Barnabas’s POV
"Where the hell are you?" Gideon’s voice blasted through the phone, sounding more like a serrated blade than a friend.
I groaned and squinted against the harsh morning light hitting the hotel carpet. My head felt like it had been cracked open and stuffed with hot lead. Fragments of the previous night drifted through my mind. I remembered the heat of the argument. I remembered the look on Salome’s face when Jeremiah stepped in. Most of all, I remembered the way the world seemed to tilt on its axis when she left with him.
"Hotel room," I croaked. My throat was dry, tasting of cheap whiskey and regret.
"Get your clothes on," Gideon snapped. "We have to get back to Richardson right now. Something happened. Something big."
I forced myself to sit up, ignoring the way the room
