Free Cut and Run by Lara Adrián Page A

their hunger. They’d kissed and stroked and teased under the spray, then fell into bed together in a state of boneless bliss.
    The night hadn’t played out in the order Ethan might have intended, but Tori couldn’t have been happier.
    Nor more satisfied, as she slept beside him in the big king-size bed, her naked body curled up close to his, caught in the warm circle of his strong arms.
    She wasn’t sure what woke her first—the erratic sound of his breathing, or the coil of tension that began to rake his entire body. His low, sharp moan made her eyes snap open in the darkened room.
    He twitched fitfully, his eyelids and lips quirking in his sleep.
    A nightmare.
    And from the look and sound of its effect on a man as unshakable as Ethan, it had to be something awful.
    He breathed rapidly, as if he was running a marathon.
    And he was agitated, even terrified. A sheen of perspiration glistened on his furrowed forehead and in the shadowy scruff that darkened his cheeks and jaw.
    Tori didn’t know if she should wake him.
    But watching him suffer through whatever horror was playing behind his closed lids was too much for her to bear.
    Her voice was the softest whisper. “Ethan.”
    She hadn’t even touched him before he sprang on her, eyes flying open, his large body trapping her under his hard weight as if she was the enemy. “Fuck!”
    He muttered a swift apology, already rolling off her. He pivoted to the edge of the mattress, his long legs slung over the side.
    “Jesus fucking Christ, Tori. You can’t do that. I’m not…” He raked a hand through his bed-mussed hair. Swiveling his head to glance at her over his shoulder, he looked at her in pained regret. “I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
    “No. You startled me, is all.” When he cursed again, more vicious this time, she crawled over to wrap her arms around him from behind. “It’s okay. It was just a dream.”
    “It’s not a dream,” he murmured, a hard edge to his voice.
    “A nightmare,” she suggested, but the look he turned on her said it had been something more. Something much worse than that. “A premonition?”
    He nodded. God, he looked absolutely sick with it. “I’ve been seeing it for the past three years, ever since the Phoenix program went dark. The same premonition, over and over and over. It’s horrific and…incomplete somehow. I have to figure out what it means.”
    She listened, seeing the torment in him. “And this is all part of your work for the CIA—for the Phoenix program? They wanted you to see terrible things, then try to make sure they wouldn’t happen? My God, Ethan. What that must do to you.”
    “It was important work. I’ve never been unable to handle it.” He shrugged vaguely. “I could handle this too, if I only knew what it was I’m missing.”
    She tenderly stroked his muscled back, small caresses, unable to resist the need to touch him, to comfort him even in some small way if she could. “Tell me about the dream.”
    She didn’t know if he was willing to let her in that close. But he hardly hesitated, pivoting around to capture her hand in his as he spoke.
    “It’s always the same. Brief glimpses of a bigger picture. I’m running full tilt through thick, yellow sand. I know I need to get somewhere fast—before it’s too late—but no matter how hard I run, it’s never enough. I’m getting nowhere. There’s a building up ahead of me, but I can’t get to it in time.”
    Tori stared at him, her own fear ratcheting. “In time for what, Ethan?”
    “To stop what happens next.” He glanced down at their joined fingers, frowning, his expression grim with his burden. “As soon as I see the SUVs, I know it’s already too late. The clock is ticking. Time is running out too fast. I know the detonation is about to hit.”
    She couldn’t speak now. Could only listen and wait as he prepared to tell her the worst of his premonition.
    “The caravan is speeding across the sand, kicking up