Free The Dream Walker by Carly Fall, Allison Itterly Page A

Noah had found the note from Abby, he had expressed his fears that a Colonist would get her, or that The Platoon would find her. How that would happen, Blake had no idea. He was pretty sure The Platoon didn’t even know Abby existed, so there was little chance that they would know her even if they passed her on the street. However, fate and destiny could be bitches . . . but really, what were the odds?
    Noah ranted and raved, but Blake knew he was just plain-old scared that he was losing the love of his life. The Warriors decided that they would take turns babysitting him so he didn’t do anything stupid, like throw more furniture or toss himself off a cliff.
    Shifts had been divided, and Nico and Blake had been chosen from what everyone called “the cocktail hour to midnight” shift. The reasoning behind this decision was that every other Warrior had mates they wanted to snuggle and rub up against during the early part of the night. Blake and Nico were left to pick up the pieces of the worst time of day for Noah.
    Bastards.
    It was clear the leader of the Six Saviors wasn’t sleeping. His orange eyes, which were muted with the dark contacts, had deep rings of purple under them. On day two of Abby’s disappearance, Blake had caught a scent of his body odor. Thinking back to Talin, he knew he had to nip that one in the bud, and he and Nico had forced Noah into the shower after he had a few shots of Lagavulin and couldn’t put up much of a fight.
    Abby had called three times in the four-day period she had been gone. According to Rayner, who had been on babysitting duty at the time of the first call, it hadn’t gone so well. Noah had yelled at Abby to come home, and Rayner had heard her yelling back at him about tracing phone calls and sending the search party after her. It had ended with Abby hanging up and Noah throwing the phone across the room. Thankfully, it hadn’t been broken.
    The next conversation, according to Cohen, had gone much smoother. Noah kept his cool and begged her to come home so they could talk about everything and come up with some compromises that would make both of them happy. Abby refused, but said she appreciated the directions his thoughts were going. That conversation ended with Noah telling her that he loved her, but then the phone flew across the room again after they had hung up.
    Blake decided he needed to know who made Noah’s phone. It was like a Timex—it took numerous beatings, but kept on ringing.
    Or whatever.
    By the third call, Noah was a beaten man, according to Hudson. Noah couldn’t even talk to her; he just handed the phone to Hudson and made tracks for the bar. Hudson said he was happy to talk to Abby, and she sounded good despite the stress of the situation.
    Currently, Noah stared blankly up at the TV where the good people of Sports Center prattled on. They couldn’t hear what the talking heads were saying over the Pink Floyd coming from the jukebox. Judging by the far-away stare in Noah’s eyes, he wasn’t really watching anywa y. Jerry lumbered over, and Noah ordered another beer and a shot of whiskey. Blake exchanged a glace with Nico, and it was wordlessly agreed that they would be pouring Noah into bed again tonight.
    They sat in silence. Noah obviously wasn’t feeling very chatty, and Blake and Nico were on babysitting detail. If Noah felt like talking, they would do so. If Noah felt like drowning his sorrows, they would be his lifejacket.
    After watching the hell Talin and Cohen had gone through at the loss of their mates, and now seeing this shi t- storm Noah was weathering with Abby being gone, Blake decided he was best off never falling in love. It was too complicated, too upsetting when things went south, and he actually found himself happy things hadn’t worked out with Annis. His life plan before he’d met the Warriors of sleeping around with no strings attached really did seem so much easier, and he decided he would go back to that life. It was