Page 109 of Precious Hazard

I run, stumbling blindly, but I can’t slow down. Can’t falter. Can’t quit.

Can’t let anything stop me. I need to hurry, or I’ll be lost.

Not because I fear the darkness, but because that rhythmic beating is my life.

Inside the void, inside the swirling vortex, I’m searching…

For the light of warm, green eyes.

My eyes snap open.

“Your snores are as loud as a freight train, DeVille,” Tara mumbles beside me. Her hair has spilled across the pillow, strands tickling my nose.

I sigh. That was one weird as fuck dream. I lay my hand on the small of my wife’s back and glide my palm upward along her spine. “I guess you should get used to it.”

“Can I request a bonus?” She flips over, turning to face me. “A hundred grand for suffering due to hazardous sleep conditions that were not disclosed during our negotiations?”

I grit my teeth. She had to bring it up again. “Saving you from gun-wielding thugs wasn’t in the contract either, yet I did it anyway.”

“Please. Those idiots had more gusto than brains and had absolutely no training. We probably would have managed just fine without you.”

“Yeah, sure.” I gently sweep the hair off her forehead to have a better look at the cut she received.

“Were you really worried? At the club. You said you were scared for me.”

A chill races down my spine. Saying that I was scared is putting it mildly. I was fucking terrified.

“Of course I was. Can you imagine the depth of the shit the Family would be in if something happened to you on my watch? Drago would have gone ballistic.”

“I was at my brother’s club when the attack happened. If anyone was going to be blamed, it would have been him.”

Damn right, he’d be to blame! And is, actually. Something I won’t forget anytime soon. But I can’t admit that to her.

“You’re my wife, and therefore, my responsibility. Having said that, from this point on, you won’t leave our property unless your entire security detail and I am with you.”

Anger flashes in her eyes. “You can’t just lock me up!”

I can. And I will. I refuse to ever go through the kind of horrid shit I went through last night again. “You should put something on that cut.”

“Don’t change the fricking subject again!”

“It’s not up for discussion, Tara. I’m willing to overlook the fact that you violated the terms of our agreement by working at your brother’s club if you assure me that it won’t happen again.”

“Both you and your agreement can go to hell,” she sneers and leaps out of bed.

My eyes track her as she rushes toward the door connecting our bedrooms, picking up her clothes from the floor along the way. She stops at the threshold and glares at me over her shoulder.

“By the way, what I agreed to is that I wouldn’tworkat the club.” An impish smile breaks across her face. “Work implies payment for services rendered. Since I was simply helping out without the expectation of monetary compensation, there was no violation of the terms on my part. And there’s nothing in that document that forbids me from doing it again. You really need to be more cognizant of the shit you sign, DeVille.”

The door slides closed in my awestruck face.

I’m fuming the entire time I’m in the shower and while I get dressed for work. It’s absolutely unthinkable that she’d risk her safety just to spite me! She’s so damn stubborn! The fear that gripped me when I had no idea whether she was alive, hurt, or dead is still playing havoc with my head. The worst-case scenarios of my wife’s body peppered with bullets or her being snatched away to God-only-knows-where are flashing throughmy mind, and there’s nothing I can do to stop the crushing horror show. My guts twist, and the remnants of my last meal threaten to make a reappearance, sending me to double over at the thought of what could have happened if I’d been too late.

“Greta!” I holler as I hurry down the stairs while shrugging into my jacket.

“Yes, Mr. DeVille?” she calls back from the kitchen.

“I won’t be back until late tonight, so consider your ban on cooking for my wife lifted. Could you please fix her something for lunch?”

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