Edge of Sanity: An Edge Novel

by Shannon K. Butcher

  “We’ve barely gotten started.”

  She set the tray of food on the bed and crawled in beside him. “Eat.”

  His grin was filled with delicious intent. “I like it when you get all bossy.”

  She glanced pointedly at his erection. “Apparently. Now eat.” She put a chunk of apple to his lips to keep him from saying anything else that woulr gndland scatter her wits further.

  He accepted her tribute in manly fashion, taking the bite from her hand as he sprawled out with his hands stacked behind his head. Lean muscles flexed, distracting Leigh from the bite she was about to take. She still couldn’t believe that she’d had sex with him. He was much more untamed and unapologetically male than the men she usually dated.

  With him lying here like this, relaxed and smiling, she could almost imagine what it would be like for them outside all of the terror and drama. That was a fantasy, of course, but one that made her ache for beautiful, ethereal things she dared not let solidify in her mind.

  This brief respite from danger was just that. It couldn’t last long. And while she wanted nothing more than to spend the day in bed with him, time was ticking away—time she wasn’t sure Clay had.

  Leigh waited until he’d eaten his fill before bringing up harsh reality. “We should probably get back to work.”

  His smile faded, and the glittering light of promise in his eyes was snuffed dead. He let out a long sigh. “So much for you being on top, huh?”

  She tried for a negligent shrug, but her body was too stiff and jerky to pull it off. “We’ll save that for later.”

  “No guarantee there will be a later, Leigh. At least not for me.”

  “That’s what I’m fighting for. There’s nothing I want more than to see you and Garrett both free men, able to go to sleep, knowing exactly where you’ll be all night long.”

  A deep sadness etched grooves around his mouth. “You and I both know that once this is over, things between us will be different.”

  Different, yes, but she couldn’t go there now. The future was too full of minefields. She didn’t dare go there if she could avoid it. “That’s a worry for another day. Today is already chock-full.”

  He scrubbed his face with his hands, and she couldn’t help but remember just how those fingers could make her feel—how his palms had been slightly rough as they’d slid over her, finding all the secret little hollows of pleasure she hadn’t known were there.

  “So what do we do next?” he asked. “Payton thinks we should stay here. I can’t make heads or tails of those notes I wrote. That note about a possible Wednesday meeting isn’t for hours—assuming it’s even this week. Where does that leave us?”

  Leigh clutched the sheet a bit tighter around her breasts. The air in here was much colder now that Clay wasn’t heating her from the inside out. “What do we know?”

  “That I’m fucked in the head.”

  “Details. That’s what we need. For instance, you know that you were sent to do some kind of job.”

  “Yeah, stealing those kids, finding some files, or something else entirely. That gets us jackshit, Leigh.”

  “No, it means that this doctor still needs you. It means that whatever horrible thing he wble

  “How do we stop me or anyone else from doing a job when we don’t even know what it is?”

  She bit her lip, wondering about the intelligence of even bringing this up. Still, since she’d shared her body with him, it seemed silly not to share her idea as well. “You do know what the job is. You just don’t remember.”

  “How does that help?”

  “If we restrain you and then find a way to wake up that other side of you, then we can—”

  He sat up, making the muscles in his abdomen clench hard. “Not only no, but fuck no. I’m not going to intentionally go all psycho and risk your life.”

  “I can always sedate you if things get out of hand.”

  “If things get out of hand? I’ve killed people. Just talking about this means things are out of hand.”

  “Do you have any better ideas?”

  “Yeah, sending you to the farthest reaches of China, halfway around the world, where no one can find you until this is all over.”

  “You know that won’t help.”

  “Maybe not, but it will sure as hell make me feel better.” He shook his head. “I can’t even believe that you would consider something so stupid.”

  “It could work.”

  “No, it couldn’t. Even if you could find some cage strong enough to hold me, it’s not like I can turn it on and off like a switch.”

  “Something has been triggering those episodes—besides whatever verbal cues they used—like when those armed men attacked us in Payton’s house.”

  Clay went still. His eyes became distant. All the color bleached from his skin and he swallowed hard.

  “You know what did it, don’t you?” she asked.

  He nodded. “Yeah, but there’s no way I’m telling you, so just forget it.”

  “You said yourself that we could find a cage strong enough to hold you.”

  “No, I said if. That’s a long way from accepting your idea as a valid choice.”

  “It could work.”

  “Bullshit. Even if everything else lines up, what makes you think that my psycho side would tell you anything?”

  He had a point. “Fine. Maybe it was a stupid idea.”

  “Not stupid, but way too dangerous.”

  She took his hand in hers because she couldn’t stand to not be touching him. His fingers tightened on hers, and his thrs,thiumb slid over her skin.

  “Out of curiosity, what is the trigger?”

  “I’m not telling you that.”

  “Why not? Don’t you think it’s in my best interests to know what not to do?”

  His mouth went flat, and then he stared into her eyes. There was something desperate lurking in the amber depths. Gone were all hints of lust, and in their place was something she couldn’t name. All she knew was that it scared her—like a silent warning of impending danger.

  “I’m sorry, Leigh. I want to trust you that much, but I just don’t.”

  His statement, so flatly given after what they’d shared, left her feeling cold and emp

  ty. She wanted to be the kind of person who could understand his reasoning and forgive his lack of trust in her, but she just couldn’t. She’d dropped everything to come help him. She’d risked her life for him, and yet it still wasn’t enough to gain his trust.

  The bleak truth hit her in the gut, snuffing out all the little flickering flames of hope that had begun to glow inside of her. If Clay didn’t trust her now, he never would. And if he never trusted her, then they’d never have anything more than they did now.

  That wasn’t enough for her. Not anymore. Not even close.

  She had to back away fast. Close her heart up tight before he could wiggle in any further. She couldn’t stop caring about him, but she had to find a way to put a wall between them—separate what she needed to do to save her brother from the way she felt.

  So that’s what she’d do. No more sex; no more emotion. She would be all about the job until it was done. And then she’d never see Clay again. It was the only way to save herself from heartbreak.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Payton heard Leigh’s and Clay’s voices behind the door. He knew he wouldn’t have much time alone, so he hurried to the piles of paper and photos spread across the dining table. There was evidence here that had to be destroyed before it could get out. The lives of innocents were at stake.

  As he gathered up the notes containing code words for different operations he’d executed years ago, one of the photos caught his eye. He stared at it, unable to believe what he saw.

  Dr. Norma Stynger sat on a bench at a park. Her garish red lipstick was like a slash of blood across her mouth. She was as skinny as a praying mantis, clad in a designer suit that barely hid the sharp angles of her bones. She was older now than he re
membered but not diminished by the passing of years. Age had given her a ruthless edge, but her pale green eyes were the same—shining with greed for knowledge and the power that came with it.

  Sitting next to her on the bench was a man Payton had not seen in months: Dr. Richard Sage. He looked livid. His fingers were splahimom>

  The date stamped in the corner was recent—only three weeks old.

  Payton sank into a chair, his legs suddenly giving out. He’d known for months that Stynger was still alive, but seeing her still hit him hard, reminding him of his carelessness and all the lives it had ruined.

  Poor Jake Staite was still a rabid mess of rage and frustration. They had to keep him sedated most of the time, for his own safety, and for the safety of those Stynger had ordered him to kill.

  Jake’s torment had been caused by Stynger, but if Payton had done his job years ago and made sure she’d gone up in flames in that building where he’d trapped her, none of this would have ever happened. Jake would be alive and well, serving his country, not locked up in a concrete room, sleeping his prime years away.

  Seeing Stynger with Richard Sage was not a good sign. Payton couldn’t tell from this photo, but the anger displayed and the public meeting place left only a few possible options: Sage knew what Stynger was up to and was pissed, Sage thought he knew and was pissed, or Sage had no clue and was pissed.

  The last option seemed unlikely. Sage had thought she was dead like all of the rest of them had. Maybe he was angry that she hadn’t come to him sooner to tell him she was alive.

  None of that really mattered, anyway. The real thing that mattered was that the two of them had met. They’d worked side by side on the Threshold Project years ago. Both had intimate knowledge of the research. If the two of them were meeting, it had to be about that. There was no catching up on old times for these two. They’d always hated each other.

  Sage had sworn he’d gone legit. Both Payton and Bob had kept tabs on him over the years.

  Maybe they hadn’t been looking closely enough. If Sage was back in the game, then he was going to have to be stopped.

  Payton headed upstairs to where he could get cell phone reception. He dialed Sage’s work number and asked the woman who answered to let him speak to him.

  A couple of minutes later, Richard Sage came on the line. “What do you want?”

  “I’d like to see you,” said Payton.

  “What makes you think I’d set foot in the same room with you?”

  “I have information that I think you should know.”

  “Then tell me now. My time is too valuable to waste on you.”

  Time to test the waters. “Norma Stynger is alive.”

  “She is?” said Sage a little too quickly. There was no hesitation, no shock in his tone.

  At least now Payton knew that Sage was still willing to lie to him. “She is. I believe she will appe sh="2roach you.”

  “About what?”

  “The old research. I think she may want to recruit you.”

  Sage’s voice became a jealous hiss. “Her work was always inferior to mine. If she did try to recruit me, it would be because of my success.”

  Ah. That explained the anger Payton had seen in the photo.

  “I know you met with her,” said Payton. “My only question is what she wanted from you.”

  Silence filled the line for a moment. “How do you know?”

  “I know everything, Richard. Eventually. So answer my question.”

  “The bitch did approach me.”

  “And?”

  “I was shocked that she was alive after all these years.”

  “What did she want?”

  “The same thing she always wanted—to steal my work and put her name on it.”

  “Did you give her your research?”

  “You know I couldn’t. You destroyed it all. Remember?”

  Payton had—or at least he thought he had. He’d also thought he’d killed Stynger, so he wasn’t taking anything for granted.

  “And even if you hadn’t, the only thing I’d give that cheating bitch is a hard shove off a tall building.”

  “Did she tell you anything else?” asked Payton. “Anything that could help me find her?”

  “She said she got funding for her work and that she’s making great strides.”

  “Funding from whom?”

  “She didn’t say. After she gloated about it, I wasn’t inclined to ask. Especially considering that her funding was always better than mine. She gets all the best equipment and I have to scrounge for everything I need.”

  Sage’s slip of the tongue spoke volumes. “You mean everything you needed? Past tense?”

  “Of course that’s what I meant,” said Sage, but the breathless quality of his words told Payton everything he needed to now.

  Sage may have been legit before, but he wasn’t now—or if he was, it was simply a cover for his real work.

  “That’s good,” said Payton. “Because if you were dabbling with your old research, I’d be obliged to hunt you down and kill you.”

  “The way you did Stynger?” asked Sage. “You don’t scare me, Payton. Besides, I gave up on the Threshold Project years ago. It brought me nothing but ulcers.”

  That was a lie, too, but one Payton let slide. He had the answers h th bue needed.

  If Sage hadn’t been working on the old research before, he definitely was now. There was no way he’d be able to resist competing with Stynger. Their professional rivalry ran too deep.

  “I suggest you watch your back,” warned Payton.

  “And I suggest you keep your nose out of my business. Don’t bother calling me again. I’m disconnecting this number. If I find out you’ve been snooping around at my workplace again, you’re not going to like what happens. Neither is Mira.”

  Sage hung up, leaving that ominous statement hanging in Payton’s ear. An oily film of panic coated his throat, making it hard to breathe. He’d been so caught up in what was going on with Clay, he hadn’t stopped to consider the danger Mira faced.

  Sage knew that Payton cared about her. Sage wasn’t above using his daughter to get what he wanted. History had proven that with crystal clarity.

  * * *

  Mira had an urgent package from Leigh waiting in her mailbox when she finally made it in to work. Thoughts of her meeting with Adam had filled her head, giving her a much-needed break from worrying about Clay. Until she read the note that Leigh had included with the phones, asking for help. Leigh wasn’t sure what Mira should look for but asked her to be thorough.

  With Clay on the line, there was no way she’d be anything less.

  At least Mira knew he was still alive. That counted for a lot. What little sleep she’d had had been filled with horrid dreams of zombie Clay coming at her, guns blazing. His eyes had been empty, and he hadn’t even flinched as he’d pulled the trigger over and over.

  Even now, in the light of day, those nightmares had the power to make her hands shake.

  She wished that she was with him now, making sure he was being careful and staying safe. She loved him like a brother, but she knew how boneheaded he could be. He didn’t like to be pushed around, and Leigh wasn’t exactly a doormat. As much as Mira had wanted to see the two of them together, she’d hoped it would be under better circumstances.

  But it wasn’t, and all she could do to help was figure out if there was any useful information on these phones.

  She powered up the first one. There was no password protection on the device. She read through e-mail and text messages, finding little of interest. There could be more incriminating messages he’d erased, but she wouldn’t know that until she checked for deleted entries.

  The contact list was vague—mostly first names or initials. As she scrolled through the listings, an entry caught her eye: Dr. S. It was next to a number she knew all too well.

  The phone slipped from Mira’s hands and landed on the floor. Plastic pieces spun away and the battery flew under
her desk.

  She left them lying there and grabbed her own phone from her belt. Her hands were shaking with panic as she pulled up the lull" faist of phone numbers she’d blocked—all various numbers for her father.

  Just to be sure, she picked up the pieces of the battered phone and shoved them back together. Holding both phones side by side, she compared the numbers.

  She hadn’t imagined it. The numbers were the same. The number was for her father’s office.

  Sick with dread, she checked the other two phones. Both contained listings for that number as well.

  Whoever owned these phones, her father had sent them after Clay. The question was, why?

  Richard Sage had always been a possessive man. He stamped his claim on people as if they were things. Apparently, Clay had been stamped, and Mira’s father wanted him back.

  She didn’t know what to do. Her father had always thought of her as his possession. He’d kept close tabs on her for years, despite her moving from place to place in an effort to avoid him. She’d even found bugs in her apartment once, three years ago.

  That thought stopped her cold. She hadn’t swept her place in weeks. She was hypervigilant about using her security system—one she’d designed herself. If anyone got close to her place, it recorded their image and sent it to her phone. The only person who knew the codes to get in was Clay.

  Who looked just like those empty men who were victims of her father’s experiments.

  Panic gripped her with sharp claws, squeezing the air from her lungs. She doubled over in her chair, shoving her head down between her knees. Flickering black spots bloomed in her vision as her brain struggled to find enough oxygen to work. Slowly, the dizziness faded, leaving behind a greasy, queasy kind of fear.

  Clay had been in her office, too. She let him in all the time. What if her father was watching her right now?

  She felt his eyes on her, making her skin crawl. The urge to locate and destroy any possible bugs pounded through her, but she didn’t dare act rashly. Instead, she picked up her phone and rushed to the ladies’ room. Surely Clay hadn’t been in here.

  She picked the stall in the farthest corner and locked the door. Her head hit the cold stainless steel, sucking away some of the sickening heat rising out of her. The faint rattle of the lock jarred her, making her realize just how hard she was shaking.