Free Her Alien Savior by Elle Thorne Page B

you’re going to have to . . . well, she’s drunk. You’re going to have to take your girlfriend out of here.”
    “She’s not—” Before Finn could say She’s not my girlfriend , the bartender raised his hand in the universal Halt gesture.
    “She is drunk. She’s definitely drunk.”
    That wasn’t what Finn was going to dispute. A person would have to be deaf, blind, and have no sense of smell if they would have disputed that Marissa was drunk. He nodded in agreement.
    The bartender continued. “She’s going to cause me trouble with the law.”
    “How so?” This was out of Finn’s area of expertise.
    “Public intoxication, blah, blah, blah. Whatever. What I need you to do is get her out of here.”
    “I don’t think she can walk and her house is quite a distance away.”
    “Yeah man, I called a cab for her.”
    That seemed to settle the matter. He lifted her, cradled her head under his chin, and held his breath so he wouldn’t have to breathe the combination of cream, Kahlua, vodka, and stomach bile. “Let’s go, Marissa, honey.” That was for the benefit of the bartender. Since Finn was going to be taking her home, or was he? At least he had to go along with the bartender’s theory that he was her boyfriend. He carried her to the door, the bartender flicked the knob, Finn kneed it open the rest of the way. Sure enough, a cab was waiting at the door.
    Seeing Finn, the cabbie came around and opened the door. “I’ve been here a few minutes. The meter’s been running.” His accent was thick, his smile broad and even-toothed under a knit cap.
    “Thanks. No problem, I understand about the meter.”
    Marissa moaned, but didn’t open her eyes as he set her in the seat, careful not to jostle her too much, and still very careful not to breathe in too deeply. That odor—not pleasant.
    “Where to, brother?” The cabbie looked in the rearview mirror.
    Luckily Finn had no problem remembering her address. Good thing he took this seriously and learned the details in her file. “1483 Feather Hollow.”
    The cabbie put it in gear and nosed it out of the parking lot. And still Marissa gave no indication of waking up. She was out for the whole trip. Not a long trip, less than twenty minutes’ drive while they left that area of town and progressed to a part that was better kept up. A whole lot better kept up. Suburbia, pretty much.
    While the driver drove, Finn took her keys out of her purse and pocketed them. It’d make opening a door easier if he didn’t have to dig through the purse while carrying a passed-out-Marissa on her front doorstep. He paid the driver, tipped him well, took Marissa out.
    The door yielded to the key without issue, but he didn’t push it open. Stopping to listen, to be sure there wasn’t a dog. The last thing he needed was to have to fend off—or worse, kill—her dog. That’d be hell to explain to her when she came to, later. Explanations would be the easy part. The hate she’d have for him. That was something he didn’t want to think of.
    He waited a full three minutes. Scuffled a little, made some noise. No barking, no growling, no canine toenails skittering on wood or tile. Finn pushed the door open and was greeted by a small lamp’s light. Thankfully because else, he’d have tripped over the pile of junk just to the left of the door, almost barring his entrance. “Damn, it’s an obstacle course.” He muttered under his breath.
    Marissa shifted in his arms. “What?”
    “Nothing. Go back to sleep.”
    “Dad? Daddy?”
    He froze. Her father had died about two years ago. Her file said so, and he doubted it wouldn’t be accurate. So, why? Why was she calling out to her dad? “Shhh. Just rest.” He pressed her face closer to his chest. Just a couple minutes longer and he could put her in her own bed and—
    And what? What after that, genius? Wait until morning? Wait until she wakes up, crusty from her own vomit and—
    And then she’ll never want to talk to him