Read Online Razor's Edge: Men in Blue, Book 2 by Jayne Rylon - Free Book Online
Authors: Jayne Rylon
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heading for the target. When the sniper looked back, she’d already hidden behind the cover of her car. Even if he could be sure the bullet would stay true through the sheet metal, or that he’d hit her behind the tinted glass, destroying the vehicle seemed crude. They’d only made four hundred of them and half of those had probably been crashed by now. Maybe, after she had been terminated, he’d buy the car and keep it as a momento.
Being wasteful wasn’t his style. There’d be plenty of other chances to complete his assignment. He’d promised his employer he’d finish the job by the end of the week. Time enough to make it perfect for them both.
Chapter Five
Razor rode until his arms and legs went numb enough he worried he might crash his motorcycle. When the freezing evening air finally registered, he headed for home. Day one of his new life had been a hell of a reintroduction to undercover work.
At the apartment, he parked then hopped off his bike. At least he tried to. His thigh had stiffened beyond belief. It took some working over the scarred area, plus two more attempts, to clear the seat. Once he had, he found himself gazing at the twilight sky, smiling as he recalled the highlights of the afternoon.
Terrorists could rip his fingernails off one by one before he’d admit it to the guys at the station, but he’d enjoyed the hell out of dancing with Izzy. Even when she’d tried to shut him out, electricity had sizzled under the surface, ready to arc between them when she let her guard drop.
Every time he’d mastered a difficult step she rewarded him with those delicious dimples and serious approval. By the mid-point of their session, she’d upgraded the choreography to incorporate more advanced tricks.
Razor danced up his sidewalk, practicing her precious rise and fall with the heel-toe action inciting his muscles to cry uncle. It’d been a while since he believed he could succeed at something. So what if it was a stupid contest—one he wasn’t a true competitor in?
He had no idea why it mattered, but he needed to give his partner a chance at her dream. It must be the way she looked at him, as though she noticed the wounds no one else could see. The ones on his soul.
She empathized because she had scars too.
He’d swear on it.
What he couldn’t decide was how they’d shaped her. Or him for that matter. What did either of them have to offer the world after sustaining irreparable damage? How would they act now that their ideals had shattered and reformed?
Razor swung wide as he practiced the dip Izzy had taught him. Without her weight to counterbalance him, he staggered a little.
“It could use some polish, kid.”
He fumbled when he caught sight of the familiar man loitering on his steps. Jeremy Radisson sat on the landing with his legs stretched out over the stairs. From the glint in his friend’s eyes, Razor knew he’d been busted big time.
“Shit. You’re not going to keep this to yourself, are you JRad?”
“Oh, hell no.” He grinned. “What fun would that be?”
Razor would have taken a whole load of crap instead of the glum resolve that coalesced on the computer whiz’s face, dampening his teasing.
“Fuck me.”
“No thanks. You’re not my type. But, yeah, you’re probably not gonna like this.” JRad climbed to his feet and made things worse. “Why don’t we head inside?”
“That bad?”
“I respect you. I think of you as my little brother on the force. That’s why you should hear the truth from me before you face it in front of the chief and the other guys. I can wait until the briefing tomorrow morning, but then I have to share what I found.”
Acid clawed at his stomach as he fished in his pocket for his keys. He opened the door, waiting for JRad to pass. The older cop went straight to the fridge and removed four beers as though he lived in the apartment. He joined Razor in the connected living room where he’d plopped onto the hand-me-down couch he’d
Being wasteful wasn’t his style. There’d be plenty of other chances to complete his assignment. He’d promised his employer he’d finish the job by the end of the week. Time enough to make it perfect for them both.
Chapter Five
Razor rode until his arms and legs went numb enough he worried he might crash his motorcycle. When the freezing evening air finally registered, he headed for home. Day one of his new life had been a hell of a reintroduction to undercover work.
At the apartment, he parked then hopped off his bike. At least he tried to. His thigh had stiffened beyond belief. It took some working over the scarred area, plus two more attempts, to clear the seat. Once he had, he found himself gazing at the twilight sky, smiling as he recalled the highlights of the afternoon.
Terrorists could rip his fingernails off one by one before he’d admit it to the guys at the station, but he’d enjoyed the hell out of dancing with Izzy. Even when she’d tried to shut him out, electricity had sizzled under the surface, ready to arc between them when she let her guard drop.
Every time he’d mastered a difficult step she rewarded him with those delicious dimples and serious approval. By the mid-point of their session, she’d upgraded the choreography to incorporate more advanced tricks.
Razor danced up his sidewalk, practicing her precious rise and fall with the heel-toe action inciting his muscles to cry uncle. It’d been a while since he believed he could succeed at something. So what if it was a stupid contest—one he wasn’t a true competitor in?
He had no idea why it mattered, but he needed to give his partner a chance at her dream. It must be the way she looked at him, as though she noticed the wounds no one else could see. The ones on his soul.
She empathized because she had scars too.
He’d swear on it.
What he couldn’t decide was how they’d shaped her. Or him for that matter. What did either of them have to offer the world after sustaining irreparable damage? How would they act now that their ideals had shattered and reformed?
Razor swung wide as he practiced the dip Izzy had taught him. Without her weight to counterbalance him, he staggered a little.
“It could use some polish, kid.”
He fumbled when he caught sight of the familiar man loitering on his steps. Jeremy Radisson sat on the landing with his legs stretched out over the stairs. From the glint in his friend’s eyes, Razor knew he’d been busted big time.
“Shit. You’re not going to keep this to yourself, are you JRad?”
“Oh, hell no.” He grinned. “What fun would that be?”
Razor would have taken a whole load of crap instead of the glum resolve that coalesced on the computer whiz’s face, dampening his teasing.
“Fuck me.”
“No thanks. You’re not my type. But, yeah, you’re probably not gonna like this.” JRad climbed to his feet and made things worse. “Why don’t we head inside?”
“That bad?”
“I respect you. I think of you as my little brother on the force. That’s why you should hear the truth from me before you face it in front of the chief and the other guys. I can wait until the briefing tomorrow morning, but then I have to share what I found.”
Acid clawed at his stomach as he fished in his pocket for his keys. He opened the door, waiting for JRad to pass. The older cop went straight to the fridge and removed four beers as though he lived in the apartment. He joined Razor in the connected living room where he’d plopped onto the hand-me-down couch he’d
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