Edge of Sanity: An Edge Novel (6 page)

With a final hard shove of his whole body, the post ripped free and he stumbled forward. His wrists were still cuffed, but that wasn’t going to stop him from fighting.

He barreled into their legs, sending both the man and Leigh tumbling to the ground. She was released and rolled aside, out of the way.

Clay gave the man no time to recover or regain his feet. He kicked at his head, only to have his blow diverted by the man’s arms.

Leigh scrambled for the revolver and aimed it at the intruder’s abdomen.

He saw the gun, went still, and raised his hands. Clay wasn’t in the mood for more threats to her life, so he gave the man a hard kick to the head, knocking him out.

“Get these fucking cuffs off of me. Now.”

*   *   *

Clay had been right. Leigh was not prepared for this kind of violence, despite that horrible, dark time she’d endured right before Hollis’s death. She had no experience with hired gunmen—which that man had admitted to being—and no way to gauge the threat he had posed until it was too late.

What she did know was that Clay had torn himself apart working to save her. She wasn’t about to make him do it a second time.

Using a kitchen knife, she cut the bloody tape coverin c tait a secg the lock free and unlocked the cuffs. The skin along his wrists looked like it had been chewed up by a chainsaw.

Her stomach knotted into a queasy ball at the sight. Normally, seeing physical damage didn’t faze her. But normally, she wasn’t the cause of it, either.

Clay took the bloody handcuffs from her and rolled the man he’d fought onto his stomach. He paused in the act of latching the second cuff closed, then stopped, leaving it dangling open.

“What?” she asked, barely able to push the word out of her constricted throat.

“He’s dead.” His tone was flat and final, without any sense of satisfaction or grief. “We need to go.”

“But Payton will be here soon.”

“Fuck Payton. He must have led them here earlier.”

“He wouldn’t do that.”

“Not on purpose. But someone knows where we are, and I’m sure as hell not going to sit around while we wait for reinforcements to show up. Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?”

He went to the kitchen and started opening drawers. He found the weapons she’d tucked away and set them on the counter. “Tranquilizer darts,” he said as he saw the weapons the intruders had been using. Then he continued to search for something. “They didn’t want us dead.”

“That’s good, right?”

“Probably not. If someone kills you, that’s all the harm they can do. If they keep you alive . . . Well, let’s just say that there are worse things than being dead.” He pulled a clean towel from a drawer and ripped it in half. The cloth went around one wrist as he awkwardly bandaged his wounds.

“Let me do that. I have antiseptic and gauze in my bag.”

“No,” he barked, his voice hammer hard. Then more gently, “I don’t want you anywhere near me—not after what happened. Just take your car and go. Don’t tell me where. And don’t go home, either. Find a hotel. Pay in cash. Go somewhere you’ve never been before.”

His staccato orders were starting to scare her. He rattled them off as if he’d done this before. “You want me leave you to fend for yourself? You really have no idea what you’re up against, do you?”

He paused in the act of knotting the torn towel. His amber eyes were bright with rage, his body vibrating with it. “And you do?”

“You forget I’ve been through this before with my brothers.”

“And exactly how well did that work out, Leigh? One brother’s dead, and the other is in prison.”

She flinched, reeling back from the truth presented so bluntly.

Things had gone badly for Hollis and Garrett, but she knew more now. She knew what could happen, which made her better armed to prevent it from happeni c frne ng to Clay.

“I’m sorry,” he said on a heavy sigh. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“I’m tough. And you need me.” Staring into his eyes, daring him to stop her, she took the strip of fabric he was trying to wrap around his wrist from his bloody fingers. The towel was a poor bandage—it wasn’t sterile and it was going to stick to the wound—but if that was all he’d allow her to use, at least it would stop the bleeding.

“I won’t be the asshole who makes your life a shittier place.” His gaze lingered on her bruises, and something shifted in his expression, closing him off even more. “I’ve already done enough damage.”

“And don’t think I won’t be more careful in the future. I’m not an idiot. But I also know I’m the best chance you’ve got at figuring out how to fix what’s wrong with you.”

“What makes you think that?”

“Because before he died, that man answered my questions. Well, he evaded them at first, but once he thought I had sodium thiopental in that syringe, he gave me information.”

“Sodium what?”

“Sodium pentothal. Truth serum. I think the idea of me drugging him shook him up enough to slip and say something he wasn’t planning to.”

“What did he say?”

“If I tell you, then you won’t have any reason to let me come along.”

His mouth tightened and the muscles along his jaw bulged in frustration. “Why the hell would you want to put your life at risk again?”

“Because Garrett is worth the risk. If we can undo whatever was done to you and him, I can give him back his life. Don’t underestimate the lengths to which I’ll go to make that happen.”

“Tell me what he said, Leigh.” There was a warning in his tone—one she staunchly ignored.

She really needed to do a better job of patching him up. With all the blood smeared over his wrists, it was hard to tell exactly how much damage had been done. And the wounds needed to be cleaned, too. If he ditched her, he’d be out there on his own, most likely with some kind of infection to fight off. She would not let that happen, even if her brother’s future wasn’t at stake.

“No,” she said. “Not until we’re away from here, headed to wherever it is we’re going.”

He shook his head, and she heard a low growl emanating from his chest. “This is stupid. You’re going to get hurt.”

“What’s stupid is leaving you alone with no one to stop you if you things go badly.”

“Go badly? Is that what you call me killing two men and putting my hands on you? I don’t even remember doing it.”

“I know. This isn’t your fault any more than it would be your fault if you got sick or someone ran you over while you were walking on the sidewalk. This is somet cThir faulthing that was done to you, and like it or not, I’m the only person who knows the score.”

Hollis’s face popped into her thoughts. He’d always been so funny and easygoing. So laid back. When he’d snapped—when he’d hurt her—he had been someone else, someone dark and . . . empty. And when he was once again himself and realized what he’d done, the guilt had destroyed him.

Leigh tied the strips of towel and laid her hand on Clay’s arm, trying to make some connection to him so he would lean on her, just a little. Instead, he removed her hand and took a step back. His expression closed up tight, leaving her guessing where she stood.

“I don’t know how to stop it,” he said. “I don’t know what I’ll do to you if you stick around.”

“I’m willing to take that risk.” Because while she’d never say the words and put the idea in his head, she knew what could happen if Clay was left alone. He could do what Hollis had done. He could end his own life.

Leigh was not going to let that happen.

“You and I are going to leave now. Together,” she told him. “And once we’re safely away, I’ll tell you everything that man told me.”

“I should just leave on my own. Fuck what he said.”

“You do that, and there will be no one to stop you from hurting someone else. If you can’t control yourself, then you can’t guarantee you won’t do something bad.”

“And you can?”

“No, but I can knock your ass out if I see any signs that you’ve gone postal again.”

“At serious risk to yourself.”

“A risk I’m willing to take for Garrett.”

Clay’s mouth flattened, and a cold light filled his eyes. “So this is all about him. You’re using me to help your brother.”

She hesitated, wondering which answer would get him to cooperate. At first it had been all about Garrett, but she sympathized enough with Clay’s situation that even if Garrett weren’t involved, she would have seen this through. Clay was suffering, and it wasn’t in her genetic makeup to walk away from that—not if she could help. And she knew she could. Someone had to.

“Yes,” she finally said, hoping it would leave him his pride. After years of treating men, she knew how funny they could be about something so insubstantial. “I’m doing this for my brother.”

Clay nodded and turned away. “Fine. Let’s go.”