Free Razor's Edge by Shannon K. Butcher Page A

the metal, but there was no name.
    â€œWe’ll get our secrets back,” he snarled. “We’ll get our secrets, and the rose will be covered in blood, shivering with pain.”
    â€œHe’s out of his mind,” said Tanner. “I hear sirens. Can you go meet the cops at the gate and guide them in?”
    â€œAre you going to hurt him?” she asked.
    Tanner didn’t look at her, but she could hear regret radiating in his voice. “He’s already broken. There’s nothing more I can do to him.”
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    Tanner waited until he was sure Razor was out of earshot before he leaned close, getting in the stranger’s face. “Who were you with, soldier?” he asked. “Army? Marines?”
    The man’s eyes widened fractionally, giving away what Tanner had suspected after seeing the tags. He was a veteran—one that had been fucked up.
    â€œWe’ll get you help, man. You can get through this.”
    Fear flickered across the man’s face for a second before his expression hardened. “I already have help. We’ll get our secrets back.”
    Chances were the man was delusional. His arms were covered in needle tracks, and he’d fallen a long way from the proud soldier he’d likely once been. But there was a certainty in his eyes, an absolute conviction that he was right. “We who?”
    â€œThe general—” His words cut off on a strangled cry of pain. His back arched up off the pavement, and tendons stood out in his neck.
    â€œEasy,” said Tanner. “No one’s going to hurt you. We’re going to get you the help you need.”
    It was the least he could do for a fellow soldier. Having been on the brink of breaking once himself right after his dad’s and Brody’s deaths, when the grief was killing him, he knew how tempting it could be to fall over the edge and let go. And while Tanner’s own struggle was getting easier, there wasn’t a day that went by that the grief didn’t pound at him, that he didn’t feel guilty for his decisions, and that he didn’t think about where he’d have been now if he’d given in to the temptation to ease his suffering through artificial means.
    The man passed out, going limp. Tanner flipped him over and put pressure on his wound to slow the bleeding, making sure he was still pinned in case he woke. He knew the lengths a man would go to in order to escape, and with a few screws loose, this man might do something Tanner couldn’t predict.
    A police cruiser showed up with another one right on its heels. Roxanne got out and pointed to where the gun lay. The officer kept Roxanne in sight, angling her away from the weapon as he moved toward Tanner.
    â€œIs he alive?” asked the cop.
    â€œYeah, but he’s going to need an ambulance,” said Tanner.
    The man spoke into the radio at his shoulder while two more officers approached. Tanner kept pressure on the wound.
    The next two hours crawled by as Tanner and Roxanne gave their statements and the soldier was taken away via ambulance. Tanner was kept separate from Roxanne, but his eyes tracked her as she moved, keeping constant tabs on her location.
    She could have been killed tonight. He barely knew her, but he still felt responsible. Even if Bella hadn’t assigned him babysitting duty—which he’d first thought was a waste of time—he still would have felt protective toward her. They were coworkers now, and that meant something to him.
    Maybe he hadn’t been out of the army long enough yet to act like a civilian, but there wasn’t much he could do about that. Her life had been threatened, and, until they had the crazy soldier locked up in a nice, safe, padded room, Tanner wasn’t leaving her side.
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    Roxanne was exhausted and starving by the time she pulled into her garage. It was after midnight, and her whole body was buzzing with the aftereffects of