His to Take (Wicked Lovers #9)(85)
Author: Shayla Black

Inside, it was even more quiet. No TV, no laughter, no sounds of cooking.

She wandered from room to room, frowning at the red all over the walls, staining the floor of the hall. As she stepped into her parents’ bedroom, she peeled off her socks, then . . .

Everything faded. Then suddenly, she was running for the back door with her shirt stained. Wind blew the portal wide, and she sprinted for the road in bare feet. Her teeth chattered until a nice couple in a blue sedan found her. Bailey climbed inside their warm car, rocking back and forth in confusion. She didn’t know what to say.

Bailey woke with a gasp.

She sat up. Hand pressed to her chest, breathing hard. Her heart thundered.

The nightmare she’d had all her life had come back to haunt her again. This time, she’d seen visions that had never appeared before, like Viktor Aslanov. Never before had she acknowledged him in her dream as Daddy.

She’d also never seen the stranger who’d made Viktor bleed before dragging him away, which was clearly what her adult mind told her had happened. She knew the Russian had been tortured, then eventually killed, his body dumped on the side of a road.

But somehow, the stranger who had taken him away looked familiar.

“Bailey?” Joaquin sat up beside her. “Did you dream?”

She nodded absently, trying to piece it all together. A sick feeling assailed her. “Where is that photo?”

He wrapped an arm around her and eased her against his body. “Of McKeevy? On the nightstand. I’ll get it.”

“No.” Lunging out of Joaquin’s embrace, she stood and turned on the nightstand lamp. Just like in her dream, the air held a nip. Her feet felt frozen. Her hand shook as she reached for the photo.

Yes, she’d definitely seen those mean, pale eyes.

Bailey trembled harder. She started to sweat.

Joaquin leapt to her side. “What is it? Tell me.”

“This man was in my dream. He never had been until tonight, but I saw him this time. He barged into our house and dragged Viktor away.”

“Did he kill everyone else in the house first?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.” It was all so fuzzy to her.

“What did he say when he broke in?”

“I wasn’t inside. In my dream, Viktor had sent me outside to hide in my brother’s makeshift fort. He told me to stay there. But after this man dragged him away, I went back inside.” Bailey shook her head, then blinked up at Joaquin. He represented protection and comfort now. She needed those. “I’ve never had that part of the dream before.”

“Anything else new?”

“Not really.” She frowned. “There’s a bit of a blank spot in between me coming back to the house and me running outside again, this time all covered in blood. I can’t see that part.”

He wrapped her in his arms. “You’ve kept the memories locked away for years because they’re traumatic. You’re starting to remember. Maybe seeing McKeevy’s face jarred something? You’re sure it was him in your dream?”

“I’m sure. He was younger, a little less bald, but those cold eyes were the same.”

Joaquin kissed the top of her head, and she let his heat seep into her. “You’re shaking.”

“The dream has always scared me.” She looked up at him, big and strong, somehow her anchor in this crazy, upside-down world she now inhabited. “This time, I’m terrified.”

“I know. Come back to bed.” He tried to take the photo from her grip.

“No. I need to think about this.”

She clutched the glossy picture of the man who had probably murdered her whole family. On the surface, he didn’t look particularly evil or even remarkable. If she’d seen him in person now, she probably would have thought he was a teacher or bank teller—some occupation where he had to be polite. He wouldn’t like putting on a nice face and would more than likely have cursed his students or customers in his head. But looking at him now, assassin fit.

“We know he left Houston and headed north. We don’t know exactly where he is at the moment, but we’re pretty sure where he will be on Saturday.”

“Callie and Sean’s wedding.” Bailey was afraid for her new friend.

He nodded. “I need to call them, tell them about this development. We knew McKeevy was a member of LOSS and probably a threat. But to be ninety-nine percent sure he killed your family and that he broke into your house in Houston, too . . . that’s a game changer.”

“It’s the middle of the night,” she protested.

“I don’t care. This thing is coming to a head. I don’t know why he’s chosen now, after all these years. But maybe, with some insight from Sean, I can figure it out.”