Page 50 of Claiming Their Omega

CADE: What do you mean? Where are you? Are you okay? Are you safe? Grace?

ME: Oh my god, you’re such a worrywart! I told you, I’m a big girl. I’m fiiiiiine.

CADE: What are you doing?

ME: I’m just having some drnks. Drinks. Drunk. You know. I’m trying to relax. Ever heard of it? You never relax. You’re always so grumpy.

I put my phone down. I’m ignoring him. He doesn’t deserve my attention anyway. I hold my hand up. “Hey,” I call to my new best friend. “Can I get another one?”

The bartender sighs. “Your credit card is going to hate you tomorrow.”

“Don’t worry.” I push my little empty glass toward him with a dopey grin. “I already hate my life, why not add some credit card debt to it?”

After all, if I’m going to be stuck in this situation, I’m damn well not going to endure it anymore while sober. And Cade and the other three can just go screw themselves.

Chapter 16

Cade

I stare down at the last text that Grace sent.

I suspected she was drunk when she sent her first text. I haven’t texted with Grace a lot, but I know that she works in publishing. She values proper spelling, grammar, and punctuation, even in texts. She texts like she’s being graded on it.

Not now. Now she’s misspelling things, and being belligerent in a way she never is.

She’s definitely drunk.

I text her asking where she is several times before she finally answers.

GRACE: You never talk and now you won’t shut up over text. What is this? Who are you?? I’m at that one place. By the park. Big park. I dunno what it’s called.

Christ, she’s fucking plastered. Luckily, I know what she’s talking about. She means the state park. And that means…

Ah, shit. She’s at that one fuckin’ dive bar.

To say it’s not the safest of places is an understatement. That’s where all the rougher guys go to hang out. You tend to go to that dive bar when you’re spoiling for a fight or you really want to be left alone. I think I’ve only seen women in there two or three times, and they were always accompanied by a boyfriend or group of guys. I wouldn’t call it the center of a criminal empire, that’s for sure, but it’s rough. If a bar fight breaks out or something, Grace could easily be caught in the middle.

Or, worse. What if the wrong kind of rough guy is there and decides to take advantage? What if they can sense she’s an Omega?

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

I swear loudly and shove my phone into my pocket, then hurry out to the garage to get my motorcycle. We tend to just take the pickup, but when we need to get somewhere real fast or want to just go riding through the mountains, Hendrix and I have our bikes.

I throw on my helmet and leather jacket, gloves, kneepads, then speed off. I’m definitely ignoring the speed limits, but if this is one of the few times a highway patrol is in our area—not likely but you never know—then the guy can just fucking tail me until we get to the bar. He can give me whatever ticket he wants when we get there, but I’m not letting anyone keep me from making sure Grace is safe.

When I get there, I practically throw myself off the bike. Only respect for my baby keeps me from letting her just fall to the ground and rushing in. I park her properly, then hurry inside.

It’s not busy, thank fuck. There are about five guys that look vaguely familiar, who I think own the other bikes I saw outside. They’re all huddled in a corner having a tense, quiet conversation about something. There’s two guys playing pool, and an older man who looks spectacularly drunk sitting on a stool at the far corner of the bar.

And there, chatting with slurred words to the lone bartender, is Grace.

My heart feels like it skips a beat. She’s slumped on top of the bar like she might fall off any second. I want to curl around her and snarl at everyone else in the room. I also want to backhand the bartender across the face. Grace is small, she’s not exactly packing a ton of weight. How much did this asshole let her drink?

I storm over, pulling out my wallet. “I thought they taught you guys to know when to cut someone off,” I snarl.

Grace perks her head up. She squints. “Cade?”

I slap several bills down on the bar. “That should cover it. Come on, we’re getting out of here.”

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