Edge of Betrayal

by Shannon K. Butcher

  She was smart. Strong. Determined. And armed. She could handle a conversation with one broken man who couldn’t even manage to keep a job.

  And if she couldn’t, she had no business being in the field at all. Better to know now before she got someone she cared about killed.

  She pulled away from Adam’s house and headed across town. At the first stoplight, she made sure her phone’s tracking system was on and the panic code that would dial her best friend, Clay, was partially keyed in. All she had to do was hit one button, and Clay would come running.

  Now, he was a man she could trust. Too bad she’d never felt more for him than she would have for a brother. He was happily involved with Dr. Vaughn, and Mira could not have been more pleased with his choice.

  She doubted it would be long before the wedding invitation arrived.

  With that happy thought in mind, Mira pulled into the run-down neighborhood where Corey Lambert lived.

  A lot of trailer parks were really nice, filled with shiny, well-kept homes inhabited by people who took pride in where they lived.

  This was not one of those places.

  The mobile homes here had seen better days. Patches of long, winter-brown weeds grew everywhere. The most prevalent colors were rust and the sad, dingy yellow of decaying paint. A few large trees had grown up here, indicating the age of the trailer park.

  Mira inched along the cracked road, searching for the right address. A lot of the lots held vacant, collapsing mobile homes abandoned by their tenants long ago. Even the boards over the windows looked rotten and on the verge of collapse.

  The whole place had a sad vibe that made her wish her father was alive to see the price of his precious experiments—right before she forced him to live in one of these run-down deathtraps.

  She didn’t need to check the house number to know she’d found the right one. Standing outside a rusting trailer was Corey, furiously pointing his finger at a small woman. She cowered back from him, wrapping her arms around her middle and hunching her shoulders as if to make herself a smaller target.

  The woman backed up another step, until she ran into the chipped metal railing along the stairs leading into the house.

  Corey looked just like his photo: worn-down, angry, desperate. His shaggy blond hair and beard needed a good wash, as did the pit-stained wifebeater he wore. His gut stretched the fabric enough to show her that visits to the gym weren’t high on his list of priorities.

  That gave her the confidence Mira needed to get out of the car. She kept her headlights splashed over the scene and the car’s engine running, just in case. Her cell phone was in her jacket pocket, and under her left arm was a shoulder holster filled with enough firepower to remind her to be careful.

  “Corey Lambert?” she asked as she approached.

  He turned and squinted, lifting his hand to shield himself from the glare of her headlights. Even from here, Mira could see how bloodshot his eyes were, how much his hands shook.

  He was not a well man.

  “Did you call someone?” he asked the woman, his tone sharp with accusation.

  She flinched and hugged herself tighter. “No. I’d never do that to you.”

  Corey took another step toward the woman.

  A little ripple of fear slid up Mira’s throat. She slipped her hand into her pocket and gripped her phone. “No one called me.”

  “You a cop?”

  “No. I’d like to talk to you.”

  “I’m busy.”

  “Busy making what might be the biggest mistake of your life,” said Mira. “Now, please, all I need is a couple of minutes.”

  “Whatever you’re selling, I’m not buying.”

  “I’m not selling anything. I swear. I’m here to help you.”

  He whirled on her, his face warped with anger. “Do I look like I need your help?”

  That ripple of fear turned into a full-blown wave. She had to fight the need to take a step back, away from his anger.

  Calm. That’s what she had to be now. Firm but calm. Nonthreatening. Reasonable.

  Honest.

  “Yes,” she finally said. “You do need help. I know what was done to you. I know how you suffer.”

  “Pfft,” he hissed. “Get the hell out of here, lady. You don’t know shit.”

  “I do. You have headaches. Maybe even black out sometimes. And the nightmares . . . they seem so real. You’re angry all the time. Cry for no reason.”

  He looked at the woman and issued a harsh “Get in the house.”

  The woman scrambled away fast, as if glad for any excuse she could find to leave.

  Corey turned back to Mira. “You’re seriously starting to piss me off, lady. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll get the fuck out of here.”

  Mira didn’t budge. This was too important. Corey had been damaged by her father, perhaps irrevocably. It was her duty to see to it that he got whatever help she could offer.

  She squared her shoulders. “You hear things, maybe smell them, and it sets you off just like that.” She snapped her fingers. “You can’t control what you see or how you feel. The terror is so real, you swear you’re still in that room with the doctor and all those needles. He’s hurting you, and he won’t stop, no matter how much you beg.”

  Some of the anger fell from his face and his skin went pale behind his beard. “Who the fuck are you?”

  “A friend. I want to help.”

  “Just leave me alone. That’s all I need.”

  “No, it’s not. What was done to you can be fixed.” She hoped. “I know people who can take away the headaches, end the nightmares. All you have to do is come with me.”

  Skepticism quavered in his voice. “Where?”

  “I can’t tell you. You have to trust me.”

  “I don’t even know you. For all I know they sent you here.”

  “They?”

  He moved closer. She wasn’t even sure how he got that far that fast until he grabbed her arms.

  Corey lifted her up until only her tiptoes reached the ground. His grip was crushing, making pain shoot down to her fingertips. Fear exploded in her gut, and her fingers scrambled to hit the right button on her phone to call in reinforcements.

  He snarled, his face only inches from hers. She could see each vein in his bloodshot eyes, each groove that fear and pain had carved around his mouth. “You go back to wherever it is you came from and tell them to back the fuck off and leave me alone. I know they’re watching me. I know they have some way of getting in my head. You tell them to stop.” He punctuated his words with another hard shake that dislodged the phone from her hand.

  “No one’s watching you. I can prove it. Just come with me.”

  His hand flashed across her face so fast she didn’t see it move. It was the jerk of her head to the right and slightly delayed pain that told her she’d been hit.

  Shock numbed her for a second as she struggled to digest the fact that she’d been hit—that she was in far more danger here than she’d thought.

  The tang of blood hit her tongue.

  Corey tightened his grip on her arms and shook her hard enough to rattle her skull. “If they get in my head again, I’ll come find you,” he promised. “I’ll make you pay. Understand?”

  Honesty was quickly becoming difficult, but she wasn’t sure what else to do. “I swear no one is in your head. That’s just a side effect of what was done to you when you were a kid. Please let me help you.”

  “They got to you, too, didn’t they? Filled your head with lies, made you do things you didn’t want to do?” There was a crazy light in his eyes—one that was starting to glow a bit too bright for her peace of mind.

  She shook her head. “This isn’t about me. I—”

  He hit her again, and this time the blow was hard enough to send her flying back onto th
e concrete. She landed hard. The back of her head hit something even harder.

  The edges of her vision went swampy for a second before she managed to fight it off. By the time she did, Corey was standing over her.

  He reached down and pulled her revolver from inside her open jacket. “You came here to kill me, didn’t you?”

  She tried to deny it, but her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. Her whole body felt slow and heavy, and her normally swift mind was drawing a total blank as to what to do now.

  “Maybe this will send them the message to stay the fuck away from me.” Corey aimed the gun at her chest.

  Chapter Four

  Adam continued with his usual routine so that Mira wouldn’t suspect his mistrust of her. He’d gone home while she was still safe at the office to eat and get in a quick run before executing his plan to spend the night parked in front of her house.

  Then she’d surprised him by coming to his house instead. He’d seen the headlights bob across his front windows. His proximity alarms had sounded, activating the cameras aimed out from his house. But a moment before his phone had vibrated to draw his attention to her, he swore he’d felt her presence.

  There was no other way to describe the odd connection he’d made with her last year. And there was no rational reason why he’d feel any connection to her at all.

  But he did, and Adam was not a man to deny instincts. His had screamed at him to follow her, and he was glad now that he’d listened.

  Mira was sitting on the ground, slumped against the front bumper of her car. Fear bleached her skin, and there was a dazed, sluggish quality to her movements.

  An unkempt, beer-bellied man stood over her, seething with rage. In his hand was a revolver, and it was aimed right at Mira.

  Fury swept through Adam, too swift and hot to control.

  He lifted his suppressed weapon and fired it into the thigh of the man who’d dared to point a gun at her.

  It wasn’t until after he’d pulled the trigger that he realized he’d let his emotions rule his actions for a single, split second. Dangerous for a man like him, and completely uncharacteristic.

  Corey Lambert collapsed, screaming in pain and clutching his leg.

  Adam kept his weapon along his thigh but in his hand as he approached. In a controlled voice, he said to the man, “Put pressure on the wound or you’ll bleed out.”

  A woman came running from a nearby trailer, her screams adding to Corey’s.

  Adam kept them both in sight while he knelt beside Mira. “How badly are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine. How did you get here?” Her voice trembled, which added to the rage he now kept carefully banked.

  “I drove.”

  “I know that, but why did you come?”

  He spared her a quick glance then and wished he hadn’t. Blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. One side of her face was bright red, and he was almost certain he could see the outline of a man’s handprint burning in her skin.

  Fury shoved upward, threatening to break free. He pulled in a deep breath and let it out slowly before responding. “I’m your partner. I will always have your back.”

  The woman ran back into the house, presumably to call for help.

  They were running out of time before police and ambulances trapped them here in this dismal excuse for a neighborhood.

  Adam left Mira’s side just long enough to pick up the weapon Corey had dropped. He pinned the man with a cold stare and warned him in a whisper Mira could not hear, “Mention her in any way, and I will find you in the hospital and kill you in your sleep.”

  The man’s widened stare of fear was enough to tell Adam that his warning had been received.

  He lifted Mira to her feet and tucked her in the passenger seat of her car. As he walked around the vehicle to get in behind the wheel, he saw there was a dent in the bumper where her head had hit.

  Another swell of anger threatened to burst free, but he held himself in check and shoved that anger into a tidy box. He slid the seat back to make room for his body and calmly drove out of the trailer park.

  A few blocks later, a police cruiser flashing its lights zoomed past them.

  “What about your car?” asked Mira.

  “I’ll go back for it later.” Or not. There was nothing tying the vehicle to him. Let the police find it. His tracks were always carefully covered.

  A professional requirement for a man like him.

  He drove toward the nearest hospital. “How is your head?” he asked.

  “Thick enough to handle a blow like that, apparently.”

  “Any blurred vision? Nausea? Dizziness?”

  “No, but my pride is plenty bruised.”

  “Good. Maybe that will remind you not to go into dangerous situations without your partner.”

  “I was careful.”

  “Apparently not careful enough.”

  “No, just not quick enough. I should have dialed Clay before the jerk grabbed me.”

  “Clay?” Now Adam was really getting mad. “His place is all the way across town, easily twenty minutes farther away than I was. I should have been your first call.”

  “Well, you weren’t.”

  “Just what, exactly, did you think he would be able to do for you that I couldn’t?”

  “I trust him.”

  Of course. It always came back to that with her.

  And why shouldn’t it? He was a creature of logic. He understood how putting one’s hand into the fire twice would be a stupid thing to do.

  Then why did it piss him off so much that she refused to give him a second chance?

  “We’re almost to the hospital. Would you rather go there or to see Dr. Vaughn?”

  “Neither,” said Mira. “I’m fine. Really.”

  “Then you won’t mind proving that’s the case to the good doctor.”

  “It’s after ten. I’m sure she’s asleep.”

  “And I’m sure I don’t care. She’s paid well for her time—paid to be on call when we need her. The dent in your front bumper makes it clear that you need her.”

  “Just take me home, Adam.”

  Rain began spitting against the windshield. It was too warm for snow, but only by a little.

  At the next stoplight, Adam texted Dr. Leigh Vaughn. By the time he pulled into Mira’s driveway, Leigh was waiting for them.

  “You called her?” asked Mira, accusation in her tone.

  “I did.” He parked the car. “Do you need help inside?”

  “From you? No, thanks. I’m fine.”

  Mira made her way into the house without his aid, though he held an umbrella over her head, using that as an excuse to hover close enough to catch her if she’d overestimated how well she felt.

  “Thank you for coming,” Adam said to Leigh.

  She pulled a leather bag from her car and followed them in. “Sure. Glad to help.”

  Mira flopped onto the couch. “I’m fine, Leigh. Adam is just rubbing my nose in the failure of my first job.”

  That’s what she thought he was doing?

  Her thought patterns were so bizarre, he could hardly keep up. Maybe that was why she intrigued him so much.

  “I’m only making sure you’re not permanently damaged. Bella would kill me if I did anything less.”

  Leigh glanced between them, obviously trying to figure out what was going on. “Adam, will you please go make Mira some hot tea?”

  He was being sent away, but he accepted the dismissal and did as he was asked.

  Mira’s kitchen was like the rest of her house: tidy and small, with quirky decorations he couldn’t quite understand. There was a clay pot in the center of her kitchen table, and in it was a spray of antique glass doorknobs planted in the dirt. Her curtains were covered with cartoon images of flying squir
rels. In the far corner was a one-armed mannequin wearing only a hot pink apron and what looked like a beret made of bacon. The remaining arm seemed to serve as some kind of white board for her grocery list.

  Like the woman herself, none of it made any sense at all to him.

  Adam made the tea and brought it out. By the time he did, Leigh was already packing her medical bag.

  “You’re leaving?” asked Adam.

  “She’s fine. No sign of concussion. Just keep watch over her tonight to be sure.”

  “What?” screeched Mira. “He’s not staying here.”

  “Someone has to, and it’s not going to be me,” said Leigh with a womanly grin. “Clay is waiting on me to get home.”

  “I’m surprised he didn’t come with you,” said Mira, sounding a little hurt.

  Leigh opened her mouth, but Adam spoke before she could. “I asked her not to tell him. I know how worried you are about his stress levels, and hearing you were injured would definitely be stressful for him.”

  “Oh,” said Mira, frowning. “That was nice of you.”

  Adam set the tea on the table beside her. “Don’t sound so shocked. I am capable of basic human decency.”

  “And this is my cue to leave,” said Leigh. “Call if you need me. If she shows any signs of concussion, take her to the hospital and I’ll meet you there.”

  Mira sighed. “I’m fine.”

  Leigh pulled out her keys. “Tell that to the bruise you’re sporting. And if you don’t want Clay moving you into our place for the foreseeable future, I suggest you use some good concealer before you see him next.”

  “I will. He has enough to worry about.”

  “He’s tough,” said Leigh. “Getting stronger every day. I’m honestly not even sure how that’s possible, but he keeps surprising me.”

  “Well, go home and let him surprise you some more. I’m good.”

  Adam walked Dr. Vaughn out and locked the door behind her.

  “You can go, too,” said Mira.

  He ignored her comment as absurd. “Did she give you something for pain? I bet your head is throbbing.”

  “It’s not that bad. And yes, she gave me some ibuprofen.”

  “When did you eat last?”