Living on the Edge Page 3

  Lila had been crying again.

  A warm, gushy spot opened up in Bella’s heart for the woman. She’d been through hell, and yet here she stood, alive and kicking. Or at least she’d be kicking by the time Bella was done with her. For now Lila was out of her soon-to-be-ex-husband’s house and supporting herself, which was a huge step in the right direction.

  “Thanks,” Bella said as she snagged the water and disappeared into her office with Payton right on her heels.

  He shut the door with a carefully controlled click. “That woman needs a makeover.”

  “No. She needs a good right hook and maybe a concealed-carry permit.”

  “Bringing in the strays again?” he asked, as he settled himself on the edge of the chair on the other side of Bella’s glass desk.

  “You know me. Allergic to cats. Gotta have something soft and cuddly around.”

  “Indeed,” he said. “Shall we move on with the business at hand?”

  Bella propped her bare feet up on her desk, just because she knew it would drive Payton crazy. She loved him as much as she did her own father. She really did. But the man was such an easy target, she couldn’t help herself sometimes.

  He stared at her bright purple toenails for an extended moment before he pulled a tri-folded sheet of paper from his jacket pocket. “Do you have any idea how much money your latest . . . escapades cost us?”

  Bella opened the cold water and chugged half the bottle before responding. “More or less than they paid us?”

  “More.”

  “More than last time?”

  Payton sighed. “This is not a guessing game, Bella. I’m being serious here.”

  “Oh. Sorry. I thought we were playing twenty questions. My mistake.”

  “It usually is,” muttered Payton.

  “I heard that.”

  “Good. Then perhaps you’ll finally hear this: We’re in business to make a profit. When you blow up property, we have to pay for it. That cuts into our profit. Substantially.”

  “There’s more to life than profit.”

  Payton laughed. “No. There isn’t.”

  “You seriously need to get laid.”

  He held up a finger. “What is rule number one?” he asked in a paternal tone.

  “Don’t discuss your sex life,” recited Bella, rolling her eyes.

  “I believe the term was ‘love life,’ but I’ll take what I can get.”

  “Apparently not. Otherwise you wouldn’t be nearly so grumpy all the time.”

  Payton waved the paper at her. “You cost us every penny of income from that job and then some. This cannot happen again. What fun is it to be in business if we don’t make a profit?”

  “You didn’t get to see that building explode, or you wouldn’t be asking that question.”

  “Bella,” he warned.

  “I took pictures. Wanna see?”

  “No. I do not.”

  “I even got pictures of the weird shit inside.”

  An unnatural stillness settled over Payton. Only his eyes moved, locking with hers. “How weird?”

  “Really weird. All kinds of medical equipment I’ve never seen. Big tanks full of who knew what. A freaking snake’s nest of wires, tubes, and cables leading from nowhere to nowhere, like someone had disconnected something big and hauled it out of there before we arrived.”

  “Where are these photos?”

  “On my phone. I’ll e-mail them to you later.”

  “No,” he said too quickly. “No need. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

  “What the hell has you spooked?” she asked.

  He pulled in a long breath. “The bill, Bella. Paying this bill has me spooked.”

  She waved a negligent hand. “Oh, come on. You’re made of money, and that place needed to be blown up.”

  “That wasn’t the job you were paid to do.”

  “No. We were paid to make sure that those human traffickers no longer had a place to hide. And that’s what we did. By blowing up their hiding place.”

  “I see you’ve learned to think outside of the box.”

  She gave him a wink. “I learned from the best.”

  Payton sighed, folded up the bill and put it back in his pocket. “Your mother would have been proud.”

  Bella liked to think so. She’d done well for herself—made a name in a man’s world as one of the most dependable mercenary companies around. Sure, Payton had footed the bill at first, but she’d paid his initial investment back threefold. Even including all the collateral damage she’d caused along the way, which wasn’t nearly as much as Payton thought, and a hell of a lot less than she’d wanted to inflict.

  Some of the things she’d seen made her want to raze entire towns. The things people would do to other people for money was beyond her comprehension. If she spent too much time thinking about it, she’d never get to sleep tonight, so she locked the door on those memories and moved on to happier topics.

  “I signed a new contract today,” she told Payton. “Lots of major buckage.”

  “The diamond shipments?”

  “That’s the one. I’ll be getting a team together this week. I was hoping Sloane would be on it, since she’s worked with them before, but she had some personal emergency to deal with and took vacation.”

  “You’ll pick only the best, I hope.”

  Bella gave him her widest smile. “That’s all I hire.”

  “Try not to blow up any buildings while you’re there?” he asked in a sickly sweet tone.

  She walked around the desk and kissed him on the forehead. “I’m not making any promises.”

  Chapter 3

  I took Lucas twelve hours to find her, and during every one of them, he could practically feel the Old Man breathing down his neck.

  He had no idea what she was doing this far out into the jungle, in the middle of yet another tiny village. This was the third one so far today, and each time, it had cost Lucas some of his dwindling cash to find out where she’d gone.

  All he’d managed to discover was that she was looking for someone who had apparently come this way. No one would tell him who she was searching for.

  Fucking wild-goose chase. For all he knew, these people were simply telling her what they thought she wanted to hear, milking her for her pretty American cash. They sure as hell were gouging him.

  Losing sleep last night had taken its toll on his knee, making it throb. He had a bottle full of pain pills, but couldn’t risk the haze they caused, or the chance they’d slow him down. Unfortunately, that meant he could no longer hide the limp when he walked across the street toward the run-down shack that served as this village’s tavern.

  Sloane had walked in there seconds ago, and when she came out, it was going to be willingly, or slung over Lucas’s shoulder—whichever it took.

  A brief flash of another day, just under a year ago, filled his head. The day he’d carried Jerry’s body out of that firefight. Heat had seared Lucas’s skin, sucking all the moisture from it. Sand stung his eyes and grated against his teeth. He was too dehydrated to spit it out, too busy fighting his way free to reach for his canteen.

  Lucas pushed the memory away with a force of will. If he had to carry Sloane out, he’d use the other fucking shoulder. Get over it already.

  A boy on a battered bike raced past him, ringing a bell. Lucas jumped out of the way, glad to be snapped back to the here and now. He hadn’t realized he had stopped dead in his tracks in the middle of the dirt street. With his luck, Sloane would slip out the back while he took a mental-breakdown moment.

  Wouldn’t that be fun explaining to the Old Man.

  Lucas hurried across the street and in through the open tavern door. There was almost no light in here, and even less air. The place reeked of stale sweat, booze, and smoke. A fuzzy ceiling fan twirled lazily overhead, doing nothing but hauling the odors up to his nose for his enjoyment.

  There were six tables, and men at two of them. A bar made from loose planks of wood sta
cked on two barrels ran along the back wall. Perched there with her lovely butt on a barstool was Sloane. She pushed cash across the stained wood. The bartender pocketed the green and crooked his finger for her to lean close.

  The men at the tables eyed Lucas, and though it was way too early in the day for hard drinking, three of them were up to the task. Their bloodshot eyes followed him, their heads turned sluggishly as he crossed the scarred wooden floor.

  A young woman with long black hair worn in a thick braid and a colorful flowing skirt came out of the back room carrying a tray full of clean glasses. She was barely out of her teens and pretty in a natural, unfussy way that reminded Lucas of his little sister. One of the men beckoned her over with a sharp word and imperious hand gesture. The woman did a bad job of hiding the cringe that crossed her face before straightening her spine and going to the customer.

  The bartender whispered something to Sloane, who hadn’t yet noticed Lucas had come in.

  He approached her slowly. This time, he wasn’t going to be taken in by her beauty or distracted by her curves. As sweet and pretty as she appeared, she had wicked fast hands and knew how to use them.

  Too bad she was the Old Man’s daughter, or he might consider showing her just how good he was with his hands, too.

  Just the idea of touching her bare skin made his body heat and his pulse kick up a notch. And before he’d known who she was, he’d had enough time to form all kinds of interesting scenarios.

  But Sloane was the general’s daughter, and Lucas liked his balls way too much to risk pissing the man off.

  He sat down next to her, interrupting whatever the bartender was whispering to her. Lucas was close enough to grab her if she tried to dart, but not so close he wouldn’t see her hands flying toward his face. Again. No more sucker punches for this sucker.

  “Hello, Sloane,” he said, keeping his voice low so it wouldn’t carry across the room.

  She stiffened and turned his way. Her eyes narrowed, and he could see now that they were a soft shade of green. Just like the Old Man’s, only his weren’t nearly so pretty.

  The bartender eyed Lucas up and down, sizing him up, then made the intelligent decision to walk away and leave them alone.

  “Why are you following me?” she asked.

  “Why are you here?” he countered.

  “If you’re going to be following me, you can at least tell me your name. You apparently know mine already.”

  “Lucas Ramsey.”

  Behind Sloane, the young woman serving drinks made a sudden move, drawing Lucas’s attention. One of the sweaty drunks was pawing at her, but he was too slow to catch her. Unfortunately, she moved right into the reach of the next table and one of the men there pulled her onto his lap.

  “Did Bella send you to watch my back?” asked Sloane.

  “Nope. Don’t know anyone named Bella.”

  The drunk pinned the girl’s arms and held her there while he squeezed her breast. She struggled for a moment before going dead still. The look of revulsion on her face screamed that she was not a willing participant.

  A swift, hot rage built up inside Lucas. He knew this was none of his business and he had a mission to complete, but there were some things a man simply couldn’t ignore.

  Sloane couldn’t see the situation that was playing out behind her, and she continued to speak while Lucas debated how to best make the pervert suffer. “If Bella didn’t send you, then you must know why I’m here. This would go a lot faster if you just took me to Gina.”

  Lucas had no idea who Gina was, but he knew an opening when he saw one. He’d let her think he was taking her to this Gina woman, so she wouldn’t fight him all the way back to the plane.

  Lucas kept his expression neutral and let none of his anger seep into his voice as he rose from his stool. He let out a resigned sigh, paused as if thinking it over, then said, “Okay. You win. I’ll show you where she is.”

  “I’m armed,” warned Sloane.

  “Lady, you’re armed even when you’re weaponless. Don’t think I’ll make the same mistake twice.”

  The young girl whimpered as the man’s dirty hand tightened on her breast. His friends leered, laughing.

  “That would be smart,” said Sloane.

  The girl saw him watching, saw him stand and flex his fists. Her wide, dark eyes pleaded with him, though whether she was asking for help or for him to stay out of it, he had no idea. He knew which he was going to do, though.

  “Just hang tight for a minute,” he told Sloane. “There’s this one quick thing I need to do.”

  Sloane could tell Lucas was lying about taking her to Gina. But that didn’t mean he didn’t know where she was. Sloane was running out of options. The bartender had taken her money but told her little about how she could find Lorenzo Soma. Once she mentioned his name, people clammed up. At this rate, she was going to run out of cash and still have no leads.

  Following Lucas was her only option at this point, so she’d do that until she came up with a better idea.

  Too bad Gina had called from a satellite phone, or tracking her down might have been a lot simpler. As it was, all she had was a name and a country. The resident computer guru at the Edge, Mira Sage, had found a small bit of info online that led her to believe Soma operated in this part of the country, but that wasn’t much to go on.

  Whoever Lucas was, he had to be connected to the mess Gina had gotten herself into. He was just the kind of man Gina went for: tall, muscular, a little rough around the edges. Panty-melting sin wrapped up in smooth, tan skin.

  Hell, he was the kind of man most women went for. Including Sloane. At least he would have been under normal circumstances.

  Today was far from normal.

  Lucas crossed the small tavern toward a table where three men sat. A young woman was struggling against the abusive pawing one of the patrons was giving her.

  Sloane stood there, shocked at the open display. By the time outrage had burned away her shock, allowing her to move, Lucas was already dealing with the situation.

  “Let her go,” he said in a voice low and menacing.

  The girl said something in flowing, frightened Spanish.

  The man laughed and shot back a string of harsh words.

  The girl’s eyes began to tear up. In halting, heavily accented English, she said, “Go. I can care of myself.”

  Lucas’s gaze never wavered. “Sorry, honey. I’m just not built that way. Somebody’s got to teach this asshole a lesson.”

  Sloane was more than willing to help.

  She stepped forward.

  Lucas ignored her. “Let go of the woman,” he said, his words more demanding.

  The man pushed the girl from his lap and she fell to the floor in a sprawl. He stood, wavering unsteadily on his feet. His eyes were bloodshot and his hands shook as he pointed an accusing finger at Lucas. She caught the words American and pig but that was enough to get the gist of the insult.

  Sloane moved around the men to help the girl to her feet. Tension hummed through the air as the other men rose from their seats. There were five of them and they were all eyeing Lucas like they wanted a piece of him.

  This was going to get ugly fast if she didn’t do something.

  “They’ll kill him,” whispered the young woman.

  “Get out of here. Go somewhere safe.” Preferably out of the range of stray bullets.

  The girl left, and Sloane stepped up to Lucas’s side and drew her pistol, holding it low at her side. She didn’t aim it at any of the men, but they all saw she was armed. “We’re not doing this,” she told Lucas.

  “That man molested her. Someone’s got to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

  “That noble streak you’ve got going there is cute and all, but if we go shooting the locals, we will end up in jail.”

  Lucas shifted his stance a small fraction, but Sloane read it as the beginning of a withdrawal. “I just want to hit him once.”

  “I know. So do I, but i
f you do, it’ll just make it worse for the girl next time. Unless you’re going to kill him. Are you going to kill him?”

  The men were looking at one another, their expressions growing wary. Apparently, they spoke enough English to understand some of what they said. Or perhaps they simply understood Sloane’s loaded weapon and Lucas’s clenched fists.

  Behind them, Sloane heard the unmistakable sound of a pump-action shotgun.

  “Get out of my bar,” said the bartender. Suddenly, his English was a lot better than it had been when she’d questioned him about Lorenzo Soma’s location. She was sure that wasn’t a coincidence.

  “Time to go,” said Sloane. “You can come back later if you still want to beat the hell out of him. I’m not carrying your carcass out of here, understand?”

  His face twisted in anger, but he backed up and headed for the door. Sloane covered his back, keeping her weapon at her side. At the doorway, she announced, “I’ll shoot anyone who tries to follow us. Don’t even step foot out of this door until we’re long gone.”

  The bartender’s twin barrels followed her out, but the men stayed put. As they moved away from the building, Sloane kept a careful watch on the doorway.

  The young woman was waiting outside, crying silently.

  Lucas reached into his pocket and pulled out a wad of cash. “Find a different job,” he told her as he pressed the money into her hand. “Don’t go back there. They’ll hurt you.”

  She looked at the money in shock, and then flung her arms around Lucas’s neck, hugging him. He gently detangled her. “Go now, before they gather up the courage to come out here.”

  She wiped her eyes and straightened her shoulders, then looked at Sloane. “I heard you ask about Lorenzo Soma. I know where he lives.”

  Sloane kept her expression neutral, not wanting to get her hopes up. “No one else was willing to tell me.”

  “He took my brother,” she said. “There is a place where small planes come. He takes people there, gives them to a man. Many people have been taken.”