fun was that?
But she’d been holding something back. He wished she’d talk to him. Open up about what happened in Des Moines. Hell, tell him something personal about Wrightsville. About her mom. Anything.
Just talk. Not like an agent on a case. Like a human being who’d lived through a traumatic experience and managed to keep their shit together and move on.
Maybe that’s why she didn’t want to talk about it. She’d left Des Moines in the past and moved on.
Without me.
Her signals were clear. It was time he accepted them.
With a sigh, he listened and watched her sink deeper into sleep. The lines around her mouth softened. The crease on her forehead disappeared. Her long, tapered fingers on the cup relaxed, and her kinky hair splayed across the back of the cream colored sofa with joyful abandon.
Beautiful. She was one-hundred percent beautiful and sleeping on his couch. Forget the exhaustion weighing down his body. He wanted to touch her silky skin, bury his nose in her neck, and wake her with long, slow kisses.
His blood pumped hard, his cock twitching. Leaning forward, he scrubbed his hands over his face. A cold shower, that’s what he needed.
Instead, he found a blanket, gently removed the cup from Ronni’s hands, and covered her. Then he checked his gun and went into surveillance mode.
In the dream, she huddles against the night noises: blaring sirens, crying babies, the whining of a hundred dental drills. They’re coming .
Helicopter blades beat the air, stadium lights glare down on the compound. The booming speakers spew a cacophony of noises that grate and terrify, while an army of tanks, armored vehicles, and officers surround those still inside.
Hungry. So hungry .
Must get to the bus…Adam…save him.
The school bus is buried underground on the west side. A refuge from Texas tornadoes. Now a refuge from the tanks and teargas. Get there .
Crying, crying. If only Adam would stop crying. His chubby body bangs on her hip as she runs, carrying him across the compound. Her lungs fight to find oxygen through the tear gas, her eyes run with tears. Has Adam inhaled it, too? She covered his face with a wet towel. He was probably howling because he couldn’t see.
Save him…
“The siege is over,” a voice chants from the speakers. “Bring your people out!”
Only a few more feet. A…few…more…
A sharp whistling noise. Tiny missiles shooting through the sky, landing on the trapdoor. The missiles break apart, gas sizzling.
No! Ronni pulls up, nearly loses her balance. Panting, she glances over her shoulder.
Go back? The rumble of tanks shakes the ground. From inside the bus, women and children scream. Her ears ring. Can’t go back. Can’t get inside the bus…
Dogs. Barking, barking, barking. The kennels .
Get there…
“The siege is over! Come out now! Come out…”
Boom …deep and hollow, the sound explodes all around her. The ground shakes. Adam shrieks…
Ronni woke with a start, sweat bathing her hairline. Darkness engulfed her. A blanket covered her legs.
Blinking, she sat up, rubbed her eyes. The fuzziness in her brain lifted and she recognized the outline of the furniture. Thomas’s apartment.
Safe.
Too many nights in too many different places. They were all starting to blur together. She was never by herself, yet she felt totally and utterly alone. Alone with her nightmares. Of Wrightsville. Of Valquis and his goddamn knife.
Home. I need a home. No place had ever felt like home except for Mount Royal.
The siege is over …the words echoed in her ears.
The siege was never over. Not in her dreams.
Outside, a noisy truck engine revved. Lights cut through the living room window. In the other room, the squeak of the back door sent alarm bells ringing inside her head.
Heart racing, she felt for her gun. Her holster was gone…on the table. Thomas must have removed it and laid it there. Her fingers touched the cold metal. Familiar, reassuring. She wrapped
But she’d been holding something back. He wished she’d talk to him. Open up about what happened in Des Moines. Hell, tell him something personal about Wrightsville. About her mom. Anything.
Just talk. Not like an agent on a case. Like a human being who’d lived through a traumatic experience and managed to keep their shit together and move on.
Maybe that’s why she didn’t want to talk about it. She’d left Des Moines in the past and moved on.
Without me.
Her signals were clear. It was time he accepted them.
With a sigh, he listened and watched her sink deeper into sleep. The lines around her mouth softened. The crease on her forehead disappeared. Her long, tapered fingers on the cup relaxed, and her kinky hair splayed across the back of the cream colored sofa with joyful abandon.
Beautiful. She was one-hundred percent beautiful and sleeping on his couch. Forget the exhaustion weighing down his body. He wanted to touch her silky skin, bury his nose in her neck, and wake her with long, slow kisses.
His blood pumped hard, his cock twitching. Leaning forward, he scrubbed his hands over his face. A cold shower, that’s what he needed.
Instead, he found a blanket, gently removed the cup from Ronni’s hands, and covered her. Then he checked his gun and went into surveillance mode.
In the dream, she huddles against the night noises: blaring sirens, crying babies, the whining of a hundred dental drills. They’re coming .
Helicopter blades beat the air, stadium lights glare down on the compound. The booming speakers spew a cacophony of noises that grate and terrify, while an army of tanks, armored vehicles, and officers surround those still inside.
Hungry. So hungry .
Must get to the bus…Adam…save him.
The school bus is buried underground on the west side. A refuge from Texas tornadoes. Now a refuge from the tanks and teargas. Get there .
Crying, crying. If only Adam would stop crying. His chubby body bangs on her hip as she runs, carrying him across the compound. Her lungs fight to find oxygen through the tear gas, her eyes run with tears. Has Adam inhaled it, too? She covered his face with a wet towel. He was probably howling because he couldn’t see.
Save him…
“The siege is over,” a voice chants from the speakers. “Bring your people out!”
Only a few more feet. A…few…more…
A sharp whistling noise. Tiny missiles shooting through the sky, landing on the trapdoor. The missiles break apart, gas sizzling.
No! Ronni pulls up, nearly loses her balance. Panting, she glances over her shoulder.
Go back? The rumble of tanks shakes the ground. From inside the bus, women and children scream. Her ears ring. Can’t go back. Can’t get inside the bus…
Dogs. Barking, barking, barking. The kennels .
Get there…
“The siege is over! Come out now! Come out…”
Boom …deep and hollow, the sound explodes all around her. The ground shakes. Adam shrieks…
Ronni woke with a start, sweat bathing her hairline. Darkness engulfed her. A blanket covered her legs.
Blinking, she sat up, rubbed her eyes. The fuzziness in her brain lifted and she recognized the outline of the furniture. Thomas’s apartment.
Safe.
Too many nights in too many different places. They were all starting to blur together. She was never by herself, yet she felt totally and utterly alone. Alone with her nightmares. Of Wrightsville. Of Valquis and his goddamn knife.
Home. I need a home. No place had ever felt like home except for Mount Royal.
The siege is over …the words echoed in her ears.
The siege was never over. Not in her dreams.
Outside, a noisy truck engine revved. Lights cut through the living room window. In the other room, the squeak of the back door sent alarm bells ringing inside her head.
Heart racing, she felt for her gun. Her holster was gone…on the table. Thomas must have removed it and laid it there. Her fingers touched the cold metal. Familiar, reassuring. She wrapped
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