Page 31 of Edge
I thought of Tatum’s hands on me, strong and steady, the way he’d pulled me against him like I was his whole world. I thought of how certain he sounded every time he told me that I was his.
I clung to his love for me and mine for him, grateful that we’d fallen for each other so quickly that we’d already shared the words. Otherwise, I would’ve been completely freaked out right now, unsure if he’d be on his way to rescue me.
The fragile thread of hope I’d been clinging to frayed when the door banged open, the hinges shrieking in protest. Myhead jerked up, heart hammering as a man stepped inside. His shoulders filled the frame, and his gaze zeroed straight on me, a mean gleam in his eyes.
He shut the door with a deliberate slam and leaned against it, arms folded. “Well, look at you, sittin’ real pretty with none of the fight my men said you had when they grabbed you for me.”
His men. So this was the guy who wanted something from Tatum.
I forced my chin high, though my wrists burned from the ropes and my lip throbbed. “Go to hell.”
His laugh was low and ugly as he pushed off the door and strode across the small room. His boots scuffed the concrete with every step until he crouched in front of me, close enough that I could see the scar slicing across his cheekbone.
“You’ve got spirit. I’ll give you that.” His gaze raked down my body, lingering on my breasts. “Too bad it won’t mean shit once I get what I came for.”
My stomach clenched, but I bared my teeth anyway. “You’re not getting anything from him.”
That wiped the smirk from his face. His eyes narrowed, and then his hand lashed out, fast as a whip. Pain exploded across my cheek as his palm cracked against me. My head snapped sideways, tears springing unbidden, but I refused to give him the satisfaction of crying out.
I spat blood instead, the red flecking the front of his shirt.
“Bitch,” he snarled, grabbing my chin in a bruising grip and forcing my face toward his. “You think your biker boyfriend’s gonna save you? He’s not here now, is he?”
I glared at him through the sting in my eyes. “He’ll come. And when he does, you’ll wish you never sent anyone after me.”
For a second, something flickered in his gaze. Uncertainty, maybe. Or annoyance at my lack of fear. He shoved my faceaway with a curse and stood, pacing a short line across the room before turning back with a sneer.
“You’re already half-dead. You’re just too dumb to realize it.”
My pulse pounded, but I kept my mouth shut, breathing hard through my nose.
“Too dumb for a guy like Edge. The man is a genius when it comes to weapons. Too bad he wasn’t smart enough to accept my deal in the first place. Then I wouldn’t have needed to go to these lengths, and you would’ve been safe at your aunt’s little bookstore.”
I just quirked a brow, my hope for a quick rescue growing since this guy was clearly underestimating Tatum.
His gaze sharpened, as though he was trying to break me just by staring. Then he spat on the floor near my feet. “What happened to the girl who kicked and slashed at my guys? Have you given up so easily?”
“Maybe.” I shrugged. “But shouldn’t you be happy if I’m not trying to get away?”
“There’s no chance of that happening.” He dragged his fingers through his hair with a scoff. “Right now, your precious boyfriend’s just sitting tight, waiting for me to send him my terms. His weapons…for you.”
I laughed until my eyes watered, though it might’ve been from the pain.
“Keep dreaming about your hero.” He kicked one of the chair legs, the impact violent enough to send me crashing sideways onto the floor. “Won’t change how this ends.”
My cheek throbbed, hot and swollen, but I ignored the pain as I stared up at him. I memorized his face, his voice, the exact angle of that scar. If Tatum asked who had hurt me, I wanted to be able to tell him without hesitation.
Because he was coming. And when he did, this guy would learn exactly why they called him Edge.
The silence stretched heavily between us, broken only by the faint buzz of the overhead bulb. He prowled a short line in front of me, muttering under his breath, like he was already rehearsing how he’d gloat when Tatum gave him what he wanted.
Then it happened.
The sound of bodies hitting the ground. Low grunts of pain, followed by screams of agony. Then there was a soft bang, before the ground trembled.
He froze mid-step, head snapping toward the door. His sneer faltered for the first time since he’d entered.
“No,” he muttered, more to himself than to me. “This can’t be happening.”
