I woke up screaming, something I thought only happened in the movies.
It took me about three seconds to realize that I was awake, another two to realize I’d screamed,
and another five after that to notice that I’d automatically drawn my gun and was about to take out my flat screen TV with a well placed bullet.
Only then did it register that I wasn’t alone in my bed and that the person next to me wasn’t Joel Marks, as I’d been dreaming.
“Easy.” John’s hand came up to cover mine on the barrel of the gun. “I’d kind of like to watch that if we can’t get back to sleep.” He nodded at the TV and then eyed the gun.
“Thank God you didn’t get the safety off.” He loosened my fingers and slid the gun back into the gun safe. “Bad dream?”
I nodded, not trusting my voice.
Every time I woke up it hit me all over again—Danny, the paramedics, the scene at the top of the warehouse on Harbor Street when Bailey and John showed me Danny’s body covered in a sheet.
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