Walking The Edge: A Romantic Suspense/Espionage Thriller (Corpus Brides Trilogy Book 1) by Zee Monodee

brain, but she couldn’t for the life of her move her body, as if some stimulus overdrive had frozen all nerve connections. Her lips parted, letting out only a small, strangled sound. The glass shook in her hand as she forced herself to move, to do anything, to respond to her mind’s command. Water spilled over her fingers and onto the sheet, and she would’ve dropped the glass had he not settled his fingers over her hand.
    *
    Gerard frowned. “What is it?”
    Something was wrong. Why would she react in this way?
    “Don’t do it,” she said, so softly he had trouble hearing her.
    It sounded like she struggled to form the words.
    “Don’t do what?” he prompted.
    “This. Drugs. No. Not again.” She paused, turning those huge eyes onto him. “Please.”
    That one word held so much despair he shivered from the raw emotion, the painful feeling laced within it. What the hell had happened to her? But then his cop instincts took hold.
    Hold on . She thought he wanted to drug her? Putain , if he’d wanted to do so, he wouldn’t have handed her the medicine, would he? He caught the terror in her eyes, in the pallor of her face, in the droop of her shoulders. She needed reassuring—everything screamed that he should handle her like one took care with an abuse victim.
    “I don’t want to drug you. We didn’t use any protection, and the medication will prevent you from getting pregnant,” he said, keeping his voice to a low, soothing tone.
    She still didn’t seem to understand. Could it be the shimmer of tears in her eyes?
    “The morning-after pill,” he added.
    She stared at the tablet in her hand, and then peeked up at him. So much trust battling with despair in those crystal-clear blue irises...
    Trust me , he wanted to say. But he didn’t, because she couldn’t, and shouldn’t, trust him. They weren’t from the same side.
    Finally, after a long moment, she pressed the tablet out of its wrapping. After placing it in her mouth, she swallowed it with a sip of water.
    The glass remained in her hand, and she made no move to either drink the rest or put it on the table.
    She represented an enigma, this woman. Slowly, a picture cleared in his mind. Someone had been toying with her. No one could fake the kind of distress he’d witnessed take hold of her when he gave her the pill. She also hadn’t lied, her eyes remaining focused on him and not looking left or right. For all her defiance and composure so far, deep down inside, a battered and hurt woman begged for release from whatever abyss she found herself in.
    “You want to tell me what happened?” he asked, taking the glass from her and placing it on the bedside table.
    She blinked.
    “You said you wouldn’t do it again. Take drugs.” He paused. “Someone made you take them?”
    Not uncommon for criminal ringleaders to keep their women under the influence and addiction of drugs. He also remembered the bruise on her arm; he threw another look at the injured flesh. He’d seen countless physical abuse victims in his life and career—that type of discoloration came from someone’s too-forceful grip. Yes, she must be a victim, in some way.
    She nodded, confirming his suspicions.
    “Who did this to you?”
    The tip of her tongue came out to wet her lips, and his gut tightened.
    “My husband. No. He said he was my husband—”
    “Hold on.” He couldn’t think straight anymore, and he stood, hoping that by pacing, he might infuse some sense into what she was saying. “You’re telling me you’re married? And to the man who drugged you? Do you even know what you’re talking about?”
    “No!”
    “No to what? You’re not married? Or it’s not your husband who—”
    “I don’t even remember who I am!”
    That silenced him and made him sit down on the edge of the bed.
    “How can this be?” he asked.
    Her lower lip trembled, and her eyes grew so wide. Every time she blinked, the sheen of tears deepened in her limpid blue gaze.
    She took a deep