Make You Mine

Sometime in the night, we’ve moved out of each other’s arms. Cold creeps across the floor, and I try to find the blanket. I try to get closer to Drew, but I can’t move. It feels like I’m being held down against my will. I try to fight it off and fail. Panic seizes my chest. I can’t get whatever this is off me.

A loud popping noise, like the sound of gunfire is in my ears. In that instant, I’m plunged into chaos just like before. The bomb explodes under the truck. Everything goes from peaceful and calm, to flying in the air, crashing to the ground. My head slams against glass, and our whole world is blown apart.

“Danny…” I struggle against the paralysis in my limbs.

My body won’t move. I’m having trouble breathing, and I’m covered in sweat. God, I can’t breathe. I gasp, trying to breathe through the smoke, the sand.

My ears are muffled. That shrill hiss is back. What the fuck? Finally, I get the fucking seatbelt off me, and I can move. I try to climb across the cab, across the dead body of my passenger.

This scene is different. It’s worse.

The man in the shemagh walking along the road is now walking toward me. In his hand is a machine gun. His brown eyes gleam with hatred, and I know he won’t stop until we’re all dead.

I have to stop him. I have to protect my men.

As soon as I have the thought, he starts to run toward me. I push out of the window and fall to the ground. The pain is indescribable, and I shout, holding my temples. When I look up he’s closer. He’s on me, lifting the gun straight in my face.

Somehow, through the confusion, I remember Drew sleeping on the floor behind me. She has no idea what’s about to happen. She has no idea she’s about be shot dead… Like Danny.

A fist of rage tightens in my chest. An explosion of fight mixed with fear. I can’t lose her. He lifts the gun to level of his eyes, and I shout.

“NO!” Hands are on me, and I reach out to push them away.

I reach out to stop the man, but the gun explodes in my face. The force of the blast shakes me to my core. I fall to my hands and knees, my face in my hands.

I’m shaking, covered in sweat. My muscles are buzzing with adrenaline, and I’m gasping for breath.

Blinking hard, I come back to myself. I’m in the pool house, but I’m in the back of the house. I’m still frantic from the rage and the fighting and the fear of Drew being killed.

It’s not real. I do my best to center my thoughts and breathe. I look around the room to center myself. I’m not in the desert. I’m in Drew’s house. It’s quiet, no chaos. I do my best to focus on the quiet. A panic hits my chest, and I hold the wall as I walk with trembling legs to the room where we were sleeping.

I stop at the corner and see her beautiful body. She’s lying on the palette covered in the woven blanket. Her soft breath swirls in and out, and for a few moments I focus on the sound, the sweet sound of my Drew alive and breathing there on her makeshift bed. The one she made to share with me.

Watching her sleeping so peacefully, breaks me. Tonight, when I got free of the grip of this fucking madness, I was in another room, across the house. What happens when I wake up, and I’m hurting her?

I’ve heard the horror stories, night terrors that turn into real-life terror.

Shoving my hands in my hair, I take another deep breath, doing my best to calm the fuck down. My clothes are in a pile where I left them, and I scoop them up, dressing quickly.

My eyes never leave Drew the entire time I pull on my clothes. Her face is so relaxed, so trusting. I call her a princess, a baby, but the truth is, she’s like an angel. Dropping to one knee, I lightly move a strand of hair off her cheek. I don’t want to wake her, but what I wouldn’t give for one more kiss.

In the past, I protected her. I kept her safe and comforted in my arms. What I wouldn’t give to find that comfort in her arms.

Instead I let her sleep. I slip out into the night alone.

Chapter 23

Drew

“When Richard Nixon was defeated in the California governor’s race in 1962, he famously said ‘You won’t have Dick Nixon to kick around anymore.’” Hunter is lying on his back on my couch today.

He’s rubbing his eyes with his fingertips, and I’m doing my best to stay focused on my work.

In the night I’d been disturbed, and I woke to find Gray gone. It left me unsettled. I couldn’t shake the feeling something bad had happened, and as soon as the sun finally rose, I sent him a quick text.

Me: Hate waking up to an empty bed.

My chest was tight, but I didn’t want to come across as clingy.