Queenie Sounds the Alarm
Finally, Collier was sleeping in his bed again. The change in Lila’s mood occurred shortly after the late-night living room picnic and the shooting on their street. Lila had not shared the reason why she relented, and, in truth, it did not matter to him. He felt her warm body back into his. It just felt damn good! Right! He held up the bedside clock to the moonlight. It was three a.m. He cringed. For the umpteenth time, he fluffed up his pillow and rolled onto his side. Awake for four hours, the busy noise that had swirled in his head from recent events subsided. He closed his eyes and drifted off. A deep calm settled in as the weight of the last few weeks took flight.
Jarred awake by rapid, loud knocking, it took him several seconds to get his bearings. Who the hell is at my door at this ungodly hour? He peered at the clock. It was four. He flipped the covers off him so as not to disturb Lila and slid into his slippers. Reassured by her heavy breathing, he grabbed his robe from the back of the chair, almost tipping over the chair. By the time he was in the hall and had shut the bedroom door, the knocking had become more frantic. Faster than common sense would have dictated, he descended t...