Razor's Edge: Men in Blue, Book 2, page 11
The guy scanned him head to toe before nodding, though the tension in the air hadn’t diminished much.
“Uh…need to…use the restroom.” Isabella tossed the obvious fib over her shoulder as she scurried for the swinging door into the main area of the restaurant. Through the gap, Razor watched her hustle—eyes lowered, shoulders hunched—to the door marked Ladies.
She should have waited to fumble her phone from her purse until she had hidden behind the cover of the shiny brass door. Who the hell did she plan to call? Why didn’t she want him listening in?
Before he could brainstorm possibilities, Stefan started in with the third degree.
“What are you doing with Bella? You may be a cop but you don’t know what she’s been through. Not really.”
“And you do?” Razor’s hackles rose at the thought. “Maybe you should fill me in, buddy.”
The asshole had the decency to look chagrined.
“She’s a regular. Over the years I’ve seen enough to determine the men in her life treat her like shit. They smothered her, never let her talk out of turn or indulged her flirtatious side. It’s not her fault she’s sheltered and doesn’t see their true colors. Look, man, all types come in here. Her dad and that pussy husband of hers are two of the worst. They might’ve had her fooled for a while, but she’s finally doing the right thing. Don’t screw it up for her. Don’t make it harder. She’s a good girl. There’s nothing for you to bother her over. I’d bet this whole shop she’s not involved in whatever the hell you’re digging around for.”
In two seconds flat, this guy tallied the score. Razor had to collect Izzy and beat it the hell out of here before Stefan could tip her off. Otherwise, the case would be ruined and she’d never forgive him. Suddenly the latter seemed the worse of the two consequences.
“Could you answer a couple questions if I send someone over? Believe me, I’d like nothing more than to put those bastards away where they can never touch her again.” The vehemence in his growl must have convinced the chef.
“Yeah, have your guy stop by after the dinner rush. Around eleven. I don’t know how useful it’ll be, but I’ll share anything I’ve seen or heard if it will help her out.”
“Thank you.”
Stefan shook his proffered hand in a firm yet reasonable grip as Isabella returned through the swinging door. The pasty hue of her skin, devoid of the flush she’d worn in, had chills assaulting his spine. Razor wondered who she could have spoken to in those brief minutes to make such an impact.
He and Stefan exchanged a worried glance.
“Chris! You have that to-go order? Take the filets from table ten.”
“Everything okay, Izzy?” Razor held out his hand to her. She latched on to it then sidled close enough to lay her head on his chest, wrapping her arms around his waist.
“Yeah, just tired.” Even though he recognized her excuse as she studied the floor, the exhausted sigh she released when she rested against him had him counting the seconds until they could be on their way.
The easy familiarity she exuded around him made him wish they were heading to his apartment for dinner in bed instead.
He stroked her tangled hair while the assistant boxed their food. Something had shut her down. The urge to tuck her somewhere safe and force her to spill bubbled inside him. Some deformed part of his brain refused to insist she air her dirty laundry. He needed her to come clean on her own.
“I’ve got you, princess,” he whispered into the hair at her temple.
He couldn’t say how long they stood huddled in the corner, out of the bustle. It probably had been more than two minutes. Time flew by as he relished holding her.
She blinked at Stefan when he handed her a fancy maroon bag with gold-foil lettering.
“Enjoy, Bella. Rest up before your big day tomorrow. I’ll be voting for you.”
This time she didn’t relinquish her hold on Razor to hug Stefan goodbye. Razor’s chest puffed up when the other man raised a brow.
“Thank you, Stefan. Your support means a lot.”
“Come back to the dining room soon. And bring your cop.” He shrugged a shoulder in Razor’s direction. “I think you were lucky to snag him as a partner. He’ll treat you right.”
Isabella chewed her luscious lower lip then surrendered a hesitant nod. She fished in her purse for her wallet. Razor grunted when Stefan waved her off. He supposed it was true what they said. The more money you had, the more stuff you scored for free.
“I appreciate it, Stefan. Let’s go, Izzy.”
He wrapped his arm around her shoulders to steer her to his bike. After stowing their dinner in the saddlebag, he cupped her chin in his hand. “I don’t know what happened in there. Always remember I’m trained to protect…and serve.”
She winced then turned her head to press a sweet kiss to his palm. “Will you please take me home? After dinner, I’d like to talk if you’re still interested in listening.”
If he could have blindfolded her for one minute, he would have performed a ridiculous dance of joy complete with fist pumping, hip thrusting and maybe even a little crotch grabbing thrown in for the hell of it.
Razor enfolded her in a bear hug with the potential to crush a weaker being. He peppered her checks, eyelids, nose and, finally, mouth with quick pecks. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank. You,” he whispered between each resounding smack of his lips.
She giggled, but her gaze was dead serious when it met his. “No, James. Thank you.”
He climbed on before her, asking over his shoulder, “Where are you staying?”
“On Seventeenth Street.”
Razor completed a mental review of the neighborhoods in that section of the city. He dismissed most outright. “On the north side of the outer belt?”
“Ah, no. Seventeenth and Lakeview.”
“Holy shit, Izzy. Do you have any idea how many calls pour in from that district? And how many more incidents should be reported but aren’t ’cause the residents think drive-bys, domestic violence and drug wars are acceptable parts of daily life? Do you have a death wish?”
“I’ve kept to myself and no one’s bothered me. Besides, the room came with a pet rat.”
“Jesus Christ. Did you sign a lease on this shithole?”
“A weekly agreement. I needed something fast and obscure where people don’t ask a lot of questions. Unlike someone I know.” He couldn’t be sure in the glow from the streetlamp but he thought color stained her cheeks. No use fighting about it now. He’d go on TV naked before he let her stay another night in some fleabag, rent-a-room.
He’d move in with JRad for a while so she could squat at his place if push came to shove.
They’d take a ride, eat their steaks, hash things out, then gather her stuff and move her somewhere safe. The trip should have taken about ten minutes from the heart of downtown. They made it in half the time as they whisked through the city streets without loads of traffic to jam them up. Razor gritted his teeth and signaled. He turned onto her street. Boarded up windows, broken glass and graffiti became regular landmarks in the urban scenery.
As they approached, he prepared to ask for a more specific location. Then he spotted the gleaming, cherry-red Enzo sitting at the curb. Its fresh wax gleamed in the light from the full moon. How in the hell had it made it this long without ending up stolen or vandalized? The sports car cost more than an entire block of this neighborhood. The residents probably assumed it was a trap.
He cut the engine then jumped a solid three inches off the seat when a car in the driveway behind them backfired.
Isabella slid from the motorcycle. She headed into the shadows before he’d finished parking. She had a bad fucking habit of trotting off without waiting for him.
From the corner of his eye he caught a glimmer of motion heading in her direction.
“Izzy!” He called out as he sprinted the ten feet to her, knocking aside the man who’d charged. They crashed to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Razor grabbed the guy by the scruff of his neck and pinned the assailant’s arms to his hips. A noxious stench, worse than the odor caused when Clint deposited a fish in his desk as a welcome-to-the-force prank, enveloped him.
Despite his gagging, he realized Isabella gaped at him as though he’d squashed a kitten. She motioned for him to desist.
“Leo! Are you okay?”
Who the fuck was Leo?
“I didn’t do nothing. I swear!” The dude stayed on the ground after Razor crawled off the stinky jumble of ripped fabric wrapping the man’s slender frame.
Razor cringed when Isabella crouched beside the man after shooting him a glare that screamed, “How could you?”
His pulse slowed to somewhere near normal. The rushing in his ears receded. That’s when he realized the man staggering to his feet looked more likely to keel over from hunger than to mug someone. In fact, he swayed like a tree in a windstorm.
Razor brushed Izzy aside as she attempted to brace the man. Even his emaciated frame would be enough to knock her off balance on that ankle. The homeless man shied from his supporting grasp.
“Sorry about that. We’ve had a kind of crazy day. I thought you were—” Shit, he didn’t quite know who they were on the lookout for, “—someone else.”
He led the man to the curb then helped situate the bum on the cracked stairs leading to the street.
“Are you sure you’re all right, Leo?” Isabella hovered nearby.
“Yeah, yeah, no problem. Nothing wrong with a man who takes care of his lady.”
Neither one of them bothered to correct the man’s faulty assumptions. Izzy edged toward his bike. Did it offend her to hear Leo talk about them like a couple?
“I think I have something to make it up to you.” She returned with one of the Carnot’s takeout boxes.
“Hot damn! I mean… dang. I can smell some tasty dead cow from here.”
Razor thought if Leo’s smile spread any further he’d risk tearing his perma-frown.
The man did a respectable job of disguising his sniffle behind the sleeve of one of his assorted coats. “You remembered my steak?”
“Not just any steak, Leo. She brought you the best prime beef in the whole fucking city.” He probably owed her an apology for the insulting thoughts he’d harbored while driving her over to the restaurant. Spoiled. Too good for a run through Mickey D’s drive-through. When really she laid claim to one of the biggest, softest hearts of anyone he’d ever met.
Who would’ve guessed compassion could be such a turn-on?
“Watch your language, son. This here’s a gen-u-ine lady.”
Razor grinned at Leo’s exaggerated pronunciation, but truer words had never been spoken.
“Do you need somewhere warm to enjoy your dinner?” Isabella went one step further, inviting Leo inside. “This place isn’t much. Still, you’re welcome to join us.”
“I couldn’t accept, Ms. Bella.”
Razor would be lying if he didn’t admit to some relief over that one. Leo seemed nice, and sane enough, but Razor wanted Izzy alone—protected and willing to talk.
“Why not?” Though small, she had a truckload of determination on her side.
“Don’t like confined spaces much. Besides, you got company.” Leo had already cracked open the clamshell housing his meal. Steam poured from the opening. The man stuck his nose into the plastic and inhaled so deep he had a miniature coughing fit.
Izzy went to retrieve the other two meals along with the plasticware Stefan had tossed on top. The instant she turned around, Leo picked up his steak with his grubby fingers and took a giant bite.
“Heaven on Earth!” He managed to choke out around the juicy meat. “I’m good right here. With the five of you in that flat, I’d never catch my breath.”
Neither would we, Leo. Razor chastised himself for the nasty reaction. Thank God, for once, he hadn’t spit out his thoughts before filtering them. The chief said he had verbal diarrhea sometimes. He didn’t mean to offend yet he found himself perpetually walking around with his foot in his mouth.
“Hang on. Rewind.” His mind stopped wandering long enough to process the rest of the man’s statement. “Who are you talking about? There are only two of us. Not five.”
Leo paused mid-bite. Mashed potatoes plopped into the container from where he’d piled them on his next helping. “You’re not expecting anyone, Ms. Bella?”
Razor’s stare shot to her in time to catch her shake her head. Thank God again.
“Three men in black suits came ’round about the same time your car showed up. I saw ’em checking out the mailboxes. You know half at least don’t have numbers no more. They said they’d give me five bucks if I pointed out your room. They were dressed real nice. Not like people who live here. I thought you’d already come home. That you’d slipped by me. On purpose.”
He spoke faster and gestured with his steak until some of the potatoes spilled onto his gloves as he started to hyperventilate.
“It’s okay, Leo. Maybe they’re people I know.” Isabella tried to calm the man.
Both he and Razor understood the visitors were no welcome party. He dug his phone from his pocket in a flash.
“This is James Reoser, badge 98237410, requesting backup at Seventeenth and Lakeview. Suspected breaking and entering.”
“He’s a cop?” Leo replaced the filet in its packaging as though it were a crystal vase. He clutched the container to his chest as he stumbled into the shadows.
“He’s a friend. You have nothing to worry about. You haven’t done anything wrong.” Izzy’s reassurance didn’t have any effect. The man started to fade into the murky background.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Bella. Didn’t mean no harm. I didn’t know you weren’t looking to be found. Thanks. For the steak. Thank you, nice lady. Gotta go now. Gotta go.”
Razor set a personal record when he drew his sidearm for the third time in a single day on duty before snagging her upper arm to keep her close. “Don’t argue. Safer if he leaves. Stay right behind me.”
His hand coasted along her arm until their fingers met. Then he wrapped hers around the waistband of his jeans, inches above his ass. “Hold on and don’t let go. I don’t want to lose you in the dark. We have to move. We’re out in the open, a blatant target for anyone coming along those stairs.”
When she didn’t respond, his nerves sizzled. “Say it, Izzy. You will not let go.”
“I’m right behind you, James.” Her promise wavered, but held. They jogged toward the cover of the wooded yard. When they hunkered together beneath a giant oak tree, Razor peeked from behind it. Silver-blue rays of light crisscrossed a window on the second floor, about thirty feet from their hiding spot.
He jerked his head toward the building. “Your apartment?”
Isabella snuck a glance over his shoulder. “I’m not certain. If it’s not mine, it’s one right next door.”
“Son of a bitch.” He slammed his hand, the one without the gun, against the gnarled bark of the tree. “What do you have in there?”
“Nothing much. A couple changes of clothes, some makeup…”
“Cash?”
“Uh…”
“Now’s not the time to lie, princess. You suck at it anyway.”
“Jerk! Yeah, yeah, okay. What money I have is up there.”
“How much?” Jesus, the minutes ticked by and the flashlight beams continued to bob through the open blinds. If she’d only stashed the basics, what the hell were they searching for? He ached to bust through the rickety door on her exterior landing and force them to spill. Leaving her alone simply wasn’t an option.
Come on, guys. Hurry.
“Twenty-five thousand, give or take.”
“Jesus.” More money than he’d ever seen in one place, the sum was nowhere near enough to warrant an operation of this scale when a simple smash and grab would have sufficed.
“I know it’s dumb to leave it lying around. I didn’t have any…”
“No, Izzy. You don’t understand. There’s something else. Think!” His harsh whisper cut through the night.
She blinked at him, her blue eyes as wide as an owl’s in the starlight. But she never had time to deliver her confession.
Chapter Ten
Razor couldn’t say for sure which happened first, the flash or the bang. He would always remember the vibrations most. The entire earth shook as though it were the centerpiece of some colossal god’s snow globe. Heat and blinding orange light flared into the inky sky, hot enough to singe his eyebrows. He had time to think, This is going to hurt, as he flew through the air. Then he crashed into the trunk of a tree some undetermined distance from where he’d started.
His arm whipped out, by some miracle finding Izzy still attached to him. She hadn’t let go. In the same motion, he rolled, blanketing her with his body. His biceps pillowed her head as he wrapped around her, trying to block every exposed inch from the debris raining all over them.
Bits of stone, metal and flaming wood crashed into the dirt beside them. A groan escaped him when a chunk larger than the rest smashed into the armored section of his touring jacket, which protected his ribs. He couldn’t hear the sound he knew he made.
The blast had deafened him.
So, when someone surprised him by grabbing his shoulder—yanking him to his feet—he popped up, swinging. No way in hell would he let them reach Isabella without a fight.
The familiar face about to become intimately acquainted with his fist had him pulling his punch at the last possible second. Instead of the right hook that would have guaranteed a broken nose, his knuckles glanced off Mason’s cheekbone.
Strong arms hooked his elbows, dragging them toward the center of his spine. Tyler Lambert shouted in his ear. “Enough! It’s us.”
He sagged in the other man’s firm grip. The world spun as though he’d split another case of beer with JRad. Whoa.
Razor calmed his respiration, inhaling a huge breath and holding it, while he watched Mason pluck Isabella from the minefield of smoldering shrapnel surrounding them. The ringing in his ears subsided enough to permit the wail of approaching sirens to slice through the din.
Cheap building materials, which had probably never met code, blazed, wafting up a cloud of foul, carcinogenic, midnight smoke visible against the blackness.
