Edge of Sanity: An Edge Novel

by Shannon K. Butcher

“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.”

  Chapter Eight

  Leigh was using him. Clay had almost believed that she was different. The fact that she wasn’t stung more than he’d expected. At least he knew how fThir as u to deal with users. Story of his life.

  He led the way to her car, weapon in hand. If anyone else was lurking out here, waiting to strike, he was going to be ready.

  She stowed her bags in the backseat and pulled out of the driveway, headlights off as he’d instructed. There wasn’t a single flicker of movement or any signs that they were being watched. Nor did he have that itchy feeling at the back of his neck.

  In the thinning predawn darkness covering the countryside, he saw no lights to indicate they were being followed.

  “Where should I go?” she asked.

  “North.”

  She glanced at him. “Can you be more specific?”

  “We’ll stop when I’m sure there’s no one on our tail.” And then he’d scour her car for bugs and tracking devices, which Mira loved to put in her friends’ cars. “Can I use your phone?”

  “Payton said you weren’t supposed to talk to anyone.”

  “It’s him I want to call.”

  She hesitated for a moment before pulling her phone from her waistband. Clay searched through her contacts until he found the right number and dialed.

  “Is everything okay?” asked Payton when he answered.

  “It sure as hell isn’t. I left you a couple of presents lying on your floor.”

  “I heard.”

  “They were professionals.”

  “You’re on Leigh’s phone. Is she okay?”

  Clay glanced at her, easily seeing the bruises he’d left on her jaw. His stomach heaved, and he had to swallow hard to keep from puking.

  He still couldn’t believe he’d done that to her. And he had no idea how he was going to stop himself from doing it again. “Not really. You never should have involved her.”

  “Where are you?”

  “None of your damn business. You’re the reason those goons found us.”

  “Impossible.”

  “It was your house we were in. Your car I drove there. You were the only one who knew where we were. Hell, they could have followed you when you came.”

  Payton let out a scalding curse—something Clay had never heard the man do before. “You’re right. Whoever is behind this has connected me to you. You’ve got to find someplace safe.”

  “We’re on it. I just wanted you to know you had a mess to clean up and that we’re okay. And to let you know I’m disabling any tracking device I find. Chances are Mira put one somewhere in Leigh’s car.”

  Clay saw her turn her head and give him a startled look.

  “She does that to everyone she cares about,” he explained to Leigh.

  “Good idea,” said Payton. “And don’t forget about your tags.”

  Clay had been wearing them for so many years, they were practically a part of him. He reached under his shirt and fished out the dog tags, then tossed them out the window. “Don’t let Mira worry about me, okay? She’s really good at that, and I hate upsetting her.”

  “I’ll do what I can to reassure her.”

  “We’ll need to get rid of Leigh’s phone, too.”

  “How will I reach you if I uncover any information?”

  “You won’t. I’ll pick up a prepaid cell and call you when I can.” If he could.

  Payton was silent for so long that Clay thought he’d hung up. He was about ready to end the call when he heard the other man clear his throat. “I’m sorry about all of this, Clay. You should have never had to go through this.”

  “It’s not your fault. But I will find whoever is at fault, and I will make sure they never do this to anyone else ever again.”

  Payton’s voice was quiet and filled with regret. “Good hunting.”

  Clay hung up, pushing away all thoughts of Payton and focusing on the task at hand.

  “How much cash do you have on you?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. Maybe two hundred.”

  He had another thousand on him—the emergency fund he always kept handy, zipped inside a secret pocket in his belt. It was enough for a few days—long enough for him to ditch Leigh and take care of business.

  “You can’t get rid of my phone yet,” said Leigh. “Mira is going to be sending me some information.”

  “What information?”

  “Both my brothers experienced lost chunks of time—they’d black out in one place and woke up in another. That happens to you, right?”

  The memory of waking up covered in someone else’s blood was still too fresh in his mind. “Yeah,” was all he could shove out of his dry throat.

  “If you can remember when those blackouts happened, then we might have a lead.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I asked Mira to track your movements for the past few weeks—as far back as she could. If we know where you went when you weren’t . . . yourself, then maybe we’ll find out where the person doing this to you is.”

  “You think that whoever did this would be stupid enough to meet me in person when I’m like that?”

  “If they think they’re in control, what risk would there be? kuldfont”

  �
�It’s worth a shot. I should have thought of it myself.” That he hadn’t thought of it told him just how clouded his mind was.

  “Maybe you would have if someone wasn’t screwing with your head. There’s no telling what kind of measures they put in place to keep you under control.”

  “Measures?”

  She squeezed the steering wheel and her shoulders tightened, creeping up toward her ears. “I’ve thought about this a lot since Garrett was sent away. I’ve done some research. Most of what I read was garbage at best, but in theory, with the right mind-altering drugs, it’s possible that someone could have found a way to plant commands in your head.”

  “What kinds of commands?”

  “If I was some evil genius bent on turning humans into puppets, I’d want to make sure that my efforts didn’t go to waste.”

  “Meaning?”

  “I’d want them to defend themselves when faced with a threat. I’d want them to answer only to me. I’d want them to have a kind of homing mechanism that would bring them back if they wandered off for too long.”

  Clay’s blood jelled in his veins, making his whole body go cold. “They can’t reach me now. If they did put something like that in my head, how long do you think I have before it goes off?”

  She put her hand on his thigh, offering comfort where there was none to be had. He couldn’t bring himself to push her away, even though he knew it was the right thing to do. That single point of contact, that fragile strand of support she offered, meant more to him than he ever thought possible.

  “You leave the country for jobs all the time, right?” she asked.

  “Yeah.”

  “How long are those assignments?”

  “There’s no set time frame. Usually I’m gone for a week or two.”

  “These people would probably know your habits. They’d know about your work. My guess is that you’d have at least that long.”

  “A few days to find these bastards and end them before I turn into some kind of mindless zombie wandering back into their clutches? Great.”

  “You don’t know that. It’s just a guess. We have no evidence. I’m sorry I even brought it up.”

  She started to pull her hand away, but he covered it with his, pressing her fingers against his thigh. He wasn’t ready to let go of her touch yet. It gave him something else to think about—something that wasn’t completely fucked-up and twisted.

  “Don’t be,” he told her. “I’m glad one of us is thinking clearly.” The last thing he wanted was for her to withhold information because she thought he was too much of a pussy to face it. “What else did your research uncover?”

  “Not much, really.” kh, it.

  She was hiding something. He could hear it in her voice—feel it in the way her fingers twitched beneath his. “Spit it out, Leigh. I can take it.”

  She let out a sad sigh. “Whoever did this to you did it when you were a kid.”

  “You sound sure.”

  “I am. Either that, or they only do it to men.”

  “What makes you so sure that it has to be one of the two?”

  “My parents were killed in an accident when we were kids. My brothers ended up in one foster home, me in another.”

  That simple confession given in such a clinical tone spoke volumes about Leigh. It spoke of tragedy and loss, of grief and loneliness. Not only had she lost her parents, but she’d also lost her brothers.

  “How old were you?”

  “I was six. Hollis was seven and Garrett was ten.”

  She was just a baby. At least Clay had had his mom around for a few more years. After that it was just him and the step-asshole.

  “I got placed in a great home with a loving family. I still see them a lot. My brothers weren’t so lucky. I think that whatever was done to them happened then.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  “Because when I saw them a couple of years later, they were different. At the time, my foster parents said it was because they were growing up and their hormones were changing. It wasn’t anything to worry about. But then when Garrett became a legal adult and adopted us, I knew they weren’t the same carefree souls I’d known.”

  “They had to grow up fast. That doesn’t prove much of anything.”

  “Except that both of them ended up like you. I didn’t.”

  She had a point. “You think that the people who did this were your brothers’ foster parents?”

  “No, but I think that they let it happen—either with or without their knowledge.”

  A strange, distant memory appeared in Clay’s head, fully formed. He was young. Colin, his asshole stepfather, was speaking to a man in the shadows on the front porch of their crappy, run-down house. The man handed Colin cash. Then Clay was suddenly in the man’s car, driving away.

  The memory lasted only a split second, but that was long enough to leave Clay shaking. He’d been afraid. Even as a kid he knew that the man in the car was bad news. But even more strange than the phantom memory was the feeling Clay had that he knew this man—he’d spent time with him. Shared meals, even.

  He tried to remember what he looked like, but the details were fuzzy, as if someone had intentionally blurred them. The harder he tried to call the man into focus, the vaguer the memory became.

  Clay’s head started to throb. ked nt. A slow, rolling nausea swept through him, leaving him sweating.

  He let go of the memory and rolled down the window to stave off any stomach rebellion.

  “Are you okay?” asked Leigh.

  “Yeah. Sorry. Just a bad memory.” He rolled the window up so she wouldn’t get cold. “What if someone paid for us?”

  “What? I don’t follow.”

  “What if whoever did this paid your brothers’ foster parents off—paid my stepdad—to do this to us?”

  A chilling look of anger crossed her face, driving away the normal softness he was used to seeing. “That would be in line with what I know about my brothers’ foster parents.”

  “And definitely something my step-asshole would have done. He was all about making a quick buck—and not above using me to do so.”

  She shook her head, drawing attention to her wildly mussed hair. The crazy notion of sliding his fingers through it to work out the tangles took him by storm, and he had to fight the need to do just that.

  “What if they’re still doing this, Clay? There could be little kids out there right now being tortured by these monsters.”

  “I will stop them.”

  She glanced his way, but it was long enough for him to see the steely determination glinting in her brown eyes. “We will stop them. You try to ditch me, and I’ll make what they did to you look like a sunny afternoon at Disneyland.”

  The seemingly sweet doctor had a thread of badass running through her. That was something Clay couldn’t help but respect, and damn if it didn’t turn him on. “I’m not making any promises, but right now, you’re in as much danger as I am.”

  “More,” she said, as if the word had accidentally popped out of her mouth.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  She shook her head, her lips clamped in silence.

  “Leigh? If we’re going to be a team, you can’t keep secrets.”

  He wasn’t sure she was going to speak. The road beneath them passed by in a hum of tires on pavement. Finally, she pulled her hand away from his thigh and donned an air of indifference he knew was a lie.

  “That man I questioned? He didn’t say much, but one thing he did mention was that they needed you alive.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me.”

  “Me, neither, but what did surprise me—thanks to my naïveté—was that he admitted that he didn’t care what happened to me. In fact, his exact quote was, ‘No one’s paying me to bring you back alive, sugar.’”

  He would have killed her. If Clay hadn’t managed to bust out that newel post, they wouldn’t be having this conversation right now. kt nan">He wou

 
He’d almost lost her, which served only to highlight just how fragile she was.

  Clay needed to abandon her at the first opportunity. She wasn’t safe around him. She knew that better than anyone. Her bruises spoke louder than any words ever could.

  He checked behind them for signs they were being followed and found none. They were still well away from the city, with only sparsely populated towns dotting the countryside. The highway was nearly empty. On the eastern horizon, the faintest glow of sunrise was starting to show.

  “Pull over at this rest stop up ahead,” he told her.

  She didn’t ask why; she simply did as he requested, pulling up under a light.

  Clay got out of the car and retrieved his flashlight from his duffel bag. A thorough search of the vehicle revealed one of Mira’s tracking devices, as well as something else he didn’t recognize. It wasn’t connected to any explosives he could see. But to be on the safe side, he waited until Leigh went into the bathroom before he tried to remove it. The little cinderblock structure was better protection from a bomb than standing around outside would be for her.

  The device was held on to the underside of the car by a strong magnet. It consisted of a small circuit board and a thin antenna. No lights or sounds to indicate it was working.

  Clay took it into the bathroom and mounted it to a plumbing fitting under the sink, out of sight. Mira’s tracker went into the trash can, wadded up in a thick layer of paper towels. The trash was full and would probably be emptied soon, giving anyone who was watching the signal a false path to follow.

  He hated tossing away Mira’s hard work, but it was better than letting anyone follow them—including Mira. If she thought he needed her help, she’d do whatever it took to come rescue him. Even if it put her in danger’s path.

  Leigh was waiting for him with her hips propped against the car. She’d brushed the tangles from her hair, and now the silky red tresses whipped around her face in the wind. Her cheeks were pink from the cold, and she was huddled in, hugging herself like she was freezing.

  His need to see her warm sped his steps.

  “We’re good to go,” he told her.

  “I can’t believe I’ve been driving around all this time without knowing I was being tracked.”