But then the sound came again. First the horrible scream and then someone banging on a door. Calling for help.
Shit.
Finn’s body jumped into action before his brain caught up. He reached into his boot for his gun, hopped out of bed, and ran for the door. His brain kicked into gear when he hit the hallway, all his senses dialing up and calculating things. Which direction the sound was coming from. Places someone could be hiding. If any civilians were in the immediate area. The hallway was empty, but the screams turned louder, with barely a pause between them. He hurried toward the racket and turned the corner at the end of the hallway, gun poised. Rebecca was two rooms down, frantically pounding on the door. “Olivia! Open up! Please.?
??
He lowered his gun and ran the short distance down the hall, the screams tearing at him. Someone was hurting Liv. “Out of the way.”
Rebecca stepped back, a stricken look on her face. “She won’t answer me. I called Kincaid and told her to find a manager with a key. The front desk isn’t picking up the phone.”
The sounds of gut-wrenching terror came again. Liv.
Screw waiting for a manager. Finn jerked the door handle, and when it wouldn’t give, he rammed his shoulder into the door. The handle was new, but the door had seen better days and protested under the jolt.
“Finn, wait, you don’t have to—”
He gave another hard shove, and the frame splintered. That was all he needed. He gave one more good push, and it released the lock and let him inside. He charged in. Liv’s screams were twice as loud in the dark. “Get away from me! No!”
He raised his gun.
He couldn’t see a damn thing but could hear the mattress squeaking, and Liv continued her desperate pleading. But no one jumped at him or moved in the dark. He reached out blindly and found the light switch.
“Police! Freeze!” He flicked on the switch, prepared to go to battle, but when light flooded the room, all he saw was Liv bolting upward in the bed. Terror was on her face, her gaze sweeping around the room like a cornered deer.
No one else was in sight.
“Liv.”
But she didn’t see him. Her focus zeroed in on his gun, and her eyes went wide. She scrambled backward against the headboard. “Gun!”
He immediately lowered the weapon and put a hand out. “Liv. It’s me. Finn. It’s okay. Is anyone else in the room?”
She squeezed her eyes shut.
“Shit. Okay. Hold on.” He did a quick check of the closet and bathroom to make sure nothing was amiss. All the windows were locked. No signs of any struggle. No signs of intrusion. Under the bed was clear.
He let out a breath.
A nightmare. She’d had a nightmare.
He set his gun on the TV stand and moved toward the bed, keeping his hands out in front of him so that if she opened her eyes, she’d see he was unarmed. His gaze swept over her, checking for any obvious injuries.
There was nothing he could see, but she was gripping her elbows, soaked with sweat, and in a full-body tremble.
Very much not okay.
“Liv, baby, are you all right?” he asked, trying to keep his voice gentle. “Talk to me.” He reached out to touch her shoulder, and she jerked away from his touch like he’d burned her. “It’s Finn. You’re okay. It’s over now.”
“Finn,” she whispered.
“Yes. That’s right. Just me.” He eased down onto the bed, being careful not to jostle her. “You had a nightmare. Just take a few deep breaths. You’re okay now.”
She opened her eyes, tears spilling over and making damp trails down her cheeks. “It’s really you.”
“Of course.”
Her gaze jumped to his face first, scanning, wary, and then her attention went to his shoulder. She reached out and touched the puckered scar where the Long Acre bullet had exited. “You have a scar.”