by Welsh, Hope
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chaptger Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
About the Author
Author Titles
Getting
The
Edge
by
Hope Welsh
Copyright
No portion of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any print or electronic form without the permission of the author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance between persons living and dead, establishments, events, or location is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2015 Hope Welsh
Cover Art © 2015 ninjaMel Designs
ISBN 978-1-890785-77-2
Dedication
This book is dedicated to my wonderful street team. My lovely ladies have stood by me since Linked first came out. A special shout-out for Tammy H., Laura F., and Jess H. for being wonderful! I couldn’t have done it without you three awesome ladies!
I also would like to dedicate this book to my daughter, as it would not be published if she hadn’t nagged me to write the story I’d been telling her about for so long.
Prologue
He was getting out.
Brandon Walsh looked at the cell that had kept him captive for two years.
Because he’d been a cop, he’d been kept in protective custody. That was a nice way to say that he’d spent twenty-three hours a day inside a cage alone with little else other than his thoughts to keep him occupied.
His attorney, Kevin Henson, had told him that he’d appeal the conviction, and that it wasn’t over, but it had been. Kevin had been the only one he’d seen for the entire time. His so-called friends had not bothered to visit, that was for sure.
Though, he guessed he couldn’t blame them. Who’d want to visit a man that’d been convicted of beating a woman nearly to death?
Hell, if he thought about it, he was damn lucky he’d only spent a year in this cage, all things considered.
He stood and paced to the door of his cell.
Never would he forget the look on Amanda’s face as he’d ran into the ER the night she’d been attacked.
The next thing he knew, he was being cuffed and Mirandized. Felonious Assault. At least the attempted murder hadn’t stuck.
No, Mandy hadn’t wanted him in prison for decades, apparently, and had refused to say she’d thought he’d intended to kill her.
As if that was supposed to make a difference. She’d still ruined his life. Ended his career.
He’d find her. He’d get his answers.
Because there were two things Brandon knew.
He hadn’t beaten her to a pulp.
But, someone had certainly done so—and with Amanda’s help, framed him for it.
Kevin had tried to keep track of her, but she’d managed to disappear.
That was okay.
He was a good tracker.
Chapter One
Amanda climbed from her bed with a tired sigh. She didn’t need to look at the calendar to know that Brandon had been out of prison for a week now. She didn’t need to look in the mirror on her closet to know that she looked stressed. Her long blond hair was pulled up into a knot at the back of her neck; otherwise, it knotted when she slept. Her blue eyes, she knew, held shadows beneath them almost the color of the eyes themselves. And she’d lost weight, weight she hadn’t needed to lose.
Would he come after her?
She shook her head. That was a silly question. There was little doubt he’d come after her—if he could find her.
As she padded to the bathroom, she grabbed her clothes for the day. Another day of college. Higher Education.
That was a laugh. It was the absolute last place she wanted to be. Still, it was a good place to hide. There were thousands of students on the campus, and she’d changed her last name.
In all the time she’d spent with Brandon, she’d never once mentioned going to school to him, though he’d tried to tell her that she should get her degree in education.
She turned on the shower and stripped out of her sweats. She had a class she didn’t even want to attend in a little over thirty minutes, so she’d have to hurry. Not that it took her long, she mused as she stepped into the shower stall.
Rarely did she bother with make-up and the like. She might be around the same age as most of the other students—twenty-three—but she was years older in experience. And she certainly wasn’t looking for the hook-ups many girls in college were. Her only goal was to hide. She showered quickly, and then shut off the water.
Wrapped in a towel, she went back to her room and grabbed the first things she saw in the closet—a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. It really didn’t matter what she looked like. Just so she didn’t stand out and didn’t draw attention to herself.
Fifteen minutes later, book bag in hand, she was on her way to English. She always sat near the back of the large class. She never raised her hand to answer questions, but she made sure that she did well in her classes. No, she couldn’t draw attention to herself, but she did want to do well. Failing or skipping the courses would draw scrutiny, too.
Maybe, some day, this nightmare would be over and she could have a real life again. A life where she didn’t have to look over her shoulder, though she certainly wasn’t holding her breath that the life she’d always wanted was even possible.
As the professor droned on, she took notes, but soon, those notes turned to doodles. The class bored her to tears, if she was honest with herself. She already knew the material, probably almost as well as the prof did.
Once, English had been her favorite subject. She’d loved literature in all its forms.
Now, it was simply a class she was required to take and pass to earn the degree she didn’t really want.
“Ms. Wilson, can you tell us, please, what Shakespeare meant when he said that?”
Amanda snapped out of her musings. “Excuse me?”
Professor Simons had never called on her before like this. What was going on? What was he even talking about? She realized she hadn’t even been really paying attention to the lecture at all.
“What did Shakespeare mean?” he repeated, clearly irritated.
“I don’t know,” she replied honestly. How could she? She had no clue which of Shakespeare’s quotes he was referring to, and wasn’t about to ask. “I guess my mind was wandering, Professor Simons.”
“I’d like to see you after class, Ms. Wilson,” he said.
She flushed, but nodded, with her heart pounding. Something was wrong. Why did he want to talk to her? She was sure she was passing the class. She’d aced the mid-term and had gotten an A on the report she’d done as well.
One off day at the college level shouldn’t promote him calling her out like that. It was all she could do not to get up and run from the room.
But she didn’t.
She listened as another student answered the question—which she’d known the answer to, after all—and made sure she didn’t let her mind wander again.
Against her will, she jumped when students started to rise at the end of the class. Hesitantly, she walked up to the front of the lecture hall. “I’m sorry, Professor,” she began. “I guess I didn’t get enough sleep and my mind wandered. It won’t happen again.”
Professor Simons sat at the desk and looked up at her, his expression thoughtful. “Is something bothering you, Amanda?” he asked gently.
Amanda felt tears burn, but didn’t dare let them fall. Don’t draw attention to yourself; she repeated the mantra in her mind. “No. Just a lot of work to get through.”
It was obvious that he didn’t believe her by the look on his face.
Would she have to leave school? What if the other instructors were talking about her? She couldn’t afford to have that happen.
“Well, I’m here if you need to talk. I’ll let you go. Just remember that, okay?”
“Um. Sure. Thanks. Everything is fine,” she said quickly.
She left the room before he could say more and decided to skip her next class.
Maybe it was time to consider moving on? Perhaps coming to school had been a bad plan, after all. She was in her second year, and was doing okay, but if she was honest with herself, her heart just wasn’t in it.
When she walked back into her room, she was surprised to find a girl waiting by her door. Once more, her heartbeat accelerated. “Can I help you?” she asked, her tone stiff.
“Oh hi! I’m Tracy. I was told that I’d be sharing this dorm room with you,” she said brightly.
Amanda was shaking her head before the perky Tracy, in her short-shorts and tank top, wearing three-inch heels, finished. “There’s some mistake, Tracy. This is a single. There isn’t even a second bed in here.”
“Oh, I know,” Tracy assured her. “But the RA said that the dorm was full, so they are doubling up. I’m sure it won’t be for too long.”
Great. They’d gotten her a roommate in a room that was barely big enough for a twin bed and a desk. “Oh.” What else could she say? With a reluctant sigh, she unlocked the door to the room. “Me casa es tu casa,” she said with a forced smile in first-year Spanish.
Tracy smiled brightly and skipped into the room. Seriously, do girls really skip?
Amanda stopped before shutting the door. Tracy may have looked like a bubble-headed eighteen-year-old—but one thing was missing, she suddenly realized. The girl didn’t have any baggage with her, which put her on alert. She stood by the open door. “Where’s your stuff?” she asked.
“Oh, it’s down in my car. I didn’t want to make the trip with it, just in case you weren’t around,” Tracy said easily as she walked to Mandy’s bed and plopped herself onto the edge.
“Isn’t it a bit late for new students?” That had bothered her, too. It was already past mid-point in the semester. There is no way a new student could catch up.
“I’ve been talking classes online, so I’m just coming to finish them up at campus.”
Amanda decided she needed to talk to the RA. What if Brandon had sent her? Worse, what if those after her had? “Oh. Well, I’m late for class. I’ve got to go. Make yourself comfortable,” she added a bit dryly, since it was obvious Tracy had done just that.
“Thanks! I’ll go get my stuff and have them bring me a bed. I’m sure we’ll be great friends!” she called cheerily as Mandy closed the door.
“Don’t count on it,” Mandy said under her breath as she headed for the RA’s room.
Something just didn’t feel right…
Chapter Two
Brandon stood outside the gates, waiting for Kevin to come pick him up. He’d gathered quite a few books over the last year, but had left most of them for the other inmates to read in the library.
All he’d brought with him were his personal possessions, which were few and far between. Hopefully, Kevin would bring his car. He was looking forward to being behind the wheel again.
He looked up at the sky—and took a deep breath of the first free air he’d breathed in twenty-four long months.
He’d had on jeans and a T-shirt when he’d been arrested, and though Kevin had, of course, brought him a suit for the trial, he’d found no need to have it sit in the prison for two years. He’d only kept the clothes he’d had with him the day he’d been arrested.
The shoes he wore now had been a pair of his favorites, but his feet weren’t used to the quality leather.
He knew damn well he looked different. He’d been a cop—and had looked his part. His hair had been closely cropped. Now, it hung well past his shoulders, but he’d discovered he kind of liked it long, and kept it tied back in a leather strip.
He rarely bothered shaving, and had a few days growth of beard—another drastic change for him.
Lastly, he knew he was damn pale, having little sun over the last year.
Hell, he thought in disgust, he looked like exactly what he was: an ex-con.
The day was sunny and warm—and too bright for someone not used to it. He cursed at his lack of sunglasses. But then, he hadn’t had sunglasses on when they’d slapped the cuffs on him, now had he? he thought bitterly.
Kevin’s Lincoln pulled up and Brandon forced a smile and tossed his bag in to the back seat, then climbed into the front. “Hey, thanks for coming after me, man. You didn’t have to.”
“Nonsense,” Kevin said. “You look good.”
Brandon gave a chuckle at that. He’d already had that discussion with himself. “Yeah. If you say so. So, I was hoping you’d bring my car. I was kind of hoping to drive it.”
“Your license isn’t expired?” Kevin asked.
Brandon shook his head. “I’d just had it renewed. At least you don’t lose your license when you’re a con.” He’d damn sure lost every other right. He wasn’t even allowed to vote anymore; having been convicted of a felony.
“Well, then, let’s go get your car. I had your house opened up for you,” Kevin said with a smile. “Thought you might appreciate sleeping in your own bed tonight.”
Brandon had no intention of staying in town long, but he couldn’t tell Kevin that. He knew Kevin would only try and talk him out of it. Brandon had served his full sentence; he wasn’t on parole. Still, as an officer of the court, he’d be legally bound to report his client’s intent if he’d planned on leaving to hunt Amanda. He wasn’t about to put him in that position—because he also knew Kevin would do no such thing. “Thanks.” Though, Kevin was right about one thing—it would be nice to stretch his long six-three frame in his king sized bed—even if it was only for a short while. “Appreciate it.”
There was a long moment of silence, and Brandon turned to look at him. “What?” he asked at last.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t do more,” Kevin said quietly. “I really thought I’d be able to sort it out.”
Brandon knew his friend felt badly that the conviction had held. “It’s not your fault, Kevin. I know you did all you could. I’ll be fine. I was fine in there,” he said, pointing at the fence. “You know I was kept in protective custody. Thanks to you, I’m sure.”
Kevin sighed. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”
“I know. Listen, let’s get out of here, okay? I’d really like a different view.”
With a nod, Kevin pulled away from the prison.
Brandon leaned back on the soft leather. “Got a spare pair of shades?”
“Sure, in the glove compartment. I always keep a spare pair in there somewhere.”
Brandon found the pair and slipped them on. “Thanks. Sun’s bright today.”
Neither mentioned that the sun wouldn’t have normally bothered him much. Brandon had always loved the sun. Watching the sun come up with Mandy had been…
No.
He forced himself not to think of the good times they’d shared. It had all been a lie. She’d been lying to him from the start.
After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, Kevin finally spoke. “Brandon, what are you thinking? You’re not going after her, are you?
”
Brandon smiled, his eyes hidden behind the sunglasses. “Now, Kevin, you know I’m not allowed to have any contact with Miss Wilson.”
Kevin shook his head, his brow furrowed. “Brandon, just let it go. I know you loved being a cop, but you can easily afford not to work—at least until you find what you want to do with your life now.”
Brandon looked at his life-long friend. He looked the part of the high class attorney. His brown hair was perfectly cut. His suit, Brandon knew, would have been tailored for him. He had a penchant for Italian leather shoes.
They had both grown up with money. Kevin had gone into law, and Brandon had been set to join him in law school, but after the death of his parents, had shifted to criminology instead. He wanted to stop the bad guys, not defend them or prosecute them. It had done nothing to diminish their friendship, though.
They were no longer as alike as they had once been. He was much more jaded now than he had been. Even his parents’ deaths hadn’t affected his general outlook on life as much as what Amanda Wilson had done.
“Don’t do anything stupid, Brandon. I don’t want to visit you behind bars again,” Kevin warned angrily.
“I won’t do anything stupid,” he promised. No, it wasn’t at all stupid to find out why the woman he’d loved and thought had loved him in return had destroyed his life. He was going to get back his good name. The career was gone now; but his name was something he’d damn well get back. “You have my word I won’t do anything stupid.”
Kevin visibly relaxed. “Good. So, what do you say we stop and get a bite to eat? I haven’t been to Russo’s in a while. Are you up for some Italian?”
“Sure,” Brandon said easily, though he certainly wasn’t dressed for a nice restaurant. “I could eat.” What he’d really wanted to eat more than anything was a huge Whopper or Big Mac, but he knew that Kevin was trying to help, and didn’t want to upset him.
As they rode, Brandon looked at the city it had once been his job to protect. He still loved this city. He’d be sad to leave it, but Amanda wasn’t here. He’d known she’d run, and she had. He’d considered having Kevin hire a PI to keep her tailed, but had decided against it.