2
I woke up in a sweat—and not because of the lack of air-conditioning . . . of course, that didn’t help. My breathing was rapid and my pulse was on turbo. With the amount of wine Kym and I polished off last night, I had hoped the nightmares would drown or at least take a vacation. Since Brett left with the Sledgehammer killer in tow, I haven’t had one night of peace. The dreams come in a blinding flash. One minute I’m peacefully asleep with no dreams to bother me, then the killer rips through with her cutting eyes and bloody hammer.
I took a few calming breaths and let my pulse find its rhythm again.
It was another morning of no alarm clocks and no deadlines. Nothing. A different person might relish the time. Not me. No alarm clock and no deadlines meant no money. My accounts were at z
