Last Call (22 page)

I glanced over my shoulder to see an anonymous grinding guy. Ugh. Why did guys think that dancing at a club meant they had free reign to grope unsuspecting females? As his hands moved to my hips, I jumped and spun around; bumping into his chest.

"I'm dancing here," I hissed.

"All by yourself, gorgeous?" he drawled, eying me and giving me that "I know you want me" sexy gaze that he must have thought worked on all the ladies. He pulled me closer and nudged his leg between mine, trying to pull me into some sort of ‘Dirty Dancing’ move. "Come on, I just wanna dance with you."

The margaritas dulled my senses enough so that I was sluggish to combat his moves. It wasn’t as if I'd never danced with a stranger at a club before. There was no harm in just one dance.

"You're too sexy to be here alone," he shouted over the music. One of his hands slowly moved to rest on my upper thigh as he dipped low; grinding against me.

"Thank you, but I'm here with friends, actually."

"Are you going home with your friends too?" He winked. I frowned, not sure if I’d heard him correctly.

"Was that a proposition?" I asked; somewhat dumbfounded by his boldness. I took a moment to look for Gage to see what he thought of my new dancing partner, but he had mysteriously disappeared.

"If
you're
free, gorgeous,
I'm
free," he hinted, shouting above the music.

My head fell back as I was hit by a sudden fit of laughter, and that's when I saw him. My Aussie superman. He was currently upside down…no - my head was upside down. He was behind me, and his super laser beam eyes were set on me.

"Hi," I giggled. Giggle? I was pretty sure the alcohol had officially worked its way into my system. My head lifted back up and I smiled again at my unwelcome dancing partner. "I'm not sure if I'm free," I laughed and spun around. My butt was now being held firmly against Mr. Dirty Dancer.

Gage stood there for a moment, a slight frown on his face, while he took in the scene. His arms were crossed over his broad chest and I swear I saw his biceps flex. I bet he could crack a walnut with those arms. It really was lovely the kinds of things alcohol made you think of.

"Hey, this is…" I started, and then belatedly remembering I never got his name, I shouted at him, "What's your name?"

"Cory."

"Cory," I repeated, nodding to Gage. "This is Gage. Gage, Cory wants to know if I'm free," I explained.

Cory's body pulled away, and I wondered if he saw the same look in Gage's face that I did. As the beats started to mix and merge into a slow song, Cory stepped away and whispered into my ear.

"Let's grab a drink." I didn’t see his expression because I was too busy watching Gage for a reaction. I stood there waiting hopefully for him to say something -
anything
.

"Sorry mate," he finally interceded. "She's not free, and I'm pretty sure she's had enough to drink tonight."

"Sorry man, is she with you? We were just dancing. There's a shit load of other hot chicks in here, and I don't want any trouble." Cory shrugged and then stepped away from me without a backward glance.
Shows how much he cared,
I thought to myself.

"You chased him away," I grumbled prettily, but inside I was all smiles.

"Damn right I did, sweetheart." He pulled me against his lean, hard body and looped his arms possessively around my back. "What were you trying to do to me?"

I batted my eyes innocently, but my words gave my intentions away. "I was trying to get you to notice me."

"Christ, Savannah. If I notice you anymore than I already have, I'm going to have a serious problem walking." His hand pressed on my lower back and evidence of his 'noticing me' was pressed into my hip. We began to sway languorously to the music, and my hands crept their way up his abs and chest to wrap around his neck.

The movement brought my shirt up again, and desire began to pool in the pit of my stomach as Gage moved his warm hands to touch my bare skin.

"I'm calling dibs."

"You're what?"

"Dibs," he repeated gruffly; leaning his face down until our foreheads were barely touching. "You're not free anymore. I want you all to myself."

Amused, I coughed in amusement from the barbarian growl I heard in Gage's voice.

"Do you have a problem with that?"

"Well…I don't, but we may need to address the President on it. I mean, I don't know how they do things in Australia, but in
America
the constitution states that we’re free."

A low chuckle rumbled through his chest as he looked at me. "You're sort of fun when you're drunk."

Ignoring his comment, I continued. "And then when you say I'm not free, are we talking like, slavery? Because that was abolished a long time ago here. However, if you're talking
sex slave
, well
that
has become waaaaaay more acceptable since those books came out several years ago." I grappled with my thoughts for a moment, trying to remember the book names. "Oh, what was it? Something about shades…"

"I could get behind that concept, gorgeous," he teased, his eyes turning dark with desire. His warm lips touched my forehead briefly.

"So could I," I mumbled; resting my head on his chest and closing my eyes. I let him hold me close and we danced to the slow beat for another moment before he pulled back and sighed.

"I need to get back to work. Where are Candace and Sara?"

Disappointment filled me, but I knew he was right. "Um, I don't know." I looked around for my friends and managed to spot Candace dancing close by.

"Hey Cand," I shouted out, my voice rising above the music. All around, curious heads turned our way.

Gage relinquished me to Candace, making sure she was the designated driver and verifying we would head out immediately. He promised to call me in the morning and walked off, after hesitating for a few ponderous seconds.

"No kiss goodnight?" Candace blurted as she watched him stop to speak to some people at a table.

"No," I whined; falling theatrically against her side.

Candace chuckled at me, “Let's get you home. The clock is about to strike midnight, princess, and you're gonna turn into a pumpkin."

Monday - May 6, 2013

Slow Dancing

Monday mornings were bad enough without raging hangovers to contend with. Add my morning art class to that, and I wanted to kill myself. The only thing that kept me going was the fuzzy reminder of the conversation between Gage and me last night. Knowing that he wanted me all to himself was making me positively giddy.

After class, I stopped by a local coffee shop to grab a quick pick me up. It was almost ten-thirty and I found myself exceptionally eager to hear from Gage. He’d said he would call me this morning, and I couldn’t help but get my hopes up. My phone started going off while I waited for the barista to make my mocha latte, and I dove into my large bag in search of it.

The ringing got louder once I finally located the phone and pulled it out. I frowned at the unknown number and answered.

"Hello?"

"Ms. Guthry? This is Officer Owens with the Nashville PD."

"Yes, this is Savannah Guthry."

"Ms. Guthry, I spoke with the owner of The Garage the other night in reference to an altercation between you and Mr. Jax Rogers. Were you aware that Mr. Rogers went missing after that evening, Ms. Guthry?"

"Yes, Officer, a friend at the bar told me you came to speak with him. Has he been located?"

"Yes, he was located…"

"Oh, thank God," I interrupted the officer.

"However, we would like for you to come down to the station sometime today to fill out a statement on the event that occurred," he finished; his voice stern.

"Officer, is everything alright with Jax? I don't understand what information I can offer you. The last I saw him, he was in the parking lot of The Garage."

"You’re not a suspect Ms. Guthry, but we do need your side of the story. We’ve asked the other witnesses at The Garage to come down as well."

"A suspect in what, Officer?" I asked; confusion and disbelief starting to swim through my brain.

"Mr. Rogers was accosted and severely beaten. He was admitted to a local hospital as a John Doe after being found on the side of the road early Saturday morning. If you could come in today it would be appreciated."

Incredulity hit me as I wondered what could have happened to him. I reassured the officer that I was free and would be on my way to the station shortly and hung up. By that point my latte was waiting for me, so I grabbed it and walked out of the shop in a daze.

Since Sara and Jax were friends, I called her to tell her what had happened. She was at work but said she would try to call a few mutual friends and see if anyone knew anything. I was about to head to the station when my phone rang again. This time it was Gage. I hesitated for a moment before answering. Did I seriously have doubts about Gage's story from that night? Did I really suspect that something more sinister happened?

"Hello?"

"Hey. You sound clearer than you did last night. How's your head feeling?" His jab put a timid smile on my face, at least for the moment.

"I've been better," I replied tonelessly.

"I'm sorry. I just got off the phone with Officer Owens, and he said he spoke with you. I feel like this is all my fault."

"Why would you say that?"

"He seemed pretty wasted, Savannah, and maybe I should’ve gotten some of his friends to get him home instead of sending him off in a cab. We don't know what happened to him, but I can't help but feel responsible for it."

Guilt washed over me that I would ever doubt him for a moment. He was with me when the bouncers had sent Jax off. The cab company verified their driver dropped off a relatively drunk, but functioning Jax at his apartment complex. Whatever happened to him had happened
after
he was left there.

"Gage, you aren't responsible for what happened to him. Someone must have jumped him for his money. Officer Owen said he was admitted as a John Doe, so evidently he didn't have his wallet. Don't blame yourself," I implored.

We went around and around about blame and what might have happened until I pulled up to the station. "Hey, I need to go in and make a statement. I'll call you after and tell you what happens."

"Okay."

I hung up and searched for a parking spot. Taking a girl moment, I adjusted my hair and make-up before stepping out of my car. My stomach quivered at the thought of actually walking into a police station. I pictured endless episodes of cop shows and angry convicts threatening to kill people in my mind. Wiping my sweaty palms on my shorts, I took a deep breath and walked towards the front door. Crossing the parking lot, I glanced around as people milled about. There was a teenage kid with his pants hanging to the ground leaning on an old car, a woman at the far end of the lot yelling on her cell phone at someone, and then a cop car went racing by with its lights flashing and no siren.

When I reached the sidewalk to the door, I glanced up and spotted him.

"What are you doing here?" I questioned, as my heart rate picked up at seeing him.

"They wanted me to come in too, and I figured you could use some support," he confessed as I walked straight into his arms. Gage staggered back slightly from the force of my weight hitting him.

"Sorry." I looked up at him sheepishly while clasping the back of his shirt and admitting, "I've never even had a ticket. I'm supremely nervous.”

"I thought that would be the case. When you said you were on your way, I couldn't stop myself from coming down. You don't mind, do you?"

"Not at all." I pulled back a little while still allowing myself to remain in his embrace. "Why didn't you tell me you needed to come down? I would have picked you up."

"I wanted to surprise you. Luckily I live a few blocks closer than you do, so I beat you here. Let's go get this over with."

With my hand clasped firmly in his, I walked into a police station for the first time.

"Don't smile too much," I warned Gage several hours later as we sat along the banks of the Cumberland River. After making statements at the station, we dropped off my car, had lunch and were now lazily relaxing by the river at a local park. Gage leaned against a tree while I made good on my promise to sketch him.

"I can't help it. You look so determined when you draw. It makes me smile."

Lifting my eyes from the sketch pad I scrutinized his face closely, trying to get every detail right. The small lines around his eyes, the slight crease of laugh lines around his mouth. His lips. Those lips were a girl’s dream. Full and soft, like he took great pains to take care of them. They were curling into another crooked little smile as I stared at them. I felt my face get flushed and I quickly looked back down at my pad.

"Stop it," I groaned, wanting to throw the paper down and throw myself wantonly in his lap.

"Yes ma'am," he grinned again. "Did you know you get a little crease between your brows when you're thinking?" He pointed between his own brows.