Bedded Bliss (Found in Oblivion #1) - Cari Quinn Page 0,84

away on the kit, doing her thing. Ry had put down the blues harp to join West and they were playing hand over hand in an intricate choreography all their own.

Halfway through the song, Michael glanced up. The last time he’d played it, he’d been staring at Chloe in the audience. Her red hair like a damn beacon, her eyes pulling him into her story. Almost strangers or not, they’d become involved with each other in a way that transcended alcohol and sex and stupid marriage licenses.

Unconsciously, he sought her again in the audience, only realizing what he was doing when his gaze snagged on the second row. She wasn’t there. Of course she wasn’t. He’d asked her to come to the show, mentioned he’d left tickets for her at the door, but she hadn’t replied. For all he knew, she’d had to work. Or had Axl. She couldn’t just take off and come see him because he really needed her to be there.

And then she was.

He had to be imagining things. She hadn’t said she was coming. Hadn’t said anything at all. She couldn’t be there. He was hallucinating her like a dude in the desert might envision a spring arising out of the hot sand. His just happened to be his gorgeous, infuriating wife, looking up at him again with those melted chocolate eyes that spurred him to play faster, harder. Anything to impress her into staying just a little while longer.

Please let it be you.

As if on cue, the crowd parted and Chloe moved closer to the stage, dragging another woman with her. She turned away to speak to her friend and he swallowed, already missing her face.

Jesus, he had it bad. And it was only getting worse with every hour and minute that passed.

Once she turned back, he was sliding into the end of the song, nearing the part where he’d fallen to his knees the other night. Almost there. He climbed the frets, dueling with Elle, letting Molly’s rich, whisky-soaked voice wash over him as they approached that final pinnacle. And just as he was about to let the music suck him into the end, hell broke loose.

Over his goddamn head.

Literally.

The crack above his head reminded him of the other night, as did the shower of sparks. But there weren’t supposed to be any pyrotechnics at this show. Definitely weren’t supposed to be screams as a large arm of lights swung down from the rafters, seeming to hesitate in mid-air before it landed on the stage—right where Molly had been a moment before.

There was a hiss and a crackle as lightbulbs exploded, setting off more sparks, then another hiss and snapping sound from the back near the control boards. The overhead lights in the club pulsed on and off and then went out completely an instant before a roar filled Michael’s ears. Water streamed from the ceiling, and he was instantly drenched from head to toe.

Somehow he gathered his wits enough to pull the strap of his guitar over his head and set it down on a speaker. Then he grabbed Elle and shoved her toward where Molly and Juliet were trying to step around the shards of glass and still sizzling wires. “Don’t touch anything,” he shouted.

He was about to make sure Ry and West and Jazz were okay when one overriding thought stamped out everything else in his mind. Obliterating everything else.

Find Chloe.

He’d just reached the steps at the side of the stage when a body slammed into his. Hair whipped across his mouth and he brushed it away, squinting to see in the murky darkness lit only by the emergency lights that had popped on over the exits.

It was all he needed to glimpse the eyes he adored.

Thank God.

“Are you okay?” She touched him everywhere at once, searching for wounds. It was such a mom thing to do that even in the midst of insanity, he had to laugh—and lift her off her feet to kiss the hell of her while water poured over them both.

“Can’t—do—this—not—now.” She panted between hungry, frantic kisses. Already the lush, warm shape of her in his arms was familiar to him, refilling the oxygen he’d lost from the terror of not knowing she was okay.

“Have to,” he chanted back, slanting his mouth over hers. “Fucking have to.”

When the fear began to subside, he cupped her face and drew back. Absolute chaos and had erupted in the club, with everyone running and shouting as the water poured down.