Page 39 of Savage Cravings

I threw the blanket off in disgust and made my way to the bathroom, studying my thin frame and tired eyes in the mirror.

My blonde hair was a mess. I went to bed with my hair wet last night, so this would be a ponytail day.

I walked away from the girl in the mirror and quickly got ready.

I was used to waking up early, and my internal clock wouldn’t let me go back to sleep now.

So for now, all I could do was try to find something to occupy myself with.

My stomach grumbled, reminding me I hadn’t eaten anything since lunch yesterday.

I had been too exhausted to even think about dinner.

And now, my body was letting me know that in the worst way possible. I could feel the shakes coming on, and I would probably faint if I didn’t get something in my stomach soon.

I quickly put on my shoes, grabbed my car keys, phone, and purse, and hightailed it out of the motel room and into the bright morning light.

I squinted slightly and headed to my car, thanking my lucky stars that at least my wheels had stayed intact throughout the night.

This wasn’t exactly the best neighborhood, but it was what I’d found as soon as I crossed over the state line, and I imagined any other motel I might find would be in a similar or worsestate.

I hopped in my car, the morning heat beating down on me, and sweat clinging to the skin on the back of my neck.

I started the car and rolled down the windows, but just before I was about to take off, I paused.

That feeling that someone was watching me was back.

But who could be watching me?

Who knew I was here?

And even if they did, what good would it do them?

Daniel Hayes and the Heartless Saints were no more.

At least, I didn’t think so.

A quick search on the web had told me nothing. But then again, it was still too early for the news media to catch wind of it. It wasn’t like the clubhouse was frequented all that much by outsiders.

What if Dad proved himself to be the cockroach I always thought he was and survived the attack?

But no, that wasn’t possible.

Everyone at the clubhouse was drunk and high off their asses.

They wouldn’t have been prepared for an attack.

Dad was dead.

I had to believe that, or I didn’t think I could function.

I shivered.

Perhaps it was my paranoia talking.

Years of having to constantly watch my back was a hard habit to break.

I shook my head slightly and reversed the car out of the parking lot, trying to remember where I had seen the nearby breakfast diner.

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