Edge of Betrayal (5 page)

“This is hardly touching, Mira.” Though it felt very much like the real thing.

“It’s more than enough. You should let go.”

He tried to. He issued the order to his hands to move, but they stayed curled around hers, enjoying the smooth feel of her skin inside his grasp.

To cover his lack of discipline, he said, “Am I hurting you?”

She swallowed hard enough that he could see her throat move. He swore her pupils flared, and if he didn’t know better, he’d think she was looking at him the same way she had the night of their one and only date—like a woman who was very much interested in the fact that he was a man.

“That’s not the point.”

“No. The point is you’re not the kind of woman who likes to ask for help, which forces your partner to be the kind of man who gives it to you, whether or not you ask for it.”

Anger forced a snarl on her lips a second before she shot to her feet. The mug tilted wildly, sending the hot tea all over his front.

She’d doused him like this once before, only that time, he’d arranged for it to happen. She’d been extremely apologetic, too—something the look on her face told him was not going to happen this time.

“Just stop it with the partner bullshit. Whatever game you’re playing, you won’t win. I won’t fall for you or your lies again.”

Which meant she had fallen for him before.

Strangely, the idea that he’d had her romantic attention and lost it was what upset him most. Not the drenched shirt or the burning skin. Not her current anger or her refusal to trust him. It was the idea that she could have loved him that he found most compelling.

No one had ever loved him before—at least not that he could remember. His parents had birthed him and his brother as an experiment, just to see if their theories were correct. Even his baby brother had clung to him more out of fear than love.

What would it be like for a woman as fierce and intelligent as Mira to love him?

A tiny part of him grieved that he would never know.

Mira stormed off, slamming her bedroom door behind her.

Adam found a towel in the kitchen and dried off as much as possible. The damp fabric felt cool against the slight burn of his skin. He was sure it was all the comfort he would find tonight.

Not that he needed comfort. That was for other men. Real men—not the product of human experimentation. Adam was designed to need very little to survive, and
things like love and comfort were merely foreign concepts that gave him something to ponder as he made a slow security sweep of the house.

Tonight, Mira would be safe, and that was really all he needed.

R
iley Conlan barely heard the knock on his door over the sound of rain pounding on his roof.

It was nearly midnight, and he’d been lying awake in bed, hoping for sleep to find him. His body was exhausted from the job he’d finished earlier tonight, but his mind was slow to process and had not yet let go of the details.

The sheer magnitude of devastation the Threshold Project had caused was utterly staggering. So many lives ruined, all in the pursuit of power.

He rolled out of bed and slid on the pair of sweats he’d shed earlier. His Glock was holstered on his nightstand, and he grabbed it more out of habit than worry.

A glance through the peephole in his front door showed only the top of a drenched hoodie and a slender body hunched against the wind.

With one hand on the weapon he’d tucked at the small of his back, he unlocked his door and pulled it open.

The woman standing there looked up. He knew her instantly. Would have known her anywhere. She’d spent the worst night of her life with him and then disappeared, leaving him reeling.

Riley’s heart stopped beating for a long moment as he struggled with his disbelief. “Sophie?”

Sophie Devane stood there, shivering and drenched. She glanced behind her as if expecting Satan himself to be on her heels. Fear quavered in her voice. “Can I come in?”

He nearly smacked himself for making her stand out there this long. Poor thing was freezing to death, and here he was, gawking like an idiot.

He stepped back, giving her room to pass, then closed and locked the door behind him.

There was no car in his driveway or parked on the street. No cab pulling away.

Had she walked in this weather? And what the hell was she doing here?

Riley turned to see her standing at the edge of his tile entryway. She was clearly trying not to drip on the carpet, even though every inch of her was soaked to the skin.

She pulled the hood from her head, revealing a thick, strawberry blond braid. It was dark from the rain, dripping down one shoulder. Her skin was visibly pale, making every one of her freckles stand out in contrast. There was a faint bluish tint to her lips, and her fingers were an angry red color.

She wasn’t wearing rain gear or a winter coat—just a lightweight hoodie that was clearly not meant for this time of year. Even in Texas.

“Are you okay?” he asked, trying to wrap his head around her unexpected presence.

She gave a shaky nod. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

“How did you get here?”

“I walked.” The way she said it, he was certain there was more to it than that, but he didn’t press for details. Yet.

“You’re freezing.”

“Yeah. I kinda am. I’m glad you were here, or I’d have been screwed.”

She carried no bag. Not even a purse.

A million questions bulged in his mind, but he kept them in check. First things first. “Come with me.” He led her to the bathroom and started a warm shower. “Take your time. I’ll set clothes outside the door. Then we’ll talk.”

She nodded again. “Thanks, Riley. For letting me in. I don’t exactly deserve a warm welcome after the way I left things.”

“We’ll talk about it later. Just get warm.”

He found some sweats with a drawstring, the smallest, warmest shirt he could find, and some wool socks he never wore because they were too hot. He piled everything outside the door while he went into the kitchen and heated up some canned soup. By the time she was out of the shower, he had a stack of blankets on the couch waiting for her, and a steaming bowl of chicken noodle.

His clothes swallowed her up, hiding all but her hands, feet, and head. Her hair was wrapped up in a towel, and a bit of color had returned to her cheeks.

He waited until she was comfortably settled and had a few bites of soup before he let his curiosity free. “What the hell are you doing here? In the middle of the night? In the rain? With no coat or purse?”

The spoon stalled out halfway to her mouth. “I had a chance to run. I took it.”

“Run from what?”

She set the bowl aside. “Not what. Who.”

“Okay, then. Who?”

Her gaze strayed from his, and he could practically see her shrink. “My dad was a shitty man. Into a lot of bad stuff. He died a few months ago, and the inheritance he left wasn’t a good one.”

“I don’t understand.”

She pulled his sweatshirt sleeves over her hands and curled deeper into the pile of blankets. “He owed a lot of people a lot of money. Word got out that I was worth more than he owed if I was delivered to the right people.”

“What?” It was more a bellow than a question.

“I know. I thought I left all of that behind me when Soma was killed.”

“Who are
the right people
?”

“I have no clue. The men who found me wouldn’t say.”

“Did you know the men?”

She still hadn’t looked him in the eye yet, and he was starting to wish she would. He couldn’t tell if she was hiding something or ashamed. Maybe neither, but there was definitely something going on that made her avoid his gaze.

Sophie nodded. “I’d seen them before. Years ago. Same guys who always came around to collect when Dad lost a big bet.”

Bookies? Loan sharks? Enforcers? It hardly mattered. They were all bad news.

“Start at the beginning,” he said, trying to keep his voice calm. “Tell me what happened, starting with the day you left the hospital without saying good-bye.”

Her eyes lifted, and her pale green gaze met his.

He felt like he’d been hit in the gut with a battering ram. There was so much beauty there. So much pain.

He wanted to wash it all away, which made him the biggest sucker to ever walk the planet.

Sophie had left him. After he’d rescued her. After he’d helped her through her miscarriage. After he’d brought her home and made sure she was safe. She’d just . . . left.

She hadn’t even said good-bye.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she said.

“Who says you did?” he asked, his tone chilly.

She looked away again, and he suddenly missed the
connection. Her voice became distant, as if reciting a history lesson. “I went back to Louisiana. Got a waitressing job. I wanted to make a fresh start.”

“But?”

“As soon as I called Dad to check on him, I found out that he’d died while I was held captive in Colombia. Guess Benny and his goons had been keeping his phone line paid up, hoping I would make contact. They used the number of the diner where I worked to find me.”

“And they drove you all the way here?”

“No. I saw them coming and ran. I didn’t know where else to go, so I headed here.”

Toward him.

Riley didn’t know if he should be more furious or flattered. He was the first person she’d thought of when she’d gotten in trouble, but she hadn’t bothered to pick up the phone and call him to tell him she was alive and well?

After what they’d been through, that hurt.

“They tracked you all the way to Dallas?” he asked.

She nodded. “My car died about twenty miles south of here. I abandoned it and set out on foot. It was dark. I thought I’d lost them, but I was wrong.”

“What happened?”

The pile of blankets seemed to shrink as she curled up tighter beneath them. “I stopped for water at a gas station this afternoon. They grabbed me. Threw me in their car.”

“How’d you get away?”

“One of them made a call. There was a woman on the other line. I could hear her through the plastic. She was angry that they’d taken so long to find me.”

Riley couldn’t stay on the other side of the room any longer. The fear radiating from her was too much for him to ignore. He had to comfort her—if not for her, then for himself.

He got up from his chair, took a seat on the cushion next to hers and put his hand on her shoulder. “Did you recognize the woman’s voice?”

“No. But I could tell she wasn’t going to ask me to go for a pedicure with her. I swear she said something about an autopsy. That’s when I bolted.”

“What do you mean?”

“The guy sitting in back to keep me in line had a pen in his pocket. I stabbed him in the thigh with it and dove out the car door.”

She stabbed him? Guess little Sophie was more vicious than he thought. “Please tell me they were parked.”

She shook her head. “They were only going about twenty. I landed well. Rolled. It hurt, but I’m fine. Wish I’d taken my purse with me, though. Or at least some cash.”

He didn’t believe that she was fine. He followed her arm until he found her hand and pushed back the sleeve. Just as he’d thought, her palms were covered in a rash of scrapes and bruises. “Any other injuries?”

“No. Like I said, I landed well.”

“Tell that to your hands.”

“They’ll heal. I’m more worried about staying alive.”

“After you jumped, did they come after you?”

“Oh yeah. It took me several hours to lose them before I came here. I didn’t want them to find you, so I was careful.”

“How did you know where I lived?”

A faint blush crept up her cheeks. “I checked you out as soon as I got home. I even called your mom once. She’s really sweet.”

He was stunned silent for a second. Sophie had checked on him? Why hadn’t she just called him? “My mom told you where I lived?” If so, he was going to have to have a serious talk with her.

“She thought I was selling life insurance and that you
should have some. She thought I was going to mail you an information packet. Don’t be too hard on her. She really had no clue who I was.”

Riley tabled his anger—at both women—to focus on the problem at hand. “Are these men the kind who give up easily?” He hoped.

“Not a chance. This doctor chick wants me and is willing to pay good money to get her hands on me.”

Doctor?

All kinds of warning bells and sirens were blaring in his skull. “Did you get a name?”

“No, but it looks like you might know her.”

“I hope not.” If he did, Sophie had bigger troubles than a couple of thugs. Not that he was going to tell her that and scare her more. Not when she so clearly needed rest. “You should get some sleep.”

“I’d argue, but I’m too tired. It’s been a few days since I did more than close my eyes for a minute. I can’t even think straight right now.”

That made two of them. “The couch is yours if you want it, but my bed is more comfortable. I’d feel better if you took it.”

“And what about you?”

“I’ll be fine. I have some work to do still tonight, and it won’t be the first night I’ve fallen asleep on the couch this week. Go on. Get some rest.” He had some research to do on Sophie.

Namely, why Dr. Stynger might want to get her hands on Sophie and what he could do to make sure it never happened.

*   *   *

It wasn’t until Sophie was safely behind a closed, locked door that she let herself cry.

She’d hurt Riley. It had been the last thing she’d meant to do when she’d left. He’d been so sweet to her. So kind.

That was why she’d run away. He was better off without her. He hadn’t known it at the time, but
she
had.

And here she was, in his home, asking him to help her again.

But what choice did she have? There was no one else she could turn to.

The fact that she was here now proved just how right she’d been to leave him in the first place. A good woman would have never brought trouble to his doorstep. A good woman would have never been in trouble like hers to begin with.

Lies, bad luck, and bad blood. That was what she had to offer.

He deserved a hell of a lot more than that.

Still, she couldn’t bring herself to leave. She needed to feel safe—just for a few hours. Sleep, recharge. Plan her next step.

The only time she’d ever truly felt safe was with Riley. Even with bullets flying and her in the midst of losing her baby, she’d known without a doubt that he would get her out alive.

Her baby.

The tears fell faster now. She had to shove her fist against her mouth to keep from making a sound.

She hadn’t planned to get pregnant, but she would have given anything to save her child.

Just one more thing stolen from her, like her childhood, her freedom, and the life she should have had.

Sophie let herself grieve for a full minute before she pulled herself back in control. She needed to sleep. There was no way to know when she might get another chance to rest. She’d learned long ago to take what she could when she could and not ever believe there would always be more where that came from.

There were no guarantees in this life. No certainties.

Except Riley.

She was certain he’d help her or die trying. He was
one of the good ones. One of the few real heroes in the world.

Sophie had preyed on enough of them to know one when she saw him.

And now she was preying on Riley, too.

More tears burned her eyes, but she held them back. She would sleep now because that’s what she needed. Tomorrow she’d wake up and regroup, eat and plan, because that’s what she would need to do tomorrow.

Everything else, including her feelings for a man too good to be real, was irrelevant.