Page 43 of Razor's Edge
“I may not like this. It makes my fucking skin crawl. That bitch makes my skin crawl, but I can promise you I’m the one you need right now. So, if you would move, I’ll get her out and help you dress her,” Pretty Boy says with so much disgust you’d think he was talking about a five-day-old corpse and not a woman.
“I swear to all that is holy, if you say anything to hurt or upset her, I will …” I clear my throat. Threatening a brother when you don’t have a cut or claim patch is a big no-no.
“Whatever!” Edge glares, pushing past Pretty Boy.
“Hey.” I stop her. “I know you are upset, but cut him some slack, okay? None of us knows what’s going on. I can tell you there is more to this story than we know.” I nod to the bathroom where Pretty Boy is kneeling, pushing Candy’s wet hair from her face and talking quietly.
I have no idea what he is saying to her, but whatever it is, she relaxes a little and opens her eyes. She stares at Pretty Boy as silent tears stream down her face. I pull Edge out of the doorway and close it to give them a moment.
“Get dressed, love. As soon as she’s ready, we need to go.”
“Yeah, okay. Let’s pack her a bag. What about my stuff?” Edge questions, pulling a bag out of the closet and then a change of clothes.
“It’s already in the van. We’ll come back at a different time to get the furniture. We don’t have time or room for it right now.” I say, checking my phone.
Wesson: Two fancy cars on the road less than ten minutes apart. We NEED to roll.
“Pretty Boy, not to rush you, but we gotta roll out! Company’s starting to circle,” I say, knocking on the bathroom door.
“Do you have her clothes ready?” he asks.
I turn to look at Edge, who nods. I’m not shocked she has already changed into another pair of jeans that fit her ass like she was born in them. Her low-cut shirt shows off just enough of her perfect breasts to make my mouth water with the need to taste them. The bathroom doors open, and out steps a slightly less pissed-off Pretty Boy with a very fragile woman in his arms. He sets her on the bed, but before he can take a step back or let her go, she loses her shit.
“Please, Jonah, don’t leave. You promised never to leave me again. I’m sorry! Jonah, please don’t leave me!” Candy begs.
The pain and sadness on Pretty Boy’s face are unlike anything I’ve seen before. Fuck, I didn’t think this asshole knew any emotion but sarcasm and humor. He has never taken anything more than a passing interest or a quick fuck in a woman. Maybe Miss Candy here is the answer.
Pretty Boy kneels in front of her. “Let Edge help you get dressed. Once that is done, we are out of here, okay? You never have to come back. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll be right here.”
“You won’t leave, Jonah?” She never breaks eye contact with him.
“Not right now, darling,” Pretty Boy responds, running a hand over her head and kissing her forehead.
As he steps back, I turn so my back is to Edge and Candy, trying to give her a little privacy. Pretty Boy comes to stand beside me, facing them. We don’t say a word, listening to Edge talk quietly to Candy.
“We’ll never be good enough for them,” Pretty Boy says quietly.
“You aren’t wrong, brother. But we have to spend the rest of our lives trying to be good enough to stand in the light they provide while making sure we don’t ever dull the shine.” I sigh. I’ve fucked this up already. “Remember that will be the hardest thing you’ve ever done. When you fuck it up, because you will, be man enough to admit it and do whatever it takes to fix it.”
“Yeah, that’s easy to say when you haven’t fucking snuffed out the light. There is no coming back from that,” Pretty Boy says, lost in thought.
“There is always a way to fucking fix it. You have to want to.” I tell him.
“Alright, we are ready.” Edge breaks into our conversation.
“About fucking time. Razor, do me a favor? Dig your balls out of Edge's purse. You're starting to sound like a really soft bitch,” Pretty Boy throws over his shoulder with a glare.
She laughs. “You good?”
“Always.” I wink and grab her hand, leading her out toward the rumble of bikes.
Slowing my steps, I ease around the corner. I find the hall empty and slowly lead everyone through. Out of the corner of my eye, there’s movement. I snatch Edge, throwing myself on her as sunshine glints off metal. The glass of the sliding glass door shatters as silent bullets rain on us. Edge rolls under me, reaching around my waist and pulling out the gun tucked into the small of my back.
Fuck, that’s hot as hell. My woman knows how to fire a gun and hit her mark. Doing what any man in my position would with his whole world under him, I provide a human shield as she takes a shot at whoever is firing on us. The grunt and clattering of a gun on concrete means she hit her mark. Edge looks at me, and I can't wait anymore. Slamming my mouth onto hers, I pour all the fear, adrenaline, and passion into her.
She brings her empty hand up, fisting my hair and pulling me tighter to her. I cup her ass, picking her up and forcing her legs around my waist, grinding my rock-hard dick against her hot little pussy. Edge moans, giving it as well as she gets it. I need to fuck this woman right the fuck now.
Then a chorus of whistles and catcalls breaks the spell.
