Savage Hunger(23)

Warrick’s gaze slid over her, his eyes narrowing and his nostrils flaring. She watched his chest expand before he jerked his gaze away from her and turned toward the door.

“Let me know when you’re done. I’ll go check out what we’ve got to eat around here.”

When he disappeared, the door clicking shut behind him, she drew in a shaky breath and thrust her hands through her hair. In the light of day, things were even more screwed up. Warrick had taken her phone last night. How in the hell was she going to get into contact with her dad now?

God, it was hard to think when she was this tired. No one would ever make the mistake of calling her a morning person. First things first. She headed toward the bathroom. Not only to grab that shower, but to ensure the jump drive she’d hidden was still safe in her spot.





A quick shower made her feel almost human again. Sienna glanced in the bathroom mirror and scowled at her appearance. No makeup and wearing just sweats and a T-shirt. Yeah, she was definitely not winning any beauty awards.

Though she could appreciate the change in clothes, and thank God they’d had a stash of those built-in-bra tank tops or she’d be swinging free.

Not seeing Warrick in the bedroom, she opened the door and stepped into the hallway. The sound of men’s voices and smell of brewed coffee led her to the kitchen.

It was like a convention of testosterone, with their hard, muscled bodies leaning against the counter or by the fridge. These were men’s men. Hardened. Raw. Trained agents who probably didn’t have much time for female antics. How much of a kink had she thrown in their schedule last night?

She’d barely entered the room before all conversation died and four pairs of eyes swung her way. Unfortunately she was mostly aware of Warrick’s intense gaze.

“Good morning.” She cleared her throat and forced a small smile. It wouldn’t kill her to be civil, right? Get them to trust her a little before she tried to break out of this safe house again.

The men all murmured a greeting in reply, but it came out even less enthusiastic than hers. She slid her gaze to Warrick and her heart skipped a beat. His mouth was drawn tight and his brows furrowed in a scowl, but there was unease in his eyes.

Something had happened. She knew it, was surprised she hadn’t picked up on it immediately when she’d entered the kitchen. There was certainly enough tension in the room.

“What is it?” she asked, stepping toward the group. “Is it the shifters? Are they—”

“The shifters are fine.” The one she recognized as Larson—the one in charge—answered her question.

She swung her attention to him, saw the grim expression on his face as well.

Oh no.

She looked at the other men. They all had it. That somber air about them and strained expressions. Her pulse quickened and she ran her tongue over her lips.

If not the shifters, then what? Whatever it was, she knew it wasn’t going to be good. And whatever it was…she’d bet it had to do with her.

“Is someone going to fill me in on what’s going on?” Damn her voice for shaking.

“Why don’t you sit down, Sienna.” Warrick straightened and went to one of the cupboards, reaching in to grab a mug. “Let me get you some coffee.”

She didn’t want the damn coffee anymore, she wanted to know what the hell was going on. Okay, that wasn’t quite true. She did want the coffee, but being let in on whatever little kernel of information they were withholding was definitely her first priority. Still, if it would help them spill the beans faster, she’d sit.

The wood chair legs screeched against the floor as Sienna tugged a seat out from the table. Plopping down, she folded her hands on the wood surface and stared up at them expectantly.

Come on, boys, start talking.

But no one said a word. Not one damn word as Warrick handed her a mug of steaming coffee and set a blueberry muffin in front of her.

“I’m not hungry,” she said tersely, but reached for the coffee. “What’s going on? You guys are starting to freak me out.”

“You should be freaked out.”

This came from another of the agents. He was dark-skinned and had the tall, muscled build of a basketball player. With coffee-colored eyes, a shaved head and the hint of a goatee he had to be popular with the women.

“Hilliard, shut the fuck up,” Warrick snapped.

You should be freaked out.

Sienna lifted the mug to her lips with trembling hands and blew on the steaming coffee. Okay, so whatever it was definitely involved her and it was probably bad news.

The knot in her stomach grew and suddenly she wasn’t so eager to have them tell her.

“Ms. Peters,” Larson began in that familiar, quietly authoritative tone she now associated with him. “There was a fire last night in the building the shifters were being held in.”