Getting the Edge: Betrayed Book 1

by Welsh, Hope

  They walked inside quietly. The RA was apparently not paying much attention, as any stranger coming into the dorm this time of night should have caused at least a question as to what was going on. Vincent University wasn’t keen on overnight guests in the dorms, but the halls were empty.

  “I need my keys,” she said, pausing at a door.

  Brandon handed over her purse. He’d already looked inside and knew that other than the phone, a tube of lipstick, wallet, and keys, it was empty. When she’d pulled out the keys, he took them and unlocked the room, then reached around the corner for the light switch.

  “Get what you need, Amanda. For a few days. Make it look like you decided to have a weekend away,” Brandon said.

  She knew he was watching him as she grabbed a couple pairs of jeans from the closet and some T-shirts. “Where are we going?”

  “Just get the stuff, and write the note so we can get out of here,” he said stiffly, pacing the small room.

  “Am I coming back?” she asked quietly. She wasn’t sure she wanted to hear the answer.

  “I’m losing patience, Amanda. You have two minutes, and we’re leaving—with whatever I decide to grab.”

  “I need some things from the bathroom.”

  “Then get them.” He followed her into the small room and watched to be sure she didn’t grab anything dangerous, she assumed.

  She didn’t have any kind of weapon—and she didn’t think she’d have had the heart to use one even if she had. She grabbed a brush and her toothpaste and such, then tossed it into the small case Brandon held out to her.

  “Write the note,” he ordered, pointing to the desk. “Tell her you are going away for the weekend with a friend.”

  She nodded and sat at the desk and did as he asked. “Can I bring my computer?”

  “Why? Do you want to email someone?” he taunted. “Sorry, don’t think so.”

  “Look, this girl just moved in here today. I don’t know her. I don’t want my computer left here.”

  With almost a snarl, Brandon picked up the computer and slid it under his arm. “Let’s go. Time’s up.” He’d watched when she’d written the note, and couldn’t figure she’d put in anything that would be any sort of warning to anyone that she was in trouble.

  “Can I change?”

  He shook his head. “You have clothes here.” He didn’t think she’d try to run in what she had on. Not on those shoes, at any rate. “But you can grab some tennis shoes if you have them, and put them in the bag.”

  Amanda nodded and grabbed a pair of shoes from the closet and stuffed them into the bag, along with a few underthings she’d also forgotten to pack. And something to sleep in.

  Brandon stood at the door and after being sure the hall was clear, motioned for her to go out. He closed and locked the door, then pocketed her keys. “Your car somewhere safe?” he demanded.

  “Why? Afraid it might be stolen?”

  His eyes narrowed and he gripped her arm. “Answer the question.”

  “I don’t have a car!” she snapped, her voice low.

  “Then let’s go.” He didn’t let go of her arm, but he also wasn’t hurting her, and he knew it. He led her back outside and put her case and the computer into the trunk of his car.

  After opening the car door, he waited for her climb in.

  She stood stiffly for a moment, her eyes on his.

  Then did the last thing he’d expected her to do.

  She lifted her skirt and ran.

  Chapter Five

  Amanda looked over her shoulder as she ran from him. “Stupid,” she muttered. It had been stupid to try to run from him here on campus.

  She didn’t need the questions if one of the security police on campus saw someone pursuing her through the damn street.

  Getting Brandon tossed back in jail wasn’t what she wanted. Just when she’d decided to stop, she felt his arm wrap around her waist from behind.

  His voice in her ear was colder than she’d ever heard it. “Don’t try that again, Amanda. You won’t like the results.” He wrapped his hand around her waist and led her back to the car.

  When he opened the door, she climbed in and didn’t say anything. Of course he’d caught her. She’d known he would. Stupid. She should have tried to get away later—when she’d somehow made him trust her.

  Now, it was too late. There was no chance he’d give her another opportunity.

  They rode in silence for almost half an hour before she just couldn’t stand it anymore. “Where are you taking me?” They were headed toward the interstate, and she wondered if he was planning on going back home.

  Home.

  It hadn’t been home for a long time.

  “You’ll see when we get there,” he replied, barely sparing her a glance.

  “Brandon this is stupid. What do you think you’re going to accomplish?” she asked. “What is this going to do other than get you into more trouble?”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

  It didn’t take a genius to know that his too-soft voice meant he was more than a little angry. She knew him well. Rather, she had known him well.

  She didn’t know this angry man sitting next to her at all. He’d changed so much.

  And it was her fault. But, what could she have done differently? “No,” she admitted. “I wouldn’t.”

  His head snapped around so he could look at her. “Really? And just what would have happened if one of the campus security had seen you running from me?” he queried. “You had every intention of someone seeing you run from me.”

  It wouldn’t do her any good to argue with him. He wasn’t going to believe her, and she couldn’t blame him at all.

  When he pulled off the interstate and turned the car down a side road, her heart began to race. A year ago, she’d never have been at all worried. Now? How much had he changed? It looked like they were heading into the middle of nowhere.

  “Where are you taking me?”

  If he heard the fear in her voice, he didn’t say anything. “I rented a cabin. We need some alone time. To catch up,” he said with a lift of his brow. “I mean, you didn’t write, didn’t call. Of course we’d need to catch up.”

  She didn’t miss the sarcasm in his tone and bit her lip, her eyes on the road. “No, I didn’t write or call.”

  The reply was a raw laugh. “Lord, did you think I was serious? You’re the last person I expected to hear from, Amanda. Actually, I didn’t hear from many people for the last two years.”

  Guilt ate at her. She’d assumed his friends would have supported him—believed him. They’d often gone out with his friends on double dates. She honestly had not thought they’d do more than just kick him off the force. Landing him in jail had never been what she’d expected.

  When they’d first met, he’d been the first cop on the scene of a murder she’d witnessed. She’d been a terrified young girl—barely twenty-one.

  Her friends had taken her to a bar and she’d been more than a bit drunk as she’d been walking home. At least she’d been smart enough to have left her car at the bar.

  It had only been a couple of blocks to her house, so she’d decided to walk—to sober up.

  Half-way home, she’d seen a shooting. As she’d been in the shadows, she hadn’t been seen, she hadn’t thought. Terrified, she’d called 9-1-1 from her cell.

  Brandon had been the first to arrive. He’d found her, terrified, huddled behind a car.

  It had taken him a few minutes to calm her down enough for her to tell him what had happened.

  Brandon had been her rock during the whole process. She’d been able to identify the man who had done the shooting from both mug shots and a line-up—at least one of them.

  The case had never gone to trial, though. The killer had been murdered in jail—the same jail Brandon had been locked up in. Kevin had told him after he’d been locked up himself. Brandon had always wondered about the coincidence of that murder just a day or two before the trial w
as due to begin.

  They’d started to date shortly after that night. Though at twenty-seven, he’d been several years older, they’d just clicked.

  The night after the shooting, she’d called him, terrified, in the middle of the night because she heard a strange noise. He’d come racing over. That had been their beginning. He’d stayed the night with her, slept on her couch.

  “Brandon?” she finally asked, breaking the silence.

  “What?”

  “Would it do any good at all to tell you I’m sorry?”

  Once more, he gave that raw laugh. “No, Amanda. None at all.”

  Brandon cursed to himself as he watched her. Damned if he hadn’t almost believed her words. Hell, maybe she was sorry—now. She certainly hadn’t been at the time. At least not enough to admit she’d been lying through her perfect white teeth.

  He’d tried to talk to her. How he’d wanted to believe that she’d been coerced into lying. But his friend, Kevin, had given her every opportunity to come clean and admit it.

  Brandon hadn’t allowed Kevin to attack her on the stand. Something in him had broken when he’d seen her in the hospital—so terrified and hurt.

  Sure it would all come out that there had been a mistake, he’d tried to call her from the jail.

  They’d been in love. Or at least he had. He’d loved her so damn much.

  How could he have been so wrong about her?

  What else had she lied about?

  He realized he didn’t know Amanda Wilson at all.

  Half an hour later, he stopped in front of the small cottage he’d rented under another name. It wouldn’t be linked back to him, if she’d somehow left a clue in the note, though he didn’t think she had.

  He shut off the engine and stuffed the keys in his pocket. He wouldn’t put it past her to try and drive away if she got a hold of the keys. “We’re here.”

  Amanda turned and looked at him. “What is this place?”

  “This is where we’re going to talk. Get out of the car, and by God, don’t you dare run.” He opened the door and climbed out of the car, and went to the trunk for her bag and his own.

  He damn well wasn’t leaving this place without the truth. See how she liked spending some time in a cell.

  “Let’s go,” he said when he’d slammed the lid back down. “After you.”

  Amanda walked up the three steps to the porch and waited for him to unlock the door. She went inside and stood, her arms folded across her chest.

  She looked afraid—but she also looked damn tired, he realized. He glanced at his watch. Well, hell, no wonder. It was after three in the morning.

  He was just as tired, he realized. “There’s a bedroom back to the left. Bathroom is attached.” He held out her bag to her.

  Amanda took the bag. “What? Aren’t you afraid I’ll climb out the window?”

  Brandon just headed down the hallway and looked over his shoulder. “Not really, as I’ll be in here with you.”

  “I’m not sleeping with you!” she snapped, stomping her foot. “I’ll sleep out here on the couch.”

  Brandon tossed his bag into the room and then turned to her, leaning on the door-jamb. “You have two choices, Amanda. You can come on your own, or I can carry you. You’ve got two seconds to make up your mind.”

  “Damn you!” she said, coming down the hall after him. She stormed past him and sat on the edge of the bed. “Now what?”

  “Look, it’s late and I’m tired. We’re going to talk, Amanda. But not tonight. I’m tired, and you’re tired.”

  “Why can’t I sleep out there?” she demanded, her arms crossed again.

  “Because I can’t trust you not to try and walk out of here,” he said flatly with a tired sigh. “I drove all damn day. I’m tired. And, to top it off, I’m not in a very good mood. We are at least a half an hour from the nearest town—and that’s by car. There are no neighbors to hear you if you start to scream, but I doubt you’ll believe any of that—so you’ll sleep in this bed with me, or you’ll sleep handcuffed to a chair. Your choice,” he finished flatly. “But I’m going to sleep.”

  Brandon kicked off his boots and unbuttoned his jeans. “I suggest you take me up on the little bit of privacy I’m willing to give you and use the bathroom there to change into something to sleep in.”

  With a huff, she picked up the bag and walked into the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

  Brandon had already secured the room ahead of time. The windows were nailed shut, and he’d damn well hear it if she tried to break one. He had the only key to the door in the room, and he also had the keys to the car. He didn’t plan on making it easy for her to try and get away from him—though he did know she’d try again.

  He took off his shirt and climbed in the bed.

  Ten minutes later, he was still waiting on her to come out. With almost a growl, he called to her. “Come on out, Amanda. Now, or I’m coming in there after you.”

  The door opened almost immediately. She stood in the dim light with her hair pulled into a long ponytail and dressed in a pair of sweats. She’d washed off all the make-up, and damned if she didn’t look like a much thinner version of the woman he’d fallen in love with.

  “Get in bed.”

  “I can’t sleep in that bed with you!” she insisted, once more crossing her arms. “I won’t.”

  Brandon tossed aside the sheet and climbed from the bed. He didn’t bother with words this time. He walked toward her, his eyes narrowed.

  “Don’t touch me!” she shrieked, backing away from him.

  Brandon didn’t say a word. He took a lunging step toward her when she tried to shut the door in his face. She shrieked when he picked her up and tossed her over his shoulder.

  “Stop it! Put me down!” she said, pounding on his back.

  Brandon chuckled and gave her ass a swat before tossing her on the bed. “Get under the covers and go to sleep, Amanda. Before you piss me off.”

  Amanda glared at him, obviously surprised he’d actually done that. He just grinned at her. “Care to test me?” he taunted.

  “You—you can’t just….hit me!”

  He threw back his head and laughed at that. “Hit you? You call that little tap hitting you? Lady, get real. Keep it up, though, and by God, I promise you, I’ll turn you across my knee!” he threatened, meaning every word.

  He climbed back into the bed and turned so he could see her furious face. “Now, lay down. Go. To. Sleep.”

  Brandon remembered the door, and got up to lock it, then brought the key back with him. He grabbed the keys from his pocket for the car, too, then put them both in the drawer next to the bed. “I’m a light sleeper, Amanda, don’t forget that.”

  “Just take me back to the university, Brandon. I won’t tell anyone what you did.”

  Brandon was just tired enough, and just frustrated enough to lose what little control he had on his temper. He rolled over so he was on top of her and held her arms over her head when she tried to fight him. “Keep it up, lady. Keep it up. Do you have any idea how angry I am? Do you even have the sense to care? Close your eyes and go to sleep. Unless you’d like…” He deliberately let his erection push against her. Hell, he hadn’t had sex in two years. Being on top of her had been enough to wake up his body.

  It had been a long time since he’d been with anyone, and his struggle with her had aroused him. Hell, she aroused him. She always had. “Well?” he demanded, tightening his fingers on her arms. “What will it be?”

  “I’ll go to sleep. Get off me.”

  Brandon stared down at her for a long moment, his eyes resting on her pink lips, then her flushed cheeks. God, but she could get to him. “Are you going to behave?”

  “Yes,” she said in a small voice.

  Brandon rolled off of her and sighed. “Just go to sleep, would you? I’m tired.”

  Amanda turned on her side and curled into a ball. In only a moment, Brandon heard her soft sobs and his heart clenched. No, dammi
t, he wasn’t going to fall for it.

  Not again.

  He rolled onto this side and pulled her against him. She struggled for only a moment, before stiffening. “I’m just making sure you don’t go anywhere,” he said. “I’m not hurting you. Go to sleep.”

  Not hurting her?

  He was killing her. This was killing her. What had she done to him?

  She couldn’t stop the quiet sobs, but she tried to. How had it come to this? How had they come to this point?

  At one point, being in his arms was exactly where she’d wanted to be—it still was where she wanted to be.

  Of course, he couldn’t know that. It was not safe for her to explain anything to him. It would only put them both at risk.

  Amanda knew Brandon well enough to know that he wouldn’t be able to let it go. If she’d tried to tell him what had really happened, she could only see one of two possible outcomes.

  He might just not believe her—which would be for the best, she knew.

  Or he could believe her—but it wasn’t in his make-up to just let things go. To move on. He’d want to go back and clear his name and get the people that had done this.

  No, she couldn’t say anything to him. It was best if he hated her. Best if she kept her guard up around him.

  It felt so good to be in his arms, even with him as angry as he was. She could feel the hard expanse of his chest against her back. His strong legs against her own.

  And yes, she could feel his desire as well. Brandon had always been a passionate lover. From the very beginning. Though, she knew that what he was feeling now was from nothing but their proximity.

  As he said, it had been a long time since he’d had a woman.

  She closed her eyes on another sob. There was no easy way out of this.

  Somehow, tomorrow, she’d have to talk him into taking her back. She’d get her things together and run again. Only, she’d do a better job of hiding.

  If he’d found her, there was no reason to believe others couldn’t as well.

  That thought terrified her. “Are you sure we weren’t followed?” she asked at last.