Angel's Breath (Fallen Angels - Book 2) by Valmore Daniels

Author:Valmore Daniels [Daniels, Valmore]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fallen Angels
Publisher: Mummer Media
Published: 2013-12-14T06:00:00+00:00

Chapter Seventeen

We opted to spend one more day at the motel before heading back to Seattle. The waiting was killing me, and I began to feel cooped up in the motel room.

Around six, Stacy said she was going out to get us some supper.

“I’ll come with you,” I said.

“No, you stay here.” She picked up my car key. “I’ll be back in a while.”

Three hours later I started to get worried, and I found myself pacing the room, going to the window once in a while to see if she had come back. I picked up the hotel phone to call her cell, and cursed when I heard it ringing on the night table. She hadn’t taken it with her.

I was on the verge of leaving the motel on foot to go looking for here when I heard a rumbling, like the roar of a tornado, coming from outside.

Making my way to the window again, I peeled back the drapes.

Half a dozen motorcycles pulled into the parking lot. Several men in helmets slowly dismounted. Some of them slapped dust from their leather pants and jackets; others stretched or did knee bends to get their blood circulating again.

Opening the motel room door, I stepped out and looked up and down the row to see if Stacy had come back.

One of the men pulled his helmet off and looked at me askance. He had grizzled features; a full black beard and greasy hair tied back in a ponytail. Dismissing my existence, he strode toward the office. If the other bikers were aware of me, they didn’t show it, either. Instead, they untied packs from their bikes, slung them over their shoulders, and followed their leader into the building.

I spotted movement from the opposite direction and saw Stacy walking toward me with a bulging plastic bag. She had parked the car at the other end of the lot; I could barely see it behind the ice machine.

“Sorry I took so long,” she said, hefting the bag as she neared. “I guess I just needed some time. You hungry.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I was worried.”

Holding the door open for her, I let her go in first. She dropped the food bag on the small round table and ripped the plastic rather than untie the knot at the top.

“You forgot to take your cell phone,” I said, watching as Stacy pulled out two bottles of soda and two Styrofoam containers.

“Sorry,” she said, but I got the feeling she had left it here on purpose. She probably wanted a few hours to herself to think.

I sat down and opened the lid on the food. It was some kind of pasta—I could never remember the different names: this one looked like tubes. There were slices of chicken on top, covered in a white sauce.

We dug into the pasta, and by the end of it, I had forgiven her for making me worried. I put the plate down on the table, and a drop of white sauce spilled onto one of Stacy’s documents.

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