Free Embers (Blaze Series Book 3) by Erika Chase Page A

so, I’m on drink number
seven and Charles and Diane have left. More patrons have come to replace them,
and their chatter fills the air around me. I suspect Tony is no longer running my
tab. I finish the rest of the drink in one swallow and pick up my cell phone
once more.
    I cycle through my contacts and realize
Gabriel Call and Sam Bowman are right next to each other. I swipe from one name
to the next, debating. I pick one and tap it with my finger. I use that same
finger to signal Tony that I’d like another drink.
    Diane would disapprove, of course, but Diane
doesn’t know my life.

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
     
    Gabriel’s number swims in front of my eyes.
I blink it back into focus; I hadn’t meant to drink this much. But the anger’s
still hot and bright in my stomach, and it burns away some of the fog that
clouds my head. I push my chair back from the bar and clench my teeth.
    His phone goes through to voicemail. He’s
probably already on the plane.
    I push my way toward the door, not caring
how I have to elbow aside to get there. As far as I’m concerned, everyone can
start making some damn way for me for once. I almost stumble over a
handbag that some girl has left beside her chair and I scowl at her, daring her
to say something, so I can boot it like a quarterback straight through the
saloon-style doors to the bathroom.
    She quails back into her seat at the look of
my face and with a spiteful smirk, I keep on my way.
    The rain is coming down outside and I lean
against the side of the building, huddling into my jacket. The cold air cuts
through me and I start to feel like kind of an asshole. I check my phone and
see a text from Gabriel: WHERE ARE YOU?
    I text him the name of the bar and add WISH
YOU WERE HERE as I shiver. Isn’t alcohol supposed to make you numb? Why am I
feeling anything at this point? I’m not going back inside though.
    Ten minutes later, there’s still no sign of
a taxi and my shoes are soaked through. A tall guy nods to me as he walks past.
    “Waiting for someone?” he asks. “Or can I
buy you a drink to get you out of the rain?”
    He’s standing too close, looking me up and
down. A grin twists the side of his mouth. He might have been good-looking if
it wasn’t for the arrogant leer on his face.
    “Or we could just go back to my place,” he
says. His breath is thick with beer.
    “I think she’ll be okay,” a cool voice says,
cutting through the night. Gabriel is there, a long gray coat around him, but
fitted enough to show off the hard muscles of his torso. A white shirt,
pristine and pure, opens at his neck. He puts a casual arm around me and I lean
into him, not taking my eyes off Beer Guy.
    “Whatever, man,” the guy says, but his eyes
drop away from Gabriel’s. He turns and walks away, his shoulders high and
tight.
    “Making friends?” Gabriel asks, drawing me
away from the street, back to his car. I shake my head, unable to believe he’s
here.
    “What are you doing here?” I ask. Between
his sudden reappearance and all the drinks I’ve consumed, I’m still not sure
this isn’t a dream. He grins wolfishly.
    “Changed my mind at the last minute.”
    Then his face is serious. Dead serious.
    “How often does a girl like you come along?
I figure you’re at least worth missing another flight.”
    “You have no idea how happy I am to hear you
say that.” I grin. “I think I’m going to barf.”
    “You’re that moved by the sentiment, huh?”
he says. “How much did you have to drink?”
    “Let’s just say you probably don’t want me
to get into your car.”
    “I’ll take the chance.”
    But in the car, the nausea just builds. I
wrap my hand around Gabriel’s arm, wanting him closer to me, as though he alone
might somehow be able to stave off any alcohol-induced vomiting.
    He glances over at me.
    “You are going to have one sore head
tomorrow,” he says. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this drunk before.”
    I stare at his mouth as he speaks.