Fatal Series 01 - Fatal Affair

up?”
    “John…” Nick pressed his hands against John’s neck, trying to make it stop. How could he lose this much blood and stay conscious? “Help! Somebody help us!”
    “It’s okay, Cappy.” John’s hand landed on Nick’s shoulder. “I’ll be all right.”
    Nick looked up to find John’s face morphing into a smiling skeleton. He screamed.
    “Nick,” Sam said. “Wake up. Babe, wake up.”
    His head ached, his mouth was dry, his eyes gritty. “What?”
    Sam brushed the hair off his forehead and kissed his cheek. “You were dreaming.”
    Nick rested a hand over his racing heart. “John was there. He was still alive. There was so much blood. I tried to make it stop.” His throat tightening, he closed his eyes. “I couldn’t stop it.”
    She held him close, running her fingers through his hair. “You couldn’t have stopped it,” she whispered.
    “The stuff I’ve found out about him…since it happened… None of it matters. He was my friend.”
    “Yes.” She pressed her lips to his forehead. “That’ll never change.”
    “He was the closest thing to a brother I’ve ever had. We had this…language. It was all ours. The staff used to shake their heads when we’d get going. They had no idea what we were talking about. But we did. We always did.”
    Sam tightened her hold on him.
    “I miss him,” he whispered. “I really miss him. I just can’t believe I’m never going to see him again.”
    “I’m sorry. I wish there was something I could say.”
    “You’re helping.” He raised his head, met her eyes.
    She leaned in to kiss him. “I want to get the person who did this for his parents and his family. But mostly I want it for you.”
    “I’m apt to be a bit of a mess for a while.”
    “That’s all right.”
    He rested his hand over the hideous bruise on her chest. “This is a hell of a time for us to be starting something. You know that, don’t you?”
    “Worst possible time.”
    “So it stands to reason we’ll be able to deal with just about anything if we can get through this.”
    “I guess we’ll find out.” She smiled and caressed his face. “I need to get back to work.”
    “I know. Did you sleep?”
    “Big time. I didn’t think I would.”
    “You needed it. We both did.” He leaned in to kiss her once more. “Are you or your dad going to mind that I plan to stay here with you until this is over?”
    “No. I like having you here, and he doesn’t really care, despite the grief he might give you.”
    “I need to go home at some point to get some clothes and make sure the condo association took care of getting the windows fixed.”
    “We can arrange that.” She sat up and stretched. “I’m going to grab a shower. Care to join me?”
    “I’d love to, but I’m not going to push my luck. I’ll go after you.”
    “Wimp.”
    “Yep.”
    She laughed as she slipped into a robe, and the sound warmed him. He was surprised to realize she had made him feel better, even as the sickening images from the dream lingered. After Sam went into the bathroom, he sat up, gripping his pounding head. The concussion they’d called minor was making a major statement, and whatever they’d used to numb the cut over his eye had worn off, leaving a dull, throbbing ache.
    He felt kind of foolish about unloading on Sam, but she hadn’t seemed to mind. Having someone to share the ups and downs with was something he could get used to—as long as that someone was her.
    He stood up and groaned when his injured foot protested. Reaching for his jeans, he pulled them on and took a good look around the messy room. Sam had a way of exploding into a space, which was in direct conflict with his need for order. Beginning with the clothes piled on the floor, he went to work on the clutter. By the time she emerged from the bathroom fifteen minutes later, the place was almost livable.
    Her eyes all but popped out of her skull. “It’s like you can’t help yourself!”
    “Just straightening up. No biggie.”
    “I won’t be able to find anything!”
    “You couldn’t find anything before.”
    “I knew exactly where everything was.”
    “No way,” he scoffed. “You’re a slob, Samantha.” He bunched the towel she had wrapped around her into his fist and tugged her close enough to kiss. “A sexy, gorgeous slob, but a slob nonetheless.”
    Pouting, she tried to break free of him. “Just because I’m not an anal retentive freakazoid, doesn’t mean I’m a