Page 39 of Nightmare

“You know,” I say, pressing a hand over my eyes to block out the blinding living room light, “I have to pretend like I’m interested in Fury now, or you’ll go back to being in big trouble with Hazel.”

He doesn’t answer, and when I move my hand, I see he’s looking down at me with that intense expression again. I take a moment to really study his face, my eyes raking over his thick beard, his full lips, those deep brown eyes, until finally settling on the intricate patterns shaved into the side of his head. I really like them, and they suit him in a way I never thought they could suit any man. I’m not one for hair like Western’s, but on him, it’s stunning. Gorgeous.

“Better go,” he murmurs, turning toward the door.

“Western?” I call, and he pauses, his entire body going tight.

He really does hate it when I call him that.

He glances back at me.

“Why did you marry Hazel? It doesn’t seem like a choice either of you made because you wanted it.”

He thinks on that for a moment, then answers, “When you’ve got my life, you do whatever you can to keep your head above water.”

Then with that, he leaves.

Once again, I have more questions than answers.

I don’t get to ponder that long, though.

My eyes fall shut, and, before I know it, I’m out.

Finally.

9

“So, I happened to stumbleacross some interesting information when I was looking for your autopsy report.”

Nathan’s voice comes down the phone line the next morning, and I’m struggling to pay attention. I’m groggy and hungover as hell, but when I saw his name flash across my screen, I couldn’t help but answer it. He wouldn’t be calling me for nothing, and hearing his introduction, I’m glad I picked up the phone.

“I’m listening,” I moan, sitting up, head pounding.

“You sound like death.”

“Hungover, it’s self-inflicted,” I huff, closing my eyes. “Tell me what you found.”

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