Shit.I hadn’t moved slowly enough. “I’ve got a guard shift.” It wasn’t a complete lie. I did have a shift, just not yet.
“I wish you could stay a little while.” She stretched out a hand.
I walked around the bed to give her a quick kiss. “Me too.”
Duke lookedup when I opened the Presidential Suite door and entered the security room we’d named the guard shack. The termshackwas at odds with the opulent two-bedroom suite. I still marveled at the forethought of the hotel’s builder to create this security room that entrants had to pass through to gain access to the Presidential Suite.
Duke checked his watch. “You’re way early.”
“Yeah. I’ve got this. Why don’t you go climb into bed with that lovely fiancée of yours and get some shuteye?”
“You’re the one who looks like he needs some sleep.”
“Like I said, I’ve got this.”
After some grumbling, he left, and I cranked the A/C colder to help stay awake.
Half an hour later, a knock sounded at the door. Instantly adrenaline pumped, and I went hyper-alert. I pulled my SIG and went to the door.
The peephole showed the last person I expected to see in the middle of the night—Lucas Hawk. Holstering my weapon, I let him in. “Hey, boss.”
As soon as the door closed, his eyes bored into me. “Duke was right. You look like shit. When was the last time you got more than an hour of sleep?”
Damned Duke had called him.
I shrugged. “I’m a SEAL. We don’t need?—”
“Cut the crap. I need you at a hundred percent.” He pointed at the door to the suite. “She needs you at a hundred percent.” His arm swung toward a bedroom door. “Sleep. Now. That’s an order.”
“But—”
“Sailor, what is it about the wordorderthat you don’t understand?” He gave that a second to sink in. “This is going to work out fine anyway. I was on my way over here to spell Duke because I’ve got to put him and Winston on the Zamora case in the morning. So, you get some shuteye. I’ve got this post covered.”
It sucked that we would be understaffed when we were still looking forthe target, but arguing that Peyton was more important than Zamora wouldn’t go anywhere.
In the cool, dark bedroom, I let sleep overtake me quickly.
My hand came backbloody after I grabbed at the wound.
The pain was excruciating where the knife had cut me. I twisted to the side, fully alert now, my focus tightened by the pain.
Across the room, Julio lay in a puddle of blood because I’d nodded off.
Jumping up, I grappled with the terrorist, the one who’d just stabbed at me. Twisting the knife out of his hand, I threw him to the floor and pounced. The pain didn’t matter. This tango would pay for Julio.
He was stronger than he looked. Somehow he twisted and rolled us to get above me.
“Zane! Wake up, Zane.”
Blinking my eyes open, I found myself sweaty, and held down on the floor by Lucas.
“It’s okay, Zane. You’re okay. It’s not real. You’re in Los Angeles.”
The nightmare had returned. I released my grip on his shirt. “Sorry, I was?—”
“I know. I understand.”
“The nightmare…”
