Gone Before Dawn (Excerpt)

Cierra sprang up and gasped for air. Something was wrong, very wrong. She could feel it churning in the deepest pit of her instincts.

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she expected to see men surrounding her with black hoods over their faces, men with voices she knew.

She yanked her pistol from the top of her suitcase and aimed it into the night, sweeping it from one side of the room to the other. Sweat soaked her t-shirt and beaded across her forehead.

No one was there.

Her lungs burned and her heart pounded her ribs, threatening to renew the pain of the breaks and surgery. She dropped the gun on the pillow and clasped her hands to her throat and neck willing herself to calm down.

Finally able to suck in luscious air, Cierra reached into the darkness to feel the soft warmth of her dog. She pulled Soldier closer and rested her head on his side. He licked her hands reassuringly. He wouldn't let anyone near the house without letting her know.

Knowledge and the big dog's presence didn't stop the nightmares though. This time Cierra had no recollection of what awakened her. She stared into the darkness of the lonely house listening to Soldier's heartbeats until the cold sweat seemed to seep back into her pores. Still, she recalled no nightmare, and she wished she could.

Struggling against the stiffness in her knees, Cierra stood and shuffled to the door. The hinges creaked as she opened it and looked out into the illuminated hallway. Light spilled from the bathroom several feet away and washed over the open bedroom door across from her. Cierra crept to the girls' room. The carpet felt clean and soft under her feet.

The windows on the end did little to penetrate the night, but Cierra could make out the shapes of the beds and dresser. The smell of fabric softener drifted from the new quilts and curtains. Cierra slid her fingertips over the fluffy bedspread. One of her favorite times of day with her daughters had been bedtime. After warm baths, she would snuggle up with them and a book, something her own mother had never done, but the boyfriends had tried. Cierra had learned to fight her mother's lovers off early, earning slaps across the face or a fist to the stomach as a bedtime kiss.

Cierra hoped her girls hadn't learned to dread bedtime as she had, and she wondered how much they had grown. The last memory Cierra had of her babies was of watching them close their eyes and drift into sweet, innocent slumber.

The men had grabbed her when she stepped outside the nursery. She never saw her girls again, except in her dreams. She saw the men with black hoods in her nightmares more often. They were the reason she had purchased the four-inch dagger and 9mm Berretta. The time would come when she faced them again and took back her girls. She wouldn't let her daughters live through hell.