Page 12 of At A Dreamwalkers Mercy

There had to be programs for women like her, right?

But what if there wasn’t?

A wall of sadness washed over her.

What did it even matter if she was alone?

What did it all even matter? Why was she even put on this earth if no one was going to care.

An image of Garrett from the day before flashed in her mind.

Was Garrett, her dream man, even real?

Maybe she had made him up. Maybe his visit the day before was just a figment of her dreams.

That had to be it, because a man like him, so full of muscles and those dark, soulful eyes, couldn’t possibly want a girl like her.

Right?

They were halfway across the circus layout, the tents in all stages of being torn down, the men around them working together to fold them up and load them onto the trucks, the next location waiting for them, when it happened.

She heard a shout, and Chuck froze in front of her.

“Everybody get down! FBI!” a man yelled from the edge of the circus area right before it was flooded with men holding guns, all of them wearing vests clearly showing a set of big white letters printed across them.

FBI?

In an instant, it was chaos. People that worked for the circus were running around, agents taking them down to the ground as she spun around in a circle, not sure what to do.

“Fuck!” Chuck screamed, reaching for her at the same time that the man from before, the one that she had bumped into, appeared holding a gun up toward her and Chuck.

“Get down on the ground!” he roared at them as two other men came to stand behind him in similar stances, their guns drawn and pointed.

Immediately, she knelt, doing as she was told, but Chuck took his time. Eventually, having no other choice, Chuck was forced to the ground beside her. He grunted as an agent kneeled on his back and started cuffing him.

“Do not say a fucking word,” Chuck snarled at her before he was pulled up off the ground and marched away.

She watched him till she felt the cold, hard steel of handcuffs wrap around her wrists as an agent started reading her rights.

She was being arrested?

The agent from before stepped forward, holstering his gun and nodding to the agent that had handcuffed her.

“I’ve got her,” he said and gently wrapped her hand around her arm before leading her out of the area to an ambulance that was waiting on the edge of the chaos.

“Miss Mercy needs to be checked over,” he said, turning her and undoing her cuffs before motioning for her to sit down.

How did he know her name?

“Does anything hurt, ma’am?” the paramedic asked, looking her over before probing her very swollen eye. Makeup had covered most of it, but not enough if the paramedic had noticed.

“I’m fine,” she whispered.

“Any double vision? Blurriness?” She shook her head. She knew the drill, and she also knew what a concussion felt like.

This was nothing more than just a very bad black eye.

“I don’t have a concussion,” she said softly, for just the paramedic to hear, and the lady gave her a pitying look.

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