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Damn dreams.
Why tonight? Why? It had been over three months since the last bout, and just when she’d thought she was finally mastering the demons, they’d come sneaking back.
She paced across the room. No way would she be going back to sleep. She couldn’t. Adrenaline had her walking faster, faster. Get out.
The apartment was too small. Too hot in the summer. Dee shoved open the balcony doors, but the air outside was even thicker, even hotter.
Her air conditioner droned with a low hum. Not doing her a damn bit of good.
Love you, Sandra Dee.
Her eyes squeezed shut. Hell, no. She wasn’t doing this. Not again.
Sirens wailed in the distance. There was always trouble somewhere in this city. Human killers. Supernatural monsters. Never any peace. Not for her, not anywhere.
No peace, but, maybe?—
Maybe there was something else she could have. For just a little while.
Her eyes opened. She turned around and fumbled for the card she’d tossed on her nightstand. Her fingers trembled when she touched the edge.
The minute she’d come home, she’d balled up the card and tossed it into the garbage can.
Then she’d dug it out. Stupid. But?—
But her heart wasn’t slowing down. Her skin was burning hot, and when she thought of Simon Chase, she pictured him and stopped seeing the blood.
Dee was so tired of the blood.
A name and a number were typed in black letters across the white card. No address.
She couldn’t call him now. No way. Only one reason a woman called a man at this hour.
Yeah, one reason.
A hard breath shook her chest. Dee realized she could still taste him. Still feel the press of his lips against hers. The brush of his tongue.
He might not be alone. He probably wasn’t. A guy like him, oozing sex appeal, he’d probably snapped his fingers and?—
She put the card down. For an instant, she thought she saw red staining her fingers.
No, no, just a memory.
Wasn’t it?
Shaking her head, she walked toward the shower. A nice, cold shower, that was what she needed.
Or him.
Fuck. Dee grabbed the phone. Dialed before she could stop herself. One ring. Stupid. You can’t do this. Two. Are you crazy? You can’t. Three.
“Night Watch.” The private security line for the team. The one they called when they needed Intel, twenty-four-seven.
“Grace? It’s Dee. Did you—did you run that check for me?” Because she was a suspicious bitch, always would be.
A faint hum on the line, then… “Finished it earlier tonight. You want me to email the file?”
“Go ahead and give me a quick and dirty rundown.” Because she had to know, right now, before she made a deadly mistake. “And then send over the full report.” She’d want to know every detail later. That was her way.
