“Why are you so damn nice to me?”
“I like your company.”
“I’m sure there’s got to be lots of hot girls who throw themselves at your feet.”
“Maybe, but I’m not interested in them.”
She rolls her eyes and laughs.
“What’s funny?”
“Nothing. Just before I’d dream about there being someone out there who thought I was special enough to fight for me. To save me. And now here you are.”
“Here I am,” I tell her. She lays her head on my shoulder, and we sit on the floor until her eyes flutter. “C’mon. Let’s get you back in bed.”
I get her into bed and tug her sweat-soaked tee over her head and exchange it for one of my white tank tops. Then I crack a window.
“Lunatic,” she says my name so softly I almost miss it.
“Yeah?”
“Thank you for taking care of me.”
“I’d do it for anyone.”
No, I wouldn’t.
“Liar.” She yawns and falls asleep.
I climb back into the bed, keeping my distance. I don’t want to wake up to being kicked or punched if she has another nightmare.
I wake up early. Worst fucking night of sleep of my life. I probably only slept two, maybe three hours, if that. Daisy is out cold, but I’ve checked her pulse. She’s still breathing.
I’m about to head downstairs to find some coffee when a blood-curdling scream rips from Daisy’s throat. She starts thrashing wildly.
“Babygirl, stop. You’re safe. You’re with me.” I grab hold of her arms and pin her to the mattress, and she goes nuts on me, bucking her hips and kneeing me in the nuts. “Oof.” I release her as she scratches at me, catching my cheek with her nails. “Got damn.”
I grab a glass of water from the nightstand and splash it in her face. I’d never hit a woman.
She sputters and gasps for her next breath as she stares at me, wearing a ravaged expression.
“He was here.”
“Just you and me in this room. You were having a nightmare.”
“No.” she shakes her head, and I go to touch her, but she shrinks away from me.
“Okay.” I walk to the window. “There’s no one out there either.”
Big Daddy enters without knocking. “Daisy had a nightmare,” I explain.
“I wasn’t dreaming. Someone was here. They want to take me back.”
“Who was here?”
“Hector.”
“He’s still in Mexico. I give you my word. Go fetch Gwynee from the kitchen, and get Doc Stevens to swing back by,” he orders me.
