Edge of Sanity: An Edge Novel

by Shannon K. Butcher

  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.

  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

  Clay 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.

  “Just start at the beginning. I’ll try to keep up.”

  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 sil
ence, 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.