Page 54 of Razor's Edge
Pulling it out, I have not one, or hell, even ten, I have fifty-five missed calls. They are all from two of the four prospects and Flyboy’s nurse, Riley. I search the list of missed calls for Edge’s number, and when I don’t find any, the calm that always follows after setting the monster free disappears. Something is wrong at the compound. Flyboy has his back to the room, talking on his phone. I rush over to him, knowing he is on the phone about whatever is going on at the club.
“Fuck, Riley. We’re in the middle of something, which is what I fucking told you,” Flyboy grinds out.
I don’t know what she says, but whatever it was, his head snaps up, and our eyes connect. He gives a few short, clipped answers before hanging up.
“What is it? What’s happened?”
“Something happened with Edge. They had to take her into surgery. They think—” I don’t let him finish before I’m on the move, looking for Torch and Duck.
I find them washing up and talking quietly. “We need to get going. They rushed Edge into surgery.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? I just spoke with a prospect at the club. He told me everything was fine. Chill, Razor,” Duck says with a grin while Torch watches me carefully.
Turning, I look Duck in the eye. “Flyboy just got off the fucking phone with Riley at the hospital. I don’t know why that fuckhead of a prospect lied, but my woman is currently in surgery for God knows what. So, either we go as a club, or I go on my own.”
“Yo, Razor, what the fuck? We have your back and always have. Take a few moments to wash the blood off, and then you, Flyboy, Pretty Boy, and Coin can head out while the rest of us finish here,” Torch says, pulling me away from Duck.
I take a moment to regulate myself. What has this woman done to me? I’ve never done stuff like this with my brothers, and now here I am, for the second fucking time, going nose-to-nose with one. What the hell is going on? Is this an issue with me, or is it an issue growing within the club?
Stepping up to the large sink full of soapy water, I wash my face, arms, and chest, clearing myself of most of the blood from the pissant. Thankfully I didn’t do anything that caused any major blood sprays. Pulling on a clean shirt and my cut, I meet my brothers at the door, then head for the hospital and my woman.
29
Edge
Someone brushes hair off my face, and I reach for the light shining down into the blackness. I try to open my eyes and find out what happened to me with everything in me. Why do I feel like I’ve been hit by a bus? Just as I’m going to open my eyes, a thick Spanish accent sends fear racing down my spine, then the black void wins.
Beep. Beep. Beep. Fucking shit, will someone please shut that fucking alarm up? Reaching out to find that god-awful beeping, there is a sharp pinch in my arm.
Opening my eyes, I remember I’m in a hospital, and everything comes rushing back to me.
“Well, well, look who is finally awake.” A thick accent sends frissons of fear through me. I know that voice. My shitty luck is continuing.
I try and sit, but it hurts so fucking bad. The man stands, coming over to the side of the bed with an evil smirk.
“Don’t sit up on my behalf, dear girl,” he says sweetly, waving his hand in my direction.
I glare at him, searching for my button to call the nurses. What the fuck? They always put that close by. I look around again. Where the fuck is Razor?
“Oh, don’t be afraid, dear girl. You will be just fine provided those lowlifes return my son unharmed,” he says, glaring at me as he leans in closer.
“I’m not afraid. I’m just not sure how you fucking got in here,” I say nonchalantly.
“It really will be a shame to cause such beauty so much pain once again. My son was so sure you would help take the club down. Unfortunately, your love for them was stronger than we thought. I thought for damn sure that after you disappeared, they would act rashly. Yet again, I was proven wrong,” he replies, running his fingers along my leg.
I try with everything I have to kick him, but my legs aren’t working.Okay, now I’m scared. “What have you done to me?”
“Oh, just making sure my sweet little toy can’t move around while we talk.” He shrugs while rubbing up and down my leg.
“We don’t have anything to fucking talk about. I don’t know a thing about the club or what the fuck they do. I don’t know anything about you and your business. Why can’t you fucking leave me alone and let me get on with my life?” I demand, frustrated with the fact everyone seems to fucking think they know so fucking much about me all the fucking time.
“Oh, my dear, playing stupid doesn’t look good on you. You are a computer whiz who has nosed your way into plenty of systems and programs you shouldn’t have. You know more than you are willing to tell, and I will enjoy torturing every ounce of information from you. When you are all used up and no longer of use to me, I’ll put you out in the stable so fucking drugged up that your good for nothing club won’t have shit to do with you,” he hisses.
“I don’t know what the hell you are talking about. I’m average at best with computers. I don’t know a motherfucking thing about the fucking club or what the fuck they do. Why can’t y’all let me live my fuckin’ life and leave me the fuck alone?” I demand, slapping the bed, fucking over all this shit.
No! Damn it! I am not going to let the asshole fucking do this to me. I will get out of here, and when I fucking do, Razor better have dealt with that asshole of a son so we can live our life. I have to keep this asshole talking long enough for him to get here.
“Oh, my dear, I know many ways to get someone to talk. If torturing you won’t get me information, maybe that bastard of a child you two are playing house with will open those pretty pink lips of yours,” he says as his hand slides a little closer to my hip.
