Whirlwind (The Champions 1)

After a moment, Shane peered cautiously between the blind slats. “He’s going away. I can see him headed for the street.”

Lexie pushed to her feet. Her heart was still pounding. “Has he really got a gun?”

“I can’t tell from here. But anytime a person says he’s armed, the safest bet is to believe him.”

Lexie forced a laugh, trying to hide how scared she’d been. “I almost felt sorry for the poor man,” she said.

“You wouldn’t have felt sorry for him if he’d busted his way in here and started shooting. He could’ve been drunk enough to think you were Vera.”

“In that case, I suppose I should thank you for being here and saving my life.” She paused, unable to resist a jab. “That is unless the whole thing was another one of your setups.”

A stunned expression flickered across his face. Then he gave her a sardonic chuckle. “I’ll let that comment slide on the grounds that I deserved it,” he said. “Now lie down and go back to sleep. It’s too early to start the day.”

“What time is it?” she asked.

Shane checked his luminous watch. “Coming up on two-thirty. I could use more rest myself.”

“In that sorry excuse for a chair?”

“Yes. Unless you’ve got a better idea.”

Lexie knew what they were each implying. They were both fully dressed. There was no question of impropriety. But the invitation had to come from her.

Stretching out on one side of the bed, she indicated the other side with a gesture. “Come on. There’s plenty of room, and I won’t bite you.”

“You won’t? That’s news to me,” he teased, sitting on the edge of the bed to pull off his boots.

“Let’s just go to sleep.” She turned onto her side, with her back toward him.

“That’s what I’m planning on. But I’ll be right here in case our friend—or anybody else—shows up. Sleep tight, Lexie.”

The mattress sagged and creaked as he lay down on his side of the bed with his broad shoulders inches from hers. He didn’t speak or make a move to touch her, but Lexie tingled with the awareness of him—the heat of his body, the sound of his breathing. By now she knew him well enough to feel safe—Shane was here to protect her, and that included protecting her from himself. Somehow, that made the urge to turn over and reach out to him even more compelling.

But she’d be a fool to make the move. Whether he responded or resisted, she’d be sure to regret it. The situation would be painfully awkward for them both. And the urges she felt were only a passing whim. They would be gone in the morning, Lexie told herself as she closed her eyes and forced herself to lie still, allowing him to settle into sleep.

It didn’t take him long. Within minutes, his breathing had slowed. A velvety snore, its cadence as soothing as the purr of a cat, rumbled in his throat.

Lulled by the sound, and by the sense of safety his nearness gave her, Lexie drifted back into sleep.

From the dark depths of her slumber, her memory spun a too-familiar dream.

She was in the arena—not watching from the stands this time, but standing on the beaten earth, dressed in bullfighter gear, preparing to move in and do her job.

Jack was in the chutes, climbing aboard Train Wreck, a rank 1, 800-pound yellow bull with a string of injured riders behind him. Snotty, foul tempered, and mad at the world, he was the last bull she’d wanted her brother to draw.

She could hear Train Wreck snorting and grunting in the chute, banging against the sides. Somebody cursed. Then she saw the flicker of movement as Jack nodded, and the gate swung open.

Lexie held her breath as the monster bull kicked and bucked, raising clouds of dust every time his hooves struck the ground. Jack gripped the rope with his gloved left hand, keeping his right arm clear as the rules dictated. The timer seemed to crawl. Four seconds . . . five, six . . .

The bull spun left, flinging Jack hard to one side. Leaning crazily, he managed to keep his hold. At the eight-second whistle, he let go and flew free, landing with a bone-breaking crunch in the dirt. As the bullfighters moved in, he struggled to his knees.

Lexie, in her bullfighter gear, jumped in front of the bull, desperate to divert him. But Train Wreck, still bucking, couldn’t be stopped. His kicking back legs struck Jack in the head and came down on his body, crushing him into the dirt. Screams tore out of her. No, Jack! No! No . . .

“Lexie!” Someone was clasping her shoulders, shaking her gently. “Wake up

, Lexie. You’re dreaming.”

Still gasping and whimpering, she opened her eyes. Shane was looking down at her. Even in the semidarkness, she could see the worried expression on his face.