Page 62 of Freeing Lark

Sleep came reluctantly. Hoot had never been particularly good at sleeping in unfamiliar places, even though he’d had to do it more times than he could count. And Lark’s couch wasn’t exactly designed for a man his size, either. His feet hung over one end, one shoulder pressed awkwardly against the back cushion, and every time he shifted, something in the frame complained.

He’d slept in worse places. But the woman in the other room had been through enough tonight, and he’d promised to stay. So, he endured the discomfort and stayed.

Eventually, exhaustion won, and the dream came with it.

He was back in Afghanistan. Back on the mission. Everything unfolded exactly as it had a hundred times before. The team moved through the compound, clearing the way for the PSG operatives. Hoot could hear Voodoo behind him, Atlas and Ma covering the opposite side. Gunfire erupted ahead.

They pushed through the heavy resistance and kept moving. The HVT was finally secured and extraction was underway. Then Bullet appeared. Running faster than his namesake.

“Hoot!” He spun. Bullet raised his rifle and fired over Hoot’s shoulder. The enemy went down, and Bullet grinned.

“Good deed for the day.” The last word was still hanging in the air when a sudden shot shattered the quiet. Bullet jerked, and Hoot caught him before he could hit the ground. Blood soaked through his hands instantly.

“No.”

Bullet’s eyes found his. “Hoot...”

“I’m here.”

“P-Pray.” The word echoed. “Pray⁠—”

Hoot shook him. “What?”

“P-Pray.”

Then everything went black.

“Hoot!”

His eyes snapped open. Someone was touching him, and instinct took over. He grabbed the wrist, twisted, and surged upright, dragging the person down to the floor. In seconds, he had them pinned beneath him.

Then he saw her face. Lark’s green-gray eyes were wide. Her hair was mussed from sleep. Her breath came quickly.

Hoot froze. “Fuck.” He released her immediately and scrambled backward. “Lark.”

“I’m okay.”

“I could’ve hurt you.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I could have.”

She sat up, rubbing her wrist. “I know. But lesson learned. Don’t wake someone with military experience from a nightmare.” She tried to make it sound like a joke, but Hoot wasn’t laughing.

The shame hit him hard. “I am so sorry.”

She studied him for a moment. “You were dreaming.”

Hoot looked away. “I was.”

“I heard you yelling.”

His jaw tightened. “What did you hear?”

“Your teammate’s name. Bullet.”

He closed his eyes. Of course.