Free Ransomed Dreams by Sally John Page B

was beside her. She trembled, violent spasms that shook her from his embrace. He drew her back in, tightening his hold.
    “Don’t leave me! Don’t leave me!”
    “I won’t, Sher. I promise I won’t. . . .”
    * * *
    Sheridan shook her head, flinging off the memory of that day in the Miami airport. It was a unique moment in time that would never be repeated. And yet . . .
    That nameless, debilitating panic pounced again, its tendrils encircling her throat as Luke walked away in the Mazatlán airport. She had no choice. She raced after him.
    “Luke! Luke!”
    He turned.
    What was she doing? What was going on? What was wrong with her?
    She hurried down the corridor, by now hyperventilating. The crowd swirled around her. Blackness crept along the edges of her vision.
    “Sher, what is it?”
    She grabbed his free hand with both of hers. The touch of another human being eased the panic.
    “What is it?” he asked again.
    “Just don’t leave me,” she said. “Please.”
    He gently squeezed her hand. “I won’t. I promise I won’t.”

Chapter 16
    Chicago
    “Aargh.” Calissa closed her cell phone and resisted the urge to smash it against her desktop.
    A deep chuckle resounded from behind her.
    She turned. “Shut up.”
    Bram Carter let loose with a guffaw, his mouth a perfect oval in the middle of a full, pearl-white beard. “‘Aargh’? From the silver-tongued pixie herself?”
    She spread her arms in a gesture of defeat. “I am completely out of words.”
    “Come here, darling.”
    Calissa wondered if she let Bram get away with pixie because her heart thrummed whenever darling resonated in his rich baritone.
    Moving around the desk, she carefully laid the phone on it and stepped into his waiting embrace. She sighed. His chest always reminded her of an extra-firm, king-size pillow. If she could replicate it, somehow encase the rhythmic beating of a strong metronome in soft broadcloth and silky lapels, and get the patent, she could buy a Caribbean island and retire.
    “So.” His voice rumbled in her ear. “What did your spy have to say?”
    “They’re at LAX. Oh, I wish we’d found them a direct flight to Chicago. Sheridan is an absolute basket case.”
    “Define basket case .”
    “Blubbery. Clingy.”
    “Sounds like a surefire guarantee she’s not going anywhere by herself. A clingy Sheridan will get here, as long as the one she adheres to stays on task.”
    “He will. But, my golly! She’s forty years old. She’s worth a fortune in Montgomery money. She’s not tied down to work. Her husband almost died a year and a half ago. How long does PTSD last, anyway?” Calissa leaned back and looked up at Bram.
    The light reflected in his bottomless eyes the color of burnt coffee. “You think that’s it? Post-trauma symptoms from the shooting?”
    “My sister is not a flake. What else could it be?”
    “You said she had professional help.”
    “At the hospital. Since then, I don’t know what she’s been up to. Traynor said they’ve been living in a tiny Mexican village. It didn’t sound like the sort of place where therapists make a living.”
    “We can’t imagine how much Sheridan has going on still, even after all this time.”
    Calissa studied his face. It was handsome in its mature lines, surrounded by a halo of neatly trimmed thick hair the same color as his beard, both prematurely white. She said, “What do you mean, how much she has going on?”
    “Darling, in case you haven’t noticed, you sisters grew up in a most unconventional environment. She must sense from your note that the past is about to turn a deeper shade of bizarre.”
    “Meaning, of course she’s a basket case at this time.”
    Bram kissed the tip of her nose. “Of course.”
    “And where am I on the loony scale? One to ten. She’s a twelve. I’m a what?”
    “A woman who can’t commit to marriage.”
    She groaned and buried her face in his tie, anticipating his question, the one he asked at least once a