Rough Edges

by Shannon K. Butcher

  Standing in the doorway was Victor, gun trained on Chuck’s immobile body. Behind him, a crowd of armed men was forming in the hallway.

  “Bella?” Victor asked, his voice tight with worry.

  “I’m good,” she said between labored breaths. “Pissed as hell, but still alive.”

  Chuck didn’t move. He’d taken three bullets at close range, delivered by a man who knew how to kill. She was certain Chuck was never getting up again.

  Adrenaline began trickling from her system, leaving her shaking and dizzy, with the oddest urge to break into a sobbing fit.

  She never cried—at least not in the last decade. And yet she knew that hot prickling in the corners of her eyes was a sure sign she was about to do just that.

  “Clear the area,” ordered Victor. “This is a crime scene now.”

  Her office a crime scene? Even the thought was enough to send a giggle worming up her throat.

  Victor stepped inside the office and checked Chuck for a pulse. The grim look on his face told her there wasn’t one.

  His eyes met hers. Some hot, fierce emotion was shining just beneath that clear blue surface, but she was too wigged out to spend any time deciphering it. His voice was calm and quiet, but the words were clipped with anger. “You’re bleeding.”

  She looked at her hands. They were sticky and red, with shallow cuts left behind by the glass.

  She’d never before been squeamish, but the sight of her blood and the smell of gunpowder turned her stomach.

  Bella swallowed a couple of times to keep her breakfast where it belonged. “I need to go wash up.”

  Victor shifted slightly, blocking her path. “I can’t let you do that. Not until the police arrive and see the damage.”

  “I’ll get a first aid kit,” said someone from the hallway. She wasn’t sure who. Didn’t care.

  “Show me your hands,” Victor said.

  She held them out for inspection without even considering that she had an option to refuse him. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that wasn’t like her, but she wrote it off as a bit of scrambled brain matter from Chuck’s fist hitting her cheekbone.

  “Stay here,” he ordered.

  She did. He went only as far as the door, where he exchanged a few quiet words with someone in the hall. When Victor came back, he had some gauze pads in his hand, along with a roll of paper tape.

  “The cuts aren’t too deep. You might need a couple of stitches in one spot.” His voice was quiet and soothing. “Your pants are bloody, too. I think it’s your blood, honey.”

  She thought about telling him that he didn’t need to treat her so gently, that she’d been hurt far worse than this and survived, but she liked the sound of his voice too much.

  “Is she okay?” asked Payton from the doorway.

  It wasn’t until she heard his voice that she realized that he’d been standing there. How long? She wasn’t sure, but if he’d been there for more than a second, she was worse off than she thought. She should have been aware of what was going on around her, especially with so much adrenaline running through her system. High stress situations were nothing new to her, and yet she felt . . . off. Not at all like herself.

  “She’s going to be fine,” Victor said, carefully taping the gauze pads over her palms and fingers. He looked down at her, tipping her chin up so she looked him in the eye. “Aren’t you?”

  “I’m fine,” came out automatically.

  It was then that she realized she wasn’t fine. She was barely inside her own skin. Most of her had retreated to that safe place she used to go when Dad would lay into her. And later, Dan. Nothing could hurt her there.

  She hadn’t been to this place for years, but she recognized the soft, warm walls now. How much time had she spent curled up here? How many years had this been her home?

  A burst of hot rage sliced through the fog, burning some of it off.

  Fuck that place. She didn’t need it anymore. She was strong. Solid. Safe.

  Because she’d made herself safe.

  Bella forced herself to look at Chuck’s body. There were three holes in the back of his shirt. Now that he was facedown, she could see a puckered scar at the base of his skull—the mark left behind by the experimental implants Stynger had surgically inserted in too many men in an effort to control them. And if they couldn’t be controlled, the poison housed inside the implants would kill them so they couldn’t rat her out.

  A team of scientists and engineers had been working on stopping and reversing the effects, but so far hadn’t had any luck.

  “He’s one of Stynger’s,” she said.

  Victor nodded and shared a look with Payton she couldn’t translate. All she knew was that it was full of concern. “We saw that. Do you not remember us talking about it a second ago?”

  She didn’t, but years of spinning lies had given her the skills she needed to do so now. “I remember. I’m just a bit distracted by the dead man in my office.”

  “One of the lawyers will be here soon,” Payton said. “Bella, you should limit your statement to the police until you’re feeling like yourself again.”

  “I know what I’m doing,” she said. “I don’t need your advice.”

  “Then take mine,” Victor said. “Play the scared-victim card until the lawyer arrives. I’d really rather not spend more time in jail than I need to.”

  Victor in jail? That didn’t seem right. All he’d done was stop a man from killing her.

  Sirens grew louder outside. A couple of minutes later, police and paramedics arrived on the scene. She and Victor both gave their statements. When they came back for another round of questioning, she grudgingly took Payton’s advice and told them she was too rattled to talk about it more—they could speak to her lawyer.

  “You’re going to need some stitches,” said one of the paramedics. He was crouched at her feet. He’d cut away the bottom half of her yoga pants and she hadn’t even realized it had happened.

  She looked down and saw the cuts across her calves. As if her acknowledgment of the wound triggered something in her brain, she finally felt the sting of the injury. Strangely, she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to do about the problem, though she knew she should know.

  Payton must have seen her distress. He stepped forward and addressed the paramedic. “Dr. Vaughn is on her way. If there are no serious injuries, she can handle things from here.”

  “She should go to the hospital,” said the young man at her feet.

  “No,” Bella said, too fast and loud. Her denial sounded desperate even to her own ears. “No hospitals.”

  She’d spent enough time in them already. A few little cuts weren’t going to send her back.

  “You’ll have to sign some paperwork if you’re refusing to let us take you in.”

  Bella held out her hand. “Give me a pen.”

  As she finished scrawling her name and looked up, she saw one of the officers handcuff Victor and escort him out.

  Fury exploded in her gut, clearing her foggy head for a second. “You can’t arrest him,” she said. “He saved my life.”

  The lawyer shot her a harsh glare and shook his head. “Stay quiet. All you’re going to do is make things worse.”

  Bella clamped her lips shut and swallowed down the string of vile curses she wanted to fling at both the lawyer and the cops. How dare they handcuff Victor like he was a criminal? He was a good, honorable man. He’d risked his life to serve his country and keep all of them safe. And this was how they repaid him?

  She grabbed the lawyer’s thousand-dollar suit jacket in her bloody fist. “You get him out, understand?”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “Your best had better have him back at his place before dinnertime. Or we’re finding a new law firm to represent the Edge.”

  Payton shifted his sta
nce. She wasn’t sure if it was to block her view of Victor being hauled away in handcuffs or to get close enough to stop her from inflicting violence on the suit. Whatever the case, the lawyer left, bringing up the tail end of the police parade.

  Payton gave her a paternal frown. “No need for threats, Bella. I’m sure Victor will be free soon. He did nothing wrong. He’s a highly decorated soldier with a lot of powerful friends.”

  She unleashed some of her anger on Payton, not even caring that they had an audience. “This is all your fault. If you’d taken Stynger down years ago, rather than helping her, that man they just wheeled out of here would still be alive. He never would have attacked me, and Victor never would have had to shoot him. You don’t get to pretend like it’s all going to work out fine, like it isn’t a fucking tragedy that someone lost a son, a brother, or a father today. That man’s blood is on your hands, just like mine is.” She thrust her bloody palms in his face.

  Payton flinched and closed his eyes for a split second before facing her again. “I’m fully aware of my role in all of this. I accept responsibility for my actions and lack thereof. If you want to punish me, so be it, but your energy is better spent on finding Stynger and stopping her.”

  “You think I don’t know that? I’ve worked myself sick trying to clean up your mess. She’s in the wind—vanished—and she’s taken Gage with her. If he doesn’t come back in one piece, if she put one of those damn implants in his head, I’m holding you personally responsible.”

  Payton bowed his head. “That makes two of us.”

  Chapter Eight

  Jordyn Stynger pulled up the video feed connected to Gage Dallas’s cell. She’d been watching him for weeks now and still couldn’t figure out why he was here.

  Mother always began altering her test subjects within a few days of acquiring them. What was so special about this one?

  Maybe it was because he’d come of his own free will, knowing what awaited him. His brother Adam had been the one who was supposed to come, but Gage had taken his place.

  Was it possible that Mother was growing a conscience? Jordyn had hoped to channel her mother’s abilities into something less destructive for a long time—ever since she’d learned that the work they did was less about saving the world and more about money and power. There was no impending threat as Jordyn had always been taught. The world wasn’t coming to an end. Mother’s cash was.

  Jordyn had had more than one opportunity to leave, but if she did, who would mitigate the damage Mother did? Who would dare go against a woman who had an army of men willing to do whatever she ordered, no matter how horrible or dangerous?

  The only saving grace Jordyn had was that she was Norma Stynger’s daughter—her only genetic link to the future. There was power in that, but as time went on, Jordyn began to wonder if even that was enough to protect her from Mother’s wrath.

  The video screen blinked to life, showing the newcomer in his cell. He was shirtless as he exercised, using what little furniture was in the small space as his gym. Sweat trickled down his spine. His muscles quivered with effort as he pulled himself up inside the frame of the door. There was only the thinnest strip of material to cling to, but his strong fingers held tight as he slid up and down along the locked door.

  He was never let out of his room, and the deep tan of his skin had begun to fade from lack of sunlight. Other than that, he showed no signs of deterioration as some of the men who came here did.

  Then again, the records showed that none of Mother’s protocols had been inflicted on him.

  Yet.

  The only entries Jordyn found after hacking into the encrypted files on him listed a series of blood draws, sedatives to keep him asleep at night, and one other procedure she’d never seen before: DNA extraction.

  There were no more details listed that she could find, and there was no way something as simple as a mouth swab could hurt a man as strong as Gage.

  He went on with his exercises, winding down with a series of slow poses that looked vaguely like yoga. There was more violence than relaxation in the moves, but each one put a new set of muscles on display for Jordyn’s enjoyment.

  She often spied on the men who were brought here, but not one of them had compelled her the way Gage had. Not even Jake Staite. And she’d nearly died helping him escape.

  She still wasn’t sure if he’d survived, or if her efforts to help the kind soldier had failed utterly. Perhaps even killed him.

  The question was, could she risk that all over again for Gage? Could she help free him knowing it would cost her who knew how many days in the White Room?

  A wave of nausea overcame her at the mere thought. She rushed to the bathroom with just enough time to empty her stomach into the toilet. After the retching stopped, she sat back on her heels and breathed.

  She couldn’t face the White Room again. She’d barely survived last time. It had taken her weeks to recover, and she often had nightmares that she was trapped in there again, strapped down and unable to escape the pain.

  She could only hope that her punishment hadn’t been in vain, that the package she’d delivered to Jake’s best friend had made it to him and done some good. Assuming he was even still alive.

  She kept telling herself that she had no other choice. She couldn’t sleep at night knowing there was something else she could do to save the one man who’d bothered to give her the truth about Mother and her work.

  Still, the threat of the White Room hung heavy over Jordyn’s head. No matter how compelling Gage was, reaching out to him was dangerous. Perhaps even deadly.

  Unless she was out of Mother’s reach. That had been her mistake with Jake. She should have let him take her along with him when he escaped. Surely whatever she faced in the outside world was better than her life here.

  Jordyn rinsed the bile from her mouth and went back to her computer. Gage’s chest was heaving from whatever he’d been doing a second ago. He stood in front of the camera, staring at it as sweat slid down his muscular frame. His skin was flushed, and his faded blue eyes seemed to glow as he looked at her through the lens.

  Not that he could see her. The video feed was one-way. There was no way he could even know she was watching him.

  Still, he watched the camera, his face showing no hint of emotion. No fear. No anger. Just endless patience.

  For what, she had no idea. All she knew was that she couldn’t look away. He was a real man, living and breathing, with hopes and dreams. Mother hadn’t destroyed that for him yet. But she would. Soon.

  Jordyn knew in that moment that she had to help him escape. He deserved a life, and unlike the other men she’d seen pass through the labs, Gage could actually still have one.

  The only question was whether or not she’d survive to have one, too.

  * * *

  Randolph dialed his contact inside enemy lines. Lila, Bella’s secretary, answered in a voice soggy with tears. “Hello?”

  “Where are you?”

  “At home. How’s my baby?”

  “He’s fine. Stynger has kept him safe, just like she promised.” It was mostly true. The toddler was still alive, but there was no guarantee how long he’d stay that way if Stynger got bored and decided to use him as a lab rat.

  “I want to see him.”

  “You will. Soon.” That was a lie, but a necessary one. If Lila freaked out, she’d be no good to anyone. And Randolph really needed her to stay sharp for just a while longer. “But for now you have work to do.”

  “I’ve done everything you said. I even let that man into the office without running a background check. If Bella finds out, I’ll be fired.”

  “Would you rather have a job or a son?”

  She stifled a sob. “Please don’t hurt my baby.”

  “Then do your real job and focus. How was Bella after the attack?”

  “Shaken. Angry. The
police were at the office for hours. There’s still a mess to clean up. Papers everywhere, broken glass. Blood.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t track her after hours.”

  “Then start. I want to know where she is all the time.”

  “What’s going on? Is something about to happen?” asked Lila.

  The woman was too smart for Randolph’s peace of mind. It was best if he changed the subject before she asked any questions that would make him need to kill her. She was far more useful alive. At least for now.

  “What’s on Bella’s schedule for the next few days?”

  “She told me to stop booking appointments for her. She wants to spend all her time looking for Gage.”

  Interesting. One man was that important to her? Randolph had worked for her long enough to know that she was possessive and territorial, but she’d never been quite so concerned about his well-being when he’d worked for her. Then again, she’d always had it in for him.

  “Do you know her plans? Where she’s going to look?”

  “She doesn’t share that kind of thing with me. Especially not since the incident a few weeks ago when I was forced to leave a secured door open and drug an innocent girl so one of your men could abduct her. The whole office is still nervous about that.”

  “Do they suspect you?”

  “Not that I can tell. Bella keeps telling me to be careful and never walk to my car alone at night. If she thought it was me, she wouldn’t worry so much, would she?”

  Bella was smart enough to pretend not to suspect her, but he didn’t think that the emotionally precarious Lila needed to know that. He needed her too much to unsettle her nerves.

  “I’m going to send you a listening device,” Randolph said. “I want you to plant it in her office once the mess is cleared away.”

  “No. I can’t. I’ve already done too much for you. Bella is a good woman. I know you want to hurt her. I can’t help you do that.”

  “I have no desire to hurt her or anyone else,” he lied.