Page 14 of Savage in the Streets
There’s no point in checking the salon because the police have already tossed it.
Time to get going.
I scan over to the box, which has a large, black hole gaping at the side.
Fuck—she’s out…
I walk over to it, squat low, but before I can register what’s happening, a white puff shoots out from the box and onto my face.
“Holy fucking Jesus Christ, not again!” I scream out, pulling her off.
This fucking thing is a terrorist. A demon. Satan made flesh.
A large plastic container catches my eye. Holding her out again, I empty it, then shove her inside and press down the lid. I tape it shut, then take a knife to cut away air holes.
Looking in the mirror, I see gashes on both sides of my face. I open the medicine cabinet and find antiseptic. I wet a cotton ball to clean the wound with.
It hurts like hell, but it’s better than risking an infection.
It suddenly strikes me that even though I’ve looked over her entire apartment, I haven’t found a shred of evidence. Not one thing linking her to fraud or even drugs, for that matter. No vape accessories. No illegal substances. No cigarettes. There isn’t even a drop of alcohol, save the antiseptic.
It’s good that she keeps the place clean. It’ll make my job easier. Casting doubt on her guilt.
My phone buzzes with a text. I pull it from my pocket to see a message from Caleb Savage.
Fuck…not now…
Caleb:Bring my sister to me.
Chapter 5
Bailey
Usually,when I wake up in an unfamiliar place, I’m uncomfortable, scared, and possibly in danger.
And while I might be in a buttload of trouble, waking up in Ashton Ward’s guest room is a gift to my senses.
The light is soft, though not dim, and there’s a subtle, lavender odor that doesn’t feel like an all out perfumed assault. The bedding is decadent, so soft it feels like I’m floating.
I stretch out my body, relishing the silky fabric against my skin.So this is how the other half lives.
Leave. There’s nothing for you here.
That’s when the fear sets in. The uncertainty. The confusion.
I should have never trusted him. How could I have been so stupid?
My mother used to say, “Strong roots make you grow.” It was due to those words that I allowed him to weasel his way back into my life .
Now, I might be spending the next couple years behind bars for a crime I didn’t commit because I couldn’t sever the last tie I had to my family.
Because I couldn’t say no to my father.
Everything begins to feel too real, and I have to fight away tears because the last place I want to be crying is Ash-hole Ward’s guest room.
I untwist myself from the covers and hop off the bed to a plush carpet. I sink my toes in, reveling the comforting texture, imagining what it would be like to roll around naked on it.
I look to the nightstand for my phone and keys and see that it’s empty.
