Page 71 of Lose Me In The Shadows

The men were quiet. Micah must have knelt down, because his mouth was near her pussy and his hands were soaping up her legs. Conor switched to conditioner—Kara distantly hoped it was a decent brand and wouldn’t destroy her hair—working his fingers through the strands. They turned her around, so her head rested against Luke’s chest and Micah could wash her back. She must have dozed off at some point, because the next thing she knew she was being dried off with fluffy hotel towels and carried once again into the bedroom.

Conor lay down, gathering her on top of him. He spoke into her hair.

“Want to know what it says about you that you were turned on by it, powerful girl?”

She nodded sleepily.

“It says you’re done with taking people’s shit,” he said wryly. “Even ours.”

“That you’re angry,” Micah added, climbing onto the other side of the bed and placing a hand on her hip.

Luke joined them, voice low, lips to her ear. “And it proves you belong with us.”

Kara was too tired to contradict him.

Especially because part of her knew he was right.

As she settled in, she heard a phone buzz. Micah moved his hand, reaching for his phone.

“Well?” Conor asked, sounding fully awake. Karawasfully awake.

“It’s Marcus. He confirmed receipt of the video.”

“And?” Luke’s voice was sharp.

“And,” Micah said, “how do you all feel about sea lions and clam chowder in sourdough bread bowls?”

“Love them,” Kara answered for the others.

Micah kissed her hair. “Good. Because the witness with the evidence that the Johnathan brothers set us up? He’s in San Francisco.”

19

Luke hated nightmares. He’d been having them a lot lately; ever since Kara shot him, ever since she’d been taken, he dreamed of her shooting him, but the gun backfiring and blood blooming over her chest as she fell to the ground, eyes wide and staring. He dreamed about her shooting him again, multiple times, and Micah and Conor taking turns too, and then leaving him there on the cold Idaho ground to rot. He dreamed he was running through a long hallway, checking jail cells, but Kara was nowhere to be found.

Yeah, he fucking hated nightmares.

He especially hated them when he wasn’t the one having them, but Kara was, and all he could do was try to soothe her, and gently shake her awake. He was helpless to take them away.

She’d had one last night at the hotel, but when they woke her, she wouldn’t talk to them about it.

She was having one now as they sat on the train from Seattle to San Francisco in a four-seat configuration, two seats on each side across a small table from each other. Luke had wanted to rent a car; they were least likely to be caught that way. But when Kara had briefly mentioned—with a wistful, far-off expression—that she’d always wanted to take the Pacific Star train and had never had the chance to, Conor had immediately decided they were taking the train.

It would almost be funny, the way Kara had Conor twisted up in knots around her pinkie, except that she had twisted Luke up and around the same way.

She’d stared out the window for the first hour or so, lost in thought, before shutting her eyes and falling asleep. Once she was asleep, Conor and Micah had wandered off to round up some food. Usually, Luke would be suspicious that they were making plans without him, but he was working to let his fear of being excluded from their little foursome go. It helped that Conor and Micah had been so attentive after he’d gotten shot; these were men whocared. He wasn’t an afterthought.

Not even to the woman jerking and crying out softly in her sleep. Desperation and helplessness clawed at his insides. How could he help her, if she refused to tell them what had happened to her at the professor’s hands?

“Kara,” he quietly ordered, channeling his inner Conor. “Wake up.”

She didn’t at first, so he pinched her thigh.

“Fuck,” she said, opening her eyes. “What? What’s wrong?”

“I should ask you that,” he said. “What are the nightmares about? You’ve been having them a lot.”

“What are your nightmares about?” she countered.

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