Savage Hunger (Savage Trilogy 1)
“Until his father convinces him he’s such a monster, that I deserve better.”
“You think his father’s that bad?”
“I know he is.” I stand up and walk to the coffee pot to refill my mug, fighting back memories that will only make this night longer. I’m not letting myself travel back to the past. I need to stay here and rooted in the present. I just hope Rick can do the same.
***
Savage
I drop Adam at his car a few blocks from the house and head toward Fort Sam, and at least for now, the rain has slowed to nothing. The past pounds at my mind, flashes of that shit night when I lost my mother, torment me in a way I’ve suppressed for years now. I hit the highway, pushing the Porsche to its limits, the events leading up to that night, dominating my thoughts now. I try to picture my mother again and the very fact that I can’t, presses my speed. She was pretty and sweet, I know that much, and she loved Candace. An image of her in the kitchen with Candace baking Christmas cookies and laughing while I watched, is ruined by the memory of my father coming home and acting like the ass he’d been since his accident.
“A fool in the kitchen, trying not to look like a fool outside the kitchen,” he’d said. “I won’t eat those things.”
She’d burst into tears and I’d have beaten his ass if she and Candace hadn’t grabbed my arms and held on.
That was a week before my mother died on Christmas Eve.
I cut off the road and idle in the emergency lane, willing myself not to go where I’m about to go, right before I see my father. I’m not fucking do it. I grab my phone and I start to dial Candace, the way I have a million times over the years, but I stop myself. She’s worried about the collision course that has always been me and my father. I’m going to make it worse. I drop my phone into the seat and pull back onto the highway, cranking the radio while accelerating and pushing the car again. I don’t ease up until I’m at the base.
Pulling up to the security gate, I’m cleared for entry, and I drive to the medical building, where I park the car and kill the engine. But I don’t get out. I grip the steering wheel and squeeze my eyes shut and I can’t stop what follows. I’m back in the past, back to that fucking day. I was here, right here, at this building. Candace had been at my parents’ house with my mom. My cellphone had rung and the display lit up with her name. I can still remember her call like it was yesterday. I’m there now, answering Candace’s call.
“Hey, baby.”
“Rick,” she’d breathes out, her voice a raspy tremble. “I need to see you right now.”
“What is it?”
“I’m here. It’s important.” Her voice hitches and then firms. “I’m in the staff break room. Come here now.”
“I have a meeting, baby. Give me half an hour.”
“Now, Rick. Now.” She hangs up.
The hang up is what gets me. It stuns me. Adrenaline surges through me, pulsing and throbbing. I start walking, my steps fast but steady, the short journey seemingly eternal. At the staff lounge, I enter to find Candace alone, her face streaked with makeup, eyes puffy. The minute her gaze meets mine, tears pour down her cheeks.
She rushes toward me and I step into her, catching her arms. “What is it? What happened?”
“I went shopping with your mom. We had fun. We were laughing and—and your dad came home right after we got back. He was upset.” She sobs and already anger burns in my gut. He can’t just stop. “He yelled at her and then he shoved her, Rick. He even hit her.”
The anger of moments before is now a roar. “That bastard. I’m going to kill him.” I try to pull away and she grabs me. “No,” she orders urgently. “No, you need to listen to me. Please. Please. Listen.”
“I am, but—”
“He left to come here, to come to work, but she wasn’t better when he was gone, Rick. Her chest started hurting.”
A cold foreboding freezes my anger. “Where is she? Is she okay?”
She shakes her head. “No. No, Rick. She’s not okay.” She wraps her arms around me, holds me tight. “Baby, she had a massive heart attack and she didn’t make it. They couldn’t—”
“Stop. Don’t say it. I can’t hear you say it. I can’t.” My voice is calm, almost distant, and the cold is colder now, too, ice slowing encasing my heart. “Where is she now?”
“They took her to Memorial Hospital,” she says, her fingers curling on my cheek. “But she’s gone, baby.”
She’s gone.