Her body trembled. Her hand shook as she held on to her sandwich. Boomer moved to her side. His gaze trained on her. His hackles raised. His sixth sense on high alert. She didn’t have enough saliva to manage a good spit. Every bite of bread and peanut butter was the equivalent of rubbing sandpaper in her mouth. She set down her PB sandwich and picked up her water bottle, taking a sip to ease the dryness in her throat. She picked up her sandwich and took another bite, ignoring her racing heart. She could do this. She could sit near the gun. She could finish her meal. Every instinct in her body screamed run. But she’d learned long ago her body and mind couldn’t always be trusted. They’d played tricks on her since her ordeal two years ago, making her afraid of little noises and shadows. Since then, it didn’t take much to sound off her alert systems and kick her adrenaline into high gear.
