Caught Up In You: Edgeplay: The complete serial

by McCormick, Jenna

  I get out of the car. “And now it’s over. Goodbye, Connor.”

  After scurrying up the steps, I duck into the building, unwilling to watch him leave.

  * * *

  I sleep like the dead that night, emotional and physical exhaustion taking their toll. No floundering over decisions or regrets disturb my rest. I did what I did for me and I will keep doing it.

  Rochelle is gone by the time I get out of bed the next morning. Her note says she caved and went to the grocery store. Another reprieve. She was talking to Lola the night before, so she didn’t witness my disheveled state after the car incident.

  I refuse to think about the car incident. Or check my email or voicemail for more conniving messages engineered to reel me back in. I’m not a damn fish or a dog or any kind of witless animal put on this planet for a rich man’s entertainment. Snarkarella’s right, I need to hike up my big girl panties and move the hell on.

  With that thought in mind, I shower and dress for the day. The pink gown is hanging in my closet. I’m tempted to cut it to shreds and send it back at him, to drive my point home, but I vowed last night to stop playing crazy chicken with him.

  With nothing to do I’m edgy and restless. I flick the television on and then turn it off immediately. Ten o’clock on a Wednesday morning is slim pickings for entertainment. Prowling the apartment, I finally give in and turn on my phone.

  “You have no new messages.” The automated voice tells me. Huh. Maybe he doesn’t know what to say. Maybe he’s out at the nearest CVS prowling the aisles for an I’m sorry I almost raped you card.

  “Good luck with that, pal,” I mutter. My gaze lands on the clock. 10:45. Where the heck is Rochelle? A trip to the Trader Joe’s around the corner shouldn’t take this long.

  Of course she has a life, independent of me. I should leave and let her get back to it. I will as soon as I figure out what my next move is. But I’m too restless to plan, too keyed up.

  The buzzer sounds and I jump, heart pounding. I really need to get out more.

  “Who is it?” I ask through the intercom.

  “Baily?” A man’s voice. Not Connor’s. I refuse to let myself feel disappointment.

  “Yes?”

  “It’s Doctor Fletcher. Ian.” He clears his throat.

  “Doctor Fletcher?” Though Pops’ former doctor had asked me to call him by his first name, I’d never picked up on it. “How did you find me?”

  “Your employer, Mr. Edge. I’ve been looking for you since your grandfather died, to offer my condolences. I know how difficult it must have been for you to go through that alone.”

  I’m barely listening. Connor sent Doctor Fletcher here to see me? He seemed to hate the man the one time they met, right after Pops wandered away from the nursing home. Of course it might have been the Doctor’s obvious interest in me that bothered the billionaire.

  Another possibility arises. What if sending the doctor here is a message to me? Like, I accept that we’re over so here’s the next available male. My hands clench into tight fists. It would be just like Connor to send me a man. In his addled mind he probably thought I needed one!

  I realize I’m spacing out on my visitor. “Why don’t you come up and have a cup of coffee? I’m afraid that’s all I can offer you, but my friend should be back with provisions soon.”

  I buzz him through, my mind whirling. My tablet is devoid of messages too. I’m convinced Connor is scheming again and I compose a brief note without a subject line.

  Dr. Fletcher. Really?

  I press send just as a sharp knock sounds on my door.

  Doctor Fletcher’s expression is pure relief. He crosses the threshold and shuts the door behind him. “I was so worried about you.” He holds out his arms for a hug.

  “Um, okay.” It seems rude not to accept the comfort he offers so I step into his embrace.

  His arms crush me against him and I’m about to pull away when I feel the sharp prick of a needle against my neck. “What the hell?”

  My limbs feel heavy and I sag against him, no longer in control of my body.

  My vision tunnels and the last thing I see is his satisfied expression. “There there, we’re together now. Everything will be all right.”

  34

  Slowly the world comes into focus. I wince at the stabbing pain in my head. What the hell happened? My eyelids feel heavy and I can’t recall ever being so hung over. The world jostles and I moan, then realize there’s a gag in my mouth. I try to remove it, but my hands are bound behind my back with what feels like an electrical zip tie. My ankles as well.

  It all comes back in a rush. Dr. Fletcher, Ian, showing up at Rochelle’s apartment. Jamming a needle into my neck. Why would he do that?

  A shiver tears through me as I relive the fervent look on his face, the relief that he found me. I’ve been so distracted by Connor that I somehow missed the clues that the man I trusted with my grandfather’s mental health was fixated on me. And apparently Ian Fletcher has it in him to come after me.

  Another thump and my entire aching body is jostled. I can’t see a thing but I think I’m in the trunk of a car. He’s kidnapping me! Bound and gagged by a madman.

  Panic wells, my heart beating so fast my limited vision goes spotty. I tamp my anxiety down and struggle for rational thought. Someone will realize I’m missing. Rochelle will see signs of a struggle and call the police. Or Connor. I just need to endure. Connor will never give up until he finds me.

  Even after last night? Snarkarella whispers. You said horrible things, do you really think he’s eager for more?

  With nothing to do but think, I revisit my hazy memories from our time in the limo. I remembered him wild eyed and desperate, more out of control than I’d ever seen him. He’d accused me of playing games, with an edge of violence in his gruff voice. I’d been sure he was about to rape me.

  But he’d stopped. Controlled his urges when I used my safe-word. He didn’t take the choice from me.

  The car jerks to a stop and I’m thrown to the back of the spacious trunk. Cold metal brushes my fingertips. It’s a tire iron. I grasp it desperately in my right hand. He’ll have to cut the bindings to get me out of the trunk and then I’ll strike. Years of manual labor have kept my body strong, and a solid whack might cave in Ian’s skull.

  I don’t debate whether or not I can do it. I’ve seen the effects of a person being taken against his will and would rather live with a murder on my conscience than the hell Connor dwells in.

  The trunk opens and I wince in pain as daylight streams in, my headache worsening with the addition of light. A man’s shadow falls over me. Ian.

  “You’re awake.” He sounds perturbed by this.

  I stare up at him, unapologetic. My grip on the tire iron tightens when my gaze focuses on the temple where I plan to hit him.

  He leans in and I stifle a growl as he invades my space. Something’s waking up in me, something primal, animalistic. Outrage that Ian could do this to me. I confided in him over my grandfather. The betrayal burns like acid in my gut.

  I expect he’ll free my feet first and I let out a squeak when I see the needle. No! I struggle, but between my bonds and the confined space, I have nowhere to go but back into the blackness.

  * * *

  When I wake again, I’m tied to a bed, spread eagled. My eyes flash open but I groan in pain. Whatever he’s been dosing me with leaves a severe migraine in its wake. Even the light seeping through my closed eyelids burns. At least the gag is gone and I can take a deep breath.

  Until I realize I’m naked beneath the thin white sheet. My breathing turns choppy. Did I really deny Connor out of fear last night, only to end up being raped anyway?

  “Are you thirsty?” Ian asks from the corner.

  I’m too scared to take stock of my body’s condition. He doesn’t wait for an answer, merely aims a straw between my chapped lips.

  Though the water might be drugged, I drink it anyhow. If he wants me doped up I’m sure he�
��ll use the needle. Roofies are the least of my worries right now.

  When the glass is empty he sets it aside. I flinch when he pulls back the sheet. I want to close my eyes as he surveys my body, but I don’t want to let him out of my sight either.

  His cold, impersonal touch makes me flinch but he doesn’t seem to notice as he inspects me. “Did that animal hurt you last night?”

  My brows draw down. “Animal?”

  “Edge,” he grates out the name. “I saw you storm out of that car.”

  “You were watching us?” I recall the feeling of dread and fear that wound through my system. Could it have been some instinct about Ian, and not Connor, that elicited such a response?

  “I followed him. Knew he’d lead me to you. You should have come to me when you ran from him. I could have brought you here.” His tone is censorious, as though scolding a naughty child.

  My eyesight is improving, but for a minute I fear my mind is playing tricks on me. “Are we in my cottage?” Hope soars. If we’re on the Rosemont Estate, Connor will find me that much sooner.

  But everything is a shade off. There are no personal items. The dresser, the walls, even the curtains are identical, but without family photos or my overstuffed bookshelf it’s more a guest house than my cottage. Still, it’s chilling how much detail he picked up the one and only time he came to my house. While I was chasing after Connor, he was poking through my home.

  Ian, the whacko, shakes his head. “Unfortunately not. The security measures Edge put in place were almost impossible to traverse. I only made it through undetected that one time. Don’t worry, we’ll make new memories here. Together. Starting with this.” He holds up a butt plug identical to the one someone left on my doorstep.

  My lungs freeze up. Realization must show on my face, because Ian grins. “Yes, the sex toy. I quite enjoyed the video you recorded for me.” He holds up my phone in his free hand.

  “That was for Connor.” The words tumble out and I see the rage sweep across his bland features. I instantly try to cover my slip. “I mean—”

  “I know precisely what you mean.” His tone is grim, his eyes narrowed in warning. “That’s why I have to dispose of him. You’ll never be mine as long as he draws breath. I’ll see to it myself this time. That fool who planted the bomb nearly killed you!” Outrage twists his face into an unrecognizable mask of fury.

  Ian was responsible for the car bombing and he sent me the gift. My head is swimming with pain and information overload. “What are you going to do?”

  “Lure him here. He’s stupid when it comes to you, never stopping to think things through. He has unlimited resources and I’m sure he’ll put every one of them to work to find you. In fact, I’m counting on it. Because when he does, I’ll take care of him the same way I did your grandfather.”

  My eyes go wide. “You killed Pops?”

  His tone is full of regret. “He wasn’t supposed to die. I needed to lure you from that place. He should have recovered, but his heart was too damaged.”

  I stare in horror at the sick bastard capable of dabbling with an old man’s life just to draw me away from the safety of the Rosemont. “How could you?”

  “You need me.” He strokes my hair and I jerk my head away from his touch. He barely notices my response, lost in his fantasy world. “I loved you from the first moment I saw you. Sitting in my office, holding your grandfather’s hand. You were trembling a bit, scared my diagnosis would be what you feared. I relished the reveal. Your terror is addictive.” He takes a deep breath, as though scenting the air. “I should punish you for making me wait so long, for turning your back on me and going off with him.” He spits the last word, as though to even think of Connor is an insult.

  A million responses bubble up in my throat but I swallow them all back down. Tied, helpless and naked, mouthing off would not improve my circumstances. God only knows what he plans for my punishment. These aren’t sexy games of pleasure, or even a compelling need burning in my soul to satisfy my lover. The more dread I display the more satisfied my captor is. He wants me scared, craves my fear for myself and for Connor.

  “As tempting as you are, I won’t be distracted by your charms just now.” Ian tosses the sheet over me. He opens the nightstand drawer, sets the phone and the sex toy inside, and withdraws a revolver. “I must remain vigilant. He’ll be here soon. I’ll relish taking you for the first time when he lies dying, bleeding out on the floor.”

  “You won’t get away with this!” I pull against my bonds until the chains rattle. It does no good.

  “Of course I will. I already have with your grandfather.”

  “There’s a difference between poisoning an old man and shooting one in his prime.”

  “We’re in the middle of nowhere. Hours from the interstate. By the time anyone discovers the body we’ll be long gone.” He’s so sure, so arrogant. Using the barrel of the weapon to caress my cheek, he smirks. “And then no one will be left to look for you. You’ll be mine. Forever.”

  Gravel crunches under tires and Ian moves to the window. “It’s him. Only one car. I knew he’d come alone. Like I said, stupid when it comes to you.” Excitement rolls off of him in waves.

  “Connor!” I shout. “He’s armed!”

  Ian pistol-whips me so hard the back of my skull bounces against the headboard. My vision wavers but I scream again, determined to get my warning out.

  Ian stuffs a rag deep into my mouth. “This won’t take long, darling.”

  No! This can’t be happening. I do my best to work the stale rag out of my mouth but my jaw is wedged wide open with no room to work. I yank on the restraints again and again, desperate to get to Connor before Ian does. I can’t let him die because of me.

  A gunshot. Then another. Tears break free and my heart seizes. Connor.

  A huge crash sounds from the door, followed by more gunfire. It sounds like world war three has erupted in the next room.

  Trussed up as I am, there’s nothing I can do to help the man I love. I know he’ll fight for me with everything he’s got but fear it won’t it be enough. Is he even still alive?

  Through my tears, I see a huge form in the doorway. Bigger than Ian, even larger than Connor, and it has glowing red eyes?

  “Stand down.” That’s Connor’s voice, and Connor’s battle bot looming in the doorway. My heart leaps at the sound. He’s alive!

  “Baily.” Squeezing past the bot, Connor charges into the room. He rips the gag from my mouth and then attacks the chains. “Is there a key?”

  I’m crying too hard to answer him, all my anxiety and relief taking over. He’s alive and here to set me free. I may never regain the power of speech.

  “Justin. Check the body for a key.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Connor grips my face in his hands. “Baby, listen to me. You have to tell me if he hurt you.”

  Having his warm hands on me again helps ground me. I’m still a blubbering mess but I need to ease his mind. “He drugged me twice with a needle and hit me with the gun.”

  “But that’s all?” His hands are shaking where they rest on my cheeks.

  I meet his steady gaze. “That’s all.”

  “Thank God,” he breathes, burying his face in my hair.

  Behind him, Justin clears his throat. “Sir, the key?”

  When Connor pulls away, I see his eyes are wet. He takes the key from Justin, who murmurs, “I’ll find your clothes.” Obviously trying to give us privacy.

  “We’ve got to get out of here. Get you to a hospital.” Wrapping the sheet around me, he picks me up off the bed. “I have a helicopter a few miles from here.”

  I’m content to lean against him as he carries me from the room but look down when I see the limp form crumpled on the floor. “Is he dead?”

  “No, but don’t worry, he won’t be waking up until after the police arrive. And he’s tied up. Justin will stay with him.”

  I struggle in his grasp. “Put me down. I want to finish him.
”

  Connor carries me outside to the SUV. “No, baby, it doesn’t help anything.”

  My eyes overflow again. “He murdered Pops and he wanted to kill you too. He doesn’t deserve to live.”

  Connor sets me inside and strokes my cheek. “It won’t help anything, taking justice into your own hands. You’ll still feel the need to do something, to fix something.”

  I can tell he’s talking from his own experience and reach for his cheek with a shaking hand. “It doesn’t?”

  His eyelids lower to half-mast and he leans into my touch. “If I thought it would, I’d put a bullet in his brain right now. Or hold your hand steady while you do it. Don’t let him change you, sweetheart. You don’t have a killer’s soul. It would haunt you.”

  “Maybe you’re right.” My head hurts and I lean back against the seat.

  “I just need to secure the bot. I’ll be right back.” Shucking his heavy pea coat, he drapes it over me.

  I snuggle into the heavy fabric, still warm from his body heat, while he and Justin load the bot into the trunk.

  “You need to beat feet,” Justin murmurs. “I’ll stall them as long as I can but if the local LEO’s find out about the bot and word gets out, you can kiss that DOD contract goodbye.”

  Connor nods, then slides behind the wheel. “Call me with an update as soon as you can. Ms. Sinclair needs medical attention.”

  The engine turns over and Connor pulls out onto the dirt road. Each jounce is painful for my aching cranium. It might be the head injury, but I feel the need to blather out everything I learned. No more holding things back from Connor.

  “He hired someone to set the car bomb. It was meant for you.”

  “I know,” Connor says quietly. “Justin caught up with the guy who did the deed and he squealed about the crazy doctor. Didn’t have a name, just a profession. I was going to tell you last night but then you were drunk and things got out of hand. It wasn’t until you emailed me his name that I put it all together.”