Read Edge of Sanity: An Edge Novel Online
Authors: Shannon K. Butcher
Edge of Sanity: An Edge Novel (2 page)
His shoulder twitched in response, leaving her to interpret that as a yes.
Before she could think better of it, she slid her hand along his ribs, feeling them easily. He flinched as if she’d hurt him, making her snatch her hand back to where it belonged.
He was too skinny for a man his age—especially one who did the kind of physically demanding work that was necessary at the private security company the Edge. Instead, what greeted her was the hard, ridged contours of a man who needed more food—very similar to what she’d expect on a bottomless teenage boy. The width of his shoulders and depth of his chest were all grown man, which meant his twitchy shrug was a huge understatement.
He definitely needed to eat.
She turned away as if finding nothing of interest, when in fact she was far too interested. “Mac and cheese sounds good. Will you see if there’s anything to drink in the fridge?”
Clay left her side, giving her room to breathe again. She wasn’t sure what it was about him that captured her attention so completely, but she wasn’t used to feeling off-balance. Hers was a world of routine and logic. She was a mechanic for the body, troubleshooting and repairing whatever was broken. There was no room for emotion beyond sympathy for her patients’ pain and determination to fix it.
The way she felt about Clay went well beyond those limits.
Payton needed to get here soon and release her from her guard duty before she did something stupid and forgot how dangerous Clay could be.
They sat down to eat, and while she’d been starving, she found her stomach too fluttery for food. She toyed with her chicken until the silence was too much to take.
He watched her the whole time, his gaze so intense it was almost palpable against her skin. She tried not to look like she was watching him, worried that her scrutiny would stop him from eating. As it was, he seemed to be making a dent in his pasta, and she didn’t want to mess that up.
Leigh forced herself to eat, feeling him watch every time the fork went to her mouth. Finally, after several minutes, the strain of his silent, intense interest was too much.
“What do you do at the Edge?” she asked to break the silence.
“How did you know I work there?”
“Payton told me.”
“How do you know Payton?”
“I know most people C moStd at the Edge—at least those who don’t refuse to come and see me the way you have. I figured you knew who I was, even though I’ve never seen you as a patient before.”
His gaze lifted from his half-empty bowl, narrowing on her. “Patient?” He said the word as an accusation, his body shifting from relaxed to tense in a heartbeat.
Dangerous vibes tumbled out of him, setting off Leigh’s instincts. Adrenaline kicked her stomach and made her heart lurch in her chest. She clutched her fork in her hand, even though it was a paltry weapon against a man like Clay.
“I thought you knew who I was, or at least what I do,” she said.
“Which is?”
“I’m a doctor. That’s why Payton asked me to come here tonight—to make sure you were okay.”
Clay shoved away from the table so fast the dishes rattled. “I’m outta here.”
Leigh sat there for a second, too stunned and confused by his violent reaction to even figure out what had just happened. “What? Why?”
He whirled around, and his face was twisted with vivid hatred. “I cannot fucking stand doctors. I’m sure as hell not going to sit around and let you toy with me.”
“
Toy
with you? What are you talking about? I’m here to help you.”
“That’s what they all say.” He stomped into the living room, leaving Leigh no choice but to follow.
“I have no intention of doing anything other than making sure you stay safe.”
Clay grabbed a duffel bag from where it sat by the front door.
“You’re leaving?” she asked, outraged that something as simple as her day job would drive him away.
His expression was hard. His amber eyes glowed with rage. His rigid posture warned her to stay the hell away. “Tell Payton I don’t want his help anymore. If he thought I’d hang out alone with a fucking doctor, clearly his judgment is flawed.”
Leigh patted her pocket, making sure her self-defense syringe was still there. Payton had told her she might need it, and she wasn’t stupid enough to ignore him. He knew the risks at least as well as she did. “So . . . what? You’re just going to leave? Who will watch out for you?”
“I will. I don’t need any help. I’ll figure this out on my own.”
Before he could leave and get himself killed, she flattened herself against the door, blocking his path with her body. “You can’t do that. It’s not safe.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. You don’t know me, and you sure as hell don’t know what I’m going through.”
“I know more than you think. If you’d give me half a chance—”
He reached past her and pulled the door open, moving her weig Cvin>
Leigh no longer had a choice. If she let him walk out, the chances of him surviving were slim, and she would not let another man die the way her brother had. Not while there was still something she could do to stop it.
She pulled the syringe from her pocket, flipped the protective cap off, and jabbed the needle into his shoulder.
He spun on her, his amber eyes bright with anger. A roar poured from his mouth. He reached for her, but the tranquilizer set in and he started to collapse.
Leigh shoved her shoulder under his and eased his bulk to the floor. He was a lot heavier than he looked, and she had to strain to keep him from hitting his head.
Once
he woke up, there was going to be hell to pay.
Chapter Four
D
r. Richard Sage eyed the acne-scarred tech in the rumpled lab coat. “What do you mean you can’t activate him?”
“The subject isn’t answering his phone.”
“For how long?”
The tech tapped his electronic tablet. “Last contact was at one p.m. yesterday. His phone has not moved since ten a.m. today.”
That was more than twelve hours ago. Clay Marshall was never without his phone, which made it the perfect tracking and activation device. “Where is it now?”
“At his office.”
“Put an alert on that phone. The moment it moves, notify me.”
“Yes, Doctor.”
Richard pressed a button to summon his assistant. Ruby Rypan entered the room a moment later. Her blond hair was smoothed back and restrained in some kind of elaborate twist. Her high heels clicked on the floor and pushed her from merely tall to Amazonian proportions. She was pretty but never let that get in the way of professionalism, which Richard appreciated. Her suits were always modest, showing no hint of cleavage or thigh, and she’d never once spoken of her personal life. She left for exactly eight hours each day, returning fresh and renewed, wearing a different suit. If it weren’t for the bottled water that always resided on her desk, she could have been a robot.
“Yes?” she said, standing just inside his doorway, a tablet poised in her hands as she awaited his instructions.
“One of my subjects has gone missing. Put the word out to our contacts that I’ll offer fifty thousand to any man who brings in Clay Marshall.”
“Yes, sir.” Her fingers flew on the tablet. “Alive or dead?” she asked, without any indication of her preference.
“Yes, sir. Anything else?”
Richard considered asking her to do the rest, but that was best left to him. Maybe it wasn’t the best option to use thugs and killers to do an operation as delicate as finding and subduing one very dangerous man, but Richard had few options. And those thugs were expendable. There were always more waiting to fill the ranks so long as the money was good.
“No, thank you. Close the door behind you.”
He waited until Ruby left the office. He typed a few keystrokes, bringing up the live feed displaying his daughter’s work area at the Edge. She trusted Clay, making it easy for him to install several cameras without her knowledge. Or his. At least he had no memory of the act, making it impossible for his guilt to set off any kind of suspicion in Mira.
She was far too perceptive—a by-product of the alterations, no doubt.
Mira wasn’t in her workspace. All of her monitors were black.
A moment of alarm streaked through him. If she was missing as well as Clay, whatever they were doing could not be good news.
And then he remembered. It was nearly midnight. She wouldn’t be at the office this late.
In his windowless facility, Richard had little connection to the flow of time. He often worked until he was no longer able to stay awake, regardless of what time of day it was. Circadian rhythms meant nothing. Only his work mattered.
He switched over to the cameras hidden in Mira’s home, flipping between feeds until he found the right one.
There was his little Mira—not so little now—all curled up in a blanket, working at her laptop. The TV was on, casting a flickering blue glow over her face. The deep resonance of a cable news anchor droned on in the background, interspersed with lighter voices of others. Occasionally, she’d look up at the TV, multitasking as usual.
She looked tired, worried, and so much like her mother, sometimes it was hard for Richard to watch her. She had the same tilted green eyes and softly rounded face. Even the way she sat, curled up like a child, was the same.
An ache so old it was as much a part of him as his own skin flared to life. Mira’s mother was long gone—a victim of her own small mind. Mira refused to speak to him, leaving him to reach out to her in the only way he knew how. Illegal, but necessary. She was one of his greatest successes.
One day she would see that everything he’d done had been for her. All the experiments and long hours in the lab. The missed holidays and family dinners. None of that lost time mattered. His work had been a success, and the only thing left was for him to prove it. After almost twenty years of being looked at as a failure, Dr. Richard Sage was finally going to be vindicated.
All he had to do was find Clay Marshall and make him finish his mission. Once that file was obtained, Norma Stynger—his previous partner turned professional adversarys Te Kdvem fand all the others would see that his way was best. Slower, certainly, but far more effective.
But unless Clay was located, Richard’s years of effort would be wasted. Clay was close to finding the file now. Richard could feel it.
Unless the thugs Ms. Rypan contacted failed.
Clay was too important to leave to chance, so Richard began the protocol for contacting one of the few men capable of capturing Clay alive. Someone Ms. Rypan didn’t even know existed, just in case Richard had to have her eliminated one day. While most of the men in Richard’s employ had been hired for their minds, Mr. Grady was not one of them. For hire to the highest bidder, Mr. Grady charged a fortune, but so far, he’d been worth every penny.
Richard had to jump through a ridiculous set of security hoops to send Mr. Grady his marching orders, but ten minutes later, he got the confirmation code that Mr. Grady was on the job.
Clay Marshall was as good as found, and once Richard had him back under his control, he wasn’t letting him go again until he’d proven just how wrong Norma and the others had been.
* * *
Leigh was waiting for Payton when he walked through the door. She’d had several hours to work up a heaping helping of anger, and she was more than ready to let it fly at him.
She didn’t wait for polite greetings. Instead, the moment he stepped through the door, she blasted him with, “You tricked me.”
“It’s lovely to see you again, too, Dr. Vaughn.” He slid out of his coat and draped it carefully over the back of a chair.
“Cut the bullshit. You sent me here knowing how much Clay hates doctors. You could have at least warned me.”
“You might not have come. I couldn’t afford to let that happen.”
“Damn right I wouldn’t have come. It’s bad enough to be faced with a dangerous man who might crack at any second, but giving him a nice, juicy target for all that hatred was way out of line.”
“I knew he wouldn’t hurt you.”
“How? You said he was like Hollis and needed my help. If you’ll remember right, Hollis broke my arm before he finally . . .” She couldn’t say the words. Her brother had died more than two years ago, and yet she still couldn’t utter the truth aloud.
Payton cupped her shoulder. “I knew Clay hadn’t gotten that bad yet. If he had, I would have sent him somewhere safe, where he couldn’t hurt anyone.”
Just like he’d done to Garrett.
She hadn’t seen her oldest brother in months, and the ache of missing him never seemed to fade. Payton handed out visits like cookies to a child, ensuring her cooperation. And like a child, she went along with it, unable to resist the temptation.
Garrett was so lonely, kept in solit Kkeped with ary confinement so he wouldn’t hurt anyone or himself. She had to do whatever she could to see him as often as possible, so he’d know he was still loved.
Her anger faded, replaced by grief and loneliness for her brothers. “Why take the risk with Clay? Why risk my life?”
“Because Clay may be the key to stopping this for good. For everyone.”
“Everyone who? Are you saying there are more men out there like Clay and my brothers?”
Payton turned away from her, pretending to be interested in the angle of the watercolor hanging on the wall. “Possibly. Clay will help us find out for sure. I may have been using you. I’m certainly using him. But I’m doing so in order to save others from suffering through what your family has. You’re the only person I know who completely understands the risks.”
It was tough for her to argue with that, as much as she wanted to. She and her two brothers had gone through a hell she wouldn’t wish on anyone. She knew just how bad it could get and exactly what was at stake.
Leigh let out a long breath, searching for a sliver of calm. “Clay tried to leave once he found out that I’m a doctor. I had to sedate him to keep him here.”
Payton nodded. “You made the right choice.”
Sarcasm hung in her voice. “I’m sure Clay will see it that way—all nice and reasonable—when he wakes up.”
“Where is he?”
“On the living room floor. He was too heavy for me to move.”
“How long until he wakes up?”
“A couple more hours, maybe. It’s hard to say. He looks like he hasn’t been getting much sleep, so it could be longer. It would be best if he slept through the rest of the night.”
Payton went to where Clay was sacked out on the floor. She’d put a pillow under his head and covered him with a blanket, but that was the extent of comfort she had to offer. As lean as he was, he still had at least fifty pounds on her.
“You should check him out while he’s unconscious.”
“Why?”
“To make sure he has no serious injuries. He’s the type of man who would hide them rather than seek help. I’ve caught him sewing up his own cuts before rather than getting medical attention after a mission.”
Wow. He really did hate doctors if he went that far. Most men were babies about pain, happily accepting whatever painkillers she was willing to offer.
Payton picked him up and carried him upstairs to a bedroom.
“You’re stronger than you look,” she said.
“Vanity has its benefits.” He stripped Clay down to his boxers right in front of her, with no concern for his privacy.
She had to fi KShein frontght the urge to look at Clay, had to force herself to turn away to give him at least a small measure of respect.
“This is a bad idea,” she told Payton, keeping her eyes on the carpet. “He already hates me because I’m a doctor. He’ll hate me more once he knows I drugged him. How can I help him if he won’t stay in the same room with me?”
“He can hardly hate you more for giving him a quick look, can he? It’ll be our secret. Once you’re done, I’ll dress him again and he’ll never have to know.”
“Not only is that a huge violation of trust; it’s illegal. I need consent to treat.”
Payton offered her a knowing smile. “Since when have you let the legality of something stop you from doing it?”
A flash of anger surged and she spoke through gritted teeth. “Only when someone’s bribing me with visits to see my imprisoned brother.”
Payton let out a weary sigh in the face of their old argument. “He’s not in prison. He’s being held for his own safety. It’s not even against his will. Garrett wants to be there.”
“Because he knows what could happen if he’s left to roam free. More people could be hurt.”
“Unless we help Clay find out who’s doing this and how. If that happens, then perhaps we can figure out how to undo it, and Garrett can go free without risk.”
Leigh went still, worried that if she so much as breathed, that fleeting wisp of hope would disappear. “Do you really think that’s possible?” she whispered.
“If Clay is well and at the top of his game, I do. Which is why I think you should take a look and make sure he’s not in need of medical care while he’s still too unconscious to refuse it.”
It was then that Leigh realized that this was the trap Payton had set all along. He knew that if he dangled her brother’s future in front of her, she would have no choice but to do as he wanted. “You’re a son of a bitch, Payton. You know that?”
A sad smile lifted his mouth but didn’t reach his eyes. “I do. Luckily, I don’t let it stop me from doing the right thing. And neither should you.”
He left, returning a minute later with her medical bag from downstairs. He set it on the carpet and then shut the bedroom door on his way out.
Leigh stood there for a moment, collecting her wits. She wasn’t going to do anything to harm Clay. She’d already broken the law and drugged him against his will, so what was a little look-see going to hurt? If Payton was right and they needed Clay to find a way to help her brother, she really had no choice. Restoring Garrett’s freedom was worth invading one man’s privacy.
She sucked in a deep breath and sat on the bed where Clay lay.
His skin was covered in bruises of varying ages. From fresh dark purple to aging yellowy-green. Several were the size of a man’s fist, but a few were larger and longer, as if someone had kicked him or beaten him with a bat. His ribs had taken the brunt of that Krunt?”
No wonder he’d flinched when she’d touched him.
She moved his dog tags aside and ran her fingers lightly over his skin, feeling for signs of broken bones as gently as she could. He didn’t twitch or make any noises of pain, allowing her to finish her exam without her stomach twisting with guilt.
Clay wasn’t as skinny as she’d thought. There was no fat on him, and he really could use a few more pounds of it, but he was far from skin and bones as she’d imagined. Dense, lean muscles hugged his frame and were likely the reason he wasn’t lying in a hospital with broken ribs. She couldn’t guarantee they weren’t cracked, and they were definitely bruised, but she didn’t think any had been severely broken.
