Getting the Edge: Betrayed Book 1 (5 page)

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.

“Who would follow us, Mandy? Just go to sleep before I gag you!” he growled, tightening his arms around her. “No more talking.”

Mandy. He’d called her Mandy. He was the only one that ever had. It was his own special nickname for her. It only made her heart break a little more to hear it from him in that furious, worn out, tone of voice. “All right.”

Soon, the exhaustion overwhelmed her, and she closed her eyes. She was tired.

So tired.

Chapter Six

The sound of the shower running in the bathroom woke her up the next morning.

She came awake instantly, and sat up on the edge of the bed.

A look at her watch showed that it was almost ten. She’d slept much longer than she’d thought she would.

How long had he been in the shower? Could she make it of the house before he could stop her?

She had to try, didn’t she? She climbed from the bed and ran to her bag and grabbed out a pair of the jeans and a shirt, then grabbed her shoes. She’d dress once she was out of the house.

Turning, she ran to the bedside table for the keys she’d seen him put in there the night before, then sighed when she’d opened the drawer.

The keys were gone.

Both to the door and to the car.

The window!

She went to the window and tried to push up the sash, but it wouldn’t budge. With a curse, she slammed her hand against the glass, then cried out as the window shattered and a piece of glass sliced into her hand and another into her wrist.

Brandon was by her side in an instant. He lifted her and carried her into the bathroom and sat her on the commode. “Don’t move,” he snapped.

He grabbed a cloth and wet it, then turned back to her. Picking up her hand, his eyes narrowed at the gouge in the side of her palm. It was bleeding badly, and would need stitches. But the cut on her wrist was deeper, and he knew it had at least nicked an artery, if the brighter blood that was pulsing rather than flowing was any indication—and he’d seen enough arterial bleeds to know what they looked like.

“Hold this,” he snapped. He grabbed her other hand and pushed it against the cloth. “Hold it!”

He lifted her hand up over her head and pressed against the wound on her wrist with a second cloth. “What the hell did you think you were going to do?” he bit out. “I told you, there was nowhere to run to.”

As he looked down into her paper-white face, he cursed again. She was seconds away from passing out on him. He gentled his voice and knelt in front of her, still holding the firm pressure on the cut to her wrist. “What were you thinking?”

“I didn’t mean to break it,” she admitted. “I-I hit it out of temper.”

Now that, he believed. Mandy had always had a temper. “Ah. Well, your little temper tantrum is going to cost you a few stitches. This is going to need sutured.”

“No,” she said flatly. “No sutures.”

Brandon wrapped her hand around the make-shift bandage so he could find his first-aid kit. “Just hold onto that. Keep the pressure on, and keep it elevated,” he ordered. “I’m going to go get the first-aid kit. Don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

He didn’t bother waiting for her to reply. He grabbed his jeans on the run and went to the car for the first-aid kit. Good thing he’d thought to take the keys out of the drawer. He’d put them back into his jeans before taking his shower.

Damn, he really hadn’t thought she’d try to get away so soon—at least not when she had no idea where they were.

But then, he guessed he couldn’t blame her. What else was she supposed to do? She had to know that he wasn’t going to take her home until he got some answers.

When he went back into the cabin, and to the bathroom, he found her slumped against the commode. Her eyes closed.

“Mandy!”

Her eyes fluttered open. “Stop yelling,” she slurred.

Damn it, she was going into shock. The cut was bad, but he hadn’t thought she’d lost
that
much blood.

He automatically looked down at her hand, though, and saw the small puddle of blood that had run down her arm and onto the floor.

She’d done more than nicked the artery, she’d obviously sliced it. Without a word, he opened the kit and drew out a roll of gauze and several packages of pads. “Stay with me, Mandy,” he ordered as he pressed the pads against the wound on her wrist, then wrapped it tightly with the gauze. It was the best he could do, short of putting on a tourniquet, which he didn’t want to do unless he had to.

“I’ve got to take you to the hospital, Mandy. Let me grab you some clothes, and we’ll go.” Who knew how long it would take for an ambulance to get to them here.

He was sure he’d seen a hospital when he’d went through the town the day before. His major concern was what she’d say when they got there.

Lifting her in his arms, he carried her out to the car, and placed her gently on the front seat. “Try to hold some pressure on it, okay?”

She gave a weak nod, but didn’t open her eyes or say a word.

Brandon raced back inside and grabbed his own shirt and shoes, then something for her to put on as well, and was back outside in less than a minute.

He was absolutely shocked to find that she’d actually gotten out of the car and tried to run.

Again.

She hadn’t made it far.

She was unconscious on the ground ten feet from the car.

What the hell was she trying to do to herself? he wondered. She had to know that she was in no shape to run. Not with a damn sliced wrist and all the blood she’d lost.

He grabbed his cell phone out of the glove-box and dialed 9-1-1. If she’d lost enough blood to be unconscious, she needed fluids.

Chances were very good that she’d give him up to the cops when they came, but he had little choice. He sure as hell wasn’t going to let her sit out here and die in the damn yard.

For half a minute, he considered leaving the minute the ambulance arrived, but knew he couldn’t do it.

He couldn’t leave until and unless he was sure she was going to be all right.

Brandon knelt next to her and lifted her into his arms again and carried her back into the house and put her on the couch.

He brushed her hair off her too-pale face. “Wake up, Mandy,” he said softly, touching her cheek. “Open those blue eyes for me.”

Slowly, her lashes fluttered open. “W-what happened?”

“You fainted,” he said flatly. “When you tried to run. Are you trying to kill yourself?”

She closed her eyes. “Go away. I don’t like you.”

He had to chuckle at that, knowing it was true. “I’m sure you don’t, Mandy. But, you’ll stay awake all the same until the medics get here to take you to the hospital.”

Those huge blue eyes opened again. He couldn’t place it, but would almost have said there was something like hope in them. “Why?”

“Why did I call the medics?” he said. “I can’t get my answers from you if you’re not well enough to give them to me.”

“I don’t want to go to the hospital. I told you that.”

“Should have thought of that before you broke the window,” he drawled.

“I’m thirsty,” she mumbled.

“Sorry, can’t give you anything yet. I don’t know if you’re going to need operated on. I have no idea how much damage you’ve done to yourself.”

They both heard the sirens at the same time. They’d arrived fast, thankfully.

Brandon went to the door, but turned back to her. “Don’t tell them, Amanda. Don’t say anything that we’ll both regret.”

He sighed as the paramedics walked into the house. He figured she’d immediately tell them that he’d kidnapped her, and waited for her to.

“What happened here?” a young man asked Brandon.

Brandon thought the kid looked about eighteen, but did see “EMT” on his sleeve. “She cut her hand on the window when she tried to open it.”

“The hospital is only a few miles from here.”

He knew what they were thinking. Calling an ambulance for a cut. People did it every day, and it likely got on their nerves. That wasn’t the case here. “Yes, but then she passed out. She cut her radial artery, I think. She lost a lot of blood.”

That got their attention. They took her blood pressure and whatever other readings they needed, before finally turning to Brandon. “She’s going to need to go in, I guess you know. Her BP is a bit low, so we’re going to start an IV. Can you give me her name and age?”

Brandon nodded and gave them the information. “I’ll get her things. I was just trying to get her to the car to drive her when she passed out.”

The medics frowned. “Where did this happen?”

Brandon knew that look. They injury could easily be mistaken for an attempted suicide. She wouldn’t be the first woman to slit her own wrists—or the first to lie about it.

“In the bedroom. You’re welcome to go look. This isn’t a suicide attempt.”

The two medics looked at each other, but the older of the two shrugged. “Let’s get her loaded.”

Chapter Seven

Brandon became more concerned once they’d loaded her into the ambulance. She’d passed out again. Damn it, she’d lost more blood than he’d thought. “How is she?” he demanded.

The EMT ignored him, of course, as he put a pressure dressing on Amanda’s arm. The other EMT started an IV—to give her fluids, he knew. He waited, not patiently, for them to finish their work so they could give him some answers.

When the younger of the two went to the front of the ambulance to drive, Brandon asked his question again. “How is she?” he demanded, his voice hard.

The EMT looked at him. “She’s lost too much blood. Her pulse is weaker than I’d like, but there is no reason to think she’s not going to be just fine once they get some blood into her,” he explained. “You can follow us to the hospital.”

Brandon had intended on riding to the hospital with her, but realized that he just couldn’t do that. He had no way to get them back to the house if he didn’t take his car, though he was loathe to leave her alone. Damn it, and not just because of what he feared she could tell them. He’d worry about his feelings later, though. “Right. Keep her safe,” he snapped, and closed the doors.

He was in his own car and following within ten seconds. The ambulance ran hot—lights and sirens—which only worried him more. That just wasn’t the norm for non-life-threatening conditions, and he knew it.

Admittedly, he was a nervous wreck by the time they pulled into the hospital a few minutes later.

He was on the heels of the EMTs as they wheeled her through the ER entrance. It didn’t take a medic to notice that she had not regained consciousness.

“What have you got?” a harried nurse asked as they wheeled her in.

“Female, twenty-three, radial artery sliced. BP 80/40, pulse 140 and weak,” the EMT reported.

The nurse’s eyes met the EMTs. “Suicide attempt?”

The medic shook his head. “He says not.” His head jerked toward Brandon. “Says a window broke. We found her on the couch in the living room.”

The nurse gave Brandon a look as the EMTs took Mandy into an empty cubicle.

Brandon met her gaze steadily. Just like attempted suicides were common—so were lies to keep them quiet. “She tried to open a window. I think she hit it when it wouldn’t open, and her hand slipped to the glass. Believe me, I know Amanda. She’s not at all suicidal.” The words were calm—much calmer than he was feeling. He wanted to tell the young nurse to get her ass in the room to take care of Amanda, but he also knew that causing a scene would only cause them to either call security or the cops.