Chapter 57

Blake came to consciousness slowly. Something beside him moved, and he realized he wasn’t in his own bed.

He tried to roll over, but there was something on his other side. Opening his eyes, he saw a head of blonde hair, and then felt a hand slide around his waist. Turning, he looked over his shoulder to see more blonde hair, and a pretty face streaked with black eyeliner.

Oh, hell.

He was sandwiched so tight between these two, there was no way he was getting out, so he just shut his eyes and waited for them to wake.

It had been a few years since he’d been with two women at once. And unfortunately, he felt the exact same way he did last time he had found himself in this predicament: like a dirty whore.

He had stopped his really hard partying ways a few years back for this exact reason. He always seemed to find himself in compromising positions when women were around. If he was drinking with the guys, all was cool, but get some whiskey in him and put him in the vicinity of willing women, and he was a goner.

Damn Jovan. Damn him to hell and back.

If he hadn’t been so hell bent on forgetting Liberty for a while, Blake wouldn’t have ended up in this sandwich.

He focused on the previous night and realized that he at least had the sanity to wear a condom.

Go him.

His eyes flew open as he realized what else had gone down last night. When they had left the Black Cuff at closing, Jovan and the two women were getting into one cab, while he and the blondes were getting into the other. About a block up, he saw a group of five very large men walking in the other direction. The biggest stood a few inches above the rest, and he recognized him as Micah.

Blake turned to say something to Jovan, but he was already in the cab being manhandled by the two women. He debated whether to cut his party short, but decided against it. What would he do anyway? It wasn’t like he could take them all on, sober or not. At least they had the Intel that The Platoon was indeed in Phoenix. And it might be a good idea to go hunting instead of being the hunted. Well, at least that’s what he would do if he were in charge.

He had gotten in the cab, and the rest was nothing but an erotic blur of mouths, bodies, and finally, sleep.

What time was it, anyway? And Jesus, he had to pee. He was going to have to break this little fiesta up sooner than later.

Slowly he rose to his elbow and both girls let out a groan of disapproval.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

“Um . . . home.” No use trying to make his exit pretty.

“I don’t think so,” said the other girl, grabbing his shaft.

With a few strokes, his morning wood turned to stone.

He lay back down on the bed.

“You haven’t said good morning yet,” she said, disappearing under the sheet.