Page 3 of Razor
Ella sighed, knowing that she wasn’t going to get much further in their conversation, and she was sure that Razor never lost an argument or a debate. “Fine, I was abducted about six months ago,” she admitted. Razor nearly slammed on the brakes, causing her to grab the dashboard.
“You were abducted?” he asked as though he didn’t believe her the first time.
“Yes, just let me get this out,” she ordered. “An MC called the Devils kidnapped me in front of my apartment building, took me to some warehouse, and put me in a cell. They sold me off at an auction three times, and then, they privately sold me to buyer number four. That’s when I was able to escape.”
“Wait, why did they auction you off three times?” he asked.
“That’s a long story, but the men who bought me kept returning me. Apparently, they didn’t like pain.” She was proud of herself for putting up a fight, and the smug smile on her face was proof of that.
“You hurt them?” he asked.
“Well, it was that or let them rape me,” she spat. “I decided that hurting buyers one through three was a valid option.”
“What happened with the fourth buyer?” he asked.
“Um, I think that I killed him,” she admitted. “I’m an ER nurse, so I know a few tricks about how to hurt someone and even take them out permanently.”
“You mean, you know how to kill someone,” he corrected.
“Well, yes, but telling a cop that won’t bode well for my case,” she teased. Razor made a U-turn at the closest light and started for town. “Where are you taking me?” she asked.
“Down to the precinct,” he admitted.
“You can’t just arrest me,” she insisted. “I was kidnapped, or did you not hear that part?”
“I heard it,” he assured. “And I’m not taking you down there to arrest you. I’m going to take your formal statement, and then, I’m going to get you set up someplace safe.”
“You don’t have to do all that for me,” she insisted.
“Yeah, I do,” he said. “Remember, I’m a cop, and I’m trained to help people.” She knew that trusting Razor might not be a good idea, but for the first time in a long time, he gave her just a little bit of hope, and that was enough for her.
Razor
Razor wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with the poor girl who sat next to him in his truck. She seemed so defeated, and every time he looked in her eyes, he saw an indescribable sadness that tore his heart in two. The one thing that he was sure of was that he had to get her some medical attention, and then, he’d question her to find out exactly what was going on. He was pretty sure that she’d fight him on both ends, but he didn’t care. He was a cop, and that was what he’d do for any woman who claimed to have been held in a cage by the Devils. He knew what the Devils were capable of firsthand, and if he could help Ella, he would.
He pulled into the underground parking garage at the station and found his spot. She read the sign in front of his truck, “Detective Henry Kling,” she whispered. “Is that you?”
Razor nodded and cut the truck’s engine. “Yes,” he said. “My legal name is Henry Kling, but everyone down at my MC calls me Razor.”
“You told me that you are a cop,” she reminded.
“I did, and I am,” he said.
“You’re a Detective,” she said, nodding to the sign. “That’s pretty high up for a cop, right?” It was more than he ever planned on being. Hell, Razor planned on spending most of his career as a uniformed officer, but once Tori died, he needed a new plan. Violet needed him to be there for her twenty-four, seven. So, he took the Detective’s test, and that gave him the ability to make his own hours and spend time with his toddler.
“I was a uniformed police officer, but that all changed when—” he stopped mid-sentence, realizing that he was about to spill his guts to a total stranger. His problems were his own, and right now, Ella needed his help. He needed to get his head on straight and do his damn job.
“When what?” she asked. He could feel her dark eyes on him, and he knew that he had already said too much but telling her that today was the anniversary of his wife’s brutal murder wasn’t happening.
“Never mind,” he breathed. He spotted Spade’s truck a few spaces down and hoped like hell that he was in the office. He quickly shot his friend a text to meet him in his office, knowing that Spade was a wildcard. He still worked undercover, and there were stretches of days and even weeks that he’d disappear for. Razor just hoped that Spade wasn’t on a case because he had a feeling that he was going to need his friend’s help with Ella’s case. He was giving her the benefit of the doubt because he had a strong feeling that she had a case against the Devils—the problem would be proving it, but judging from the look of her, they’d be able to.
Her leg seemed to have stopped bleeding, and the dried blood on her jeans looked as though she had lost a lot of blood. “Listen, I think that my buddy is here, and he’ll be able to give us a hand. Plus, you need to have that leg checked out and get a good meal in you after the doctor gives you the go-ahead,” he said, changing the subject.
“I’m fine,” she lied. She looked as though they had nearly beaten the life out of her, and he was pretty sure that the last man she was with had raped her. She said that she had stabbed him, but he could see the truth in her eyes. When she told him about the fourth buyer, her eyes were sad and gave away the ugly truth. For now, he’d let her think that he believed that she was fine, even if he knew differently. The Devils were ruthless and would do whatever they wanted with the women they considered to be their property.
He helped her out of his truck, and she hesitated to let him wrap his arm around her waist. “You need some help,” he insisted. “Your leg looks bad.”
“It’s fine,” she lied again.
