Rush - Page 21

I lean against the wall, dizziness and nausea sweeping over. I don’t think I ate enough for dinner, and between the drinks, dancing, Rush and Striker, the world starts to spin. Rush’s face dances in my vision, only he’s wearing Striker’s magenta shirt. The image makes me want to throw up. What the hell am I doing, considering working for another man who can destroy me with a look, a word, a sneer? No one should have that much power.

No one.

And yet I’m on the verge of giving it to him. What am I thinking?

The music goes on pounding and my head spins faster and faster. I push away from the wall and lurch toward a door. Any door.

Out.

I have to get out of here.

8

Rush

As I sit down in the bar, Eoin passes me a drink. Vodka on the rocks. “Turned down like a bedspread. You’re human after all, mate.”

I take a swallow of vodka. A big one. Ulf, the drummer, sits down on my other side and starts talking about something to do with the album. I’m hunched over staring at the drink in my hands, not hearing a word.

That head nod thing. Does it have the girls running up to the VIP section?

I was going for friendly when I invited her up to the VIP section, not cocky bastard. In the past, yes, it has worked. Girls have been abso-fucking-lutely delighted to join me in the VIP section. I see myself through Dree’s eyes, the lord-on-high surveying the club and taking his pick of the dancing girls. Maybe I was that man, but I’m not him anymore, and I certainly don’t imagine that that sort of man impresses Dree. I feel even more stupid knowing she was with Itch Scratch and perfectly capable of getting into the VIP section on her own if she’d wanted to. I suddenly see myself as an old idiot trying to impress a twenty-one-year-old who’s vastly cooler than I am. I groan and pinch the bridge of my nose.

“Am I boring you, Rush?”

I sit up and pat his leg. “It’s not you, mate. Sorry. I just made a twat of myself and I think my night’s over.”

Ulf grins. “Share it with the rest of us. We fucking love hearing about you making a twat of yourself.”

“Another time. See you Monday.”

I put my drink down and head out into the club. I’ve got three double vodkas in my system but feel stone cold sober. All around me, the dancing bodies and flashing lights get on my nerves as I try and fight my way to the exit. I wish I had Dree’s number so I could call her and apologize. I wonder if it would only make things worse for me to get it from Thomas and send her a text.

The crowd near the main bar parts, and I see her up ahead. Thank fuck. I can just apologize now. A good grovel will make me feel better and hopefully win a smile from her.

I start toward her just as she stumbles. The man next to her veers away from her with an expression of disgust on his face, rather than put out a hand to help her. I glare at him and double my pace. What an asshole thing to do to a woman who’s tripped in six-inch heels.

As I push through the crowd, Dree stumbles again. Her head is bowed and her knees are bent and wobbly. That’s odd. I only saw her a little while ago and though she had a drink in her hand, she didn’t even seem tipsy. Has she been hammering shots since then?

“Dree?” Her hair is hanging in her face and she’s barely managing to hold onto her clutch. I look around for Jasminta or one of the other girls she was with, but Dree’s all alone.

“Dree,” I say again, sharply, and when she opens her eyes and looks up, I see her pupils are so dilated that her irises are completely black.

Alarm shoots through me. This isn’t drunk.

What the fuck?

“Dree. It’s Rush. I’m going to get you out of here, okay?” I may as well be talking to a plank of wood. I put my hands on her upper arms and steer her toward the exit. Her legs buckle beneath her. I grab her just in time and scoop her up in my arms. She’s slurring something that I can’t make out over the music.

People glance my way as I head for the exit. I’m painfully aware that I’m leaving the club with an unconscious woman without her permission. Someone should stop me. Someone should at least question what I’m doing, but even the bouncer merely gives me a bored look and moves aside.

Out on the street, I wave down a black cab without letting Dree go.

Tags: Brianna Hale Erotic
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