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That hits a nerve. Or maybe he’s starting to panic as some of the drug’s effects tickle his brain.
He manages to snarl and whine at the same time. “Find your own way home, you cold blooded little bitch.”
Then he tips right off his seat, stumbling as he makes a beeline for the door without looking back. I guess I’ll never know what kind of depraved conclusion he had in mind for tonight.
Something tells me it’s better if I never find out.
Pierce Carrington won’t dare blast me to the press. It’s inevitable that I’ll see him again but I would bet my car that he’ll pretend as if tonight never happened.
Speaking of cars, mine is miles away in a downtown parking garage. Now I’ll have to call for a ride, which I always hate doing. There are areas in this part of the city where drivers don’t like to go. I might have to do some searching to find someone willing to even show up.
Meanwhile, the bartender has been within earshot this entire time. His face shows nothing but indifference and he sweeps Pierce’s glass away. Maybe that struggle was tame compared to what he usually sees and hears around here.
The thought makes me uneasy. I had assumed that being in a place packed with people meant relative safety. Now I wonder if that’s true, if anyone in the room would have intervened if Pierce had lashed out violently.
In any case, I’d really like to get the hell out of here. Preferably before I’m spotted by Micah or anyone else who might recognize the daughter of Stuart Ballerini.
Keeping my eye on Micah’s party, I slink around the bar toward the restrooms in the back. No one pays me the slightest attention, which is a relief. I’ll just hide out in there for a little while.
Uncle Josh would drop everything and drive out to rescue me for sure but I’d rather not hear a lecture. Plus, it might cause a stir if the West Emerald police chief showed up here. A stir is exactly what I’m trying to avoid.
My bladder demands immediate attention but there’s a short line to use one of the two toilet stalls. This bar must be a black hole for internet access because I’m having trouble getting any of the ride apps to work. I’ll deal with that in a minute. If necessary, I’ll find a back door and step outside for better reach.
A laughing blonde crashes into me while I’m at the sink.
“Sorry,” she slurs and pumps the soap dispenser.
“No worries.” I turn to the hand dryer. It wheezes out puffs of air.
When I turn back, the drunk blonde is gone.
My purse is right where I left it. But immediately I realize it’s too light. Peering inside, I make the unpleasant discovery that my wallet and my phone are missing.
A costly error in judgement, setting it down on the sink counter for a handful of seconds. It was completely within reach and yet someone managed to dive in there and snatch the most valuable contents, assuming it would take me a little while to notice. At least my keys are secure in a zippered side pocket but that feels like a small comfort right now.
Running out of the bathroom in a panic does no good. All I do is crash right into a different woman. Whatever fruity red concoction she was drinking splashes out of her glass and all over the front of my dress, which is a light grey color that will undoubtedly show the stain.
“What the hell?” She’s clearly pissed.
“Sorry.” I can’t even offer to buy her a replacement because my goddamn purse was stolen.
As for the thief, I didn’t get a real good look at her face. Honestly, I can’t even be sure that she’s the guilty party. I didn’t see her do anything. And she’s nowhere in sight.
Fuck.
The bartender doesn’t seem like the friendly type who will let a stranded girl borrow his phone. The overhead speakers continue to blast music. It’s not loud enough to drown out the eruption of bawdy laughter from the crew of rough men in the corner.
Micah is still among them. His back is to me but there’s no mistaking his broad shoulders.
With a sigh and a gag order on my own pride, I make my way through the thick collection of people. Without my phone I feel weirdly vulnerable, disconnected from humanity, even though humanity is everywhere I look.
I have to reach up to tap Micah on the shoulder.
He whirls around so fast it’s like he’s expecting an ambush. The cold glint in his blue eyes is not comforting but it disappears when he looks down and sees it’s just me.
“Hi.” I cross my arms, partly to cover the brand new stain on my dress. The liquid has soaked through the thin fabric and I feel the sticky wetness on my skin. “Can I talk to you?”
There’s a half empty beer in his hand and he takes the time to gulp back the other half before giving me his full attention.
