Edge of Betrayal by Shannon K. Butcher Page A

the other side of the pantry door. Adam.
    “You can come out now.”
    She kept her weapon in her hand, just in case it was some kind of trick, but kept it aimed at the floor. The last thing she wanted to do was shoot Adam if he didn’t deserve it.
    The dead bolt slid silently open, and the door swung out.
    Adam stood there, shirtless. A few drops of blood were splattered across his chest. Her stomach did a low, queasy dive, and she grabbed the wall with her free hand to steady herself.
    He wrapped his long arm around her waist and practically lifted her into a kitchen chair.
    “Please tell me that’s not your blood,” she said.
    “It’s not.” He went to the sink and wet a cloth. A few seconds later, the blood was gone.
    “What happened?”
    “I took care of the problem. You should probably stay in here until I have time to clean it up.”
    “Problem? An armed man shoots at you, and you call it a problem?”
    “What would you call it?” he asked.
    “A catastrophe. A freakin’ nightmare. Reason to call the cops.”
    Her hands were shaking harder now as adrenaline leaked from her system. Adam gently took her gun and slid it back into her holster.
    “Nothing so dramatic as all that,” he reassured her. “It was more along the lines of a message.”
    “How’s that?”
    “Norma Stynger isn’t happy that I left her employ. This was her way of showing her displeasure.” Something about the look on his face made her question if he was hiding something.
    “Are you sure she sent the shooter?”
    “No, but I’ll go through his cell phone records in a minute. He’s not going anywhere.”
    “Did you kill him?”
    “No. Would you have preferred that I did?” His tone was only slightly curious, almost conversational.
    “No,” she snapped, disgusted at the idea.
    “That was what I assumed your preference would be, especially if he happened to be one of your father’s subjects.”
    The idea chilled her to the bone. Was there ever going to be an end to the damage that man had done? Or would she be constantly running into the ruined remains of the lives he’d destroyed?
    Adam left the kitchen, returning a moment later with a blanket and a cell phone. He set the phone on the table in front of her and draped the blanket over her and the chair she sat in.
    Grateful for the warmth and comfort, she wrapped the thick fabric more closely around her body while she powered up the phone.
    “It’s password protected,” she said.
    “Is that a problem for you?”
    “No, but I’ll need to take it back to my office. I camewith dinner, but not the right connection cables for his phone.”
    “Are you hungry?”
    Even the idea of putting something in her stomach made it lurch in rebellion. “Uh, no. I may never eat again.”
    A minute later, a cup of hot tea appeared in front of her. She had no idea how he’d made it wink into existence. She hadn’t seen him heat the water or even so much as pull a mug from the cupboard.
    She must have been a lot worse off than she thought.
    Mira glanced up at him. Her gaze made the long journey from his ripped abdomen, up over his sleekly muscled chest, all the way along his angled jaw, until she was looking into his eyes.
    “How did you do that?” she asked.
    “Do what?”
    “The tea. I didn’t see you make it.”
    “We all deal with fear in our own way. You were busy processing.”
    “What about you? How do you deal with it?” she asked.
    He lifted one broad shoulder, which caused a symphony of muscles to dance along his torso. By the time the distraction ended she was once again able to look him in the eye.
    He was blushing. “Not well.”
    “What do you mean? You seem to be dealing well with it to me.”
    “That’s because that little incident didn’t frighten me. It was merely a nuisance.”
    “If that was a nuisance, then what does it take to scare you?”
    He stared at her for a long minute. “The last time I was truly afraid, your best friend was pointing a gun