Page 36 of Dread’s Beloved

Two hours later, we’re at another campground. Dread is setting up the tent he grabbed out of the shed at the cabin.

“Don’t have any sleeping bags, but it’ll do till tomorrow,” he tells me gruffly. That’s the most words he’s spoken to me since we left.

A cheap motel would have been better, but with the mood he’s in, I keep the thought to myself. We have a lantern, but he won’t let me turn it on.

Dinner consists of the protein bars and bottled water.

I’m using my hoodie rolled up as a pillow. At least I got in an everything shower earlier. Dread is lying on his side, facing me with his eyes closed.

“Are you asleep?”

“No,” he croaks sounding sleepy and sexy.

“How did he find us?”

“Problem for tomorrow. You should sleep.”

“Right. I mean, maybe it was a coincidence.”

“Don’t believe in those.”

“She was so sweet.”

“He probably gave her some story or threatened her. Showed your picture, said if she saw us, to give him a call. She didn’t get what he wanted, so he killed her.”

“How do you know that?”

“My old man was a cop. Used to spend my evenings listening to him and his partner talk about their cases and shit.”

“How does he feel about you being an outlaw?”

“If I get to heaven, I’ll ask him.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Happened long time ago. Bank robbery. He was moonlighting as a security guard. Never stood a chance. Blew his brains out while he was patrolling the parking lot.”

“That’s awful.”

“Yeah. It was.”

“Did they catch the guy?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good.”

“Babe,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his tone.

“What?”

“Am I going to have to tire you out?”

“What?”

“I’m trying to get some sleep, but you keep talking.”

“Oh. Sorry.” I close my eyes, then pop them back open. “What did you mean by tire me out?”