Read Edge of Sanity: An Edge Novel Online
Authors: Shannon K. Butcher
Edge of Sanity: An Edge Novel (18 page)
She wanted him—at least she wanted what he was doing to her now. The agonizingly slow progression was killing him, making his cock slick with the need for more, but he refused to rush her. A woman like Leigh was meant to be savored, and that was exactly what he was going to do.
She tried to grab his head and drag it up for another kiss, but Clay had given her enough control. It was his turn to take what he wanted.
He fought her hold and lifted her breast to his mouth, swiping his tongue over the puckered tip. Leigh arched off the bed and hissed in pleasure, digging her fingernails into his scalp. The sweet sting of pain glided down his spine and tightened his balls.
He barely held back his orgasm. She was too much to take—too intense and potent for him to keep at arm’s length. She crawled into him, warming him from the inside out, driving away the filth and terror of reality. He wanted to chain her to him and never let go. Never before had anyone made him feel like his life was a place of hope rather than bleak and endless desolation.
Clay was so shaken by that thought that he went still. This kind of thing was too heavy for him. Too serious. All he wanted was to get back to where he’d been a second ago with her soft noises of pleasure filling his ears and her writhing dance of abandon making him crazy.
She must have sensed his weird shift in mood. Her hands lifted his head until she could look into his eyes.
He didn’t want that. He didn’t want her to see what she did to him—laying him open and stripped of his defenses.
But rather than gloat at her victory, all he saw was concern. She pulled up enough to kiss the tip of his nose. “Where did you go?”
“Nowhere good.”
Leigh smiled, washing away the slimy remnants of his stupid thoughts. “Want to talk about it?”
“Fuck no. I don’t want to talk at all.”
Her smile went dark and hungry. “Good.”
She reached over and opened her medical bag. Out came a ribbon of condoms. Whatever thoughts he’d had liquefied and leaked out of his brain. He hadn’t even been thinking about rubbers, though he sure as hell would have once he’d gotten to the point of no return. He didn’t have even one condom with him. Her pulling those out was more than a rescue; it was an offering.
Clay may not have been completely sane, but he wasn’t crazy enough to turn down a chance to get inside her.
She wiggled beneath him. A second later, those pink panties went flying across the room.
He had to look. He’d never had a woman as beautiful as her naked, and he’d be damned if he let the opportunity pass him by.
With one scorching kiss that was part warning, part apology, Clay moved down her body, forcing her thighs wide to make room for his shoulders.
She was even prettier than he could have guessed. Damp red ringlets, the same shade as her eyebrows, shielded wet, pink flesh. Her clit was swollen and begging for his tongue.
He didn’t even try to resist. There was no point in wasting effort when he was going to need every bit of his strength to please her. Instead, he gave in and feasted on her, letting her taste go to his head. Her hips bucked and sharp little cries of pleasure echoed in the room. As her breathing sped, so did he. Everything he did seemed to shove her higher, until she coiled tight and clutched his head. Even her breathing went silent, only to be let out as a high cry of completion.
Clay kept her flying for as long as he could. When the last little tremor shook through her, he raised his head.
Leigh lay sprawled in total bliss, panting. Her skin was flushed and glowing with a sheen of sweat. Her heart beat so hard, he could see it jiggle her breast. As much as he wanted to sit back and give her a minute to recover, it wasn’t going to happen. He was too wired—too close to the brink of completely losing control to risk it. His only choices were to get up and leave or roll on a condom and take what her careless sprawl offered so beautifully. And he wasn’t a strong enough man to leave her—not now when she was all laid out like an offering.
Clay found enough functioning brain cells to fumble a condom onto his cock, and then he covered her, praying she wopra sizuldn’t shove him away now that she’d found release.
Her arm was over her eyes, but as the tip of his erection pressed against her slick heat, she looked at him.
He froze, poised at the brink of ecstasy.
Her lips parted and her tongue darted out to wet them. He couldn’t stop himself from kissing her again, sipping the sweetness of her mouth.
She moaned and her legs wrapped around him, pulling him closer. The tip of his cock was bathed in her heat. She hugged him tight, testing the limits of his control as he rocked slightly deeper.
He wanted to shove himself all the way in and let go. Only the fragile softness of her body, all curvy and hot under him, reminded him to be gentle. Sweat cooled on his back. His arms shook as he held his weight above her. With each kiss he gained another inch, another tugging glide of fist-tight pressure.
Her mouth left his, her breaths coming out as hot caresses against his jaw. She bit at his neck, straining beneath him to lift herself and find just the right angle to send her flying again. Instinctively, Clay knew what to do. He shifted his hips, finding that spot his fingers had found earlier—the one that made her scream and fall apart in his arms.
She gripped his arms tight and flung her head back. Her hair made a wild mess against the dark covers. A choked sob rose from her lips as her pussy clenched around him.
Clay couldn’t hold back the flood any longer. As she hit her peak, he gave in and let himself go. Stinging pleasure streaked along his skin and coalesced at the base of his spine. Jolts of sensation pulsed along his cock as she fluttered around him. His orgasm went on for hours, days. It robbed him of breath and rocked him all the way to his foundation.
Finally, when the last trembling pressure eased, he was able to breathe again. Oxygen filled his starved lungs, perfumed with the scent of their heated skin.
He collapsed atop her, struggling to get his elbows under him so he wouldn’t crush her. Her breasts cushioned his weight; her hair cradled his cheek. He felt like he’d been scraped clean—like all the bad shit was gone. It was a ridiculous thing to feel, but he couldn’t seem to make it go away.
He was still inside her, but his cock was still too hard for the condom to have a prayer of leaking. He could stay another minute, just like this, cradled by her softness.
Sappy. That’s what he was. One good fuck and he’d turned into some kind of soppy love song, some hormonally brain-dead kid.
But damn, it felt good.
Finally, he rolled away but didn’t go far. He tucked himself right up against her like the needy bastard he was.
She turned onto her side, staring at him. Her orgasms shone in her eyes, making them sparkle with witchy secrets. He didn’t know how she did it, but she’d somehow taken away a weight he’d been carrying around. His burdens felt lighter—like he had a prayer of shouldering them to the end.
Her slender fiHerarryinnger traced his face. He was so fucking glad he’d shaved and not left beard burn on her delicate skin.
She petted his shoulder and chest, stroking him with slow, gentle sweeps. He closed his eyes and groaned, flopping onto his back so she could do as she pleased.
Her hands moved lower, and he knew that if they went any farther south, she’d see just how much of a horndog he was. Despite his world-rocking orgasm, he still wanted more.
Part of him wondered if he could ever get enough of her to sate him.
She found his cock, still stiff, hard, and twitching in an effort to get closer to her.
A sexy little growl of feminine approval filled the silence, and he risked peeking at her face to see what that sound looked like.
Heaven—that’s what she looked like—or at least as close to it as he was ever going to get. Flushed skin, mussed hair, dark, hungry eyes, and pink, swollen lips. It all melded together in perfection so potent he almost had to glance away. He didn’t. He soaked it in and reveled in it, wondering how he was ever going to get through another day without getting to see her face.
“I’m going to go get us some food,” she said, promise glittering in her eyes. “And when I get back, it’s my turn to be on top.”
Chapter Twenty
M
ira was only halfway to work when she nearly dozed off and crashed her car. Rather than kill herself, she pulled over at the closest coffee shop and headed inside for enough caffeine to make it safely to work. There, she could sleep in one of the on-call rooms if she needed to, but at least she’d be around if anyone heard anything from Clay.
Anxiety had taken its toll on her. Lack of sleep had done even more damage. She felt sluggish and fuzzy and continually on the brink of tears.
Clay was out there, suffering, and she hadn’t been able to help nearly enough.
She took her coffee from the counter and turned to leave, running right into a man behind her. Searing coffee sloshed over the side of the cup, splashing against her hand and his shirt and tie. Pain made her drop the cup, which sloshed even more of her drink on his shiny leather shoes.
She gasped in horror at what her clumsiness had done. “I’msosorry!” Her words ran together in a near sob.
He pulled his steaming shirt away from his skin and looked down at her. Way down. He was taller than any man she’d ever been this close to before, and her dulled wits were too shocked at his appearance to realize she needed to step back.
There was no sign of pain or anger on his face. In fact, he looked completely calm. His pale gaze slid over her face and down her body, crinkling slightly with concern. “It’s okay. Are you burned?”
She realized then that she was cradling her hand. It did sting, but shehimomIt’d gotten only a few drops on her—he was wearing most of it.
“I’m fine.”
“Hold this, would you?” He thrust his own paper cup at her—which she took—and he turned around, exiting through the front door.
Mira stood there, her mouth hanging open for a second before her sluggish brain caught up to reality.
She’d hurt him. Maybe seriously. And he’d left before she could really apologize for what she’d done.
She hurried out after him, offering the woman behind the counter a brief word of apology for the mess. The cold air hit her in the face, cooling the wet burn on her finger. He was at his car, the trunk open. Faint morning sunshine filtered through the heavy layer of clouds. Traffic streamed by on the road in front of the coffee shop. A constant line of cars moved through the drive-through.
“I really am sorry,” she said as she neared him. “I’m such a klutz.”
He glanced over his shoulder, giving her a smile that showed a bit of his dazzling white teeth. “It was my fault. I shouldn’t have been standing so close behind you—not before you had coffee.”
Now that her brain was catching up with events, she realized how handsome he was. Sharply defined cheekbones, dark brown hair smoothed neatly in place, inky black eyebrows over pale gray eyes the same color as the clouds overhead.
“Close?”
He shrugged, and his smile turned self-deprecating. “I liked your perfume.”
Before she could tell him she wasn’t wearing any, he pulled his tie off and started unbuttoning his shirt.
“I ruined your clothes,” she said as she realized why he was undressing.
“It’s okay. I’m on my way out of town on business and have a change in my suitcase. No harm done.” He stripped his wet shirt off, baring his chest.
An angry red patch of skin glowed across his abdomen, spreading from just below his pecs down almost to his waistband.
She reached for him, aghast at the damage she’d caused, and then thought better of touching a stranger. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s really not a big deal. You saved me from that tie.” He leaned forward to unzip his suitcase, and a whole series of lean muscles along his abdomen clenched.
“Tie?” It was all she could think to say in the face of so much raw male beauty. She’d seen plenty of well-built men in various states of dress in the locker rooms at the Edge, but never once had one of their bodies rendered her stupid.
He nodded, politely ignoring her painfully awkward question. “A gift from Mom. Now I can tell her that a beautiful young woman ruined it, and she won’t ever again ask me why I don’t wear it.”
“Ruined?” Mira groaned, and then she finally processed the rest of what he’d said.
Beautiful?
He
thought
she
was beautiful? A man built like a god with a face to match thought frumpy ol’ her was beautiful?
“It’s no big deal. I can probably save the shirt.”
“At least let me pay to have them cleaned.”
He slipped a clean shirt on and started to button it up, saving her from staring. “No need. Really.”
“I insist.”
He stopped dressing and turned to face her. There was something in his eyes she’d never seen in a man before—at least not one who was looking at her. That look was filled with heat and blatant interest. It was the kind of look that people like Bella and Razor got from men.
“Do you really want to make it up to me?” he asked.
She nodded, unable to speak.
“Then take me to dinner.”
That shocked her tongue back into place. “Dinner? I can’t.”
The heat in his gaze died down, replaced with disappointment. “Husband?”
“No.”
“A boyfriend, then?”
“No.”
“A girlfriend?”
“No.”
“Then why can’t you?” He asked the question like it was completely reasonable for her to go out with a complete stranger.
“My life is a mess right now, and I—”
He held up his hands, stopping her words from babbling out and embarrassing her further. “Say no more. I didn’t mean to push.”
“You weren’t pushing.”
His gaze slipped to her mouth for a split second before coming back to her eyes. “Then have dinner with me.”
“I don’t even know your name.”
“Adam.” He held out his hand to shake hers, waiting for her to touch him.
Mira wasn’t sure she could take it. She already felt like she was on overload, struggling to keep up with even the simplest of conversations with this man. And yet she felt like she owed him something for what she’d done. Refusing to shake his hand would have been adding insult to injury. Literally.
She slid her palm against his. He closed his long fingers around her hand, engulfing hers. His skin was slightly rough, and warm despite the frosty air. His finger inched along the inside of her wrist, his grip overflowing hers. For the briefest second, she thought that he’d stroked her on purpose, but the contact was too short for her to be sure she hadn’t imagined it.
“Okay,” she whispered, feeling a crazy thrill rush through her.
“Okay what?” he asked as he tucked in his fresh shirt. She watched his fingers dip below his waistband, jealous of their journey.
The thought of touching him, of feeling his skin beneath her fingertips, pulled all the moisture from her mouth.
She pried her tongue from the roof of her mouth before she could speak. “I’ll buy you dinner. I owe you that much.”
He smiled and plucked a business card from his briefcase. “You don’t owe me anything, but I’m too eager to see you again not to take you up on your offer.”
Eager to see her? No one was ever eager to see her, especially not hot, hunky men who were as smooth as Adam was.
“I should say no,” she told him.
“And crush my tender feelings? You wouldn’t do that, would you, . . . ?”
“Mira.”
His smile widened at the sound of her name, and he slipped his business card into the side pocket of her purse, giving her no option to reject it.
“I’m only gone for the day, Mira. You pick the place and I’ll be there. Tonight at eight?”
Tonight seemed too soon and yet not nearly soon enough.
Shocking herself, she nodded her agreement as he took his coffee from her hand. His fingers brushed hers, and suddenly her burn no longer hurt. All she could feel was the hot tingles left behind in the wake of his touch.
* * *
Adam was . . . shaken. He’d planned to ingratiate himself with Mira and lure her off someplace private tonight, using whatever means necessary.
He hadn’t planned on reacting to her on such a primitive level.
She didn’t have the flawless perfection of models and movie stars, but there was something compelling about her that pulled him in and didn’t let go. She was genuine, without façade or artifice, with a kind of innocence about her that intrigued him.
Adam had never met anyone so open. Even though he’d planned their meeting, he hadn’t expected her to follow him to his car, trailing afte
r him with a string of apologies on her sweet lips.
He could have easily overpowered her right then and there, shoving her into his trunk. The task would be done and he’d be on his way. But for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to brutalize her in that way. Innocence like hers was rare and precious. He didn’t want to completely crush her.
Perhaps that was inevitable. A man like him could not operate under the guise of mercy. He had to be ruthless and give Dr. Sage what he wanted so that Adam could locate his brother. If Eli was like the rest, he was suffering. Adam refused to let his brother go through tr gnd hat alone.
Even if it meant crushing Mira’s fragile innocence.
Tonight he would meet her. He would drug her. He would take her to Sage and be done with his task. Whatever happened to her after that was none of his concern. Eli was all he could allow himself to care about. If Mira was a casualty of finding his brother, he was going to have to find a way to accept that and move on. Somehow.
Chapter Twenty-one
L
eigh had to get some air. Clay filled up the room and then some. She loved that about him even as she struggled to find enough oxygen to think clearly.
Thinking was not something Clay had allowed her much time to do. She’d tried to keep control of the situation, but he’d stormed in, all eager and willing to please. She had no defenses against that kind of thing.
If he’d been a jerk or pushed her, she could have stopped. Her body would still be clamoring for more, but at least she would have left the room with all of the pieces of herself intact. As it was, Leigh was scared to death that she’d left something vital behind, that she’d bared some essential part of herself and given it to him without realizing what she’d done. And there was no getting it back.
But whatever she’d let go, it didn’t feel like a loss. She felt stronger, more capable. She could keep moving forward, doing whatever needed to be done.
After she got her fill of him.
A little part of her mind laughed at that thought. There was no getting enough of a man like Clay. All she could hope for was to get as much as she could before they parted ways.
So that’s what she was going to do. She was going to gorge herself on the hunky, naked man in that bedroom until he begged for mercy.
With his discarded towel wrapped around her, she grabbed some snacks and headed back into the lion’s den.
Clay watched her, his amber eyes sparkling with intimate knowledge of a shared secret. The sheet was pulled to his waist, leaving bare the lean expanse of his chest and abdomen. Not even the bruises riding his ribs could diminish his raw beauty.
Beneath the wrinkled edge of the sheet, she could see the unmistakable tent his arousal caused.
“Don’t you ever get enough?” she teased.
“We’ve barely gotten started.”
She set the tray of food on the bed and crawled in beside him. “Eat.”
His grin was filled with delicious intent. “I like it when you get all bossy.”
She glanced pointedly at his erection. “Apparently. Now eat.” She put a chunk of apple to his lips to keep him from saying anything else that woulr gndland scatter her wits further.
He accepted her tribute in manly fashion, taking the bite from her hand as he sprawled out with his hands stacked behind his head. Lean muscles flexed, distracting Leigh from the bite she was about to take. She still couldn’t believe that she’d had sex with him. He was much more untamed and unapologetically male than the men she usually dated.
With him lying here like this, relaxed and smiling, she could almost imagine what it would be like for them outside all of the terror and drama. That was a fantasy, of course, but one that made her ache for beautiful, ethereal things she dared not let solidify in her mind.
This brief respite from danger was just that. It couldn’t last long. And while she wanted nothing more than to spend the day in bed with him, time was ticking away—time she wasn’t sure Clay had.
Leigh waited until he’d eaten his fill before bringing up harsh reality. “We should probably get back to work.”
His smile faded, and the glittering light of promise in his eyes was snuffed dead. He let out a long sigh. “So much for you being on top, huh?”
She tried for a negligent shrug, but her body was too stiff and jerky to pull it off. “We’ll save that for later.”
“No guarantee there will be a later, Leigh. At least not for me.”
“That’s what I’m fighting for. There’s nothing I want more than to see you and Garrett both free men, able to go to sleep, knowing exactly where you’ll be all night long.”
A deep sadness etched grooves around his mouth. “You and I both know that once this is over, things between us will be different.”
Different, yes, but she couldn’t go there now. The future was too full of minefields. She didn’t dare go there if she could avoid it. “That’s a worry for another day. Today is already chock-full.”
He scrubbed his face with his hands, and she couldn’t help but remember just how those fingers could make her feel—how his palms had been slightly rough as they’d slid over her, finding all the secret little hollows of pleasure she hadn’t known were there.
“So what do we do next?” he asked. “Payton thinks we should stay here. I can’t make heads or tails of those notes I wrote. That note about a possible Wednesday meeting isn’t for hours—assuming it’s even this week. Where does that leave us?”
Leigh clutched the sheet a bit tighter around her breasts. The air in here was much colder now that Clay wasn’t heating her from the inside out. “What do we know?”
“That I’m fucked in the head.”
“Details. That’s what we need. For instance, you know that you were sent to do some kind of job.”
“Yeah, stealing those kids, finding some files, or something else entirely. That gets us jackshit, Leigh.”
“No, it means that this doctor still needs you. It means that whatever horrible thing he wble
“How do we stop me or anyone else from doing a job when we don’t even know what it is?”
She bit her lip, wondering about the intelligence of even bringing this up. Still, since she’d shared her body with him, it seemed silly not to share her idea as well. “You do know what the job is. You just don’t remember.”
“How does that help?”
“If we restrain you and then find a way to wake up that other side of you, then we can—”
He sat up, making the muscles in his abdomen clench hard. “Not only no, but
fuck
no. I’m not going to intentionally go all psycho and risk your life.”
“I can always sedate you if things get out of hand.”
“
If
things get out of hand? I’ve killed people. Just talking about this means things
are
out of hand.”
“Do you have any better ideas?”
“Yeah, sending you to the farthest reaches of China, halfway around the world, where no one can find you until this is all over.”
“You know that won’t help.”
“Maybe not, but it will sure as hell make me feel better.” He shook his head. “I can’t even believe that you would consider something so stupid.”
“It could work.”
“No, it couldn’t. Even if you could find some cage strong enough to hold me, it’s not like I can turn it on and off like a switch.”
“Something has been triggering those episodes—besides whatever verbal cues they used—like when those armed men attacked us in Payton’s house.”
Clay went still. His eyes became distant. All the color bleached from his skin and he swallowed hard.
“You know what did it, don’t you?” she asked.
He nodded. “Yeah, but there’s no way I’m telling you, so just forget it.”
“You said yourself that we could find a cage strong enough to hold you.”
“No, I said
if
. That’s a long way from accepting your idea as a valid choice.”
“It could work.”
“Bullshit. Even if everything else lines up, what makes you think that my psycho side would tell you anything?”
He had a point. “Fine. Maybe it was a stupid idea.”
“Not stupid, but way too dangerous.”
She took his hand in hers because she couldn’t stand to not be touching him. His fingers tightened on hers, and his thrs,thiumb slid over her skin.
“Out of curiosity, what is the trigger?”
“I’m not telling you that.”
“Why not? Don’t you think it’s in my best interests to know what not to do?”
His mouth went flat, and then he stared into her eyes. There was something desperate lurking in the amber depths. Gone were all hints of lust, and in their place was something she couldn’t name. All she knew was that it scared her—like a silent warning of impending danger.
“I’m sorry, Leigh. I want to trust you that much, but I just don’t.”
His statement, so flatly given after what they’d shared, left her feeling cold and emp
ty. She wanted to be the kind of person who could understand his reasoning and forgive his lack of trust in her, but she just couldn’t. She’d dropped everything to come help him. She’d risked her life for him, and yet it still wasn’t enough to gain his trust.
The bleak truth hit her in the gut, snuffing out all the little flickering flames of hope that had begun to glow inside of her. If Clay didn’t trust her now, he never would. And if he never trusted her, then they’d never have anything more than they did now.
That wasn’t enough for her. Not anymore. Not even close.
She had to back away fast. Close her heart up tight before he could wiggle in any further. She couldn’t stop caring about him, but she had to find a way to put a wall between them—separate what she needed to do to save her brother from the way she felt.
So that’s what she’d do. No more sex; no more emotion. She would be all about the job until it was done. And then she’d never see Clay again. It was the only way to save herself from heartbreak.
Chapter Twenty-two
P
ayton heard Leigh’s and Clay’s voices behind the door. He knew he wouldn’t have much time alone, so he hurried to the piles of paper and photos spread across the dining table. There was evidence here that had to be destroyed before it could get out. The lives of innocents were at stake.
As he gathered up the notes containing code words for different operations he’d executed years ago, one of the photos caught his eye. He stared at it, unable to believe what he saw.
Dr. Norma Stynger sat on a bench at a park. Her garish red lipstick was like a slash of blood across her mouth. She was as skinny as a praying mantis, clad in a designer suit that barely hid the sharp angles of her bones. She was older now than he remembered but not diminished by the passing of years. Age had given her a ruthless edge, but her pale green eyes were the same—shining with greed for knowledge and the power that came with it.
Sitting next to her on the bench was a man Payton had not seen in months: Dr. Richard Sage. He looked livid. His fingers were splahimom>
The date stamped in the corner was recent—only three weeks old.
Payton sank into a chair, his legs suddenly giving out. He’d known for months that Stynger was still alive, but seeing her still hit him hard, reminding him of his carelessness and all the lives it had ruined.
Poor Jake Staite was still a rabid mess of rage and frustration. They had to keep him sedated most of the time, for his own safety, and for the safety of those Stynger had ordered him to kill.
Jake’s torment had been caused by Stynger, but if Payton had done his job years ago and made sure she’d gone up in flames in that building where he’d trapped her, none of this would have ever happened. Jake would be alive and well, serving his country, not locked up in a concrete room, sleeping his prime years away.
Seeing Stynger with Richard Sage was not a good sign. Payton couldn’t tell from this photo, but the anger displayed and the public meeting place left only a few possible options: Sage knew what Stynger was up to and was pissed, Sage thought he knew and was pissed, or Sage had no clue and was pissed.
The last option seemed unlikely. Sage had thought she was dead like all of the rest of them had. Maybe he was angry that she hadn’t come to him sooner to tell him she was alive.
None of that really mattered, anyway. The real thing that mattered was that the two of them had met. They’d worked side by side on the Threshold Project years ago. Both had intimate knowledge of the research. If the two of them were meeting, it had to be about that. There was no catching up on old times for these two. They’d always hated each other.
Sage had sworn he’d gone legit. Both Payton and Bob had kept tabs on him over the years.
Maybe they hadn’t been looking closely enough. If Sage was back in the game, then he was going to have to be stopped.
Payton headed upstairs to where he could get cell phone reception. He dialed Sage’s work number and asked the woman who answered to let him speak to him.
A couple of minutes later, Richard Sage came on the line. “What do you want?”
“I’d like to see you,” said Payton.
“What makes you think I’d set foot in the same room with you?”
“I have information that I think you should know.”
“Then tell me now. My time is too valuable to waste on you.”
Time to test the waters. “Norma Stynger is alive.”
“She is?” said Sage a little too quickly. There was no hesitation, no shock in his tone.
At least now Payton knew that Sage was still willing to lie to him. “She is. I believe she will appe sh="2roach you.”
“About what?”
“The old research. I think she may want to recruit you.”
Sage’s voice became a jealous hiss. “Her work was always inferior to mine. If she did try to recruit me, it would be because of my success.”
Ah. That explained the anger Payton had seen in the photo.
“I know you met with her,” said Payton. “My only question is what she wanted from you.”
Silence filled the line for a moment. “How do you know?”
“I know everything, Richard. Eventually. So answer my question.”
“The bitch did approach me.”
“And?”
“I was shocked that she was alive after all these years.”
“What did she want?”
“The same thing she always wanted—to steal my work and put her name on it.”
“Did you give her your research?”
“You know I couldn’t. You destroyed it all. Remember?”
Payton had—or at least he thought he had. He’d also thought he’d killed Stynger, so he wasn’t taking anything for granted.
“And even if you hadn’t, the only thing I’d give that cheating bitch is a hard shove off a tall building.”
“Did she tell you anything else?” asked Payton. “Anything that could help me find her?”
“She said she got funding for her work and that she’s making great strides.”
“Funding from whom?”
“She didn’t say. After she gloated about it, I wasn’t inclined to ask. Especially considering that her funding was always better than mine. She gets all the best equipment and I have to scrounge for everything I need.”
Sage’s slip of the tongue spoke volumes. “You mean everything you needed? Past tense?”
“Of course that’s what I meant,” said Sage, but the breathless quality of his words told Payton everything he needed to now.
Sage may have been legit before, but he wasn’t now—or if he was, it was simply a cover for his real work.
“That’s good,” said Payton. “Because if you were dabbling with your old research, I’d be obliged to hunt you down and kill you.”
“The way you did Stynger?” asked Sage. “You don’t scare me, Payton. Besides, I gave up on the Threshold Project years ago. It brought me nothing but ulcers.”
That was a lie, too, but one Payton let slide. He had the answers h th bue needed.
If Sage hadn’t been working on the old research before, he definitely was now. There was no way he’d be able to resist competing with Stynger. Their professional rivalry ran too deep.
“I suggest you watch your back,” warned Payton.
“And I suggest you keep your nose out of my business. Don’t bother calling me again. I’m disconnecting this number. If I find out you’ve been snooping around at my workplace again, you’re not going to like what happens. Neither is Mira.”
Sage hung up, leaving that ominous statement hanging in Payton’s ear. An oily film of panic coated his throat, making it hard to breathe. He’d been so caught up in what was going on with Clay, he hadn’t stopped to consider the danger Mira faced.
Sage knew that Payton cared about her. Sage wasn’t above using his daughter to get what he wanted. History had proven that with crystal clarity.
* * *
Mira had an urgent package from Leigh waiting in her mailbox when she finally made it in to work. Thoughts of her meeting with Adam had filled her head, giving her a much-needed break from worrying about Clay. Until she read the note that Leigh had included with the phones, asking for help. Leigh wasn’t sure what Mira should look for but asked her to be thorough.
With Clay on the line, there was no way she’d be anything less.
At least Mira knew he was still alive. That counted for a lot. What little sleep she’d had had been filled with horrid dreams of zombie Clay coming at her, guns blazing. His eyes had been empty, and he hadn’t even flinched as he’d pulled the trigger over and over.
Even now, in the light of day, those nightmares had the power to make her hands shake.
She wished that she was with him now, making sure he was being careful and staying safe. She loved him like a brother, but she knew how boneheaded he could be. He didn’t like to be pushed around, and Leigh wasn’t exactly a doormat. As much as Mira had wanted to see the two of them together, she’d hoped it would be under better circumstances.
But it wasn’t, and all she could do to help was figure out if there was any useful information on these phones.
She powered up the first one. There was no password protection on the device. She read through e-mail and text messages, finding little of interest. There could be more incriminating messages he’d erased, but she wouldn’t know that until she checked for deleted entries.
The contact list was vague—mostly first names or initials. As she scrolled through the listings, an entry caught her eye: Dr. S. It was next to a number she knew all too well.
The phone slipped from Mira’s hands and landed on the floor. Plastic pieces spun away and the battery flew under her desk.
She left them lying there and grabbed her own phone from her belt. Her hands were shaking with panic as she pulled up the lull" faist of phone numbers she’d blocked—all various numbers for her father.
Just to be sure, she picked up the pieces of the battered phone and shoved them back together. Holding both phones side by side, she compared the numbers.
She hadn’t imagined it. The numbers were the same. The number was for her father’s office.
Sick with dread, she checked the other two phones. Both contained listings for that number as well.
Whoever owned these phones, her father had sent them after Clay. The question was, why?
Richard Sage had always been a possessive man. He stamped his claim on people as if they were things. Apparently, Clay had been stamped, and Mira’s father wanted him back.
She didn’t know what to do. Her father had always thought of her as his possession. He’d kept close tabs on her for years, despite her moving from place to place in an effort to avoid him. She’d even found bugs in her apartment once, three years ago.
That thought stopped her cold. She hadn’t swept her place in weeks. She was hypervigilant about using her security system—one she’d designed herself. If anyone got close to her place, it recorded their image and sent it to her phone. The only person who knew the codes to get in was Clay.
Who looked just like those empty men who were victims of her father’s experiments.
Panic gripped her with sharp claws, squeezing the air from her lungs. She doubled over in her chair, shoving her head down between her knees. Flickering black spots bloomed in her vision as her brain struggled to find enough oxygen to work. Slowly, the dizziness faded, leaving behind a greasy, queasy kind of fear.
Clay had been in her office, too. She let him in all the time. What if her father was watching her right now?
She felt his eyes on her, making her skin crawl. The urge to locate and destroy any possible bugs pounded through her, but she didn’t dare act rashly. Instead, she picked up her phone and rushed to the ladies’ room. Surely Clay hadn’t been in here.
She picked the stall in the farthest corner and locked the door. Her head hit the cold stainless steel, sucking away some of the sickening heat rising out of her. The faint rattle of the lock jarred her, making her realize just how hard she was shaking.
Mira had thought her father was out of her life. She’d thought she could simply ignore his existence and move on. She’d been wrong.
Now that Clay was involved, so was she. It was her fault that her father even knew Clay existed. If not for his brave defense of her on the playground and her grateful invitation for him to come home and play with her, her father never would have met him.
At least some small part of what had happened to Clay rested on her shoulders. She had to find a way to make it righ
t. But how?
Her choices were limited. She could either charge in and confront her father directly, or she could take a more subtle approach and try to destroy him from the insidfropice of his computer networks out.
She was definitely better at the latter. The former scared her to death but was the faster alternative. And there was no way to know how much time Clay had before something really bad happened.
A lot of the men touched by her father had killed themselves. She remembered him ranting about it on the phone when he hadn’t known she could hear him.
That couldn’t happen to Clay. She wouldn’t let it happen. Even if that meant she went to see her father and killed him herself. He deserved to die. She wouldn’t miss him. She would only miss the kind of man he should have been.
With no other good ideas springing to mind, Mira got into her car and headed for the gun she kept locked in a safe at home. As soon as she had it, she’d find him at work and make sure he never hurt anyone else ever again.
Chapter Twenty-three
L
eigh kept her head down, poring over the maze of photos and notes, which made even less sense than it had last night. She’d barely spoken ten words to Clay since she’d left his room to clean up in private and gather her wits.
Keeping her distance from him was harder than she’d thought it would be. She kept having to squelch the urge to reach for him or say something inane, just to break the awkward silence.
Every few minutes, she felt him look at her. As soon as the weight of his gaze was gone, she’d sneak a peek at him, soaking up the sight of his broad shoulders and those hands that could make her feel things she’d thought impossible.
She couldn’t help feeling cheated somehow. Clay’s ability to trust had been stripped from him—stolen. It wasn’t fair, but there wasn’t a damn thing she could do to fix him. It was best if she held herself at a distance, emotionally, refusing to be drawn in any further than she already had been.
Garrett needed her to focus, not stare like some lovesick schoolgirl.
She didn’t love Clay. Nor was she planning to. Falling for a man so inaccessible would be stupid, and Leigh was no idiot.
Clay’s head jerked up as if he’d heard something. He jumped from his chair and took off at a sprint, leaving her sitting at the table.
She wasn’t sure what had gotten into him, but it was her job to make sure he didn’t lose control and hurt anyone—no matter how little he trusted her. The way he’d run out of here made her fear that something had just gone wrong. Maybe he’d hit his time limit and had gone running back to the doctor who’d done this to him.
The ever-present syringe of sedative was tucked into her pocket, ready to go if needed. She followed after him, hearing only his heavy footsteps pounding up the stairs at the end of the long hallway.
The massive vault door had been left open as Clay had demanded.himomthe l As she moved past it, up the stairs, she could hear Clay’s deep voice followed by that of a woman. She moved faster, slipping around the corner just in time to see Clay engulfing Mira in a hard hug.
A fist of jealousy punched Leigh hard, stopping her dead in her tracks. She knew they were friends, and she wasn’t some possessive harpy who staked a claim to every man she slept with. And she’d already decided to push Clay away. Still, she couldn’t quiet the sickening sense of loss she felt watching the two of them connect on such a deep level.
That closeness was something she’d never have with him, and for that, a small part of her wept.
Clay pulled away, holding Mira’s face in his hands. His expression was one of sheer relief. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
Mira grabbed his hands and held on tight. “I’m the one who should be worried about you. Not the other way around.”
He smiled and pulled her to him for another hug. “I hate not being around to look out for you.”
“And I hate to break this up,” said Payton from the opposite doorway, “but it’s not safe for Mira to be here.” He looked freshly cleaned and shaved, in a pristine suit and tie.
Mira turned toward him. “I had to come, Payton. I couldn’t trust this to a phone call.”
“Trust what?” asked Clay, his body going tense.
Until now, Leigh hadn’t realized just how relaxed he’d been since sleeping with her, but now that the tension was back, it was painfully obvious.
Mira stepped away from him, looking at the floor. Guilt haunted her eyes. “It’s my dad, Clay. He’s the one who did this to you.”
“What?” asked Clay, his voice a whisper of thinly controlled violence.
She shook her head, making sudden tears spill down her cheeks. “It’s true. I found his phone number on all three of the phones Leigh sent me. He hired them to come after you.
You
, my best friend.” Betrayal made her words bitter shards of sound. “I just went to his work, and the place was abandoned. Everything was gone.”
“You went to confront him?” asked Payton, clearly horrified by the idea.
“I had a gun,” she said, as if that made it better.
Clay took her by the shoulders, looking like he was barely keeping himself from shaking her. “What the fuck were you thinking, Mira?”
“I was thinking that I was going to make him undo it. He’s killing you. Making you sick. I’m not going to sit by and watch it happen.”
Payton swept in, all cool and calm in the midst of too much fiery emotion. He took Mira by the hand and pulled her away from Clay to sit on the couch. He knelt down in front of her, his voice gentle. “Tell me exactly where you went and what you saw.”
“I went to the labs where he was working last year—where I thought he was stughh. Hill working. I haven’t spoken to him in months. The building was locked, so I looked in the windows and saw . . . nothing. No people, no furniture, no equipment. The place had been cleaned out. All that was left were compression marks in the carpet.”
Payton got a strange look on his face that Leigh didn’t understand. He hadn’t been surprised when Mira told them that her father was to blame, but he had been surprised to hear that the labs were empty.
“What does that mean?” asked Leigh, trying to make sense of all this.
Payton lifted his head toward Leigh. His expression was hard and cold. “It means we need to find him.”
Mira shook her head. “I tried locating him with his cell, but I couldn’t. It’s like his phone doesn’t exist. He didn’t answer when I called, and all I got was a beep. I didn’t leave a message. I was too furious. The landline is a disconnected number. So is his home number.”
Clay stalked toward Mira. “Where is the gun?”
“In my purse.”
He took her purse from her shoulder and removed the gun. He checked it with a few smooth, efficient movements and shoved it in the back of his waistband, next to his own weapon.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Keeping you from getting killed. There is no fucking way you’re going after your own father with a loaded weapon.”
“Someone has to make him stop hurting you.”
“I’ll do it myself.”
“No, you won’t,” said Payton. “A few words from him and you won’t even remember you wanted to kill him. I’m the one who needs to go.”
“You?” demanded Clay, incredulous. “What the hell are you going to do?”
“Question him. Get the information we need.”
“How?” asked Leigh.
Payton’s head came up. The look on his face startled Leigh enough that she took a step back. The man standing before them wasn’t the suave, metrosexual bachelor she thought she knew. He was darker, frightening in his intensity. “Any way I can.”
“I’m going with you,” said Mira. “He’s been watching me. Listening to me. I found bugs in my house. That’s not something I can just let slide.”
“You found—” Clay’s words cut off as if he’d choked on them. Rage darkened his face and made his jaw bulge.
“What did you do with them?” asked Payton.
“Nothing. I just grabbed my gun and ran. I didn’t want him to know that I knew—it was like letting him win, somehow.”
“Good. We can work with that,” said Payton.
“What does that mean?” asked eanTimes TenClay.
“It means that Mira needs to go on as if she believes she’s not being watched. And the two of you,” said Payton, pointing at Clay and Leigh, “need to stay here and keep your heads down.”
Leigh shook her head. “But we were going to—”
Clay cut her off, talking over her. “Fine, but don’t be long. I’m not sitting around here forever.” He grabbed her wrist, giving her a slight squeeze.
She looked up at him, searching for meaning in his silent signal. All she saw was hard determination and furious contempt. Still, she trusted him enough to stay quiet, even if that trust wasn’t reciprocal.
“I’ll leave now,” said Payton. “It may take me a few hours to locate him if he’s not at home. I’ll call you as soon as I learn anything useful.” He offered Mira a hand up off the couch. “You should leave now, too. If your car is also bugged, you could be drawing your father or his people here right now.”
“What do I do?” asked Mira.
“Pretend everything is fine. Act normal. Go back to work.”
“I think my office is bugged, too.”
“Then go shopping or see a movie—just don’t go anywhere alone. It may not be safe.”
Mira slung her purse over her shoulder. She sniffed back her tears, casting one last shame-filled look at Clay. “I’m sorry. About everything. If you’d never met me, if I’d never brought you home that day, my father wouldn’t have even known you existed.”
Clay’s voice turned gentle. “This isn’t your fault, runt. Don’t ever think I blame you for even one second, okay?”
Mira nodded and shuffled out. Payton saw her to the door and returned a second later. His face was grim. “Stay here. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
Clay said nothing. Leigh watched him, sure he was hiding something. The moment she heard the sound of Payton’s engine starting, she said, “Why did you cut me off a minute ago?”
“Because I didn’t want him to know where we were going.”
“Why?”
“I don’t trust him. It’s only an hour before the appointed time on that note I left. Get your stuff. You and I are taking a little trip, and if Payton is the liar I think he is, we won’t be coming back.”
* * *
Leigh pulled into the parking area outside Wilson’s Cliffs Country Club. Clay scanned the area, searching for signs of why he’d written himself a note to come here.
The place was lavish, shining with money and prestige. The lawn was winter brown but still managed to appear lush. In the center of a wide circle drive was a ten-foot fountain with a curved stone bench around its perimeter.
“This is the right place,” said Leigh. “Guess we’ll see if it’s the right time, too.”
“We’ll sit here and watch for a minute. I still have no idea what I’m here to see or do.”
“Whatever you want.”
Leigh was treating Clay differently now. She was colder, more distant—all business. There had been a time when he would have welcomed that, but that time had passed. He liked the fiery side of her—the woman who came apart in his arms and made him feel like there was still a piece of his life that wasn’t all blood, confusion, and chaos.
Seeing Mira again—feeling terrified to be so close to her—had been a stark reminder of just how dangerous he was to be around and how Leigh was risking her life to help him. Yeah, she was doing it for her brother’s sake, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t appreciate what she was doing for him as well.
Leigh was making sure that the people he cared about—people like Mira—didn’t get hurt by him. The only problem was that now Clay cared about Leigh, too.
If he could have sent her away, he would have. He didn’t like putting her at risk. But he wasn’t that stupid. Like it or not, he needed her.
A man walked outside, huddled in a dressy wool coat. He flipped up the collar and looked around with glaring nervousness.
“What about Captain Obvious over there?” asked Leigh. “Does he look familiar?”
“I can’t tell. It’s too far away. I don’t suppose you have any binoculars in your car, do you?”
She reached behind her and pulled the camera from the backseat. “How about a zoom lens?”
Smart. Clay zoomed in on the man and snapped a few photos. He brought them up on the display and enlarged them, but there was nothing about the man that rang any bells. “Guess I need to go out there.”
“What? You can’t do that. You don’t even know why you’re here. What if you’re supposed to observe a meeting of some kind and not let them see you? What if you’re just here to take photos?”
More likely he was here to kill someone, but he didn’t want to admit that aloud. “And what if I’m supposed to be the one doing the meeting? This man could have information we need. Besides, it’s ten past three. He won’t wait out in the cold all day.”
“I don’t like it.”
Neither did Clay, but that was the story of his life these days. “I’ll be careful. If I get in trouble, drive away.”
She stared into his eyes for a moment, and he swore he saw a flicker of the woman he’d been naked with a few hours ago—all heat and fire—only now it was anger he saw rather than desire. “You really don’t know me at all, do you?”
He wanted to. He wanted to spend more time with her and learn what made her tick. He wanted to take her somewhere fun, hear her laugh. But mostly, he wanted her to live through having known him, and for thime time wihat reason, he ignored her question and stepped out into the cold.
Clay was normally good at shifting gears from personal life to work, but this time he kept missing his mark, making his brain grind and smoke in an effort to fall into place.
Leigh was back in the car, likely stung by his dismissal. He didn’t like thinking he’d hurt her in any way, but at least this time the damage hadn’t left a mark. It was the best he could offer, given the circumstances. If she was pissed at him, maybe she would leave if the shit hit the fan.
As he neared the man by the fountain, he could feel Leigh’s gaze on his back. He kept his eyes cast down, pretending he wasn’t looking, in case he wasn’t supposed to be here. If the man didn’t speak to him, he’d pass by and head into the lobby.
