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“Tonight is so fun!” she slurs, her words tangling together, a necklace knotted at the clasp. “You’re the best for bringing me here!”
I grip Sierra’s arm, her skin warm and clammy under my fingertips. Her head lolls slightly, eyelids drooping. I can smell the sweet tang of too many fruity cocktails on her breath. She needs a bed, water, aspirin—safety.
“Sierra, let’s get you back to the hotel,” I say, more to myself than her. My voice is firm, but she barely nods, giggling at a silent joke.
“Need a hand with her?” Xavier’s voice comes from behind me, tinged with concern.
I glance over my shoulder, find his eyes in the dim light of the bar. “No, it’s fine. You should stay. Enjoy the night.” I force a smile, hope it isn’t as wobbly as I feel inside.
“Are you sure? It’s no trouble,” he insists, stepping closer. The offer is kind, considerate, but it’s not what I need—or want.
“Really, Xavier. We’re good.” I tighten my hold on Sierra, trying to communicate an urgency I’m not sure he understands. “We’ll talk later, okay?”
“Okay,” he concedes, though he looks unsure. He pauses, then adds, “Take care of her.”
“Always do,” I say, and with that, I steer Sierra toward the exit, her feet dragging across the sticky floor like anchors.
“Bye, Xavier!” Sierra calls out, a singsong note to her slurred words.
“Goodnight, ladies,” he says, but we’re already moving through the throng, his voice swallowed by the music and chatter. I don’t look back.
36
BRIELLE
I’m scrolling through my phone, one thumb flicking across the screen in search of a ride.
Sierra leans against me, her words tangling together. “Brielle, isn’t this the best night ever?”
“Totally,” I mutter, though I’m preoccupied with the glaring fact that no cars are available. Sierra is too far gone to notice, her laughter bubbling up as she tries to sing along to the off-key rendition of some eighties power ballad blaring from the speakers.
“Nothing?” Sierra slurs, squinting at my phone.
“Nothing.” I decide I’ll have to make a call, hopeful for a local taxi service that maybe isn’t listed online. My thumb hovers over the contact list, ready to dial. The frustration nips at me, but I shove it down.
“Okay, let’s figure this out,” I say out loud, more to myself than to Sierra. My finger taps the screen—the cold glass beneath giving way to the warmth of action. I lift the phone to my ear, listening to the ring, willing someone to pick up on the other end.
The phone buzzes against my ear, unanswered. A sharp whistle cuts through the din of the bar, and I lower the phone, tension knotting in my stomach. Sierra’s head lolls toward the sound, a sloppy grin spreading across her face.
“Hey, pretty ladies,” a voice slurs from behind me. It’s thick with that confident sleaze that sets my teeth on edge. I turn, eyes narrowing at the man swaggering toward us, his grin too wide and hungry. He reeks of cheap cologne and alcohol.
“Not interested,” I snap before he can get another word out.
“Aw, come on,” he coos, undeterred. “A couple of drinks, a few laughs.”
I square my shoulders, feeling Sierra sway beside me. “I said no.”
He doesn’t stop. One step, then another. His leer is like a stain I want to scrub off. My pulse quickens, but not with fear. Anger simmers beneath my skin, hot and ready.
I’m about to repeat myself, louder, when his hand snaps out, fast as a snake strike, grabbing my butt. Instinct takes over. I twist away, my fist clenched tight as a drum.
“Back off!” But it’s more than a warning—it’s action. My arm swings, power surging from shoulder to wrist to knuckles.
Crack! My punch lands square on his jaw, a satisfying jolt up my arm. He stumbles back, disbelief splashed across his face.
“Damn,” I breathe out, shaking my hand. The sting feels good, feels right. Nobody touches me without my say-so. Nobody.
Heat prickles my cheeks as he clutches his jaw, shock morphing into rage. His eyes narrow into slits, dark intent gleaming within.
