Rough Edge (The Edge #1)(8)

Our breathing became unavailable for talking as we worked out. Ronin showed up midway through, in designer jeans and a sport jacket. He may have gone spook, but he was a handsome one. Dirty-blond hair, dark blue eyes in a face that had been chiseled and pristine when we met, but was wearing its ruggedness well.

“You doing it in that jacket?” I said between finishing push-ups and running back up the boulder.

“In a minute.” He took out a cigarette and lit it.

Jenn gave him the finger. He waved.

I didn’t think I could do another. The push-ups were murder on my wrist and my lungs burned.

“One more!” I cried, heading back down the boulder.

“I can’t!” Jenn put her hands on her knees.

“You can!”

I was telling myself more than her. I pushed myself. Push-ups. Run. Squat thrusts. Run.

I fell to my knees on the grass and rolled onto my back.

Ronin slow-clapped with the cigarette dangling from his lips. “Nice work, Major One More.”

Instead of telling him to go to hell, which would have taken a spare breath I didn’t have, I held up my middle finger.

“Two from me!” Jenn held up both of her birds.

Ronin laughed and put his cigarette out under his shoe. “You’re just jealous I don’t have to work as hard as you.” He picked up his cigarette butt and flicked it toward the garbage pail. It was too far to reach and too small a target, but it landed.

“What are you doing here, Ronin?” I asked.

Jenn put in her two cents. “Did Intelligence kick you out for lack thereof?”

He held his hands over his heart. “I’m wounded.”

“No, really.” I sat up. “I’m asking nice.”

He shrugged. “Got an offer in the private sector.”

Jenn and I both asked “Where?” at the same time.

“I can’t say, and you both owe me a beer.”

“Can’t say?” I asked. “You were doing medical research.”

“I still do. But, you know, it’s still military shit. La-di-da.” He broke a piece of grass and tossed it my way. “How’s civilian life, Major? You adjusting?”

“Yeah. It’s fine.”

“She sucks at it,” Jenn interjected.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.

“You’re still trying to impress the brass with one more lap.”

“Shut up.” I threw blades of grass at her, but she was right. I wasn’t at home outside military life. Not yet.

“And the practice?” he asked. “How’s it going?”

“She needs clients.”

“Can I talk?” I kicked her gently.

“You’re too slow.”

“I could use some more clients.”

“Said so.”

We smiled at each other.

“Jenn here sent me a couple of guys from her art therapy group, and thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

“But that’s only a couple.”

“Most of my vets are from Jersey anyway,” she added.

“Manhattan’s tough,” I agreed. “I specialized in battle trauma. They don’t grow military here. They grow, I don’t know, hedge fund managers and musicians.”

“Yeah, here’s the thing. How far are you going to push to do this?” Ronin asked, then continued before I could ask him what the fuck that was supposed to mean. “You’re far outside your comfort zone here.”

“I don’t have a comfort zone.”

“I’m asking if you’re committed, Major One More.”

“You know I am, Lieutenant Pain in the Ass.”

“Good.” He slapped his knees and stood as if we’d just ended a meeting. “I’ll send you some people. See you around.” He stepped away then turned back. “And Jenn?”

“What?”

He flipped her the bird and she laughed.

When he was out of earshot, she sighed. “Such a good-looking man with an ice-cold rock for a heart.”

“Oh, not really. He had a heart once.” I got my feet under me. “He never calls your rank.”

“No, I guess not.” I helped her up. “I never noticed.”

“I think he likes you.”

“I bet I can get to Columbus Station first.”

“Hell, no.”

And we were off for one more run.





Chapter Five





CADEN - OCTOBER, 2006





Greyson had been home three weeks the first time it happened. I was standing over a man with an empty chest. The pump kept his blood moving and the measured hiss of the ventilator told me he was breathing. We’d extracted a leg vein to replace the clogged artery.

I’d done this procedure at least a hundred times, and twice in an army hospital. I knew the rhythms of beeps and hisses. It was nothing. Vitals were good. Oxygen was good.

I held my hand out for the grafted vein. The nurse handed me the tray with the slice of flesh, and the whisper of the ventilator changed.

“What?” I said.

Everyone looked up. Pairs of dots of eyes over pale blue rectangles covering their mouths. Something was there with us, in the room, and it wanted me. If I’d been in a cave with a hungry lion, I’d be just as sure, except the lion didn’t growl. It breathed in a throaty rattle with the shushing of the ventilator.