“I’m not leaving my sister. That fucker can die for all I care about. She’s hurt because of him.”
“Sir, can you tell me who shot your sister?”
“Yes. A dead man walking.” I growled. That mother fucker was too, because when I got my hands on him, I would give him exactly what he gave to my sister.
Gasping I sat up, wiping the sweat from my face.
My heart beating a mile a minute.
I couldn’t breathe.
Every time I closed my eyes, it was the same nightmare. There was no getting away from it. Nothing I did worked.
It had been weeks since her death and funeral. I tried to come to grips with my mistake but I couldn’t.
Wouldn’t, until I had that mother fuckers’ blood on my hands.
“Savage?” her soft voice whispered into the dark.
Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath then stood.
“Go back to sleep, Jess.” Walking around the bed, I headed for the bathroom. There was no way I would be able to get back to sleep now. I didn’t even know why I tried.
We’d been on the road so long now, the days blended together. I didn’t know what I was doing. I knew what I wanted but every time I thought I was close, I was disappointed. He was gone and I had no idea where the slimy fucker was.
My search started in Vegas and when I learned that he wasn’t there, I headed to Texas. His home, only to find he sold his property two years ago. Leaving Texas, we headed to Florida, which was another bust. I scoured every known place that fucker could be for weeks to find nothing. No one knew where he was.
He was gone.
Vanished. But I knew he was alive. I could feel it. That mother fucker was running scared. He knew I wouldn’t stop until I found him and eventually I would. Time was on my side.
I was running out of leads.
I didn’t have access to information. I cut myself off when I left the club. To make matters worse, I had Jessica with me. She refused to let me leave on my own, jumping on my bike at the last minute.
I didn’t stop her.
I should have. She didn’t need to be in this mess. She was innocent. Why she felt the need to follow me, I didn’t know. Jessica never complained and she was easy to talk to. She took everything in stride. Even being on the back of my bike for hours on end. She never said a word.
Standing before the sink in the dingy motel, I stared at myself in the mirror. What I saw shocked me. I didn’t look like myself. I lost weight. Dark rings circled my bloodshot eyes. My skin was pale and it looked as if I hadn’t taken a shower in days.
What was I doing?
Hanging my head, I rested my hands on the sink and sighed.
“Wanna talk about it?” she whispered.
Shaking my head, I headed towards the shower and turned it on. I noticed she didn’t leave as I removed my boxers and stepped under the hot spray. I wanted to feel normal again. Even if it was just for five minutes. I needed something, anything to make me realize that what I was doing was the right thing. I couldn’t keep going on like this. I was never going to find the fucker without help.
I knew that now.
I also knew that I would eventually have to return to California and to the club. When I did, Reaper would hand me my ass. Maybe that was what I needed? Someone to beat some sense into my thick skull. Typically, my sister volunteered for that job but now that she couldn’t, I wondered who it would be. Would they be strong enough to make me see the writing on the wall?
Fuck, I couldn’t do this anymore.
“Savage, it’s okay to ask for help.”
“I know.”