Night Terrors: Savage Species, Book 1 Read Online Free Page B

windows in the breakfast nook already have condensation on the inside.”
    “That’s because you insisted on choosing the company.”
    “Your men installed them.”
    “The problem’s not the installation. You went with the cheaper product.”
    “They’re brand-new, for Christ’s sake”
    Charly said, “He did try to tell you, honey.”
    Eric gave her a look that made her insides do a somersault.
    Then he turned back to Sam. “How about this? You fix every problem you and your crew have caused or you’ll be hearing from my lawyer. Sound good?”
    Charly held her breath, watched Sam wrestle with the anger that was no doubt consuming him.
    Sam exhaled heavily. “I’ll do my best, Mr. Florence.”
    “So far,” Eric said, turning, “your best is pathetic.”
    Charly and Sam watched him go.
    When the basement door closed, Sam said, “He seems like a fun guy to be married to.”
    “I’m so sorry, Sam.”
    “Part of the job, I guess.”
    She eyed him for a moment, let her gaze linger on his strong features. “Can I walk you to your truck?”
    “I’d like that.”
    They moved in silence through the side door.
    Sam said, “How’re the kids doing?”
    “Okay,” she said. “Jake’s a bad sleeper, so that’s made for some long nights lately.”
    “Your girls okay?” They moved slowly toward his royal blue pickup truck.
    “My oldest has been feeling her oats.”
    Sam grinned. “That her handiwork in the foyer?”
    Charly nodded. “She’s a future Rembrandt.”
    “I would’ve said Jackson Pollock.”
    “I don’t know who that is.”
    “I wouldn’t either if my daughter hadn’t minored in art history.”
    “I didn’t know you had kids.”
    “That’s because we’ve never been alone together.”
    Charly’s throat burned with the onset of hives. Damn them, they came on at the worst times.
    “I better go,” Sam said.
    Charly felt a sharp pang. “I’m sorry for the way Eric spoke to you.”
    “He always like that?”
    “I call it his coaching mode.”
    “I call it being a prick.”
    She laughed. It felt good. Sam made to get into his big dually, then paused, something shadowing his face.
    “What is it?” she asked.
    “Your daughter,” he said. “You know, the artist.”
    “Yes?”
    “Don’t be too hard on her, Mrs. Florence.”
    With that, he climbed in, closed the door, and started the truck. Charly watched him drive away, a dull ache starting in her stomach.

Chapter Three
    “Two hundred acres of deluxe sites,” Linda Farmer said, “full electrical hookup, water, you name it. Next to that the primitive sites with fire pits and two parking spots.”
    “But no trees,” Colleen said.
    One bony hand on the wheel of the Gator, Linda regarded Colleen sourly and said, “There’re plenty of trees in Peaceful Valley, Ms. Matthews.”
    “Where your bulldozers left them alone.”
    Jesse glanced at Emma to see if she was as uncomfortable as he was, but she only looked bored.
    He couldn’t blame her. The deluxe section of the campground appeared lifeless despite the many RVs and popup campers sprinkled around the vast, treeless oval. Jesse fingered the lens cap of the Canon anxiously. He could take pictures of these campsites, but what was the point? It wasn’t like they were advertising for the AARP.
    He dragged a palm across his forehead and wiped sweat on his cargo shorts. The heat was oppressive out here in the most open part of the park. How bad would it be inside a smelly old tent?
    The Gator continued its smooth ride over the newly paved concrete. Marking each site was a large rock with a fluorescent yellow number on it. In the center of the deluxe section rose a large bathhouse. As Jesse watched, an elderly couple parked their bicycles against the building and hobbled to their respective bathrooms. He raised the Canon and snapped a shot of the old man scratching the seat of his trousers.
    He grinned at Emma. “That what we have to look forward to?”
    She gave him an