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Authors: Lori L. Clark
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the fuck, Claire?
Why would you do something so idiotic? I don't think I like you going
there."
"What's the big deal, Alistair?"
His jaw muscles tensed. "The big deal is
you're my girl. What're people going to think about you going off to visit
those two killers ?"
"You've got to be kidding me. First off, I'm
not your girl, Alistair. I'm my own person. I don't answer to you. Secondly,
did you really just ask me what people are going to think? Since when have you
known me to give two shits about anyone's opinion of me?"
For a split second, I thought I saw something that
resembled hurt cloud his face. His fingers gripped the steering wheel, and he
shook his head before turning up the volume on the radio. It was Alistair's way
of letting me know the discussion was over until he could figure out something
intelligent to counter with. Who knew how long that might take.
An hour into the party, I watched him from the
other side of the fire as he slammed so many shots of Jack Daniels that I lost
count. I started to wonder if it might be time to find another ride home. He
wasn't going to be in any condition to drive, and drinking whiskey made him
meaner than a rabid dog. Maybe if I got lucky he'd pass out and let me drive
his truck home. I sipped my beer, pacing myself while I weighed my limited
options.
"Hey, Kim," I shouted to a friend, as
she strode past.
She turned and wiggled her fingers at me. "Hi,
Claire."
"You leaving?"
She nodded and said, "Yeah. You need a
ride?"
My gaze drifted over to Alistair. "Would you
mind taking me home?"
Her eyes followed the direction of my stare.
"Not at all."
"Give me a second. I better at least tell him
I'm going." I pulled in a deep breath and walked over to him. "I'm
catching a ride with Kim Oliver."
He pushed away from the truck he was leaning on
and was in my face in two steps. He reeked of booze, and his pupils were
dilated as he glared at me, daring me to cross him. "What? I'm not good
enough to fucking give you a ride home now?"
Mentally, I counted to ten, trying to maintain my
cool. "You're drunk, Alistair. Go sleep it off." I turned to leave,
and his hand darted out, grabbing me around my upper arm. His grip was tight
and his look was venomous. I wrenched free of his hold and told him,
"Don't do something stupid."
He'd hit me once before, and swore it would never
happen again. I was counting on the fact that we had an audience to keep him
from going there again. My legs were quaking, and I was trying to keep my
temper in check. Fight or flight pumped through my veins and I needed to get
the hell away from him before he did something ignorant. One foot in front
of the other . I started walking away.
"Hey, Claire?" My mistake was turning to
face him. He backhanded me hard across the mouth. "You're nothing but a
lousy fucking lay anyway."
The coppery taste of blood was thick on my tongue.
I should have probably kept my mouth shut, but I couldn't resist getting in the
last word. "Yeah, well, if you could keep it up for more than two minutes,
I'd have something to work with." I spat the blood inside my mouth in his
face and bolted to where Kim stood gaping at me. Sobriety was on my side, along
with weeks of training for a half marathon. I knew I could outrun his drunken,
out-of-shape ass.
"Kim! Hurry the fuck up!" I screamed at
her as she stood transfixed by my bravery--or stupidity--hard to say.
"Let's get out of here."
She hit the unlock button on the key fob, and we
dove into the front seats of her car. I held my breath until we were out on the
main road. Laughter bubbled out of me like some lunatic. She peeked sideways at
me. "Damn, you're either crazy brave or crazy fuckin' stupid. I'm not sure
which."
"Both?" I grinned and collapsed against
the car seat, letting my heart slow to a calmer pace.
It was the first Saturday night I'd gotten home
before midnight in I couldn't remember how long. Olivia stood in front of the
microwave making popcorn when I came in. She did
Why would you do something so idiotic? I don't think I like you going
there."
"What's the big deal, Alistair?"
His jaw muscles tensed. "The big deal is
you're my girl. What're people going to think about you going off to visit
those two killers ?"
"You've got to be kidding me. First off, I'm
not your girl, Alistair. I'm my own person. I don't answer to you. Secondly,
did you really just ask me what people are going to think? Since when have you
known me to give two shits about anyone's opinion of me?"
For a split second, I thought I saw something that
resembled hurt cloud his face. His fingers gripped the steering wheel, and he
shook his head before turning up the volume on the radio. It was Alistair's way
of letting me know the discussion was over until he could figure out something
intelligent to counter with. Who knew how long that might take.
An hour into the party, I watched him from the
other side of the fire as he slammed so many shots of Jack Daniels that I lost
count. I started to wonder if it might be time to find another ride home. He
wasn't going to be in any condition to drive, and drinking whiskey made him
meaner than a rabid dog. Maybe if I got lucky he'd pass out and let me drive
his truck home. I sipped my beer, pacing myself while I weighed my limited
options.
"Hey, Kim," I shouted to a friend, as
she strode past.
She turned and wiggled her fingers at me. "Hi,
Claire."
"You leaving?"
She nodded and said, "Yeah. You need a
ride?"
My gaze drifted over to Alistair. "Would you
mind taking me home?"
Her eyes followed the direction of my stare.
"Not at all."
"Give me a second. I better at least tell him
I'm going." I pulled in a deep breath and walked over to him. "I'm
catching a ride with Kim Oliver."
He pushed away from the truck he was leaning on
and was in my face in two steps. He reeked of booze, and his pupils were
dilated as he glared at me, daring me to cross him. "What? I'm not good
enough to fucking give you a ride home now?"
Mentally, I counted to ten, trying to maintain my
cool. "You're drunk, Alistair. Go sleep it off." I turned to leave,
and his hand darted out, grabbing me around my upper arm. His grip was tight
and his look was venomous. I wrenched free of his hold and told him,
"Don't do something stupid."
He'd hit me once before, and swore it would never
happen again. I was counting on the fact that we had an audience to keep him
from going there again. My legs were quaking, and I was trying to keep my
temper in check. Fight or flight pumped through my veins and I needed to get
the hell away from him before he did something ignorant. One foot in front
of the other . I started walking away.
"Hey, Claire?" My mistake was turning to
face him. He backhanded me hard across the mouth. "You're nothing but a
lousy fucking lay anyway."
The coppery taste of blood was thick on my tongue.
I should have probably kept my mouth shut, but I couldn't resist getting in the
last word. "Yeah, well, if you could keep it up for more than two minutes,
I'd have something to work with." I spat the blood inside my mouth in his
face and bolted to where Kim stood gaping at me. Sobriety was on my side, along
with weeks of training for a half marathon. I knew I could outrun his drunken,
out-of-shape ass.
"Kim! Hurry the fuck up!" I screamed at
her as she stood transfixed by my bravery--or stupidity--hard to say.
"Let's get out of here."
She hit the unlock button on the key fob, and we
dove into the front seats of her car. I held my breath until we were out on the
main road. Laughter bubbled out of me like some lunatic. She peeked sideways at
me. "Damn, you're either crazy brave or crazy fuckin' stupid. I'm not sure
which."
"Both?" I grinned and collapsed against
the car seat, letting my heart slow to a calmer pace.
It was the first Saturday night I'd gotten home
before midnight in I couldn't remember how long. Olivia stood in front of the
microwave making popcorn when I came in. She did
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