Page 48 of Until the End

The timing was the worst. There was so much going on right now, he had seven plates spinning in the air and had to stay two steps ahead.

“I shouldn’t have suggested it.” The light died in her eyes and regret pinched him. “You’re not ready. I’m sorry I pushed. When we’re together, I don’t want you to feel pressured. You have enough to deal with at the office.”

The out he wanted, the out he needed, was on the table. But in the three months they’d been together, she’d consistently given him all of herself yet only asked for so little in return, when she deserved the world.

If they didn’t progress, moving forward toward something, it would be unfair…to her. How could he ever hope she’d expect better for herself if he wasn’t willing to show her, for once in her life, the value of her heart?

“No. You’re not pushing, but you have every right.” He stopped midthought, trying to imagine what a normal guy would’ve said last month, perhaps two months ago. “I’d love to have you brighten my home and warm my bed.” Sanborn extended his hand to her and she placed her palm on his. “I’m sorry it’s taken me this long to have you over.”

Doubt evaporated from her face. She exuded sheer contentment, practically glowing.

Instantly, the realization dropped like a cold rock in the pit of his stomach: this would make him vulnerable. Invited mistakes.

He hardened himself against the concern, chasing it away.

Doc was worth the risk.

15

Reston, Virginia

7:20 p.m. EDT

Bang! Bang!

“No.” Kit’s eyes flew open, her heart wildly fluttering, beating way too fast and hard. She blinked at the darkness.

A nightmare. Only a nightmare.

The horrific replay of her friends being murdered had been so vivid, so agonizing. All the raw feelings she’d tamped down over the past two days came bubbling to the surface. The pain and crippling fear from that afternoon, the sound of the gun—deafening in the dream—was too much to bear.

She needed to get a grip. Push past the fear and not let what little control she had slip away.

Movement near the curtains drew her gaze. The moonlight peeking in didn’t illuminate anything in the dusky room, but she sensed a presence. Something unnatural.

In the corner, a shadow emerged and flickered, then moved…up the wall.

The darkness started taking shape as it crawled, sprouting arms, legs, a head. It slithered across the ceiling, creeping as a spider would, inching closer. And closer.

Kit wanted to get out of the bed, to run, to call for help, but her limbs were too heavy to move. Her tongue felt welded to the roof of her mouth. A buzzing filled her ears, like killer bees swarming for an attack.

The faceless shadow hung directly over her now. Only three feet of dead air separated them. Kit’s chest squeezed tight. The inky figure snarled, though it had no mouth. The animalistic sound rose along with the buzzing and it swooped down on top of her.

Kit jolted awake—for real this time—as she jackknifed up in the bed, screaming and swinging her fists at nothing. Her shrill cry died in her throat.

It had been a nightmare within a nightmare. As if the first hadn’t been bad enough.

Maybe she was losing her mind. Death was tormenting her, staying closer than any lover she’d ever had, refusing to give her peace. She ran a shaky hand over her forehead, her pulse rapid and skin clammy from sweat.

Heavy footsteps pounded up the stairs.

The doorknob rattled. Rap, rap, rap! Hard knocks resounded like gunshots. The earsplitting cracks nearly gave her a heart attack.

“Kit? Are you all right?”

She looked around, orienting herself.

Castle. She was at his place, in his room, in his bed. Kit struggled to summon her voice, but lingering fear was thick and real, still stuck to her lungs.