Some part of me must come awake, but I can’t quite escape the hell of the past. Suddenly I spiral back into darkness, and when clarity comes, I’m falling. I land hard at the bottom of a hole, and the pain in my arm and leg is sharp and unbearable. I start to scream.Chapter SeventeenPRI
For a moment there is only darkness, inky black darkness. Awareness comes to me with my own screams, and I gasp and sit up straight. In desperation, I scan the room, confirming I am no longer in a deep, suffocating hole. I’m in a room, with Adrian standing at the door with a gun in his hand.
Oh God.
I shift to my knees. “What’s happening? Are we being attacked?”
“You were screaming.”
I blink. “Screaming?”
“Yes, Pri. Holy hell, woman. You were screaming.”
Embarrassment punches at me and I scramble off of the bed. “I’m sorry. Nightmare. God.” I hold up my hands. “I’m sorry. I thought I screamed in the nightmare, not out loud.”
He runs a rough hand through his dark hair and harnesses his weapon. “You scared the fuck out of me. You know that, right?”
Adam appears in the doorway, looking like Mr. America in his green army fatigues, his weapon in hand. “What the hell is going on?”
“Nightmare,” I say. “Sorry, Adam.”
“Nightmare,” he repeats.
“Yes,” I confirm. “Just a nightmare.”
“Must have been a hell of a nightmare,” he murmurs, harnessing his weapon, too.
“Pink killer bunnies,” Adrian supplies, eyeing Adam. “They scare the shit out of her. I found that out the hard way.”
Despite Adrian’s efforts at deflection on my behalf, I find myself folding my arms in front of my chest, huddling into my embarrassment. Still, I manage to fall right into the silly joke. “The nightmares started when my grandma got me pink bunny slippers as a kid.”
Adam looks between us and says, “You’ve both spent too much time around Savage and his wackadoodle sense of humor, which for the record, is not funny.” He glances at Adrian. “I’ll leave you to this.” He gives me a nod and then disappears into the hallway.
And just that easily, I’m all alone with Adrian, in a bedroom, with, of course, a bed. “Sorry again,” I say awkwardly. “Pink killer bunnies really do get to me.”
He steps closer, a lot closer, so close that a mere foot separates us, and the freshly showered, spicy scent of him teases my nostrils and stirs heat in my belly. That is until he says, “What was the nightmare about, Pri?”
“Does it matter?”
He studies me a long, probing moment, his expression unreadable before he presses me again. “What was it about?”
“You know what it was about.” My brows dip. “But—actually, it didn’t start with me in a hole.” I tilt my head and think a moment as a realization comes to me. “Logan was in it.”
“Logan,” Adrian says, and while his tone is flat, there is this sharp disapproving energy about him.
I bristle defensively with that energy, my spine stiffening. “Not in a good way, Adrian. In fact, it was hellish and it was a real memory, and something you don’t know about, nor do I feel inclined to share right now.”
There’s a knock on the door and Adrian grimaces. “Who is it?”
“Adam.” He opens the door and peeks in. “A truckload of Chick-fil-A just arrived, Blake’s way of getting our asses upstairs and back to work.”
“Just the mention of Chick-fil-A makes my stomach growl,” I say, eager to escape this fight with Adrian. “I’m in.”
Not so eager to do the same, Adrian says. “We’ll be right there,” without looking at Adam.
The door shuts and I turn, intending to go to the bathroom. Adrian catches my arm, fire shooting from his touch across my shoulder and chest, which only serves to anger me. “Why are you always trying to stop me from going to the bathroom?” I demand. “And I need to eat. I can’t remember the last thing I actually did eat. “
His jaw flexes and he hesitates. But he releases me. I don’t wait around for him to change his mind about allowing my escape, either. I hurry into the bathroom and shut the door, leaning against it. What is happening with me and this man? Why are we always a tug of war, push, and pull?
I think of the Logan memory and instead of dwelling on how horrible Logan was, how abusive, something about Adrian stands out. He let me go when I demanded he let me go. Logan didn’t. He wouldn’t. There was more to that memory, but I can’t quite put a finger on what. The entire nightmare is a big fuzzy mess.
I push off the door, use the bathroom, wash up and freshen up, including adding a bit of lipstick to my pale lips, and then I open the door. Adrian is leaning on the wall by the door, and he holds up my phone. “Logan called.”