Read Edge of Sanity: An Edge Novel Online
Authors: Shannon K. Butcher
Edge of Sanity: An Edge Novel (5 page)
A quick check of the second man proved true her suspicions that he was dead. Clay had killed him.
No time to dwell on the implications of that right now. She had too much to do.
Leigh gathered all the weapons and hid them in a drawer next to a wooden spoon and spatula. She found a roll of duct tape in another drawer and used it to secure the man she didn’t know. Clay got the handcuffs, locked behind his back around the stair railing. She wrapped a nice thick layer of duct tape over the lock, preventing him from inserting anything into it.
Let him try to pick that.
Once she knew no one else was coming at her with the intent to kill, all her strength drained away. She sat down on the living room floor where she could see both of her prisoners. The dead man was out of sight, slumped against the kitchen cabinets. She was grateful she didn’t have to look at him, too.
Her hands were shaking now. The rest of her was as well. Dizziness kept her on the floor while a chill curled around her and wouldn’t let go. It was shock. She knew that, but knowing what it was called didn’t make it any less unpleasant.
Clay’s head was slumped forward at an uncomfortable-looking angle. His deep chest expanded evenly as he breathed. Seeing him asleep and relaxed like that, she could almost forget how he’d looked coming at her. Almost.
She was in way over her head, and there was only one person she could call.
Leigh forced herself to her feet and slogged up the stairs to where her purse and phone were. She dialed Payton, who answered so quickly, there was no way he’d been sleeping.
“We were attacked,” she said. “Two men broke in. Clay killed one of them.”
“Are you okay?”
The places where Clay had grabbed her arms and face hurt, and she felt brittle enough to shatter, but she was the only one left standing, which she guessed counted for something. “Yeah.”
“Let me talk to Clay.”
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“Sorry. I had to knock him out again.” She swallowed twice before she could get the words out. “He would have killed me, too, Payton.”
“I want you to leave him there. I’ll find a way to get back to him before he wakes up.”
“No. I’m not going to abandon him. The one man left alive is also unconscious, with some kind of tranquilizer, I think. There’s no way to know who will wake up first or what will happen when they do.”
“Then restrain them.”
“I already have.”
“You can’t stay. Whoever is behind this clearly knows where you are. You must leave.”
“I’m not strong enough to move Clay, and I’m not leaving him here to be killed—not when I was the one to render him helpless.”
She could hear the sound of a car engine revving in the background. “I’ll be there soon to take care of everything. Then you can go home. I never should have involved you.”
Leigh wanted to let him take over and make it all go away, but she couldn’t bring herself to leave. “This is my one chance at finding a way to help Garrett. If that man in the kitchen knows anything, I want to find out what it is.”
“Men who break into houses in the middle of the night are not usually inclined to give up information easily. And I know you don’t have the stomach for torture.”
A few years ago, he would have been right. “You have no idea how far I’ll go to see Garrett free and well.”
Payton was quiet for a minute. “Fine. Search the men and see what you can find. I’ll head your way and be there in a few hours. Call me for any reason, and if you think you’re in danger at all, I want you to leave.”
“Of course I’m in danger. I knew I would be when you told me what was at stake.”
“I never thought Clay would attack you. I’m so sorry, Leigh.”
“Part of me expected it. After seeing how it was with Hollis and Garrett . . .”
“I’m still sorry.”
“It’s fine.” What a huge lie that was. “Get here soon. I’m going to see what I can turn up.”
“Be careful. They know where you are. More men may come.”
“I know. I’ll be armed.”
And because she was no idiot, she filled another syringe and got it ready. There was no way she was sleeping any more tonight—not with those men in the house. It was best to just get dressed and do whatever she could to fix this as soon as possible.
With her clothes back on and her revolver sitting within reach, she went to the men in the kitchen and went through their pockets. No ID. No money. They both had a phone, but there were no numbers or messages on them [sag the—as if they’d just been purchased.
Or maybe they had simply deleted the information. If so, then it might still be there, lurking where some computer goddess like Mira could find it.
Mira. Of course.
It was still before dawn, but this couldn’t wait. Leigh knew how Mira felt about Clay and that she wouldn’t hold too much of a grudge for being woken up at such a crazy hour.
Mira answered, her voice thick with fatigue. “Leigh?”
“Sorry to wake you, but it’s important.”
“I wasn’t sleeping. What do you need?”
“You have access to Clay’s phone records, right?”
“Sure. Why?”
“Is there some kind of GPS thing you can track?”
“Yeah.”
“Can you look back and see where he’s been recently?”
“What’s this all about?”
“I need you to stop asking questions. I don’t know how safe it is to talk on the phone.”
Mira suddenly sounded more alert. “What is going on, Leigh?”
“I need a list of everywhere Clay has been. Can you do that?”
“How far back do you need me to go?”
“At least a few weeks. Longer if you can.”
“Okay, but that’s a lot of data. You’re not going to be able to make sense out of it unless I pretty it up for you.”
“Then do it.”
“Is Clay okay? Can I talk to him?”
Leigh eyed Clay’s slumped form. “He’s sleeping, but fine.” At least physically.
“I’ll get you what you need. Where should I send it?”
“E-mail me.”
“Are you sure everything is okay?”
Leigh desperately wanted to confide in Mira—to tell her how horrible it was to be sitting here with two men who might want to kill her and a third dead and growing cold on the floor. To not know if some other armed killers might be closing in on her right now. To not know if she’d be smart enough to find a way to save her brother.
She wanted to reach out for a bit of comfort from a woman she’d come to think of as a friend, but she didn’t dare. If Mira knew how bad things were, not only would she worry, she might try to do something stupid like track Clay down.
If Clay could hurt Leigh, he could also hurt Mira.
“We’re just trying to solve a puzzle. Really. Nothing to worry about.”
“Which is why you’re calling me this early in the morning. I’m not an idiot, you know.”
“Of course not. You’re brilliant and will save us with that wonderful mind of yours.”
“That’s me. The chick with the brain cape.” Mira let out a frustrated sigh. “Call if you need anything else, okay?”
“That reminds me. If I were to erase all the messages on my phone, could you get them back?”
“Probably, unless it’s really fried and nothing was backed up. Did your phone break?”
“Maybe. I’ll let you know.”
A skeptical tone entered Mira’s voice. “I really wish you’d let me talk to Clay.”
“You said he hasn’t been sleeping well. We need to let him rest.”
“Yeah. You’re right. Have him call me as soon as he wakes up, okay?”
“I will,” said Leigh, hoping her friend would forgive her for the lie. “Talk to you later.”
Leigh collected both of the intruders’ phones, removed the batteries, and stored them with her things so she could take them to Mira later. She’d packed everything and set it by the door in case she needed to leave fast. The keys to both cars were in her pocket, along with another king-sized dose of tranquilizer.
Now that her escape route was clear, she grabbed a chair from the kitchen and positioned it so she could see both the sleeping men and the exits. All that was left to do no
w was wait—for one of them to wake, for Payton to arrive, or for someone else to show up and try to kill them.
Whatever happened, she was as ready for it as she would ever be. Which wasn’t saying much.
Chapter Seven
C
lay fought to wake up. There was something important he needed to do—some threat he had to face. Someone needed him.
His mind was sluggish, moving too slowly for the frantic urgings pounding at the back of his brain. His head throbbed as if someone had taken a hammer to it. All he wanted to do was go back to sleep where the pain couldn’t reach him, but there was a reason he couldn’t do that—he just couldn’t remember what it was.
As he surfaced on another wave of consciousness, he realized his hands were bound behind his back.
Rage sent a surge of adrenaline racing through him, giving him that last big push into wakefulness.
He tried to stand before his eyes were fully open, but something caught and held him back. He heard the jingle of metal and a scraping sound.
Handcuffs. He’d been cuffed to something.
“Easy,” said a woman, her voice low and soothing but with more than a hint of fear. “You’re safe.”
Clay knew that voice but couldn’t place it.
He pried his dry eyes open, fighting whatever was weighing his lids down. As the initial burst of adrenaline wore off, sleep kept trying to suck him back in.
A cool hand touched his neck. He jerked away from it, unsure of its intent.
“Calm down, Clay,” said the woman again. “I’m not going to hurt you.”
His mouth was parched, making speech too much of a chore to bother with it. He needed to save his energy for combat, though he couldn’t remember who he was supposed to fight.
Maybe the woman?
Finally, his heavy eyelids obeyed and he managed to peer through his lashes at her. Dark red hair, dark, concerned eyes.
Leigh. He recognized her. She was the one he needed to protect.
Details began trickling back. Men had come into the house. He’d fought one of them. The man had had a gun, and the way he fought screamed that he was a professional. A second man had aimed a weapon at Clay, and then . . . nothing.
“What happened?” he croaked out, his words grating the skin of his dry throat.
“Take a drink,” she ordered in a no-nonsense tone that had Clay obeying without even thinking about it.
Cold water eased the dry burn and jolted him a bit more into wakefulness—enough for him to realize that she’d dodged his question.
Water dribbled down his chin. He reached to catch it, but the bite of handcuffs stopped him. “Uncuff me.”
“I will in a minute. I just want to be sure.” It was the fear in her voice that finally shoved away the remaining cobwebs of sleep.
Clay lifted his head and forced his eyelids open all the way. The lights of the room stabbed him, dragging a hiss of pain from his chest. He blinked as tears flooded his eyes, washing some of the grit of sleep away.
Leigh was crouched in front of him, a stethoscope draped over her neck. She had a glass of water in one hand and a syringe in the other. Both hands were shaking, and she was so pale the little constellations of freckles on her cheeks were easy to see. So were the bruises along her jawline.
Something had happened to her—something that had terrified and hurt her. Only the certain knowledge that she was standing here, safe and alive, gave him room to breathe.
“You want to be sure of what?” he asked.
She hesitated for so long, he wasn’t sure she was going to answer him. “You weren’t yourself.”
The terrible truth crashed down on Clay like a bucket of ice water as he pieced everything together. He was bound. She was afraid. She was bruised. He had a missing section of time.
“I hurt you, didn’t I?”
She looked away, the truth plain in the way she couldn’t meet his gaze. “I’m fine.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
Leigh backed away, setting the water on a nearby end table. “Payton will be here soon. Everything is going to be fine.”
A moan drifted in from the kitchen. Clay’s body went on red alert, tensing for action. The cuffs jangled and held firm. “Who is that?”
“One of the men who broke in. I restrained him.”
That wasn’t good enough. If he got free, she was an easy target. She didn’t even have her revolver on her—it sat several feet away, as if she’d have all the time in the world to reach it if she had the need.
“There were two intruders.”
She gave him a shaky nod, swallowing hard enough that he could see the movement in her throat, below the darkening bruises along her jawline. “One of them is dead.”
A flash of a memory hit him—his hands on a stranger’s head, twisting. The muted snap of bones breaking beneath skin. The satisfaction of an enemy conquered.
Clay had done that. He’d killed the man. And if the other intruder got free, he’d do the same thing to Leigh. She wasn’t trained to handle an opponent like him.
“Unlock the cuffs, Leigh.”
She backed away, bumping into the couch. “I will as soon as Payton gets here.”
If he hadn’t already been able to see the truth of what he’d done in her eyes, he would have known it now. “I won’t hurt you again. Whatever it takes, I’ll hold it together long enough for you to get to your car and leave. I’m myself again. I swear it.”
How long he’d be that way was another story, but for now, he was in complete control.
“I can’t leave,” she said. “If the man in the kitchen manages to get free, he could hurt you.”
“Is there a chance he can get free, Leigh? Because if there is, you really need to let me go. He will kill you.”
She shook her head. Her pretty red hair was a tangled mess, as if she’d tossed and turned in bed for hours. Dark circles haunted her brown eyes. She kept wiping her palms on her pants, alternating which hand held the syringe.
Clay craned his neck to follow her nervous gaze to the kitchen. A man clad in black and strips of silver duct tape lay on his side, struggling against his bonds. It wouldn’t take much for him to get free. The fact that she’d used the cuffs on Clay told him which man she feared most.
That thought snapped s cghton omething deep inside him right in two, making him bleed. He’d done some pretty fucked-up things in his life, but he’d never before hurt a woman—at least not that he knew. Seeing the bruises he’d left on her soft skin made him want to rage and weep all at the same time. Whatever else happened, it would never make up for what he’d done. He could spend the rest of his life serving others and doing good, and it wouldn’t even make a dent in his guilt.
Still, somehow, he had to get her to listen. Her life was at stake. “I know you’re afraid, but this is way too dangerous. You need to knock him out.”
“I can’t drug him. I don’t know what was in that dart. The drug interaction could be bad.”
“I don’t really give a shit about what happens to him. He broke in. He deserves whatever he gets.”
“You don’t understand. He may know something. What if he knows how to help you and Garrett?”
She intended to question him? “Hell no. That’s way too dangerous. He’ll say whatever he has to, to string you along just long enough for him to get free. You won’t be able to trust a word he says, and then, just when you think he’s given in, he’ll break out of that tape and kill you dead.”
“You don’t know that’s what will happen.”
“You don’t know it won’t. Please, Leigh. Let me out of the cuffs.”
She shook her head and bit her bottom lip. “I can’t be sure what you’ll do to him. And what you won’t. I’m sorry, Clay, but I can’t trust you.”
Those simple words crushed him, grinding him further under the heel of what had been done to him. He wanted to scream at her, but she was right not to trust him. Any man who could leave marks on her and not even remember it could never be trusted.
Even so, he couldn’t leave her to defend herself against a threat she couldn’t understand. She was a healer. She helped people. No way was she going to be able to see the kind of evil that man could do coming her way. Not until it was too late.
Clay went to work removing the tape covering the keyhole to the cuffs. Leigh knew he could pick the lock, and she was smart enough to protect herself from him by making the job harder. He only hoped that meant she was also smart enough to protect herself from the intruder lying on the kitchen floor.
“I’m going to question him,” she told Clay, squaring her shoulders as if marching into battle.
“Wait until Payton gets here.”
“No. I need answers. So do you.”
Before he could think of a way to stop her, she left him cuffed to the wooden newel post and walked into the room with the enemy.
Everything inside of Clay rebelled at her putting herself in danger like that. He had to get free, and when he did, he had to convince her to get as far away from him as possible.
She knelt down next to the man. He could barely see them if he craned his neck fo cd hidth="2rward. Her voice was gentle, coaxing. If that man in there had any kind of soul at all, the sound of her voice alone would have him spilling his guts in minutes.
The deep rumble of the man’s response reached Clay’s ears, but he couldn’t understand the words. They seemed to carry on a conversation—her speaking, then him. Clay could hear no sign of distress, but the way the man was wiggling slightly meant that he was doing more than just talking.
The tape covering the lock was thick, and Clay had made it through only a few layers when he saw the man jerk as if yanking something free.
A thick jolt of panic speared Clay, stealing his breath for a moment. His fingers tingled, and he could do nothing to make them move faster to free himself.
“Leigh. Get away from him,” he warned.
He saw a look of startled fear widen her eyes. She propelled herself backward, but it was too late. The man had freed his hands, and those hands were now batting away the syringe she held while taking her captive.
Clay had only seconds to act. He couldn’t open the lock in time. The manacles were too tight for him to slip them off. Leigh had been careful in restraining him.
The scrape of metal on wood screeched in his ears as he pulled against the railing. Red flooded his vision as helpless rage took hold of him. He strained against the cuffs, feeling blood seep along his wrists.
The intruder tore away the tape holding his legs together, while easily fending off Leigh’s inexperienced blows. She had no weapons. Her gun was left in the living room. Her syringe was lying on the floor somewhere. Even her fingernails were too short to be of much use.
Still, she fought him, kicking and punching with her free hand.
Leigh landed one good blow to his neck, stunning him for a few precious seconds. She tried to wrench her arm free, but his hold was too tight.
Clay roared in outrage and threw his weight against the newel post. The wood creaked and groaned but held firm.
She yelled again, only this time the sound was full of rage rather than fear. The intruder grunted in pain, and Clay strained his neck to see what had happened.
Leigh had freed herself and was backing up as fast as she could. Only she was headed farther into the kitchen.
“Don’t let him corner you!” shouted Clay. “Come this way.” Maybe if she got close enough, he could fend the man off with his feet—at least long enough for her to grab the gun.
Clay grabbed the newel post. His hands were slick with blood, but he managed to get a decent grip. With every ounce of strength left in his abused body, he pulled at the post. His ribs burned, and cuts along his skin reopened under the strain.
He heard nails squawking. The post moved a fraction of an inch. But it wasn’t enough. When he looked again to see what was going on, he saw that the intruder had control of Leigh’s body. One thick arm was wrapped around her neck, and her hands were pinned beh cre thind her back.
The man’s gaze met Clay’s, then went straight to where Leigh had left her revolver lying.
“We don’t need you alive,” he heard the man tell Leigh. “Only him. I don’t want to kill you, but I will if you don’t settle the fuck down.”
He was lying. He had every intention of killing her. Clay could see it in his eyes as he moved closer to the weapon.
Leigh had only seconds left to live if Clay didn’t act.
Suddenly, that now familiar haze tried to cloud his head—the one that happened right before he woke up and found someone else dead. Just like earlier tonight. Just like in Arizona.
He couldn’t give in to it. He couldn’t lose himself right now. He’d hurt Leigh again, and if he did that, he knew it would kill him.
Clay fought the haze, gritting his teeth and putting every scrap of effort into pulling the newel post free.
The man was a few steps away now, moving slowly toward where he’d be within range of Clay’s feet.
Blood dripped into his grip. He held the post low, tugging hard enough to hear the nails coming free. Pain burned along his arms and shoulders. His thighs shook as he used his legs for added leverage.
Leigh stared at him with a mix of hope and rage lighting her eyes.
Clay would not fail her. He would not let her die.
