Always, by the time he got to her belly, Trine was out.
“Say what?”Lottie asked.
“Start with your toes,” Mo said.“Point ’em.Flex ’em.Then put ’emtosleep.”
He gave it a sec.
“Youdoin’ that?”he asked.
“Yeah,” she told him.
“Now your feet,” he ordered into the dark.“Point, flex,then feel ’emget heavy and let them go.”
Another second and he let that go to two.
“Now your calves,” he continued.“Tighten ’em.Let them go.Feel ’emrelax.Then put ’emto sleep.”
Mo gave it another sec.
And another.
And one more.
“They asleep?”he asked.
“Yeah,” she answered.“I think so.”
“Now your knees.”
“Is this what you do?”she asked.
“It doesn’t work if you talk through it,” he told her.
“Right,” she muttered.
“Knees, Lottie.”
“’Kay,” she mumbled.
It took to her shoulders, Mo making his voice quieter andquieter, giving it more time in between, before he started on the neck and shedidn’t answer.
Good.
She was asleep.
Mo stared at the ceiling but could see nothing but Lottie inthat nightie.
The nightie morphed into her dancing.
Fuck.
Torture.
He rolled to his side and closed his eyes.
And saw her face, terrified, eyes filled with tears.
He opened his, moved his hand, found his gun under the tosspillow right where he put it.
