The Edge of Us (Crash and Burn Book 2)

by Jamie McGuire

  The

  Edge

  of

  Us

  JAMIE McGUIRE

  The Edge of Us

  Jamie McGuire

  Copyright ©2019 Jamie McGuire

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Formatted by AB Formatting

  Contents

  Dedication

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Epilogue

  Also by Jamie McGuire

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  To my right-hand woman, Jessica.

  Thank you for loving bad-ass women as much as I do, and thank you for being one.

  Wear your tragedies as armor, not shackles.

  - Unknown

  chapter one

  ashes, ashes

  Naomi

  T

  he modified Jeep truck that had been behind me the last thirty miles was the only other vehicle besides mine on that dark stretch of two-lane highway. I pulled into the only gas station I’d seen in more than two hours, stopping in the narrow lane of concrete between the store and its two pumps. The store clerk was visible behind two large panes of glass, and I waved to her when I hopped out. She was someone’s mother, late forties, probably trying to get a kid through college, probably named Barbara. She was watching something intently on the small television on her side of the counter. She pushed up her square glasses, but they slid back to rest on her full cheeks, comfortable in her air conditioning while sweat began to bead on my skin.

  The Jeep’s loud mud tires sprayed gravel onto the tiny gas station’s cracked cement lot as it passed, its taillights two glowing dots getting smaller until they were swallowed by the dark Utah sky. Heat rose from the concrete and surrounded me; the comforting, stale air reminded me of home, even though the sun had set hours before and I was well on my way out of the desert.

  The outdated gas pump clicked as each number turned over, echoing against the silence. The moths gathered around the lot lights, fighting for space in the only warmth they could find. Just like Vegas. I looked up, appreciating the stars above. A few years before, I’d retired from the Marines and landed in Vegas. It was loud and busy, serving its purpose for a widow who wanted to stay distracted, but Vegas wasn’t for the good kind of star gazing, so it took only one phone call from an old friend to talk me into driving to the mountains of Colorado for a job.

  The clerk was so focused on the television that she barely acknowledged the Jeep’s return. She couldn’t know what was about to happen, but I did. Her hands were in the pockets of her white scrub jacket, having no idea the next person to walk through her door would plant a deep seed of fear she’d carry with her.

  I topped off Matt’s old Chevy truck and hung up the pump, opening the driver’s side door to grab my wallet; purposely slow, deliberately cumbersome, waiting for what was next. As I expected, a large hand took a fist of my dark hair and slammed me cheek first into the seat. His already hard prick was poking into my hip, a low gurgle for a laugh bubbling in the back of his throat. He was over six feet tall, but he wasn’t trained. He wouldn’t have been able to keep hold of me after one defensive move. I rolled my eyes.

  “Eddie,” a voice called from the other side of my truck. “What are you doin’, man?”

  Eddie pressed his hips into my ass. “Just go get the money. I’ll be done in a second.” His buckle flicked opened. “Hi, pretty.”

  “How’s it going?” I asked, my voice muffled against the upholstery. Eddie’s body paused, left thirsting for the fear in my voice that would never come.

  He yanked me upright, holding my face next to his. He smelled of cheap cigarettes and even cheaper beer, but he wasn’t drunk, just a road trip snack for a fuck up like him traveling from one dead end job to another.

  “You’re not even going to scream for help, huh?”

  “I don’t think I’m going to need it,” I said, looking up at the stars. I grinned and closed my eyes, feeling relief as his rough hands fought to keep me close while he exposed himself. It had been a long time since I’d been able to unleash my anger on someone. Just a few more seconds…

  “You’re going to like this,” he said, his voice turning soft. He was a second-rate thief, but a veteran rapist.

  “I doubt that.” I chuckled. “Do women even enjoy this when they’re drunk enough to want to fuck you?”

  Eddie pushed my face down again and jerked at my cargo pants. “Let’s find out.”

  The door of the gas station chimed, and I reached back, grabbing Eddie by the bare balls. He cried out as I twisted, making a sound unique to the howl of a man when his tender, wrinkled basket of nerves were vulnerable and pulsing with pain. I grabbed his shoulders, head butt him once, and while he was still stunned, turned with him until he was closest to the truck.

  “Women,” I said, kicking the driver’s side door, slamming him between the door and the old metal frame. “Don’t,” I said, kicking it again. “Enjoy. Being. Raped!” I kicked the door after each word.

  The clerk screamed, and I throat-punched Eddie before he fell to the ground, giving me the space to reach under my seat for my Glock 29. After a short jog to the front door, Eddie’s best friend forever had already made it to the wrong side of the counter, pointing his pussy Ruger 9mm at my sweet Barbara.

  I slipped my handgun in the back of my pants and held up my hands as I walked in. “That bag on your head,” I said, nodding to the oversized, wrinkled Walmart sack with eye cutouts. “It reminds me of something. I can’t quite put my finger on it…”

  “Who are you?” he asked, pointing the gun at me.

  “He has a gun!” the clerk cried. I looked down at her name badge. I’ll be damned. Her name is Barbara.

  “Thank you, Barb,” I deadpanned. “Now please get on the floor.”

  Barbara nodded, her salt and pepper feathered hair moving with the quick bobbing of her head until she was out of sight.

  “Who are you?
” the man yelled, pushing his gun at me.

  “C’mon. Do you really care?”

  “Where’s ... where’s Eddie?”

  “Outside.” I began to reach for an endcap full of candy. “Don’t shoot. Just stay calm. I’m moving slow … just need a stick of gum and I’ll be out of your hair.”

  In the same two seconds that I reached, the man looked at my free hand, and I grabbed my gun and shot him in the knee. Slightly disappointing, but I did have to get back on the road. I kicked his gun down the aisle that ran along the refrigerators, and then leaned over the counter, speaking to Barbara with a warm smile, louder than usual to be heard over the screams from the would-be armed robber. The floor was getting slick with blood.

  “You have a mess to clean, I apologize.”

  “Oh, no … no worries,” Barbara said, the nervous nodding continued. Her hands were shaking. Her face was pale.

  “Be right back,” I said. I jumped over the puddle of crimson, jogged over to one of the fridges, grabbed her a water, and came back to lower it behind the counter.

  “Take a sip,” I said. She complied. “I’m not going to hurt you. Call 9-1-1. You got any zip ties? I was going to slap some on these naughty boys so they don’t bother you before the cops get here. Cool?”

  “Cool,” Barbara said, trying hard for a normal smile. She reached into a drawer and handed me a few white plastic strips.

  I tied the would-be robber’s bound wrists to the first refrigerator door, removing the bag from his head once I finished. I held out the wrinkled plastic. “I finally remember what this reminds me of. Eddie’s ball sack when I squished his testicles. Did you know you can fracture a testicle? It’s true.”

  The man blew a snot bubble from his nose as he blubbered.

  I returned to Barbara, handing her the cash for my gas. “Feeling better?” She nodded. “I have to get going. You okay?”

  She nodded again, her eyes glistening. “Thank you.”

  I looked at the ceiling. “Any cameras?”

  She pointed with a shaky finger. “Just that one, but it’s never on. I’ll make sure, just in case.”

  I winked at her, and then started for the door before she called after me. “Oh, miss…? Um ... go ahead and take the gum. It’s on me.”

  I smiled at her and reached for some Bubble Yum. “Thanks, Barb.”

  Back in the driver’s seat, I blew a pink bubble half the size of my face, and it snapped just as I pressed on the gas pedal, flinging gravel all over Eddie who had already thrown up on himself a few times before I’d tied him to the gas pump. I loved that men vomited when they got hit in the nuts. It was just a little extra gift after exploiting their greatest weakness.

  The rest of the drive to Colorado Springs was long, but uneventful. My back hurt, my ass hurt, but I’d been determined to make the drive in one day. My cell phone had displayed Trex’s number just five days prior, and I knew what he wanted before I’d answered. He knew I’d say yes before he’d called.

  Trex stood on the front porch of my new home, smiling at me as I pulled into the drive. We were both a replacement, second place for best friend after Matt died, but I would honor their friendship until I found my way back to my husband again.

  “Welcome,” he said with a Cheshire grin.

  “Hey,” I said, stretching as soon as I stepped out of the truck.

  “You won’t believe what was on the news earlier. Two men were found bound at a gas station in Utah. The clerk was hiding behind the counter and didn’t see what happened to them, but she knew they’d tried to rob the place—at about one a.m. this morning she said.”

  “Interesting.”

  He glanced at his watch. “You made good time.”

  “I did.”

  “You should call Spenser. She’s texted me three times.”

  “Just because she thinks you have a cute ass.”

  He made a face. “Did you even tell her goodbye?”

  I frowned. “She helped me pack. You clearly didn’t answer her texts or you would’ve known that.”

  “I just don’t want your family thinking I stole you again.”

  “They’ve never felt otherwise.”

  “I’d like to get on their good side, you know. It’s dangerous not to be.”

  I shrugged.

  Trex touched the open driver’s side door as if it were gold. I didn’t have to ask. I knew seeing Matt’s truck opened old wounds.

  “I’m selling her,” I said.

  “You’re selling Beatrice.”

  I nodded.

  “Why would you sell Beatrice? Matt loved this hunk of junk.”

  “New start, right? Isn’t that what you sold me on the phone?”

  Trex let my words simmer, and he silently conceded. “Want me to go with you?”

  “No, but you can help with these boxes.” I climbed into the truck bed, handing Trex the first box I touched.

  He peered in. “Is this everything?”

  I shrugged. “You said they furnished the house.”

  “They did, but—”

  “This is everything,” I said, putting my pack on my back and grabbing my duffle.

  “They’re saying it’s been abnormally hot for this time of year,” Trex said. The box he held simply read MATT in black marker. The tape was pulling loose in some places, folding over in others. It had been packed up long before I loaded up for this trip. “Where should I…?”

  I nodded down the hall. “You can put it in my closet, wherever the master is.”

  Trex’s gaze lingered on the box in his hands, knowing it was all we had left of Matt.

  I examined the living room.

  “It’s a small two-bedroom, just like you asked,” Trex said, returning.

  “Good. We can put everything else in the spare bedroom for now.” I passed through the living room, by the kitchen and dining room to a hallway. A full guest bath was on my left, and I turned right into the room I assumed was the spare. There was another room at the end of the hall.

  Trex switched on the light, and the ceiling fan began to circle slowly. “Bianca said the utility is through the kitchen.”

  “New girlfriend?” I asked, putting down the box in my hand, then went to the dining table.

  Trex chucked, following me. “No. Bianca is the boss’s assistant. She said there’s a new washer and dryer. New carpet too, and granite.”

  “Granite?” I repeated, lighting a cigarette. I was quiet for a while, and Trex let me stay there. Matt talked about buying a real home when he got back and remodeling it. It both excited and scared the shit out of me. Neither one of us had ever wanted to stay in one place too long. It was weird the things that reminded me of him. In that moment, it was granite, and how we’d spent hours in home improvement and design stores. We looked at so much granite. So many light fixtures. Brick. Cabinet pulls. Stains. Front doors. Faucets. Time invested in a future we’d never have.

  “Granite’s nice, right?” he asked, pulling me back to the present.

  “It wouldn’t have mattered if the place was a shithole. We’ve spent the night in far worse settings.” We’d used rocks for pillows and each other for warmth, staying awake to listen for the enemy, whoever that happened to be in the moment. But the difference between this house was it wasn’t the apartment I shared with Matt. “It’s not the apartment in Clovis,” I said. “It’s perfect.”

  “I thought you liked New Mexico.”

  “I did.” The cigarette between my fingers had nearly burned down to the filter, leaving a husk of ash.

  “Never felt the same after, did it?” Trex asked, already knowing the answer.

  The apartment I’d shared with Matt felt particularly small the night he died. I didn’t know what it meant at the time—for the walls to close in, to feel a sudden loneliness I couldn’t shake.

  When the Marines in dress blues arrived at my door, I couldn’t be angry with him. Matt would’ve on
ly left me for one thing: a sacrifice. I often wondered what that moment would feel like, if I’d fall to my knees, choke out sobs, or if I would be strong. I was none of those things. I was just numb.

  I attended my husband’s funeral and then felt myself burn away, just like the husk of my cigarette. The only way to rectify my utter failure was to take his place. I wanted to be the woman Matt always thought I was, so two summers later, I saw Trex again, this time as a member of his unit. Two months after that, sitting in the back of a 1950s Russian-made pickup truck at two in the morning plugging Trex’s bullet holes with my fingers, I finally felt like me again.

  Now, I was standing in my new house, my full duffle bag digging into my fingers, and my camo pack pressing my already damp shirt against my back, Trex following me in with another box.

  “Thanks for letting me help,” Trex said, putting down the cardboard in his hand.

  “Yeah,” I said, setting down the last of my things, “don’t make it weird.”

  “I’m guessing you’ve already put away Vicky and the gang?” he asked. Trex was referring to my Glock 29. Instead of pets, I bought firearms. I cleaned them and named them and treated them like family. I also had a Ruger named Chuck Norris, a Beretta named Cecil, and a twelve-inch tactical bowie hunting knife named Walter. He was matte black with a fixed blade and had gutted at least four hostiles.

  “Oh. Damn. I got you something. He jogged out, and a few seconds later, back in, setting down a store-bought pie onto the oval dining table. “Housewarming gift.”

  “The new gig is enough.”

  “Just eat the damn pie.” Trex knocked on the tabletop. “It’s not bad, eh?”

  “I was expecting used furniture from a frat house. This is nice stuff,” I said, scanning the room. A gray sofa separated a walkway between the living space and the dining area. The kitchen was big enough for an island. “Did they find you anything yet?”

  Trex shook his head. “I’m staying at the Colorado Springs Hotel. I think I’m going to buy.”

  I arched a brow. “Buy?”

  He shrugged. “There’s no limit to how many times you can start over, right?”