Read Edge of Sanity: An Edge Novel Online
Authors: Shannon K. Butcher
Edge of Sanity: An Edge Novel (3 page)
She donned her stethoscope and listened to his heart and lungs. Everything checked out—his pulse as slow and strong as that of an athlete in his prime.
There were several scratches and a couple of healing cuts that probably should have been sutured but weren’t. One of them was a bit red and inflamed, indicating a minor infection. She cleaned it well and added some antibiotic ointment, forgoing the bandage for fear of him freaking out when he saw it.
With a heave of effort, she rolled him over enough to inspect his back, seeing more of the same. Lots of bruises, plenty of scratches, and a couple of cuts.
She picked up his hands one at a time, noticing the rough calluses along his knuckles and palms. There were a couple of small lacerations, but nothing that would have raised any red flags. He just looked like a man who worked with his hands.
Her gaze skimmed down his body, purposefully ignoring the bulge in his boxers. There was no professional reason for her to peek under there, no matter how curious she might be.
His wrists were thick, his forearms hard and ropey but not bulging with muscle. Inside his clothes, he would have easily passed for an average, athletic guy. Without that disguise, she could see the truth: Clay was a man who possessed the strength of steel and the resilience of rawhide. A lesser man would not be walking around after taking the kind of beating that would leave behind marks like these.
Some antiquated part of her found the notion exciting, while the clinical, detached part of her rolled its eyes.
He was just a man. The fact that he had a nice body under all those bruises and made her want to feed and pamper him had nothing to do with reality.
She started to get up, but Clay’s arm wrapped around her hips, pulling her back down to the bed.
Leigh let out a startled squeak and clutched his hard arm.
There was no grogginess in his eyes—no sign of lethargy at all. Which meant . . .
“How long have you been awake?”
“Long enough to enjoy you petting me.” His gaze was hot as it slid from her face, down over her breasts, and finally to where his arm crossed her hips, pinning her to the bed. She couldn’t tell if that heat came Kat herfrom anger or something deeper she refused to acknowledge.
“I thought you hated doctors.”
“I do, but even I’m not strong enough to turn down a chance to have the hands of a woman as beautiful as you on me. Now, if you’d pulled out another needle . . . let’s just say I wouldn’t have cared how beautiful you were.”
His flattery surprised her, leaving her floundering for how to handle it. In any other situation, she would have been irritated, but she couldn’t seem to rouse the appropriate level of indignation—not when his words sent such a thrill sliding through her.
She lifted her chin and stared down her nose at him, searching for some kind of armor to wrap around herself. She was feeling things for this man she had no right to feel. Sympathy? Sure. Worry? Absolutely. But interest? Inexcusable.
Leigh forced her tone to come out frosty. “I’m not sorry about the tranquilizer. Keeping you here may have saved your life.”
He sat up in a move that made muscles in his shoulders and arms flex. His face was only inches away from hers. She had to tilt her head back to keep looking him in the eye, and she knew if she looked away, he would take it as a sign of weakness.
With this man, weakness could be dangerous. Even if her heart was racing out of control, she had to pretend that nothing he did affected her. If he thought he had the upper hand, he would be more likely to get himself into trouble, thinking he no longer needed the help of one weak woman.
“Don’t expect me to thank you,” he said. “This was a violation of trust and you know it.”
“You don’t trust me, so I don’t see how I could have violated anything.”
“If I hadn’t trusted you, I wouldn’t have opened the door and let you in. But don’t w
orry. I’ve learned my lesson. I’m leaving, and if you try to stick me again, you won’t like what happens.”
Chapter Five
C
lay used every bit of acting experience he had to deliver that bluff.
He couldn’t stand the thought of hurting her, but he didn’t want her to know that. It was better if she was afraid of him. Maybe then she’d keep her distance and he wouldn’t have to keep fighting the hard-on threatening to give his real feelings away.
It pissed him off that she had the power to disarm him so easily, without even trying. Even now, just sitting next to her on a bed, as angry as he was that she’d drugged him, he couldn’t help but imagine laying her down and seeing what she had hidden under all those proper clothes.
Mussing her was high on his list of things he wanted to do before he died. Too bad that was never going to happen.
Even if he could overlook her being a do Nat heml:lang=ctor, he’d never trust her enough to relax, which was a shame. Between the moment he laid eyes on her and the moment he found out who she really was, his whole body had begun unknotting a little at a time. It had felt good, and for a second, he’d thought that maybe he’d found someone who really could make things better.
What an idiot.
He was back to being a mass of tension and worry, which, while no fun, was probably the safest bet. At least now he knew the truth.
She looked pointedly down to where his forearm barred her from getting up. “I think we’re done here. You can get dressed.”
“You undressed me. I think it’s only fair if you do the honors.”
Leigh smiled, showing off a mouth that was far too sweet and plump for Clay’s peace of mind. “Actually, Payton was the one who stripped you. I’ll ask him to come
do the honors
.”
Payton was here? Good. Finally Clay could get to the bottom of this mess and find out what was going on. And how to stop it.
Pushing Leigh’s presence from his mind was impossible, so instead he simply pretended to ignore her while he threw his clothes back on. He turned his back and shoved his stupid, semihard cock into his jeans, zipping a sturdy layer of denim over it to make it behave. No way was he fucking a doctor, no matter how stacked she was, or how easily he could imagine the way her red hair would look spread across rumpled sheets. It was time his dick accepted the facts and left him the hell alone.
Payton was sitting at the kitchen table, sipping wine and eating the food Leigh had cooked.
A bizarre sense of jealousy reared up in Clay, making him angry that Payton was benefiting from her efforts when Clay hadn’t been able to convince his stomach to cooperate. It was a stupid little thing, but one more to add to the growing pile of irritations.
Even this late in the day, Payton still had a perfect, polished appearance that made Clay feel like he’d been dragged backward behind a truck halfway across Texas. Normally, the comparison didn’t bother him, but he was acutely aware of Leigh’s presence a step behind him, and what she might think.
Clay sat down across from Payton and simply said, “Start talking.”
“Did you have a nice rest?” Payton asked.
“You know she drugged me, so don’t pretend we’re having fucking high tea here. I want to know what’s going on. Now.”
Payton glanced at Leigh, who was searching through cabinets for something. “It’s complicated.”
“Good thing I’m not an idiot, then, huh?”
“Of course you’re not. You scored higher than most on the tests we gave before we hired you.”
Clay had forgotten all about those. He’d been at the Edge for most of a decade now, and his green years seemed so far away they were like memories of something that had happened to another person.
Payton smiled like that was some kind of joke. “I’ll start with what you need to know.”
Frustration raged through Clay, and he had to control his tone so his words wouldn’t come out as a growl. “Fine. Whatever. Just start somewhere. Maybe with why you sent me here.”
“You needed to be somewhere away from all means of communication. No phones or email. This place is too far out for most of that, making it safe.”
“From what?”
“You’re agitated. I think you need more rest. This can wait until morning.”
Clay leaned forward, no longer willing to hold anything back. He let every ounce of frustration and rage spill into his words. “If you don’t start talking, there will be no morning for you. I’m sick of the games and the delays. What the fuck is wrong with me?”
Payton paused for only a moment before he gave a slow nod of acquiescence. “You’re being used against your will to act on the orders of another person.”
Denial slammed a brick wall down, blocking off even a remote chance that Clay would believe something so ridiculous. “That’s impossible. I would have known.”
“No, you wouldn’t. It’s a sort of hypnosis—mind control. Whoever is doing this says a trigger word or phrase and it puts you into a kind of trance. They tell you to do things, and then you do. When they tell you to forget, you forget.”
No way. There had to be another explanation.
Payton went on calmly, as if talking about the weather. “Whoever is doing it has to have some way to contact you. My guess is via phone, but there are other ways. As long as you’re near any means of long-distance communication, you’re in danger of being triggered again.”
Clay sat in stunned silence, waiting for Payton to crack a smile. “This is a joke, right?”
The man’s face was stony, without a hint of amusement. “I wish it were. I’m sorry.”
Clay scrubbed his hands over his face, hoping it would wake him up from this bizarre dream. “You’re wrong. You have to be.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m stronger than that. I don’t let people fuck with my head.”
“This wasn’t something you chose. This was something that was done to you by some unscrupulous scientist.”
“Who?”
Payton’s mouth flattened. “The better question is who is pulling the trigger now.”
As hard as he tried, Clay couldn’t make Payton’s explanation fit within the constraints of what he knew to be real. “How could something like this even happen? How can someone hijack my body without me remembering how it happened? S ithat he ”
“It happens. You’re not the first case like this I’ve seen. Unfortunately.”
Clay held on to denial because it was the only thing keeping him sane. Even as he shook his head, niggling doubts began to trickle in between the cracks in his refusal to believe. “No. You must be wrong.”
Payton’s voice was gentle, like he was talking to a mental patient. “It explains the blackouts and the bruises. It explains your lost chunks of time.”
The smell of coffee filled the air—so normal, like nothing had changed, even though Clay’s whole world had just been tipped sideways.
“This kind of thing isn’t even real.” It couldn’t be. Clay couldn’t be that fucked-up. He couldn’t be the puppet of some mad scientist willing to screw with people’s minds.
“It is,” said Leigh, her voice so soft and sweet in this sea of bleak confusion. “I’ve seen it before.”
Clay looked to where she stood, her hips propped against the counter next to a gurgling coffeepot. She was shaking so hard he could see it from across the room. Sadness darkened her eyes, and she was so pale her freckles stood out in stark contrast.
“Seen it?” he asked. “Where?”
Her face crumpled with anguish, as if she was fighting off a sudden surge of tears. Clay was on his feet, heading toward her before he could stop and think about what he was doing.
“You don’t have to talk about this, Leigh,” said Payton.
She pulled herself together before Clay reached her, but his feet kept moving. He wrapped his fingers around her biceps, being careful not to squeeze. He wanted to shake the truth out of her, but her pain was so vivid and real, all he could do was stroke the inside of her arm with his thumb. “What have you seen? I need to know.”
Her bottom lip wobbled, but she held herself together. “My brothers. Both of them went through what you’re going through now. I didn’t know what was going on until it was too late.”
“That’s enough, Leigh,” said Payton.
But it wasn’t enough. Clay still had no idea what to do, but he didn’t want to make Leigh cry. She was barely staying in control.
It pissed him off that he cared enough to worry about some paltry tears. His whole life was a mess, with the pieces he’d thought had fit now scattered all over the place. It shouldn’t have mattered that she cried.
He let go of her and stalked over to Payton. “How do I fix it?”
“You don’t. I do. You stay here where it’s safe and don’t let anyone contact you. Leigh will stay here with you and make sure you don’t try to leave again.”
Like hell. Now that he knew who and what she was, there was no way she was slipping another needle in him.
“How are you going to fix it?” Clay Sx iing demanded.
“I have connections. I’m going to track down the people responsible and deal with them.”
“Connections? Really? You think that whoever did this to me hangs out at political fund-raisers and country clubs?”
Payton’s face darkened with anger, and something shifted in his posture. He went from giving off the relaxed vibes of a pampered socialite to screaming hard-core badass in the blink of an eye. Whoever this man sitting at the table was, he wasn’t the soft, amenable businessman Clay had come to know. This man was dangerous. “I said I’ll deal with it.”
“How?”
“That’s not your concern.”
“The hell it isn’t. You can’t tell me that someone who has control over me isn’t my concern.”
Payton stood. Determination was evident in the angle of his shoulders, but there was regret lingering in the creases around his pale eyes. “You have to let me do this. It’s too dangerous for you to be out there where you can be found. Hiding is the only way to keep them from triggering you again. Do you understand?”
“I understand that two people looking for the fuckers who did this to me are better than one.”
Leigh touched his arm, so light he almost thought he’d imagined it. “You’re wrong, Clay.”
“Why?”
“You’ve been out of contact for too long.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve been away from your phone. They’ll know something’s up.”
“It’s only been a few hours.”
“You’re a valuable asset to them. Do you think they’re not going to keep tabs?”
“She’s right,” said Payton. “You’re never without your phone, are you?”
“No. Bella’s policy is for all of us to be on call unless we specifically say we’re on vacation.”
“When was the last time you went anywhere without your phone?”
Clay couldn’t remember. Even now, not having it in his pocket was making him restless and itchy.
In the face of Clay’s lack of response, Leigh said, “Exactly. The people who did this may know that you’re aware of what’s been done to you. If they get their hands on you again, they might never let go.”
The thought made it hard to breathe. He tried to control the panic surging from deep inside, but he was already dealing with so much. When he spoke, his breathlessness gave away his fear. “Is that true, Payton?”
The older man nodded. “It is. But there are worse things than never being yourself again. They could make you hurt the people you love. They could make you hurt Mira.”
No. That couldn’t happen. “I’d find a way to fight it. I’d never do anything bad to her.”
Leigh’s hand fell to her side, and his skin felt cold without her touch.
Payton’s eyes closed for a moment and he swallowed hard. “You wouldn’t even know you were doing it. Trust me on this, Clay. The safest place for you is here with Leigh, where no one can reach you.”
Clay nearly toppled to the floor under the weight of his defeat. He stumbled through the closest door and shut it, not caring where it led. All he knew was that he had to get away and think.
He was left standing in a bathroom, propping himself up against the sink so he wouldn’t fall over.
Just a few minutes alone. That’s all he needed to make sense of all of this and figure out what to do.
He slumped down onto the lid of the toilet. His whole body was shaking uncontrollably. A mixture of rage and despair slammed through his veins.
In the past few minutes, his world had been scrambled, leaving him swirling around, trying to find something solid to hold. Every thought he grasped was even more fucked-up than the last, making him wonder if he was completely sane. His mom hadn’t exactly been the most stable woman on the planet. Maybe all of this was some kind of delusion—something he’d inherited from her, along with his creepy amber eyes.
And if he wasn’t insane, the alternative was even worse. He was a puppet. Used. Just like he’d been when he was a kid. He’d promised himself it would never happen again—that no one would ever use him for any reason.
Here he was, a toy for the amusement of others, and he hadn’t even known it.
