Blind Alley - Iris Johansen [58]
“Bastard.”
“I was willing to share.”
“My gold.”
“There was enough for both of us. I would have earned it. I would have provided safety and treasured you as much as the gold.”
“I'm to believe you? Good gods, what nonsense you're—”
Rumbling.
Rocks tumbling around them.
A sharp stone pierced Cira's skin. She felt the warm blood pouring down her arm.
“Hurry!” Antonio was jerking her through the tunnel. “The structure of the tunnel's weakening. It could go any moment.”
“I am hurrying. What a stupid—” Another rock struck her cheek.
More pain.
More blood.
More pain.
More pain . . .
Wake up. Stop moaning, dammit.”
Blood . . .
She opened her eyes. “Blood,” she gasped.
“Wake up.”
“Antonio . . .”
No, it was Trevor standing above her beside the porch swing.
Of course it wasn't Antonio. . . .
“I'm awake.” She tried to catch her breath. “I'm fine.” She sat up and rubbed her eyes. “I must have dozed off. What time is it?”
“Only a little after midnight. I saw you curled up in the porch swing when I took over for Bartlett an hour ago. But you were sleeping so soundly I thought I'd let you sleep until you stirred.” His lips tightened. “But that was before you started whimpering. It was damn disconcerting. You're not a person given to whimpering. What the hell were you dreaming?”
Rocks flying, blood, pain.
“I don't remember.” She arched her back to ease the stiffness. She must have been curled in that fetal position for hours. Or maybe not. How long did a dream last? “Is everything okay?”
“No problems. The security team is sharp. I just have to remind them to keep sharp. Boredom is our worst enemy.” He was frowning. “You don't have to be afraid.”
“Of course I do. I'd be an idiot not to be afraid.”
“Scared enough for it to give you nightmares?”
“Everyone has bad dreams.”
“Not about blood.” He paused. “And not about Cira.”
She stiffened. “I take it I was doing more than whimpering. What did I say?”
“I couldn't make out very much. I think you said, ‘Watch out, Cira. Rocks. Too late.' When you woke, you were talking to someone named Antonio.” He gazed directly into her eyes. “And, if you know what I'm talking about, then you do remember that nightmare.”
“And you should have waked me right away and not eavesdropped.”
“You have to admit that it's natural that my attention should be caught by Cira's name.”
“I don't care if it's natural. You shouldn't have eavesdropped.”
“Granted.” He was silent. “What were you dreaming?”
She looked away from him. “What you'd expect me to dream since you told me about her. Tunnels. A volcano erupting. A woman running for her life.”
“Is this the first time you dreamed about her?”
“No.”
“When did it start?”
“None of your business.” She rose to her feet and picked up her laptop. “We've let you inveigle yourself into our lives, but keep your hands off my dreams, Trevor.”
“If I can.”
“What the devil is that supposed to mean?”
He shrugged. “I'm having trouble not being drawn into every aspect of your life. Believe me, I've tried to keep my distance. It's not working.”
“Try harder.” She took a step toward the door. “I don't need you to confide in. I have Eve and Joe. If I want to talk about Cira or anything else, it will be with them.”
He held up his hand in surrender. “Okay. Okay. I hear you.” He stood looking at her as she opened the screen door. “If you change your mind . . .”
“I won't. Why should I?”
“Curiosity.” He smiled faintly. “Did it ever occur to you that you're not the only one who dreams of Cira?”
Her gaze flew to his face. “What?”
“Why the surprise? She seems to dominate all of us. I started dreaming about her years ago after I read those scrolls.”
She moistened her lips. “What . . . kind of dreams?”
He shook his head and said softly, “You tell me your dreams, I'll tell you mine.”
“And you'll probably make up yours.”
He chuckled. “O ye of little faith.” He started down the steps. “If you decide you want to talk, you know where I'll be.”
“I won't want to talk. I don't care about your blasted dreams.” She slammed the screen door