Gone.
“Fuck,” I mutter. I dig into my wallet and toss a hundred on the bar. “If that’s not enough, I’ll cover the rest tomorrow.” I storm out into the night. The silence hits harder than the noise inside.
4
NICK
Ispot her blonde hair and break into a sprint. She’s already fumbling with her keys. Without thinking, I slap them from her hand—metal clinks against pavement, a sharp, hollow sound in the night.
“What the fuck?”
“You are not driving,” I growl.
She’s tall, sure, but I tower over her. My 6’4” frame casts a long shadow over those ocean-blue eyes. For someone so damn beautiful, she looks like a walking disaster. She drops to her hands and knees, crawling across the gravel like a drunken mermaid lost at sea.
“I am, too, so how about you get down here and help me find my keys, which you lost?”
I spot the keys right away—she doesn’t. She’s too gone, eyes glassy, movements sloppy. “Like hell you are. I saw you down seven shots in the last two hours.”
“What are you, the fucking alcohol police now?”
“No, but I’m not going to let you kill yourself.”
“Ugh,” she groans and gives up the search. Then, right in the middle of the parking lot, she slips off her high heels one at a time. I watch her like a predator—fascinated, wary. And then she’s off—barefoot and fearless—walking straight into the night like she’s immune to consequence.
“What are you doing?”
“What’s it look like, commando?”
“Would you stop calling me that?”
She pushes past the last of the bars, into the main road like she owns the dark.
“Hey!” I shout after her, but she doesn’t turn back. I scoop up the keys, unlock her car, and pull out of the lot, wheels crunching gravel. I spot her a few feet away, legs steady despite the alcohol, hair wild in the wind. I pull up beside her and tap the gas just enough to get her attention. “It’s almost midnight. You’re not walking by yourself. Now get in.”
“Not a chance,” she says, eyes fixed forward like I’m invisible.
“You don’t even know where you are.”
“Yes, I do. I’m in hell.”
I fight the laugh threatening my throat. Witty. Didn’t see that coming.
“I can drive you to your place. I’ve got friends who can get me to my truck tomorrow. So get in.”
“I said no. I am not getting in the car with you.”
“Are you trying to get yourself killed? I’m trying to help you, so just get in the damn car.”
“I don’t need your help, and I said no. I don’t even know you. How do I know you won’t take me to some back alley and kill me?”
“Trust me, princess, if I wanted to kill you, I could have done it already.”
She stops. Arms crossed. Challenge in her eyes. “See, I knew that military polite, yes sir, yes ma’am shit was a cover-up at the house. And what’s it to you anyway? If you save me from the boogie man, will you get a purple heart?”
Good question. I don’t know why I’m here either. Maybe because she’s wasted and reckless, and I’ve already seen too much blood in this life. I don’t need more on my hands. “Already got one of those, princess. And if you want to be an idiot and get raped orrun over by a car, that’s on you. I’d just hate to see this pretty car wrecked to a thousand pieces.”
“I hope you do wreck it.” She keeps walking. Still barefoot. Still stubborn.
