Wild Justice (Nadia Stafford 3)

I was still screaming when someone began pounding on the cabin door.

"Shut the hell up!" a voice boomed.

"Nadia?" a second voice, closer. Hands gripping my elbows. Shaking me gently. "Nadia?"

I bolted out of sleep to find myself staring at Jack. I was sitting up, and he had me by the elbows, steadying me.

More pounding at the door. Jack strode over and opened it, chain still engaged.

"What the hell is going--?" a man's voice began.

"A nightmare. It's over."

"It better be or I'll have the goddamned manager . . ."

Jack didn't throw open the door. He didn't snarl at the man. He just unlatched the door and eased it open. Silence. Then the man backed off, mumbling, and stomped away.

Jack waited until he was gone. Then closed the door and shook his head.

"Woman's screaming. Not gonna call 911. Not even gonna make sure she's okay. Just complain about the fucking noise."

I sat there, clutching the sheets, throat raw, breath rasping. Jack walked to the bed and sat on the edge near me.

"Was it Amy?" He paused and shook his head. "Dumb fucking question. You think you got that woman killed? You're gonna dream about Amy."

"I froze up. I heard Amy in the cabin, still alive, and I was so close and . . ." I squeezed my eyes shut. "Which is not how it happened. Sorry. I'm confused." I rubbed my face.

"What happened? In the dream?"

I shook my head. "I get things confused. Nightmares aren't supposed to make sense."

"What happened this time?"

"I dreamed I was the one who found Amy. That she was still alive when I got there, but I froze up. I started thinking about Aldrich, that he'd attacked me, too, and . . ."

My heart thudded so hard I struggled for breath. I rubbed my throat, fingers touching the paper-thin scar there. Jack's gaze followed.

"How'd you get that scar again?" he asked.

I pulled my hand away. "Chain-link fence."

"Right."

I could feel his gaze on me, as if he expected more.

"You've dreamed Aldrich attacked you before," he said finally.

I shrugged. "I've also dreamed he killed me, which disproves that old saw about not being able to die in your dreams--"

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Divert. Digress. Make jokes." He twisted to face me. "We need to talk. About this. The dreams. You say Aldrich never--"

"He didn't."

A long pause. "You sure?"