He’d left without touching her in any other way, but the feel of his hands on her remained.
She tumbled into a restless sleep only to wake deep in the night, her skin covered with sweat, her legs wrapped tightly in her sheets, and her heart racing like a locomotive.
The nightmare still pounded at her. The afterglow of orgasm and the seduction of sexual power. The stench of blood and the taste of the cotton rag shoved in her mouth. The sound of vicious laughter. The warmth of the woman’s urine as she lost control of her bladder.
The terror when she knew she was going to die.
The nightmare had the malevolent stamp of Wendy’s father all over it. She felt the seeds of a new obsession growing: the eventual demise of Bud Traynor.
Max rolled over and hugged Buzzard to her belly.
Tell me about the dream, baby. Tell me all about it.
A soft, soothing voice caressed her ear, a whisper of breath stroked her nape, and the comforting scent of peppermint enveloped her.
“Bastard,” she murmured affectionately, the slightest of smiles curving her lips.
Oh thank you God, Cameron was back.