“Damn, I hope he’s not giving her the runaround.”
“Maybe he was inundated with calls from freaked out tenants of his dilapidated apartment building.”
Erik squints. “What did you do?”
“Who says I did anything?”
“I know that look, Lindstro¨m. Don’t bullshit me.”
“I had a long chat with Alina earlier today. Devlyn is at it again?—”
“Don’t think I’m not onto you. You’re diverting the subject, but since we’re talking about your nightmare of an ex-wife, I’ll let it slide. What did the drama queen do now?”
I share all the details.
“This woman needs to find a new hobby,” Erik says.
“I’m exasperated by her antics.”
Erik arches a brow. “I’m willing to bet my fortune, Alina brought up the topic of a fake?—”
“No, no, no. Let me go.”
My eyes fly up from the screen.
Harley?
“What is it, Kaz?”
“It’s—”
“I don’t know anything. I wasn’t involved. Let me go. Please, let me go.”
I frown.
“Kaz?”
I lower my eyes to the screen. “I think Harley is having a nightmare.”
“Oh, shit. She’s been through so much. It must be the stress?—”
“Stop! Please, stop.”
“Is that her again?”
I nod. “Let me call you back. I’m going to go check up on her.”
“Good idea. If you can’t call me back tonight, let’s connect tomorrow.”
“Okay.”
I end the call and rush to the guestroom, open the door and turn on the light.
“Please, stop.” Harley’s little body thrashes on the bed, her head whipping left to right, her long, blonde hair covering her face.
Jesus.
Do you wake someone who’s having a nightmare, or would that exacerbate their trauma?
