Free Dead Series (Book 2): A Little More Dead: Gunfire & Sunshine by Sean Thomas Fisher

“You’re okay.”
    His tentative gaze
swept the bedroom, reality bleeding in like the morning sunshine peeking
through the glass. Exhaling a winded breath, he mopped sweat from his forehead
and sat up. “Jesus Christ,” he breathed, leaning against the headboard.
    The bed sheet slid
down Wendy’s chest, exposing her bare breasts. “What happened?”
    He grabbed a bottle
of water from the nightstand and unscrewed the top. “You don’t want to know,”
he said, taking a greedy pull and doing a double take. “Weren’t you wearing
clothes before we went to bed?”
    “I can’t sleep
with clothes on.” She pulled the sheet up over her chest. “What happened in
your dream? I want to know.”
    Paul threw the bed
sheet back, relieved to see he was still wearing his t-shirt and jeans that
smelled like smoke.
    “Where are you
going?”
    “To the bathroom.”
    “Can you bring me
back a juice box?”
    He didn’t reply
and went out into the hallway to find the nearest bathroom door closed and locked.
The door opened in his hand and Curtis sauntered out, a sleepy grin attached to
his scruffy face and a Rachel Ray magazine tucked under an arm. “I wouldn’t go
in there for thirty-five to forty-five minutes if I were you, hoss.”
    “Great.” Paul grumbled,
going upstairs to find another one of the house’s many bathrooms.
    After using the
restroom on the second floor and splashing some bottled water on his face, he
came back out with Brock’s words haunting his steps.
    You can’t stay at this beach house, partner.
    At the top of the
second floor landing, Paul noticed Stephanie curled up on the leather couch in
the game room. Brow folding, he crept into the room, the hardwood flooring cold
beneath his feet. His eyes followed her distant gaze to the bloodstain on the
floor where Troy died for the second time yesterday. After burning Troy’s and
Cora’s bodies, Paul and Wendy cleaned it up and now he realized they didn’t do
a very good job of it.
    “Are you okay?”
    Stephanie clapped
a hand over her chest, nearly spilling her coffee. “You scared me.”
    “Sorry.”
    Her eyes drifted
back to the floor, hands cradling the steaming mug for warmth. “I just can’t
believe he’s gone.”
    Paul came around
the pool table and sat next to her on the couch, searching for something to say
and settling for less than he wanted to find. “It gets better.”
    She turned to him
and folded the bare legs spilling from someone else’s running shorts beneath
her. “Does it?”
    He opened his
mouth but nothing came out. “Not really.”
    Smiling, she
tucked a strand of wet bangs behind an ear. “When we were kids, Troy was so
protective of Curtis and I. Every time I had a date, he questioned the poor kid
more than my dad did and for a while there I couldn’t stand him.” She brushed
at a teardrop, gaze wandering back to the blood spot on the floor. “But after
high school, we became closer than ever and he always had the right answers.
Always knew the right thing to do.” She sniffled, her voice escaping as a
pathetic whine. “Now I don’t know what to do.”
    Paul rubbed her shoulder,
breathing in the vanilla floating from her hair. “We’re going to be fine; I
promise.”
    Looking up,
Stephanie searched his eyes for veracity, faces inches apart. “Are we?” she
whispered.
    He stared back,
studying her almond-shaped eyes with his heart beating in his ears. “Probably
not.”
    Her abrupt
laughter was music to his ears and pulled a smile from him as well. She kept
her eyes on him and, to Paul’s surprise, an extremely comfortable silence fell
between them as waves silently crashed to shore in the background.
    “I’m worried about
Curtis. I don’t know what he’s going to do without him. Troy was his biggest champion.”
    “He was his crew
chief, right?”
    Stephanie nodded
and blew on her coffee, swirling the steam. “Troy pushed Curtis so hard on the
track. He was positive Curtis had what it takes to race