Edge Of Fear Read online

  ALSO BY CHERRY ADAIR

  Hot Ice

  On Thin Ice

  Out of Sight

  In Too Deep

  Hide and Seek

  Kiss and Tell

  Edge of Danger

  Read on to catch a sneak peek at

  the final sizzling adventure in the Edge Brothers Trilogy

  by

  MONTANA

  Thud!

  A flash of orange lightening lit the room, followed by the sudden materialization of a man, dumped unceremoniously onto the middle of the conference room table. He was soaking wet. Water funneled on the wood surface around him, then started to pour over the sides.

  Duncan Edge merely raised a brow as he shifted his chair out of the way. The other five T-FLAC/psi operatives in the meeting jumped to their feet at the unexpected interruption, grabbing up computers, paper, and assorted items before everything was saturated.

  “What the hell…?”

  “Hey!”

  “Holy shit!”

  “Who the f—”

  Shaking his head, Duncan focused on the rivulets of water, using his power of telekinesis to prevent the stream from reaching his body or cascading to the floor. He knew the who and the why.

  Serena Brightman.

  One of her strongest powers was her mastery over water. Clearly she hadn’t changed. She still had a bad temper,still couldn’t control it. And still had to have the last damned word.

  The woman was a menace.

  “This is personal,” he told the others. “Take five.”

  “Hell, take ten. Color me intrigued,” Jordan told him affably, closing his computer and setting it on the credenza nearby out of the way. There were general murmurs of agreement from the others.

  Great. He’d never allowed his personal life, such as it was, to infiltrate his professional life. But of course he’d never tried to help Serena before. No good deed goes unpunished. Now he had five freaking witnesses to his folly. Crap.

  He waited patiently as his man gasped for air like a beached whale trying to regain use of his lungs. Understandable, since the guy had hit the solid wood of the table hard and fast. Duncan retrieved the note pinned to Chang’s crumpled shirt while he waited.

  “I believe this belongs to you,”he read the curlicue handwriting out loud. Oh, yeah. He knew the who. Absently he touched the scar bisecting his left eyebrow. Damn woman had lost her temper that time, too. He’d almost been blinded by a flying pencil. “You gonna make it, buddy?” he asked the young half wizard.

  “S-she made me,” Chang managed, gray faced and still spread-eagle in the middle of the highly polished Koa wood table. He’d had the air knocked out of him. His pride, too, if Duncan knew Serena.

  “Yeah. Figured that one out for myself,” he said dryly. “Told you she was sharp.”Too damned sharp, Duncan thought with a stab of irritation. He’d sent Chang, Jensen, and Prost in to watch her back. Serena Brightman had been a stubborn pain in Duncan’s ass since wizard grade school. But for some annoying reason he always needed to know where she was and what the hell she was doing.

  Apparently, time and maturity hadn’t improved her temper or her stubbornness one iota. He hadn’t seen her in what, five? Six years? Not since some Foundation charity fundraiser he’d been dragged to by a date whose name he now couldn’t remember. Odd, since he remembered with photographic clarity the backless emerald gown Serena had worn that night.

  The glittering material had clung to every curvaceous inch of her body, but had left the upper swell of her creamy breasts and one long,long leg exposed. The leg men attending the black tie function that night had salivated when they’d looked at her, the breast men had their tongues hanging out, and every straight man with a pulse had wanted her.

  That was Serena.

  Help herechoed in his head like a broken record. He recognized Henry Morgan’s voice, weak though it was. His old mentor was not only head of the Wizard Council, but he also worked in some scientific capacity for the Campbell Foundation which Serena now ran. He’d been ‘calling’ Duncan for the past three days.

  “Help her.”

  The only ‘her’ he and Henry had in common was Serena.

  Serena was Henry Morgan’s Goddaughter, and the old man loved and treated her as his own. Which had sometimes made his and Duncan’s friendship difficult.

  “Help her. Stop her.”

  A running litany with growing telepathic urgency but no clear explanation. Why didn’t the guy just pick up the damned phone? Henry was one of the few people who had Duncan’s private cell number.

  Henry’s insistence that he help Serena, and Chang’s untimely return, were indicative of something.What , he had no idea. Now he realized it was time to pay both Henry and Serena a visit. If nothing else, it would be amusing to see if he could get a civil answer out of her. Probably not.

  He’d contact both of them later that evening when he returned to London, he decided. See what was what. Helping Chang off the table, he noticed that the guy’s stick-straight black hair was covered with sand, as if he’d rolled around on a beach. Interesting.

  Albert Chang ran a shaky hand over his jaw, his eyes still a little glassy, his breathing ragged. His triangular face flushed with embarrassment as he saw who else was in the room. “I can t-try again.”

  “Don’t sweat it,” Duncan crumpled Serena’s note and lobbed it into the trash can in the corner. He could almost feel her animosity radiating off the orange colored, flowery scented paper. “The others will keep tabs.”

  “Man, I’m sorry, Edg—”

  Duncan sent the kid home.

  The men picked up their scattered papers and reassumed their seats. “That was interesting,” Jordan said mildly, reaching for his pen. “Are you using halves as minions these days?”

  ‘Half’ was the term for someone with muted wizard powers. Their claim to fame was that they couldn’t be detected by full-breed wizards which was why Duncan had sent the three to watch over Serena. They had a few powers of their own, but nothing major. They were neither fish nor fowl. Not fully integrated into the wizard world, but not part of the non-wizard world either.

  “Just a little side job,” Duncan told them. Prost and Jensen had more experience working side jobs for him than Chang. Serena wasn’t going to knowthey were around.

  Satisfied that he still had the Serena problem covered, Duncan glanced around. “Now, where were we?”

  Zzzft. Orange lightening fizzled and blinked. “Ah, shit,” he muttered, shimmering all the miscellaneous papers off the table before they got soaked.

  A saturated Prost, swearing a blue streak, crashed into the spot in the middle of the table that Chang had just vacated. The coral Post-it note protruding from the top of his shirt pocket was dry, and read:“And this!”

  Duncan got rid of the puddles, and crushed the note in his fist. This was just bullshit, not to mention a serious waste of his time. “Getanything? ”

  “Other than, she’s drop dead gorgeous with a temper to match that bright red hair?” Gingerly Prost swung himself off the table. “No.”

  Duncan rubbed a hand over his jaw. “See anything suspicious? Dangerous? Out of place?”

  “Not in the forty-eight hours I was tailing her. Just so you know, they’re having an unseasonably hot January, and it’s one hundred and nine in the Gobi desert right now.”

  Duncan was feeling a lot hotter. “Miss Brightman returned Chang as well,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “You mean Mrs.Campbell? Yeah,” Prost said with a grimace. “She let me know in no uncertain terms that my presence was far from welcome. That woman can yell without raising her voice. Scary, that. Want me to go back in?”

  Campbell. Right. As if he could damn well forget. She’d marrie
d. And buried Ian Campbell last year. “No. Jensen’s still th—”

  Zzft

  “Goddamn it!”

  It was the weakest of lightening flashes. Serena sucked at creating fire. Tom Jensen landed on all fours, just shy of the table, tucked and rolled, then sprayed water in all directions like a dog after a swim. He staggered to his feet and handed Duncan his note. It had been attached to his shirt with what looked like a diaper pin.

  “I’m trying tohelp her,” Duncan said more to himself than the others. He glanced at the note.And this one as well! “What the hell is she doing sending you guysback? ”

  “Says, and I quote: She doesn’t need your freaking watchdogs following her around, and not to send any more. She’ll send all of us back to you, and she won’t be nice about it.” Prost caught Jensen’s eye before both men turned back to Duncan. “Think she pretty much means it, boss.”

  “I gotta tell you, Duncan,” Jensen grimaced, tucking his shirt into his shorts and looking both embarrassed and annoyed. “That woman scares the crap outta me.”

  Both men had clearly been out in the desert sun. Even in the few days they’d been wherever Serena was—theGobi for Christ’s sake?—their skin was already painfully red and peeling. “Duncan, nobody’s gonna hurt that one,believe me,” Jensen muttered. “She’d flay their skin open with that tongue of hers before anyone could draw a weapon.”

  Yeah. Duncan knew that only too well. “Thanks for your help, guys. You did good.”All things considered. These half wizards weren’t employed by T-FLAC, they weren’t trained in covert ops. They’d done as he’d asked. Kept a low profile, stayed invisible, and watched over Serena. Doing what, he wasn’t sure.

  “Where can I send you?” Each man told him where they wanted to be teleported, and Duncan sent them on their way. The sizable deposits in their bank accounts would come from his own pocket.

  “What’cha do?” Brown asked curiously. “Send those yahoo Halves to observe a female tango?”

  Worsethan a female tango. “Serena Brightman-Campbell.” The name said it all.

  “Ah. The bimbo who married that multimillionaire old guy, Ian Campbell?” Chapman asked curiously. “He died last year, didn’t he?”

  “Yeah.” They’d been married all of two years. It had made Duncan’s flesh crawl seeing the front page pictures in all the newspapers. Thirty-year old Serena and that old fart arm in arm at her white—whitefor Christ’s sake!—wedding three years ago. There was only one reason a beautiful young woman married a guy like Campbell. Duncan figured not even the combo of Serena and a blue pill could get a rise out of the seventy-nine-year-old groom.

  Still, they’d both been grinning like besotted fools in the pictures. Duncan knew that forcing himself to look at every one of the pictures was like holding his tongue to dry ice. Not too bright and a touch on the painful side.

  Serena Brightman-Campbell had gotten every last freaking dime when her doddering old husband had reached his expiration date. Word out there was that Campbell’s two sons—older than Serena by a good thirty years—were gunning for blood. Their pretty, young stepmother’s blood.All of it.

  By calling out to him telepathically, Henry Morgan had made Serena’s problemDuncan’s problem.

  “She’s an old friend. Her judgment has pissed off a few members of the Campbell family,” Duncan said, figuring discretion was the better part of valor. “I hired a few guys to watch her back.”

  “You gonna send more Halves to keep an eye on your ‘friend,’ Edge?” Hart asked curiously. “I’ve seen pictures. She’sgorgeous . Shitloads of cash as well. Too plum an assignment for a Half. Beauty, bucks, and she’s a full wizard to boot. You’ve got some downtime coming. Maybe this requires your personal attention.”

  “Not interested.” One freaking Curse on his head was enough. “Let’s finish this up so we can get out of here.

  NEWYORKCITY

  Serena teleported directly from the desert into her New York apartment bathroom. Dirty, tired, and still seriously pissed off, she turned on the shower, then yanked off her boots, and stripped off her sweat-stained, sand-encrusted shorts and tank top, kicking the pile aside. She still wasn’t sure if she’d been antsy all week because she’d somehow sensed she was being watched. Or if it was a presentiment of impending—what? She had no idea. Things at the Foundation had been copacetic. Much-needed money had poured in from the last fundraiser. Ian’s two adult sons had been ominously quiet.

  Which was almost more disconcerting than when they were harassing her with their latest attempt to vacate the terms of Ian’s will. Maybe someday the greedy bastards will understand that their father had left everything to her for a reason. Ian had known long before he’d married Serena that his sons didn’t share his humanitarian leanings. And she would use the very last breath in her body to make sure Ian’s wishes were followed to the letter.

  Had Duncan Edge somehow gotten involved with Paul and Hugh Campbell? It seemed doubtful. But, hell, anything was possible.

  This, however, wasn’t the hour to worry about it. Right now she was going to take a lovely hot shower, slather herself in scented lotion, and crawl between her one-thousand-thread-count sheets. After a good night’s sleep she’d look into Duncan’s intrusion. She shivered just thinking about Duncan joining forces with Ian’s greed-driven sons. Hell, she shivered just thinking about Duncan period.

  She gave herself a shake, enjoying the glide of her long hair down her bare back. Tonight was for her.

  Used to extreme temperatures in the places she visited for the Foundation, weather barely phased Serena. Hot or cold, it was a given that each location she and her team visited would be poor and rural; she was used to sleeping on the ground wrapped in a blanket, used to not looking too closely at what she was eating, used to primitive facilities—assuming there were any facilities at all. Which was why she relished her infrequent visits home. She could hike the jungles with the best of them, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t a girl who appreciated the indulgence and sanctuary of her perfectly appointed penthouse.

  Like the rest of the apartment, her bathroom was spacious, and opulently luxurious. Creamy, peach-veined marble, twenty-four carat gold fixtures, and plush carpeting the color of ripe apricots. They were her favorite colors. But knowing exactly what she loved was just one of the many things her husband, Ian, had been good at. He’d spoiled her, and loved her, and known her, sometimes better than she knew herself.

  Her heart squeezed painfully. God she missed him. Missed his dry sense of humor. Missed the love he’d lavished unstintingly on her. Missed his council and his wisdom.

  The fact that he’d given her almost everything her heart could desire, and countless things she hadn’t even known she’d needed or wanted, was immaterial. Those had only beenthings .

  She missed him every day. And at night, when she lay in their vast empty bed, she missed the comfort of his arms around her.

  Neither of them had cared what people said. Their world was complete. They’d had each other, and they’d had the Foundation. And knowing intellectually that her husband would die decades before she did, hadn’t softened the heart-wrenching emotional blow when he’d closed his eyes that night a year ago and never woken up. How stupid to think that just because she’d anticipated being a widow, Ian’s death wouldn’t have a devastating emotional impact on her.

  Their luxurious home wasn’t home anymore. The apartment, which overlooked Central Park, was much too big for just her. She’d sell it eventually. Find something smaller. But not now. It was too soon. Too complicated. Too painful.

  Ian would have known how to deal with Duncan. Henry, too would know what needed to be done. She couldn’t even think about Henry lying in a hospital bed, so pale and lifeless. Did everyone she love have to die? “Oh, for goodness’ sake. Get a grip. Stop being so damned melodramatic!” she told herself out loud. “Henry’snot dead.” As for Duncan Edge—“Damn that interfering son of a bitch. What is he up to?”

  The m
irror over the sink bounced against the wall and three bottles of scented lotion on the counter skittered across the marble in response to her inner turmoil. Closing her eyes, she willed herself calm, forcibly reigning in her temper. Only Duncan Edge had this infuriating affect on her telekinetic skills. Another annoying thing she could lay at his door. Hisrevolving door.

  Playboy jerk.

  The last bottle fell to the floor. Damn, damn!That’s what he did to her. Made her curseand lose her temper. She’d always had a problem containing her telekinetic power, Duncan made that control snap like no one else. And even after all these years, all her hard work to channel the power constructively, just thethought of him made it go haywire.

  It hadn’t changed a bit, from fourth grade all the way to twelfth. Serena scratched an insect bite on her arm as the large bathroom started filling with steam. The mirror stopped moving as she regained control of her temper.