Page 15 of Edge
“Tell me it’s not true.”
A deep line appeared between Mickey’s eyebrows. “What’s not true?”
“That you’re fucking Edge.”
Mickey’s expression snapped closed. “Oh.”
Fuck. It was true. There was an invisible knife sticking in his heart and twisting. “You’re supposed to be straight. You have to be because, otherwise—” He motioned between them, incapable of finding the words for how he felt.
“I don’t—” Mickey looked every bit as confused as he should.
Henry tried again. “How can you not know? It’s always been.” He motioned between them again. Henry didn’t have words. He didn’t talk about feelings. But the fucking betrayal, he fucking felt that shit. “You’re supposed to be straight.”
“Oh.” Mickey looked shell-shocked. His entire demeanor shifted. The pity made him sick.
Henry couldn’t take it. He opened the door and shoved Mickey back into the sitting room with the same level of violence he had pulled him away. Mickey stumbled from the force. Without a plan but to make the pain and humiliation stop, Henry grabbed Field and yanked him into the room, slamming the door again. They were eye to eye.
“Abuse me, Daddy.” He had pretty green eyes… just like Mickey. They danced with laughter, exactly the way Mickey’s always did.
“You really think you can handle me?” He shoved Field to his knees. “Prove it.”
“Yes, sir.”
Henry stared at the wall and ignored the humor in Field’s voice that obviously couldn’t be muted. Even as he hardened on Field’s talented tongue, he felt nothing. He saw nothing. Not even the expensive wallpaper right in front of him. Years he had spent hopelessly loving Mickey rose to the surface to choke him. He had been okay with Mickey being straight. That was something he couldn’t change standing in their way. That meant he never had to admit anything. He could just feel what he felt without losing a thing. Now, he knew the truth and he couldn’t deal. Everything he wanted was gone. What did that leave him?
Edge couldn’t unsee Henry’s face or the way Mickey had looked as Henry shoved him out of that room. The pains in his chest wouldn’t quit. He had to keep his head in the game. Henry’s expression wouldn’t budge. He had seen that look before. Edge couldn’t get warm. His blood was like ice. A weight sat on his chest. He had been here before.
Edge sat alone on the rooftop and stared through his scope. By rote, he went through the motions. His body was on autopilot, saved by his training, while his mind left him. It had to go away. His sanity couldn’t survive this again. That jealous hatred. The ugly things it did. He couldn’t.
“Let’s get started.” Tracker’s voice cut through the mic. Edge watched Rain and Shadow move through the building like they were invisible. He watched them pause right before reaching their targets and settle themselves.
“Go now.”
Edge saw the blood spatter and heard the useless gunfire. Nothing penetrated the ghosts haunting him. Not even thebeauty of the way they had devised to leave no trace of themselves.
“Building clear. Mission complete.”
Edge swept the area once more through his scope and broke down his weapon. Another job. More money. It meant nothing. This reason he gave himself to exist was just that—a meaningless way to extend a pointless life. He had honestly thought he had found something with Mickey. That was just like him, though. He should have known.
“Cleaning crew headed in for a quick check for trace evidence. The van is waiting. Get a move on, guys.”
Edge put his equipment away and slung his bag over his shoulders before quickly making his way back to the ground. Just as they planned it, the entire team reunited outside and climbed inside the waiting van. The smell of blood permeated the air, adding to the horrible memories trying to choke him.
“Are you okay?”
At Rain’s quietly spoken question, he looked around. Everyone stared at him.
Edge cleared his throat. “Yeah. Proof of payment, Tracker.”
“Yep. Payment complete. Funds came through before the last body even hit the floor. It seems Beau was happy with the service.”
Edge smiled, but he didn’t feel it. He didn’t feel anything but the cold fingers of the past wrapped around his throat, choking him.
“That’s great. Hopefully, this will lead to more jobs in the future. This could be a lucrative client for us.” Edge tried like hell to keep up pretenses. His gaze met Field’s and his efforts died. Those green eyes saw everything. They saw right through him. Edge didn’t think he would last much longer.
Beau was all smiles. He couldn’t stop saying how impressed he was with the show. He wasn’t wrong. As sickening as it had been to watch, the operation had also kept Mickey totally transfixed. It had been so perfectly orchestrated—like watching art unfold. Still, Mickey felt so fucking sick, he didn’t know where to look or what to do. He felt the coldness of Henry’s stare. No texts came from Edge. Everything felt wrong. Edge hadn’t even looked at him before he left. He had no clue what had transpired betweenHenry and him to upend his life like this. It wasn’t like he could ask Henry, and Edge wouldn’t respond to his texts.
“I’m headed to bed. Go, enjoy your nights. You two deserve to relax after all this looking over our shoulders lately.”
