Page 198 of King of Pain

His arms fly out, one nearly clipping me in the jaw. I duck back and scramble on top of him, straddling his waist and grabbing his wrists, holding them tight as he flails beneath me.

“Ant!Wake up!”

I shake him hard. His eyes fly open at the same time the bedroom door crashes open with athud as the knob slams into the wall.

I whip around, scrambling off Ant.

Deacon stands in the doorway, gun raised.

Ant jolts upright, pressing his back to the headboard, his breathing a frantic staccato. I throw up a hand toward Deacon.

“It’s okay, Deek,” I say calmly. “Ant was having a nightmare. I couldn’t pull him out of it.”

Deacon doesn’t move at first, eyes sweeping the room, calculating every shadow. I know that look—he’s good at his job. Silent, methodical. I’m grateful for his presence tonight.

After a tense moment, Deacon lowers the gun, gives a sharp nod.

“I’ll be right outside if you need anything.”

“Thanks, Deek,” I say, still catching my breath.

He closes the door behind him, and I turn back around.

Ant is staring at me with his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

“What?” I ask.

He quirks an eyebrow. “Should we make room for him in the bed now? It’s big enough.”

I narrow my eyes. “Over my dead body will anyone else ever be in this bed.”

Ant’s face softens. “Except Little G.”

I let out a short laugh. “Except Little G.”

Ant glances around the room, blinking. “Speaking of… where is he?”

I sigh. “He’s with Deacon. I asked him to keep the little guy close tonight. Figured if anything went down, G would be able to alert him if he happened to doze off.”

Ant exhales hard, rubbing his hands over his face. “Fuck, Ihatethis.”

I crawl forward on my knees, settle across his lap, straddling him again. I cup his face gently, thumbs brushing the sides of his cheeks.

“Hey.” I press my forehead to his. “Never mind all that. There was a threat, yeah. But it was probably just a scare tactic—to keep you from joining the case. Deacon’s a precaution that allows me to focus on you. Nothing more.”

Ant nods slowly, but he’s still staring at his lap.

“Now,” I smirk, “you wanna tell me about that nightmare,Rocky Balboa?”

Ant huffs a small laugh. “Oh God. Was I throwing punches?”

I shrug. “Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

He leans back slightly, a sheepish smile pulling at his mouth.

“Come on,” I coax, “tell me about it. Shine some light on it. Might help clear it from your head so it doesn’t show up again tonight.”

He swallows hard, and for a long moment, he just sits there, holding my gaze.