Join the Club (SWAT Generation 2.0 7)

I drank it anyway because I didn’t like wasting people’s money, even if I hadn’t asked for the beer.

Bourne never let go of my ankle. And I wasn’t going to admit that I liked the way it felt with his hand wrapped around me. Even if it was my ankle.

An hour later, I was on beer number four, and Sammy had just left to go help Jason and a few of the other cops that were at the wedding find some flashlights so the party could continue on.

The lights had gone out, and now the entire area surrounding us was cast in shadows.

And do you know what Bourne still had in his hand? My ankle.

My leg had long since gone to sleep, but I couldn’t stand removing it.

At least, that had been my intention—to leave it there as long as he’d hold on to it—but the beer was catching up to me.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” I admitted reluctantly. “I left my phone in the car, though. There’s nowhere to put it while wearing this dress.”

There was a moment of silence, then, “I have my phone, but the flashlight doesn’t work on it. I shattered the back of the phone last week during a call.”

I really wanted to know how that happened, but before I could ask, he was standing up.

“Come on,” he said. “Leave your wrap here. I’ll leave my coat. We’ll come back for them.”

I did as he suggested, polishing off the rest of my beer.

Luckily they were small beers, otherwise I would’ve been drunk off my ass by now.

As it was, they were in those small Dixie Cups that were the size of my hand.

The first beer that he’d handed me had been a bottle, and I’d been a tad bit surprised by the move.

When I’d questioned him with my eyes as he’d handed it to me, he’d met them with a blank stare and then shrugged.

“Can you see at all?” I asked curiously.

There were a few flashlights in the small room from people’s personal phones, but not that many. In fact, I was honestly surprised there weren’t more.

“Why do you think there aren’t more flashlights?” I asked as I slipped down out of my seat.

Bourne let my ankle go almost reluctantly, and I missed the heat of his hand immediately.

It was probably time for me to move it based on the pins and needles feeling going through my right leg now that I’d allowed blood flow to return.

“Probably the same reason as you,” Bourne murmured as he too stood up. “Nowhere to put the phone. And since half of these people are cops, I’m sure that they left them on purpose. If you don’t have your phone, you can’t be asked to come in, can you?”

The only reason I knew he’d stood was the shift of clothing and the soft squeak of the soles of his shoes hitting the floor.

Luckily the music had gone out with the power, enabling me to hear again.

“You’re right,” I said as I shifted, using the wall as a guide to get around the table.

I once again encountered the chair but kept my body straight since Bourne wasn’t there to force me sideways.

I should’ve moved sideways, because had I, I wouldn’t have tripped over Bourne who was standing just a few feet away against the wall.

My hand met his shoulder just as my feet caught his.

I would’ve landed straight on my face had he not caught me around the waist and hauled me up against him to prevent my face meeting the ground.

“God,” I gasped as I felt his hard body up against mine.

I’d always wanted to feel what it was like to be in his arms.

Now I knew.

He was hard. Everywhere.

And warm. And he smelled super, duper good.

“You’re okay,” he said, misunderstanding my use of the word ‘god.’

I knew I was okay. I was more than okay.

“Thank you,” I said. “That would’ve hurt.”

He chuckled and let my body go, but his hands lingered on my hips to make sure that I was steady before he let me go completely.

But before I could get far, he’d grabbed my hand and said, “Let’s go.”

I walked beside him carefully, my heels clicking and clacking as he moved expertly through the room as if the lights were on and he could see everything.

“’Scuse me,” Bourne murmured, his voice dark and deep.

“No problem,” someone replied.

We skimmed our way around a table, and I couldn’t stop myself from saying, “Do you have night vision or something?”

He squeezed my hand, but he didn’t laugh like I expected him to.

“Not night vision in the way that you’re thinking. I’m just used to moving around through the dark,” he answered. “Part of my job.”

It was in a way, I supposed.

Bourne had a very demanding career as a police officer. He worked night shift lately, and a lot of the SWAT calls that went down happened at night.