Cliff's Edge by LAURA HARNER Read Free Book Online Page A

wonder Marco said they acted like an old married couple—they practically were.
    Cliff returned, carrying a dark bottle of beer in one hand and a fishbowl masquerading as a margarita in the other. He handed the icy concoction to Ryan before he squeezed into the spot on the couch between Ryan and an old rodeo cowboy named Jesse.
    “Holy shit, if I drink another one of these, you might as well pour me into a tub and cart me home.”
    “Hah. You must be getting old, then. I’ve never seen a couple of margaritas put you under any table.” Cliff bumped his shoulder. “Seriously, you okay?” he asked quietly. “We can go if you want. I know your ass must be dragging.”
    “Nah…I’m good. At least until I finish this.” He raised the glass, took a swallow, then squinted at the television. “Jesus, please tell me the game clock is blurry? Is that a six or an eight?”
    Cliff laughed. They’d been doing a lot of laughing over the last few hours…it felt good. “It’s three minutes, forty seconds.”
    Ryan did a triple take, before his eyes convinced his brain that Cliff was jerking his chain.
    “Shit…you nearly had me. It’s eight minutes. God…I thought my eyes really lost it there. Would make the offer from the Skipper pretty easy to turn down if I couldn’t pass the physical.” As soon as the words left his mouth, Ryan wanted them back. He could only hope Cliff was too involved in the game to pay much attention.
    “Yeah? What orders are those?”
    “Eh…it’s nothing I want to talk about tonight. Let’s concentrate on the end of the game—and then tomorrow I plan to sleep for twenty-four straight.”
    Cliff shook his head. “I heard you straight boys like to sleep. Sad. Really sad. And Rhino…congratulations, man. No one deserves Six more than you.”
    Ryan swallowed half his drink in his surprise. “How did you—shit, you didn’t know. You guessed.”
    “An educated guess. Not much other reason for you to have a one-on-one with the man just selected to head up DEVGRU—he’d want you for Six. It makes sense. You’re the goddamn best,” Cliff said, his voice was a quiet growl in its intensity. “The goddamn best.”
     
     

Chapter Five
    Cliff stumbled a little in the dark of his bedroom, reluctant to turn on the lights and ruin his night vision. It had been a long while since he’d had so much to drink—or felt so relaxed. There was definitely something to be said about being on the WSR, away from anyone who might know him or what he did for a living.
    In their careers, it was conceivable they could be targeted for one of their field actions or just by virtue of being Navy SEALs. Just like the cops who’d enjoyed harassing him once they’d discovered his profession. Some people needed to try to knock down others to feel good about themselves. But here? He and Ryan were just a couple more guys.
    He stripped to his boxers and tossed his jeans onto the chair before pulling back the covers on the king-sized bed. A shudder raced up his spine, and for just a moment, he remembered the frustration and helplessness of the situation when he’d been trapped on the other bed…listening to those fucking punks. His stomach clenched at the thought of Gentry and Draco. Their bodies had been removed by the time the cops saw fit to release him from the alcove, but he’d never forget listening to their last moments or the blood that soaked the floor when he’d been led through the office to the stairs. Ryan would eventually ask for details about how they died—especially Draco, since they’d been friends—but they’d both learned to compartmentalize death a long time ago.
    That didn’t mean they weren’t affected by loss, but there was a time and a place to mourn, to say good-bye, and it wasn’t while the battle raged. Despite several warnings from the DA and lead investigator, Cliff would like nothing more than to hunt down those gangbangers and make them pay…and Ryan would be more than