Page 140 of Unseen Danger

Nevaeh glanced at Jazz, still without a coat. “You staying?”

“For a little while.” Her gaze drifted toward the other tables as she answered.

“Hmm. Some hot guy you got your eye on?”

A sly smile curved Jazz’s mouth. “You never know.”

Nevaeh gently punched her friend’s arm. “You're telling me everything later.” She turned her head toward the group. “Have a good night, gang.”

“You, too.” Bris’s farewell was echoed by others.

Nevaeh waved over her shoulder as she left the reception hall, her pace picking up along with her pulse.

Branson was waiting for her. And Jazz could be right. He might’ve wanted to wait until now to set up their next thing. To ask her out on a date. Or maybe…her step hiccupped. What if he was going to tell her he loved her? Maybe even…

No. This would be way too soon for a marriage proposal. Wouldn’t it? And did she want him to propose? She was so comfortable with him now and trusted him completely. But marriage…

Her heart pounded as she approached the glass doors, plastered with so much fog she couldn’t see out.

But she could see Branson in her mind. His sweet, gentle smile. Those soft eyes.

She pushed the door open and walked into the chilly, damp fog. Oh, yeah. If he popped the question, she would say—

Hard steel clamped around her neck. Crushing, squeezing. Pulling backward.

Arms. In a choke. A man.

She gasped for breath and started to slide her hands into position to hang her weight low, stop him from dragging her. Then she’d step back and—

“Hey, baby.” The deep, scratchy rumble in her ear froze her blood.

She couldn’t move. Couldn’t think. Panic flooded her system.

No. It couldn’t be.

His large head bent over her shoulder as he squeezed harder.

Her peripheral vision could just make him out.

The face of her nightmares. “You miss me?”

Walter was back.

Burning. Searing. The throbbing pain pierced through the blackness and dragged Branson to consciousness.

He moaned.

Someone was touching him, his wound.

He reached back, opening his eyes. A blurry view of light blue fabric greeted him.

“Lie still.” A female voice.

His hand connected with skin behind his head. A smaller hand. It withdrew.

He tried to rotate his head upward, to see the face he suspected was there. Pain shot through the back of his head. He sucked in an involuntary breath, his eyes closing.

“Careful.” The same voice. Bristol? “You’ll rub the wound. You have a gash on the back of your head.”

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