Edge of Betrayal

by Shannon K. Butcher

  Dr. Sage had paid good money to those willing to loan him their children. From the inheritance Sophie’s dad had left her—armed men hunting her down—Riley doubted that the man would have lost a lot of sleep over the idea of letting some bastard hurt his baby girl.

  From what Riley could tell, Sophie had been subjected to the same protocols that Mira had. It didn’t mean that Sophie wasn’t in trouble, but at least the doctor hadn’t done anything to her he hadn’t been willing to do to his own daughter.

  Enhanced memory, improved intelligence, reduced need for sleep, ability to multitask well and recognize intricate patterns—they were all goals of the brain-altering protocols and chemicals that had been pumped into both Mira and Sophie.

  Riley read all the notes, few of which made any sense to a man who was better with his hands than he was with his head. If he could have killed her ugly past with a well-placed bullet or the sharp edge of his favorite knife, he would have done so. But her problems were far beyond that. She’d been hurt. Altered. She needed the kind of professional help only the team Payton had set up could give.

  Riley leaned back in his kitchen chair and stared at his bedroom door. Sophie hadn’t come out all night. He’d heard her get up once to use the bathroom, but that was all.

  He was so worried that he’d wake up and find that she’d taken off again, he hadn’t dared to sleep.

  As if his thoughts of her summoned her, she opened the bedroom door and shambled out. Her strawberry blond hair had dried overnight, leaving it a curly mess around her head. One side of her face was pinker than the other, showing which side she liked to lie on. She’d taken off the sweat pants—likely because he’d cranked up the heat in his house last night to a balmy eighty degrees to warm her up—and now wore only his sweatshirt. It fell above her freckled knees, skimming the pale skin along her thighs.

  A brief flash of the night in the jungle in Colombia flooded his brain. Blood covered her thighs, trickling down her legs into the fallen leaves. He’d felt so helpless that night—unable to stop her miscarriage. He’d been forced to push her onward through her pain, all the time wondering if a woman could lose that much blood and still survive.

  Only the sight of her standing in front of him now, whole and safe, made the muscles in the back of his neck loosen.

  He cleared his throat so he could speak without squeaking like a teenage boy. “Coffee? Breakfast?”

  “Just water. I’m dehydrated. Didn’t want to have to stop and use the bathroom when I was on the run, so I quit drinking much a couple of days ago.”

  He filled a glass and set it in front of the seat across from him.

  She took the hint that he wanted her company, and sat down. It took all his willpower not to glance down and see just how far up his sweatshirt had slid, and whether or not she wore anything underneath.

  “I washed your clothes,” he told her. “Hope you don’t mind.”

  Her slender fingers curled around the glass. “Not at all. Thanks. That’ll make it quicker for me to hit the road.”

  “You’re not leaving.” It wasn’t a question. Riley wasn’t the kind of guy who generally bossed women around, but this was important. “You have no car, no money, no phone.”

  “How do you know?”

  “I checked your pockets so I wouldn’t wash anything. All that you had on you was lint and an elastic hair tie. That’s not exactly going to get you far, especially not with men on your trail.”

  “I lost them. And money isn’t hard to come by.”

  “What are you going to do? Steal someone’s wallet?”

  She looked down at her lap. “If that’s what I have to do to survive.”

  “You came here so I could help you. Let me.”

  “I shouldn’t have come at all. If I hadn’t been so sleep deprived and scared, I wouldn’t have.”

  That hurt. He didn’t know why it should, but the barb still stung. “I’ve seen you safely through worse situations than this. That has to count for something.”

  She lifted her gaze to meet his, and it hit him so hard he forgot to breathe. “This is different. This is real danger.”

  “And flying bullets and a miscarriage weren’t?”

  “You don’t know what you’re dealing with, Riley. These men are bad news. They won’t just kill you. They’ll make you beg them to first.”

  “How do you know that?”

  She looked away again and stared out the kitchen window. “Just consider my leaving as payback for you saving my life in Colombia.”

  “I’m not letting you go.”

  She pushed to her feet. “You don’t have a say in the matter. The fact that you think you do proves just how stupid it was for me to come here.”

  As she started to leave, Riley grabbed her wrist. He was careful with his hold, but he knew instantly that touching her had been the wrong thing to do.

  He was overwhelmed by the feel of her skin under his palm. She was too soft and smooth for his peace of mind, her bones too delicate for him to even consider letting her face off against armed goons.

  For some reason, this woman rocked him all the way down to his foundation, and he had no idea why. He’d barely had a conversation with her. He didn’t know how she thought or what she believed. He didn’t even know if she was straight. Even so, all he could think about was keeping her close, where he could make sure she was safe. She’d already been through too much.

  And Riley desperately needed a distraction from the pain and monotony of his own life.

  “I can help,” he said, doing everything he could to sound reasonable. Flexible. He wasn’t, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t try to make this easier on her.

  She lifted her chin. Even without makeup, she was a natural beauty. Messy hair, freckles—it didn’t matter. Sunlight loved her and clung to her like a second skin.

  “How?” she finally asked. “Exactly what do you think you can do that I can’t do for myself?”

  “I know why Soma abducted you. I know who he was trying to sell you to. And I know why.”

  Her skin paled beneath her freckles. “I don’t believe you.”

  “We’ve learned a lot since the day you took off. I work for a company that’s helping people like you—people who were used when they were children. Hurt.”

  She took a step back, but his grip on her wrist kept her from going far. “How do you know about that?”

  “It’s in your file.”

  Her green eyes flared, and there was no mistaking the fear he saw in her pinpoint pupils. “What file?”

  “You were on something called the List. That’s why Soma took you, why he was selling you, why these men who are after you now will try to do the same thing.”

  “What is this list?”

  “It contains the names of all the kids who were part of a series of experiments. The doctors and scientists who did the research have all been found or killed. Except one woman. Dr. Norma Stynger.”

  “I don’t know her.”

  “You might never have met her, but she wants to meet you. She’s searching for all of those kids, now grown, so she can continue her work. She knows you exist now, and my guess is she won’t stop sending people to find you until they succeed—or you’re dead.”

  She flinched, and he immediately wished he’d sugarcoated the truth a little.

  “I’ll change my name. Hide. She’ll never find me.”

  “That’s not good enough.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean? You have no idea how good I am at hiding.”

  “Actually, I do. I’ve looked for you almost every day since you ran off.”

  “So you know I’m good,” she said.

  “It doesn’t matter. Being found isn’t the only thing you have to worry about.”

  “If they don’t find me, what can they possibly do to m
e?”

  “They may have already done it.”

  “What?”

  Riley paused, searching for the gentlest way to tell her what she needed to hear. “Most of the kids grew up fine. But some of them . . . didn’t.”

  “Didn’t how?”

  “Some of them cracked. Hallucinated. Became violent.”

  She started to sag like she was going to faint. Riley grabbed her arms and eased her into the nearest chair.

  “You’re saying I’m going to go homicidal?”

  “No. I’m not saying that at all. You’re probably fine.”

  “But if I’m not . . . ?”

  “That’s why you need to let me help you. We are connected to people who can look at you. Fix you before anything happens.”

  “Doctors?” she asked, shaking her head. “Hell no. No one is touching me ever again.”

  “It’s the only way to keep you safe. We’ll set you up with a new identity, send you somewhere you’ve never been before, keep you healthy, make sure you’re cared for.”

  “Like some kind of pet? No, thanks. I’ll take my chances on my own.”

  He took her hands in his. Her skin was cold and clammy, but it still felt good against him. “Listen, Sophie. Please. If you don’t let me help, then you’ll be out there all alone. Afraid.”

  “I’ve been afraid before. It’s not fatal.”

  “Yes, but my guess is you’ve always been afraid of what others might do to you. Now you also have to worry about what you might do to others. Someone you love could get hurt.”

  She closed her eyes. He could see the sheen of tears wet her lashes, but not a single one fell.

  When she looked at him again, he could see the steel running through her. Her eyes were bloodshot and her nose had turned pink, but there was a fierce look in her that gave him the craziest urge to kiss her.

  “No one I love is ever going to die again,” she said.

  “Then you’ll come with me? Let me help you?”

  “I’ll listen. That’s all I can promise right now.”

  “But what about what you just said about no one you love dying?”

  She shrugged, and her sad expression broke his heart. “That’s easy. All I have to do is never love again.”

  Chapter Eight

  Mira lasted for all of twenty minutes after Payton left before she gave in to the uncontrollable urge to look at the file he’d mentioned. It was password protected, but that wasn’t an issue for her. Less than thirty seconds later, she started reading.

  She was still reading an hour later, despite her shaking hands and queasy gut.

  Adam wasn’t just part of the Threshold Project. He was its pinnacle.

  The notes she’d read were well beyond her medical knowledge, but she was smart enough to understand what they meant: Adam’s parents had altered him before birth. What they’d done to him was written in his genes—inescapable.

  At least with some of the other victims, their programming could be overwritten. The drugs they’d been given had worn off, and with enough counseling, they were able to live normal lives.

  Adam would never have that. No matter what he did, what drugs he took, what therapy he received, he would never be able to undo his genes.

  Childhood tests showed he was faster than other children. Stronger. His mind worked more quickly, and he was able to compartmentalize better than any of the other subjects.

  No wonder he was able to do the things he’d done and not show guilt. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel it so much as he’d locked it away where it couldn’t alter his effectiveness—as he’d been designed to do.

  Mira’s eyes burned as she sat back in her chair. She’d hardly blinked as she’d read the file. It was all too much to take in.

  Adam had never been a child. He’d been a construction. A project.

  Even Mira, daughter to a man who cared nothing for her safety or comfort, had a home and a loving mother to care for her between experiments. Adam had had none of that. Both his parents were scientists, committed to the Threshold Project.

  So committed that they’d given up their son to the cause.

  It was a wonder Adam had even survived. There were no notes in the file about whether he’d been rescued or if he’d escaped. The last entry she read was dated shortly after his first birthday.

  She picked up the phone and dialed Payton. “I want to know more.”

  “You read the file.”

  “You knew I would. Tell me the rest.”

  “There is no more to tell. That’s the only file I recovered on the subject.”

  “Why didn’t I see it before? Why wasn’t it with the others?”

  “Even you don’t get to see everything. Believe me. That’s more a blessing than a punishment.” Pain and regret coursed through the words.

  Mira shivered. “You’re right. The less I know, the better. Except about Adam.”

  “You know what you need to.”

  “To do what? You read the file. We can’t help him.”

  “We already are helping him. We’ve given him a job, a group of people who accept him.”

  “Except me.”

  Payton sighed. “No one can make you forgive him for what he did. All I’m asking is that you work with him until Gage is free again. You’re both safer working with each other. It’s what Bella wanted, and we all need to do what we can to make her happy for a little while.”

  “You mean you need all of us to make her happy so she won’t take out her anger on you.”

  “Bella’s anger toward me is none of your concern.”

  “The hell it isn’t. You two have barely spoken in weeks. If you think that doesn’t affect the way this company runs, you’re insane.”

  “Leave Bella to me. You worry about Adam. Despite how you feel about him, he’s proven he’s willing to go to extreme measures to keep you safe. He deserves a chance.”

  Mira wasn’t sure how safe she’d be with Adam, but at least she understood why he was such a jerk. She even felt sorry for him, but only a little. She’d been used, too, and it hadn’t made her abduct anyone. “How long will Gage be?”

  “I’m not sure. Bella won’t tell me what he’s doing.”

  “She’s keeping secrets from you? That’s not good news. I’ll talk to her when she—”

  “Leave it alone, Mira. I mean it. Bella has every right to be angry with me. I can handle it.”

  “She’s pissed that you knew about the Threshold Project, isn’t she? You knew that she had people working here that had been victims, and you didn’t tell her.”

  Payton’s voice hardened. “I said leave it alone.”

  “Geez. Chill. No need to bring out Scary Payton.”

  “Just do your job, Mira. There’s way too much work to go around, and every minute you sit around playing peacemaker is another one in which all those people are suffering.”

  He was right. They all had bigger problems to deal with than interoffice bickering. “If you see any more of those AE files, you’ll send them my way, right?”

  “No promises, but I won’t hide things from you if I think you need to know them. Which is why I’m going to tell you this: Adam is dangerous, Mira, but he’s a logical creature. You’re better at seeing patterns than any of the other kids in the project. You’re more likely to see changes in him than anyone else.”

  “Adam fooled me once before. I believed he was a nice guy. Hell, I almost fell for him. What’s to keep him from fooling me again?”

  “Simple. Now you know it’s possible. Your eyes are open. Make sure you keep them that way. And, Mira?”

  “Yes?”

  “If you see any changes in him—anything you don’t like—run. Fast. And don’t look back.”

  The line went dead as Payton hung up. A greasy ball of fear s
at knotted in her stomach.

  It didn’t matter if she ran or not. Adam was likely a hell of a lot faster than she was.

  She set down the phone and turned slightly to get back to the familiar feel of her keyboard under her fingers. Sitting right beside her in her guest chair was Adam. He’d come in and she hadn’t even heard him.

  That greasy ball of fear exploded, snaking through her veins until her whole body was trembling. “How much did you hear?” she asked.

  His expression was as cold and blank as a sheet of ice. “Everything.”

  Chapter Nine

  Adam watched the color drain from Mira’s face and wished he’d chosen his words differently. “Don’t worry,” he hurried to say to ease her fear. “I know you all talk about me when I’m not around. I’d expect no less. I’m the fox in your henhouse.”

  It took her a minute to regain the ability to speak. He watched her delicate throat move, waiting patiently until her nervous system had settled down from the scare he’d inadvertently given her.

  “Why do I suddenly feel like a little yellow chick?” she asked.

  “I can’t convince you I hold no ill intentions, so I’m not going to waste my breath.”

  She scooted her rolling chair back as far as the confines of her desk would allow. “Payton says you’re dangerous.”

  “You didn’t need Payton to tell you that. You’ve seen what I’m capable of doing.”

  “He thinks I’ll be able to see it if you start to crack.”

  Adam nodded to the computer screen, where his file still glowed as a reminder of what he really was. “You’ve read my file. What do you think?”

  “I think I’m glad I have a concealed-carry permit.”

  Adam leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. The move put him closer to Mira, more on eye level with her.

  She had such pretty eyes. Bright green with little strands of gold weaving through them, nestled right up against her pupils. They weren’t always visible, but right now, in the bright light of her office, with fear so recently her companion, he could see every one of the fiery threads.