Read Online Razor's Edge: Men in Blue, Book 2 by Jayne Rylon - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jayne Rylon
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inherited from Mason and Tyler when they moved in with Lacey.
“You planning to start on that?” Jeremy nodded to the bottle Razor had nearly broken in his grip. “Or you want the news fast?”
“Both.” He used the edge of his coffee table to pop the top off his beer before downing half the contents in one long swig. “Go.”
“I…uh…hacked into her phone today.”
“Before you had the carrier’s permission?” Razor rubbed the knot of tension in his neck.
“We have a warrant, but…yeah.”
“JRad, that kind of shit is going to land you in trouble one day.” They’d had this conversation before. Right now, he didn’t care. He needed facts. Enough of all this emotional guesswork.
“I know.” JRad looked chagrined. Still, the rules never stopped the nerd. He loved a challenge when it came to breaking and entering on virtual premises. “Anyway, I hate to tell you, but I think she might be dirty.”
The serious concern on his friend’s face deflated Razor. He crashed into the cushions of the sofa, flinging a forearm over his eyes as though he could block out the world. As an afterthought, he snagged his beer. He drained it before exchanging it for the full bottle.
“Why?” The question sounded more like a croak to him. JRad understood.
“It sounds like she has a handler.”
“Fuck!” The vehemence of his anger and disbelief combo-special surprised them both.
“Tell me you aren’t invested after a single day.”
When Razor didn’t answer, JRad cursed. The hiss of Razor’s second beer opening ricocheted through the room.
“Damn it, I should have come down there. I tried to call. Your cell went straight to voicemail. I should have stopped in as soon as I intercepted the text messages.”
“When did they come in?” A sinking suspicion grew in his gut.
“Around eleven.”
“Son of a bitch!” That had been right about the time of their meltdown, when he’d bolted from the room and left her reeling. “I should have realized something had changed. She acted funny when I came back in. Fuck, she seemed terrified. I thought I’d startled her…you know, that she’s jumpy after whatever shoved her from the nest last week.”
JRad permitted him to ramble without asking for unnecessary details. “I could see her being frightened. The tone definitely threatened with a hefty dose of jealous asshole, ‘Don’t get too cozy with the cop. I’m watching.’ The dude also talked some shit about scoping her ass. Felt like he knew her. Maybe not. Maybe it’s a psych out. I wouldn’t put a lot of money on it, though.”
Razor thought of at least a dozen scenarios that could paint Isabella innocent, then shook his head. He refused to wear rose-colored glasses. “If she were clean, she would have showed me that shit, right? I’m a cop for God’s sake. I could help her if she were in trouble. Right?”
He peeled his arm from his face to glance at JRad, willing his friend to provide the barest shred of hope. Both men had stood in their friends’ house and bought a psychotic woman’s story hook, line and sinker. Neither cared to make such a grievous mistake again. JRad had answered Lacey’s frantic call that night while Razor had lain in a pool of his own congealing blood, terrified—not for himself, but for the brothers he had failed. And their woman.
Instead of false promises, JRad asked, “Want another beer?”
“Bring them all.”
The slave trembled with anticipation as he knelt in artificial darkness behind the satin and fur of his blindfold. Gentle hands guided his shoulders to the raised section of the padded bench. Leather restraints bolted to the far reaches of the contraption encircled his wrists. His cock throbbed, releasing a stream of pre-come that trickled toward his thigh.
Familiar scents—leather, sweat and sex—perfumed the air. He dragged in a greedy lungful and held it. The assistant shoved his knees further apart as she positioned him in the ideal pose. She
“You planning to start on that?” Jeremy nodded to the bottle Razor had nearly broken in his grip. “Or you want the news fast?”
“Both.” He used the edge of his coffee table to pop the top off his beer before downing half the contents in one long swig. “Go.”
“I…uh…hacked into her phone today.”
“Before you had the carrier’s permission?” Razor rubbed the knot of tension in his neck.
“We have a warrant, but…yeah.”
“JRad, that kind of shit is going to land you in trouble one day.” They’d had this conversation before. Right now, he didn’t care. He needed facts. Enough of all this emotional guesswork.
“I know.” JRad looked chagrined. Still, the rules never stopped the nerd. He loved a challenge when it came to breaking and entering on virtual premises. “Anyway, I hate to tell you, but I think she might be dirty.”
The serious concern on his friend’s face deflated Razor. He crashed into the cushions of the sofa, flinging a forearm over his eyes as though he could block out the world. As an afterthought, he snagged his beer. He drained it before exchanging it for the full bottle.
“Why?” The question sounded more like a croak to him. JRad understood.
“It sounds like she has a handler.”
“Fuck!” The vehemence of his anger and disbelief combo-special surprised them both.
“Tell me you aren’t invested after a single day.”
When Razor didn’t answer, JRad cursed. The hiss of Razor’s second beer opening ricocheted through the room.
“Damn it, I should have come down there. I tried to call. Your cell went straight to voicemail. I should have stopped in as soon as I intercepted the text messages.”
“When did they come in?” A sinking suspicion grew in his gut.
“Around eleven.”
“Son of a bitch!” That had been right about the time of their meltdown, when he’d bolted from the room and left her reeling. “I should have realized something had changed. She acted funny when I came back in. Fuck, she seemed terrified. I thought I’d startled her…you know, that she’s jumpy after whatever shoved her from the nest last week.”
JRad permitted him to ramble without asking for unnecessary details. “I could see her being frightened. The tone definitely threatened with a hefty dose of jealous asshole, ‘Don’t get too cozy with the cop. I’m watching.’ The dude also talked some shit about scoping her ass. Felt like he knew her. Maybe not. Maybe it’s a psych out. I wouldn’t put a lot of money on it, though.”
Razor thought of at least a dozen scenarios that could paint Isabella innocent, then shook his head. He refused to wear rose-colored glasses. “If she were clean, she would have showed me that shit, right? I’m a cop for God’s sake. I could help her if she were in trouble. Right?”
He peeled his arm from his face to glance at JRad, willing his friend to provide the barest shred of hope. Both men had stood in their friends’ house and bought a psychotic woman’s story hook, line and sinker. Neither cared to make such a grievous mistake again. JRad had answered Lacey’s frantic call that night while Razor had lain in a pool of his own congealing blood, terrified—not for himself, but for the brothers he had failed. And their woman.
Instead of false promises, JRad asked, “Want another beer?”
“Bring them all.”
The slave trembled with anticipation as he knelt in artificial darkness behind the satin and fur of his blindfold. Gentle hands guided his shoulders to the raised section of the padded bench. Leather restraints bolted to the far reaches of the contraption encircled his wrists. His cock throbbed, releasing a stream of pre-come that trickled toward his thigh.
Familiar scents—leather, sweat and sex—perfumed the air. He dragged in a greedy lungful and held it. The assistant shoved his knees further apart as she positioned him in the ideal pose. She
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