Drake Sisters 07 - Hidden Currents

endure, to hold out, to keep his soul intact, but now, he prayed for the strength to kil and kil swiftly.
    His arms screamed, his shoulder throbbed and pulsed with pain, but al of that was pushed aside. He hung by the ropes, eyes narrowed to slits, his body coiling into the machine he’d been trained to be. The knife sliced cleanly through the ropes and he fel to the sand and watched as the driver shoved the blade back into the scabbard inside his boot. Al the while, the driver and the guards continued arguing, paying him no attention at al .
    As the sadistic guard stepped closer, fury goading him to double his fists, Jackson felt strength and power pour into him. It was so much so fast, he could barely contain it. He’d forgotten what it was like to feel the rush of adrenaline coupled with ful power. His brain was clear, precise, every step planned out in advance. He struck, ripping the knife free with his left hand, the smooth arc of his hand continuing to slice deep into the thigh, cutting through arteries as he reached for the gun with his right hand, ripping it from the belt and shooting the sadistic guard right between the eyes.
    He rol ed, his legs sweeping down the driver he’d cut. As Jackson rol ed, he shot the second guard three times in the chest and once in the throat, driving him backward. Sitting, he shot the driver in the head and slashed through the rope binding his ankles together. Something moved behind him, brushed against his back and he twisted around, the knife in his hand, his heart pounding, his other hand swinging at the unseen enemy.
    â€œJackson!â€
    She moved in his mind. Fear. Compassion. Elle. Jackson found himself sitting upright in the bed, a knife in his fist, sweat gleaming on his body. His hair was damp with it, the sheets soaked. El e sat nearly beneath him, her hands in her lap, her expression soft and loving. He looked down and saw the blade of the knife pointed toward her, inches from her body. His stomach lurched. He opened his fingers and let the knife fal to the mattress between them.
    â€œI’m sorry, baby. Tel me I didn’t hurt you.†He wiped the sweat from his eyes, rubbing his palms over his face and then through his damp hair. “Hel . I could have kil ed you. What the fuck was I thinking, bringing you here?â€
    She reached out a hand to him, but he jerked away from her, backing to the other side of the bed, feet on the floor, hands stil rubbing over his face in agitation.
    â€œJackson—â€
    â€œDon’t. Just fucking don’t. Cal Sarah and tel her to come and get you. I’l come over in the morning. Take Bomber with you.â€
    â€œI don’t think so.â€
    Temper hissed in her voice, making him turn his head and meet her glittering gaze. “What did you say to me?†he asked, his own voice lowering, taking on an edge.
    â€œYou heard me very wel , Jackson. I’m not leaving. You had a nightmare. A flashback. Whatever. It happened. We’l deal with it.â€
    He glared at her. “Are you out of your mind, El e? I could have shoved that knife in your throat. Right then, in that moment, you were the enemy. You sat there looking at me, total y without defending yourself. You didn’t even put up your damn hands. Who does that, El e? Lies there offering herself up like some sacrifice?â€
    â€œI didn’t want to add to your nightmare. I just talked to you to bring you out of it.â€

    Now her voice irritated him. She’d gone al soft again, understanding. He leapt up, paced across the room to his jeans and dragged them over his hips. “Wel , you didn’t talk me out of it, did you, El e? You became part of it. And I could have woken up with a knife sticking out of your bel y and my hand on the hilt.â€
    â€œNothing happened, Jackson,†she said, obviously struggling to keep her voice soothing.
    â€œDon’t use that voice on me. I’m not a fucking child.â€
    â€œYou’re certainly acting like one. You think by saying ‘fuck’ to me that makes you Jackson the badass? I’m not afraid of you, Jackson.â€
    He swung around, crossing back to her side of the bed with purposeful, long strokes, deliberately looming over her. “Wel maybe you should be.â€
    She refused to drop her gaze. “I’l never be afraid of you. Not if you come at me with a knife and not if you yel the