"What does that mean?" Corkie asked.
Her head was fuzzy and her eyes kept trying to blink the world back in and out of focus. It was the wine. Normally, Corkie had no issues with alcohol. Give her beer, she was fine. Shots of whiskey, some gin, bourbon, vodka, straight-up or mixed in cocktails, she knew exactly where her limit began, and it was usually way past what other people could tolerate. But wine...
Wine got her every time. It had to be the taste...went down too smoothly. Took its time, tricked her into thinking she was okay, just a few more glasses, and then wham! A foggy stupor propelling straight to her brain. Champagne did the same thing. Which was a shame. She really liked champagne.
Alex smiled vaguely at her. "I said I needed to know your informant, remember?"
"I remember. I'm drunk, not slow."
"Well...I've decided that your safety is more important."
Her head swayed as she tried her hardest to stare at him. But his face blurred around the edges, and her skull banged out a parade tempo, with a drum line, trumpets, baton twirlers and all. Corkie plastered her palms to the sides of her head, groaning.
"Does your head hurt?" he asked, his voice very concerned, but that could just be another one of his many acts.
"Yes," she groaned louder. "What do you mean you don't care about my informant? You can't not care! I want my pictures back!"
"Dammit, Corkie," he said darkly. "You can't have them. I promised I'd get you to the border, and I'm going to do that."
"How chivalrous of you," she muttered.
It sucked being drunk. What was I thinking? If she'd been sober and steady, she could fight him, right here and now, and maybe have a chance to get her camera card away from him. All she needed was something sharp, a length of rope and a good grip on his boots. He hadn't taken off those freaking things in her immediate presence once. Not once! Not even when he slept. Now, she had to wait until she had full control of her limbs again. And if he intended to get her to the border, then she needed to come up with something fast, maybe another delay somewhere.
But she only had until tonight before Juan called her father, because even if he was aware that she was trying to get back to America, that wouldn't stop him from following through with his promise. And let's face it, if her father knew about those pictures, too, then she would never see them again.
Normally, a whole day would be plenty of time to set a trap, but right now, she couldn't think straight, and her stomach was quickly catching up with the rest of her foolish revelry in the washroom, and it had been a very long time since she'd been this drunk that she wasn't sure how long it would take for the effects to wear off.
In the meantime, she was drunk; Alex wasn't; and she wasn't any closer to getting her pictures back!
"Corkie?" Alex touched her cheek again, this time tilting her head up so he could see into her eyes. It wasn't because he liked touching her. It was just one of his habits, she guessed, a controlling thing, like She won't look at me when I'm talking to her, when I want her to look at me, so I'll make her.
"How many bottles of wine did you drink?" he asked.
"Um, just one." Of course, now that she was drunk, she could use that as an excuse to touch him more, so she did. She placed her palm over his heartbeat.
YOU ARE READING
Crazy Enough (originally titled "Black And White Rainbows")Romance
It was supposed to be an easy job. Get to Mexico, get photos of that bastard, Niro, and get home. But photojournalist Corkie Brooks did not account for a lone Army Ranger kidnapping her, stealing her photos, and then protecting her. Lt. Alex...