Page 141 of Blood in the Water

Sweat dripped down my brow as I swung my legs over the side of the bed and drank the rest of the water on my bedside table. The clock read 3 am.

I rubbed my eyes, adrenaline still coursing through my veins. My heartbeat thumped in my ears. I took ten deep, calming breaths. I stretched my neck from side to side. I grounded myself by naming three things I could see, three things I could hear, and three things I could touch. Slowly, I began to feel more like myself.

This routine was familiar to me. Sleep would not come again for quite a while. Instead of tossing and turning, I could do something useful with my consciousness and answer emailsuntil the cortisol left my body and I could finally sleep again. If that didn’t work, I’d head downstairs to the gym and work my body to exhaustion.

I collected my laptop from its place on my desk and padded to the kitchen, trying to be as quiet as possible. Once I’d poured myself another glass of water, I turned on the lowest setting of the dimmer lights in the living room and settled onto the couch with my computer on my lap.

A message from my shipping contact in China sat at the top of my inbox. Again, they were looking for an update on whether we’d accept the contract against the life of their top competitor. Fifteen million. A decent price. Ryuji and I could handle it ourselves.

But I’d been hesitating to accept the contract because I wanted to be present here. I didn’t want to leave New York so soon. Not when tensions were ramping up with the Italians, and we’d just joined forces with Leona.

With a sigh, I put the laptop aside, pinched the bridge of my nose, and rubbed my eyes again. Movement drew my eye, and my head whipped around as I palmed one of the knives we kept underneath the coffee table.

“Hi,” Leona said, shifting from foot to foot. It had been a few days since we’d agreed to form our partnership, and I’d barely seen her since. One of her arms grasped the other, her fingertips digging into her skin. Tonight, she wore a shirt I recognized as Caspian’s, and I wasn’t prepared for the harsh feeling of jealousy that sliced through me.

I frowned. “Is everything alright?”

She hesitated, but she didn’t seem in danger. I slipped the knife back underneath the tabletop.

“Leona,” I said firmly while I gestured to the large expanse of the couch. “Come. Sit with me.”

She exhaled heavily before she came to sit beside me. “Sorry.”

I shook my head. “There’s no need to be sorry.”

“I didn’t mean to bother you while you were working,” she whispered as she tucked her feet underneath her. The shirt slipped higher up her thighs, and I looked away. “I couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d come and get some water.”

Her eyes were haunted, her shoulders heavy. I recognized the feeling.

“Nightmares?” I ventured a guess.

She bit her bottom lip and nodded. “They went away for a while,” she said, eyes staring ahead and unfocused. “But after that night at the mansion with Max, they’ve been back.”

I leaned back against the couch. “Have you spoken with Caspian about them? Or Wynn?”

“It’s not a big deal.”

“It is,” I insisted. “I am sorry you cannot sleep. It would be best if you talked about them with someone. I’ve heard it helps.”

Silence stretched between us. I wanted to comfort her but didn’t want to make her feel uncomfortable. A part of me wanted to get one of my brothers who she’d feel more comfortable with, but the other part rebelled at the idea. There was no reason I needed to wake them up. I was more than capable of easing her worries.

Besides, we needed to get to know each other better. I understood what she was going through.

“I have nightmares, too,” I finally said as I clasped my hands in my lap. My brothers knew I had trouble sleeping, but I could never vocalize the horrors I relived, especially when many of my nightmares were simply replays of the things I’d done over the last fifteen years.

Her eyes flicked up to meet mine. “You do?”

I nodded. “I’m only out here right now because I couldn’t sleep.”

“Have you spoken to anyone about them?”

I smirked. “No.”

“Guess we’re both stubborn,” she said with a grin.

“It appears so. I suppose I cannot blame you if I fail to take my own advice.”

She sat a little straighter on the couch, some of the tension lessening from her shoulders. Her grin spread even wider. “Hypocrite.”