their noses and whispered, “We’re okay.”

“This time.” He’d ignored his intuition, waltzing her into the line of fire.

Before she could vocalize the indignation in her gaze, Matt and Clint pounded to a stop outside their group, huffing and puffing. “Shit. That motherfucker slipped away. We chased him into the alley, but he had a car waiting. They disappeared before someone could tail them. Sorry.”

Mason nodded. “You did your best. At least we know he’s gone. Off the premises. I want us all out of the open. Doll, is it okay to transport Isabella?”

“Yeah, she’s good to go. I can do the stitches if someone brings me the materials. An IV with antibiotics and something to dull her pain wouldn’t hurt either. Once the shock wears off, that will ache like a bitch. Otherwise, we’ll need to swing by the hospital.”

“No! Your apartment, please?” Izzy’s wide eyes begged for her as Razor swung to his feet. “I’m fine. Really.”

She swayed as she attempted to stand. He caught her, fussing over her as he cuddled her to his chest.

JRad, Matt, Clint, Mason and Tyler closed rank around him and the two women, protecting them in the center of their circle. They moved in unison, shoving aside the rolling cameras, a producer and even the paramedic who’d finally made it on scene as they escorted their charges to safety.

Though Razor’s skin no longer crawled, he didn’t plan to stop and chat before ensconcing Isabella somewhere safe. Somewhere private.

“What the
fuck
were you thinking?” The Master’s icy hiss terrified Malcolm. “If we lose her, we lose everything. We don’t know where she’s stashed the best stuff. She’s our ticket to the source.”

His bladder released. Nothing happened since he’d already pissed his pants at the sight of the fury contorting the idolized face of his ex-lover until it formed an unrecognizable mask. The tyrant before him no longer resembled the man he’d lusted after for years, but instead, someone out of control. Someone who’d abandoned regal dominance in a fit of misguided, egomaniacal, drug-induced insanity.

Buchanan no longer possessed the most successful formula of their salvation. That obviously hadn’t stopped him from using whatever close seconds they’d stockpiled.

“I-I instructed him to scare Isabella. To drive her back to us.” He shot an incredulous glare at the fuck-up hanging, beaten within an inch of his life, from the iron beam in the dusty warehouse. “I swear. I didn’t pay that prick to harm her.”

Malcolm screamed when Buchanan grabbed his soggy balls and twisted. He writhed in the bindings, dangling from the rusty chain as his legs curled up, setting his shoulders on fire. His cursed cock pulsed in response.

“Even a moron like you has to know he’s an assassin for hire. How many times do you think people hedge their orders in case someone’s listening? Or because they’re too much of a pussy to ask for what they really want.” A sneer twisted the lips Malcolm had always hoped would kiss him with returned love someday. If only he did as instructed. Too late he’d realized his dreams would never come true. The things he’d done in pursuit of affection turned his stomach. “You should know all about being a coward.”

God, please forgive me?

Malcolm shivered when Buchanan turned to a table laid out with instruments of torture. The Master—suited head to toe in black vinyl—selected a long, wicked blade. Malcolm imagined the tempered steel slicing him to pieces and struggled harder to escape. Nothing budged.

When Buchanan turned instead to the hired gun, part of him cheered. Until he comprehended what the older man intended. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t dirty his own hands.

He never had before.

But this time he did.

“No one destroys what’s mine.” The Master spit in the nearly unconscious man’s face before drawing the gleaming knife across his throat in a single, continuous slash. As the assassin gurgled, blood spurted from his jugular. Buchanan threw his head back, fists clenched at his sides, reveling in the spray of his enemy’s life force.

The light faded from the victim’s eyes within seconds.

“I’d heard he was the best. That’s all.” Malcolm sniffled. He hated to disappoint his Master, no matter that the man no longer deserved his devotion. Probably never had. Too bad he’d only accepted the truth when it was too late.

Too late to change.

Too late to atone.

Too late to escape.

“You will pay for your mistakes.”

“Please, no.” Malcolm sobbed now. “Let me go. I’ll bring her home.”

“She will never return to you. I see that now.” Buchanan flashed a feral grin. “My daughter has bigger balls than you could hope to grow. You are no longer useful.”

“Please…” Pointless begging poured from his lips. He couldn’t say what it was he craved—for his Master to release him into the world that had only hurt him or to end it all. Quickly.

He received neither blessing.

Screams echoed off the corrugated tin walls of the warehouse long into the night until, finally, the contrasting silence would have deafened any occupants.

All but one man, who’d found peace at last.

“The IV knocked her out for a little bit. It won’t last more than another hour or so, I’d guess. When she wakes, she can take two of these every four hours. Make sure she eats a little or drinks a glass of milk with them even if she complains.” Lacey handed Razor written instructions along with the pain pills that had been prescribed for Izzy. “And try to rest with her. I worry about you, James.”

He hugged the woman who could have hated him so easily for his past failures.

“Thank you.” He raised his gaze to include the two men behind her as well. “For everything.”

“Don’t mention it, kid.” Mason paused before the trio slipped out the door, nodding toward the TV. “I DVR’d the news. You felt it, didn’t you? You knew something was off.”

“Doesn’t matter.” Razor shrugged. “I didn’t pay attention to the warnings. I trotted her out there like a duck in a shooting gallery.”

“Watch it.” Tyler clapped a hand onto his upper arm. “You did more than you think. You’re honing your edge. This girl is good for you.”

Before Razor could argue, they turned and left, shutting the door quietly behind them.

He snagged a few beers from the fridge before flopping onto the couch next to JRad. The other man surfed the limited channels of Razor’s basic cable, killing time while his queries ran.

Whatever the fuck that meant.

“You fixed the remote?” He passed one of the bottles to his friend, lifting his own in a silent salute.

“Yeah. What happened to it anyway?”

“Must have dropped it.” Admitting his fury over his initial attraction to Isabella seemed a bit absurd now. A blind man could see the fireworks flaring between them at every touch, every glance. JRad had witnessed far more than sparks this morning.

“Sure.” His friend wouldn’t believe it for a minute but he knew when not to push. JRad had a knack for worming into people’s psyches. “So…you want to see it?”

“Fuck, no.” Razor scrubbed his hand through his hair. “And yes. I don’t know.”

“For the record, I agree with Mason and Ty. Isabella’s resurrecting the old you. With several major improvements. You’ve lost some of the green you had.” When Razor opened his mouth to argue, JRad whipped out the stern tone he reserved for special occasions. “I caught your signal. Watch the clip.”

Razor blinked. Most times JRad made it easy to forget the geek possessed a core of steel. Solitary, yet an integral part of their pack, he could command a room without trying when he chose. His lazy grace rarely required him to flash the determination beneath. He hid behind a logical, nerdy shell. Almost like a woman who camouflaged a killer body beneath baggy clothes because of some misplaced self-consciousness.

What was up with that?

Sweet visions of their joint examination sped before Razor’s eyes. JRad’s clear authority had pervaded their interlude, peaking when the man helped feed Razor’s cock into Izzy’s virgin mouth. His friend knew how to handle a woman yet he’d never had a steady girlfriend in the time Razor had known him.

He contemplated prying.

JRad disarmed him with a shrug and an offhanded, “Whatever.”

As though it didn’t matter if they chose to hindsight the evening’s action or flip on anything from the sports highlights to a porno instead. Either that or his squadmate realized how much he’d revealed.

Razor didn’t have the energy to start a tense discussion tonight in any case.

“Fine. Shit. Play the damn thing.”

JRad had the segment cued up. Razor grimaced at the introduction. Of course they’d replayed clips from Izzy’s interview. Her metamorphosis impressed him. She’d blossomed in the past week alone, transforming from the frightened, battered woman who wept onscreen to the independent beauty who’d emerged.

Isabella amazed him, adaptable and so tough.

Next came the footage of them about to kiss—the very first day in the practice room—along with his fierce, protective reaction to the asshole cameraman. Watching it unfold from this vantage point underscored the futility of struggling to repress attraction so instinctive, immediate and complete. The producers had included a snippet from last night’s fire, which revealed the two of them consoling each other while bundled in a blanket on the bumper of the ambulance.

Razor ignored the speculation of the newsroom crew as they aired a portion of his and Izzy’s debut dance. He hadn’t realized he held his breath until JRad’s knee knocked into his.

“She’s okay, kid. Relax.”

He blew a stream of cold air through numb lips as he watched himself scanning the crowd. The instant of hesitation when he’d almost called her off seemed clear as day. He silently screamed at the video of himself.

Take her and run. Listen to your gut.

He noted the awkward fumbles caused by his stilted gait. Instead of drowning in the approval of Izzy’s gaze, he’d had his head up, peering out into the crowd.

His molars ground together as they neared the point of no return. Faster than he could see in the recording, he switched direction an instant before he and Isabella hit the ground. The delayed reaction of the crowd attested to their stunned disbelief. Jesus, it had happened so fast. In his reality it’d seemed like an eternity.

No one else had expected it. No one else had been tipped off.

The network replayed the terrifying moment in super-slow motion, over and over. From every angle. It became clear he’d reacted well before the shot had been fired. The slight turn he’d squeaked had meant the difference between a kill shot to the heart and a graze to the underside of Izzy’s arm in their ballroom hold.

While JRad intended to reaffirm Razor’s reaction, the near miss left him freezing inside at what had almost occurred. He never could have recovered from losing her. Not like that. Not when he should have prevented it.

“You saved her.”

“I let him shoot her.”

“You kept her alive. That’s all that matters.”

Razor didn’t agree, but something more bothered him at the moment. “This doesn’t make sense. We expected them to try to steal her. Why the hell would they hurt her?”

He couldn’t force himself to say
kill
.

“That’s what I’ve been sitting here wondering.” JRad scratched his chin. “Doesn’t fit. Why risk twelve mil unless it’s to protect the rest of the ring. Either they think she knows more than she does, or she knows something she doesn’t know she knows. We’ll have to question her some more. Dig deeper.”

“Not tonight.”

“Don’t get your panties in a wad. I won’t bother your girl now.” JRad sighed. “She needs sleep. Tomorrow… We have to uncover some answers so you two can put this behind you and start the rest of your lives together.”

“You’re making some huge assumptions there.” Not that he didn’t hunger for the nirvana his friend implied. But how the hell could he convince Izzy to stay with a poor schmuck like him? Once things settled down, she’d realize he had nothing to offer her long-term.

“All I know is you both seem to have found what you need. That makes you pretty damn fortunate in my book.” JRad leveled a pointed glare in Razor’s direction. “You can’t tell me you’d throw that away when hardly anyone discovers what they’re looking for.”

“What’re you looking for, Jeremy?”

“Something I’m not likely to stumble across. Older every day and no luck yet.” His friend grimaced as he stood. Razor understood his discomfort had more to do with the subject at hand than the stiffness of his muscles. The guy couldn’t be more than thirty-two on the outside. “Well, it’s been exciting, but my results await. Matt and Clint are supervising this shift. Mason and Ty will be on after dawn. You’re covered.”

“Thanks.” Razor cleared his throat, debating the prudence of speaking his mind. What the hell? He hadn’t lost all traces of his impulsive recklessness yet. He hedged by considered how Tyler would say what he meant. Then he blurted, “You know, friendship is a two way street. I’m here…”

“Yeah. Just not now. Not tonight.”

He didn’t plan to goad the other man to share before he was ready. Isabella spared them from an awkward parting when she called softly from his bed, “James?”

“Go.” JRad nodded. “Take care of your girl. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Razor plucked the pills, an unopened bottle of water and a granola bar from the side table then headed into his room. He’d left the bathroom door ajar with the light on so Izzy wouldn’t wake up scared, in the dark. A sliver of the yellow glow illuminated the bed. His heart stuttered when his gaze landed on her, tucked under his covers, wearing another one of his shirts.

Waves of platinum hair framed her precious face. Sapphire and diamond earrings dangled beside her cheeks, which had regained some color. Sure, the ice was costume but she probably had a truckload of the real deal in her mansion. A true princess compared to his pauper, she seemed surreal sometimes.