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“I always like this part of the dream better than I do the part that rips open my skull and leaves me wanting to scream, but I can’t find my voice to scream.”
He knew what it felt like.
He knew the pain, the agony, and she hurt for him while she dreamed. Ached for the sense of intuition that assured her he’d suffered in untold ways and still faced the nightmares. “I hate that part of the nightmare too. See how much better this part is? See, that’s how you know it’s just a nightmare, baby. Because before it ends, if you don’t wake up, then I’ll be here with you and if I’m here, then the pain will go away.”
“Don’t leave me. Hold me.”
“Just for a little while, baby.” His lips eased over her fingers. “But I’ll be back. If you promise me you’ll know it was just a nightmare.”
She would promise him anything. “Just a nightmare.”
“Sleep for me now, Zoey,” he whispered. “Sleep. And know when you wake up that everything’s going to be fine. It was just a nightmare.”
“But it wasn’t just a nightmare,” she cried out as she pushed away from the heavy bag, her breathing rough and heavy, sweat soaking her skin.
Tearing off the tape wrapped around her hand, Zoey restrained the urge to kick something. She’d felt the anger burrowing deeper, growing stronger inside her since the night she dreamed she’d murdered Harley Perdue.
Her fingers found the plastic water bottle sitting on the cement ledge that ran along the outside wall. Gripping it firmly, she placed the straw in her mouth and drew on it, the cool water washing over her tongue, easing the dryness in her throat though the bitter taste of fear remained.
When she finished drinking she tipped her head back, squeezed the bottle, and let the water cool the heated flesh of her neck and shoulders before it ran into the already soaked material of the sports bra.
The music cut off abruptly. Swinging around, body bracing defensively, she immediately relaxed when she saw who had managed to slip into the gym with her.
Her sisters called him her hot, sexy roommate. He actually just rented one of the huge spare bedrooms at the other end of her apartment. He’d been the answer to a prayer in that first week after she moved in and realized she was panicking at every sound, certain someone was coming in on her.
He was always there in the evenings, never left the apartment at night, and he didn’t creep around either. He walked like a normal person instead of a ghost like her brother, cousins, and brothers-in-law were prone to do. A person never knew when they were sneaking up on her.
“Cute moves with the water,” he drawled, though his gaze was somber. “Give it some music and hippy twists and you have a winner there, Zoey.” Elijah Grant gave her a little wink.
His amused voice wasn’t so much a shock as a bit of a surprise. She gave a little snort at his comment.
“Sorry, bub, no stripping in my future so far. Check back next year.”
“My luck.” He shrugged negligently at the rejection before tipping his head to the side and watching her closely.
She hated it when he did that.
“Thought Graham had you working for the next few days. Some hush-hush spy stuff.” She grabbed the towel hanging on a peg attached to the wall and dried her face and shoulders. “I wasn’t expecting you until later tonight.”
His gray eyes watched her with thoughtful consideration. She hated it when he did that too. It meant she wasn’t holding back the stress from the nightmares as well as she should.
“I finished up early.” He finally shrugged before giving the punching bag a glancing punch, his gaze still on her.
Dressed in jeans, the bottoms of which were frayed behind the heels of his boots, and a dark T-shirt, he looked more like someone’s kid brother than an agent for Homeland Security who worked with her brother-in-law.
“So why are you here if you’re not working after all?” she queried, flashing him a mocking smile while looping the towel around her neck. “Can’t find a date willing to overlook odd hours and last-minute cancellations?”
A wry grin tugged at his lips while his handsome features flickered with amusement. “Pretty much. But I was hoping I could get you to do me a favor.”
“Anything.” And she meant it. He’d saved her sanity more than once in the past year. And he’d never told her brother the secrets that mattered, even when he’d witnessed one of the horrifying nightmares in progress and heard her cries that she’d killed Harley.
“I have to go meet Graham’s boss,” he admitted with a grimace, hooking his thumbs in the front pockets of his jeans. “Bastard’s always trying to pull me into one of his half-assed ops and get me shot at. If you went with me, though, I could just tell him I was out with you when Graham called, and since you’re Dawg Mackay’s sister, we have to run,” he suggested with a hopeful look. “He wouldn’t dare get you mixed up in anything dangerous.”
Well, that wasn’t nice. She would probably enjoy it for a minute.
She had to laugh at his explanation, though. “Really, Eli? I think getting shot at comes with the job description, ya know? Besides, I thought you were keeping me and your boss’s boss far apart because of my wild hairs.”
“Those wild hairs of yours are reckless and without a lick of sense, Zoey,” he snorted. “But I think the whole Dawg Mackay threat will work just this once.”
