Razor's Edge (38 page)

“Where am I? Who are you?” she demanded.

“I'm General Bower.”

“Why am I here?”

He crouched down, putting himself on eye level with her. His face was tanned, and the sun had left its mark in deep lines around his eyes and across his forehead. “We want the diary. It wasn't on you, so you're going to tell me where it is.”

Feigning ignorance seemed to be the safest course of action. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

He stood, pulled his arm back, and slapped her across the face. The blow stunned her, and she nearly fell backward in the chair. Only his rough hands pushing down on her arms kept her from toppling.

Roxanne's ears rang, and a stinging ache radiated down her neck. She tasted the coppery tinge of blood in her mouth and felt a small cut her teeth had made along the inside of her lip.

Bower crouched down again, exactly where he'd been before. His expression hadn't changed. He wasn't mad. He wasn't upset. He didn't even seem frustrated. He'd simply hit her and gone on as if nothing had happened. “Let's try this again. Jake Staite sent you his diary. Where is it?”

She hesitated, weighing her options a little more carefully this time. “It's locked in a high-security vault, under twenty-four-hour surveillance.”

He nodded. “That's better. I respect honesty. In fact, I think I should be completely honest with you.”

Something about the way he said it made the hair on the back of Roxanne's neck lift in fear.

He covered her hand with his, and she couldn't help the immediate surge of revulsion she felt. “I have your boyfriend,” said Bower.

“Tanner?” She craned her neck, stretching the limits of her bindings in an effort to see him. He was nowhere to be found.

Bower's eyebrows lifted in surprise. “Oh. I see. So Jake isn't your sweetheart. It's the other man—the one who hesitated when he should have taken the shot on my man. Tanner could have saved you, you know. One shot and you'd be with your honey right now, all safe and sound.” He smirked as if that had amused him. “Actually, I was talking about Staite. He's here. He's waiting for the doctor so she can put on the final touches.”

Trepidation vibrated through her body, chilling her. She didn't want to ask, but the compulsion was too great. “What did you do to him?”

“We're making him better. Stronger. Faster. Obedient. I think you'll like the change, at least for a little while.”

“I'll give you the journal. Just let him go.”

“You know, I think that's a fine idea. We'll have your boyfriend go and fetch it, then bring it here.”

She couldn't ask Tanner or anyone else to risk their lives for her like that. “No. Let me go get it.”

“Do I look that stupid? We're not letting you go anywhere. You're part of the show.”

“What show?”

“Our investors are watching. We can't leave them bored without some form of entertainment. That would be bad manners.”

He wasn't making any sense. She could tell he was toying with her, but she couldn't figure out his angle. “What do you mean?”

“Does he love you?”

Her confusion deepened. “Who?”

“Staite.”

“He's like family. I'll do anything to save him.”

“That's so sweet. And fortunate. You'll be the perfect test.”

“I don't understand. Just tell me what you want to let Jake go.”

“Oh, we're going to let Jake go, all right. We're going to let him out of his cage, and he's going to come down here and kill you. Once our investors see that our protocol works, the money will pour in like rain.”

“I have money. I'll give it all to you if you let us go.”

He leaned down so he was in her face, his hot breath shoving its way up her nose. “Sweetheart, I know who you are. You have millions, which is cute, but not nearly enough. We're looking for bigger fish. You're worth far more to us dead than alive.”

“W
ake the fuck up,” shouted Reid.

Like all those years back at home, Tanner obeyed his brother's order and opened his eyes. For a second, he thought he might be late for the bus; then he realized how stupid that was. It had been years since he'd been in school.

Reid's face hovered over his, concern and fury mingling into a fierce mask. “Can you sit up?”

Confusion plagued him. Of course he could sit up. What kind of a crazy question was that? He tried to push himself upright, but his arms were too wobbly to support his weight.

What the hell had happened? Had they gone drinking last night? That didn't sound right. Reid never hung out with him like that. But the feeling in his head was the same. The bitter taste in the back of his throat, the pounding headache, the lethargy—it sure as hell felt like a hangover.

“Wake up, Tanner. Don't you do this to me.” Reid roughly patted Tanner's cheek, and it wasn't until then that he realized his eyes had closed again.

“Do what?” Even the sound of his own voice was too loud.

Reid lowered his voice, as if he didn't want others to hear. “Razor needs you to wake up.”

Razor? Roxanne.

Everything slammed back into his brain: the diner, Jake, the explosion, the man in gray flying off with Roxanne.

Fear for her shoved his eyelids up and gave his limbs the strength to move. He sat up and gritted his teeth through the wave of dizziness that hit him. “Where is she?”

Reid's expression was grim. “They took her. Jake, too. They used her earpiece to communicate with us. They'll only talk to you.”

“Why?”

“How the fuck should I know?”

“It's a stall tactic,” said Clay.

Tanner swiveled his head, tracking where the voice had come from. They were in the back of the MCC, though he couldn't remember how he got here. Clay was sitting at the table where Tanner had made love to Roxanne the first time.

She was gone. It had been his job to keep her safe, and he'd let her down.

He was always letting down the people he loved.

As the truth hit him, he pushed it away, unable to deal with the implications of his feelings. He couldn't love her right now, not when she was out there, in danger. He had to stay focused and think logically. She needed him right now, and no amount of love was going to save her. Only cunning and a shitload of bullets could do that.

“What do you mean a stall tactic?” asked Reid.

Clay looked up from his laptop. “They knew Tanner was hit with the tranq. They knew it would take him a few hours to wake up, giving them plenty of time to get away and regroup.”

“Where?” Tanner struggled to his feet, forcing his legs to accept his weight. The MCC was moving. He could feel the vibrations of the tires under his feet.

Reid held on to Tanner's arm, keeping him steady. “We don't know. They wanted a phone number to contact, so I gave them mine. They'll call us.”

“Did you call the police?”

“After what just happened at that diner? Do you really want to spend the next two days stuck in an interrogation room, answering questions? I've spent enough time that way lately, thank you.”

Reid was right. Tanner wasn't thinking clearly yet. And he still wasn't convinced that whoever had the funding and organization to pull off something like what they'd done to Jake wasn't also in the business of buying off law enforcement. It was clear they were willing to drug people against their will. Bribing a few cops didn't seem like that big of a deal in comparison.

“They want the journal,” said Tanner. “We need to get it.”

“Payton's on the way with it. He made a copy, but he's bringing the original.”

Clay poured a cup of coffee from the built-in coffeemaker and handed it to Tanner. “Drink this. It'll help flush that shit out of your system.”

Tanner drank. It burned his mouth a little, but he didn't care. He needed to be thinking clearly. Roxanne was at stake.

“I don't like it,” said Clay. “They've got to know that we'll copy the journal. The leak is sprung. The only way to stop it is to take out everyone who came in contact with the information.”

“There's no way they can control something like that now. The cat is out of the bag.”

“You don't get it,” said Tanner. “You don't have to kill everyone involved—just enough of us that the rest of us are too scared to talk.”

Clay shook his head. “They'll come after all of us. Mark my words. We either take them out and expose them for what they are, or they'll hunt every last one of us down.”

“Wait a minute.” Reid held up his hands. “Listen to yourselves. We're not going to storm in and mow people down. We're not at war.”

“The fuck we're not,” said Tanner. “They have Roxanne. I'll do whatever it takes to get her back.”

Reid's brows rose; then his eyes narrowed as he studied Tanner in silence. That scrutinizing look was no good. His brother was far too perceptive for his own good.

“And Jake,” added Clay. “If we don't get him out, Razor will be right back out there, looking for him.”

A cell phone rang, and Reid answered it. He listened for a moment, then handed the phone to Tanner. “It's them.”

Clay jumped up and went to the computer console toward the front. Tanner pulled in a deep breath and took the phone. “Hello?”

“Hey, lover,” said a man. “I've got your sweet, hot thing here. Say hi, sweet, hot thing.”

Roxanne's voice was rough and weak, but she was alive. Tanner's soul shouted in relief. “Don't come, Tanner. He'll kill—”

“None of that,” said the man, coming back on the line. “We want the journal.”

“I don't have it, but I will.”

“Sooner is better than later. Your sweetheart doesn't have much time.”

“Don't you fucking hurt her, or I'll kill you,” growled Tanner.

“Threats? Really? How smart is that when you're all the way over there and I'm all the way over here? With her.” There was the sound of a hard slap and Roxanne let out a gasp of pain.

Tanner's blood pressure shot up. He wanted to crawl through the phone and kill this bastard with his bare hands. Only the realization that his words could get her killed helped rein him in.

When he spoke, his voice barely sounded human. “Take me. Let her go. I'll even play nice and let you do whatever you want without a fight. You can put one of those fucking poison pills in my head. I don't care.”

“You're not our type,” said the man, “but that's sweet of you to offer.”

“I'll be whatever type you want. Just let her go.”

“Here's how it's going to work, lover boy. You're going to come alone with the diary to a location of my choosing. I'll have men there to meet you. You come here and we'll talk. If anyone comes with you, she dies. If anyone follows you, she dies. We find a single bug or tracking device on you, she dies. Get the pattern here?”

“I understand.”

“Good. We get the diary and any copies of it you made, and you get the girl.”

“What about Jake?”

“I have a feeling you won't want him anymore.”

“Why? What have you done to him?”

“Two hours,” said the man. “Have the diary in two hours or the deal's off and you'll never hear from me or your woman again.”

T
anner thanked God that Payton was loaded and had his own plane. Tanner made it to the rendezvous point with only two minutes to spare. The diary was tucked inside a briefcase Payton had sworn was clean of surveillance devices.

Tanner was sure he was lying.

The field was in the middle of nowhere, with nothing but grass, cows, and oil pumps to hide behind. Pumps churned away, sucking oil out from deep wells. The sun blazed down, making him sweat beneath the armored tactical vest. He'd come without weapons and stripped himself of all tracking that he knew of, including the dog tags he'd been given by the Edge.

That didn't mean there weren't any devices on him. It just meant he didn't know where they were. Plausible deni-ability, he guessed.

Dust snaked in a path behind a black van in the distance. He'd had to hike in here on foot, letting his cell phone's GPS guide him to the indicated coordinates. The van pulled up beside him, and the back door slid open.

A stony-faced man sat inside, pointing a rifle at Tanner's gut. “Open the case.”

Tanner did as he was directed, scanning the inside of the van for what he was up against. There were four men, all armed and holding weapons like they knew how to use them. “Where's Roxanne?”

“You'll see her soon enough.”

“No one gets the journal until I know she's alive.”

The man reached for a phone, and without taking his eyes off Tanner, dialed a single number. “He wants to know she's alive.” There was a long pause; then the man tossed him the phone.

Tanner caught it and brought it to his ear. “Roxanne?”

On the other end, he could hear someone talking nearby. A man. “Lover boy wants to know you're alive. Scream for him, honey.”

A gurgling scream of pain filled his ear, making his stomach drop with a jolt. That was Roxanne's voice, and whatever that bastard was doing to her was torturing her.

“Stop!” shouted Tanner.

The screams died off into gasping pants for air. The man said into the phone, “Are you convinced she's alive, or do you need more proof?”