Read Online Protector by Laurel Dewey - Free Book Online Page B

other. That’s one more person than a lot of people have. I’ll never hurt you and I’ll never let you down. You can’t say that for all the Lisas out there.”
     
    Mike thought for a second before he spoke. “You got Chris.”
     
    “Fuck Chris! I’m getting rid of Chris!”
     
    “I thought you and he were—”
     
    “We’re nothing!” Jane felt herself slipping. She didn’t know whether it was the beer or the end of an awful day but she had to drag herself back into the moment. She took a deep drag off her cigarette. “Sometimes I’m talking to Chris and it’s like I’m talking to Dad.” Jane looked off to the side, lost in a pocket of emotion.
     
    Mike seriously considered what Jane said. “Shit . . . That’s gotta suck.” He downed another gulp of beer. “You still having those dreams about the explosion?”
     
    “Yeah. Sure.”
     
    “I thought so. When I tried to wake you up this morning, you were really deep sleeping.”
     
    “You should have gotten me up. I was damn near late to work.”
     
    “You were talkin’ weird again!” Mike chuckled.
     
    Jane turned to Mike with a puzzled expression. “Huh?”
     
    Mike grinned. “When you were sleepin’ these last few days, you were quite the Chatty Cathy doll. It didn’t make a shitload of sense.”
     
    Mike’s jovial recollections of her blackout irritated Jane. “What did I say?”
     
    “It was all disjointed. But . . .” Mike suddenly remembered, “I wrote some words down that you kept repeating.” He pulled a wad of receipts from his jeans pocket and sorted through the disorganized bundle. “Here it is. You explain this to me: ‘Navy blue . . . Glock something or another . . . Bright light . . . Hold on to me—’ ”
     
    Jane snatched the corner of paper out of Mike’s hand. Her heart raced as she read the words. Except for “Hold on to me,” it was a printed repeat of the odd staccato visions. “When did I say this?”
     
    “You said it lots of times over the last few days. You said other shit, too, but I couldn’t understand it.” Jane stared uneasily at the piece of paper. Mike’s happy-go-lucky countenance melted into a look of concern. “You okay?”
     
    Jane took a final swig of beer, finishing off the bottle. “Of course I’m okay,” she replied, as if saying that statement would make it true. “Come on, let’s get outta here.” Jane collected the empty Corona bottles.
     
    “This is a shitload of trash. I don’t want to drag it to the curb,” Mike said, a slight whine to his voice. Jane instructed him to snag the dolly from the workshop. He disappeared into the small, dirt-floored side building, leaving one of the large wooden doors wide open. “I can’t find it!” he yelled out to Jane.
     
    “Keep looking,” Jane said with an edge.
     
    “Man, it’s a fuckin’ mess in here. This is gonna be a bitch to clean out, Janie!”
     
    Jane felt her body tense up and her jaw clench. She stared at the open door to the workshop and wished Mike would find the dolly and come back. “Forget cleaning!” Jane yelled. “We’ll burn the fucker down!”
     
    Mike emerged from the workshop with the dolly. “Cool!” He rolled the garbage bags to the curb while Jane locked up and turned off the lights save the outside porch lamp. She felt the urge to break the stonecold silence so she popped a CD into the car’s player. Turning up the volume, the gritty voice of Bob Seger sang “Katmandu.” She picked up the six-pack of empty Corona bottles and walked around the car. Mike propped the dolly against the house and crossed over to Jane. She reached down and grabbed one of the Coronas by its long, thin neck and looked up at her dad’s workshop, the red glow of the setting sun darting across the glass windows. Reeling back her arm, she eyed one of the workshop’s windows and tossed the beer bottle toward the target. It crashed through the glass, leaving a crystal echo and a huge hole. Mike turned to