Chapter 60

Blake paced his quarters, waiting for the phone to ring. Noah and the other Warriors were in the War Room deciding his fate.

It sucked having someone else in charge of that.

He knew there were three options for his future. First, they could outright kill him, which he doubted they would do. Shit, he’d taken two bullets for Liberty, helped them get their people back, and rescued Jovan’s ass.

Bonus points scored for him, especially for taking the slugs.

He figured the other two options were more along the lines of what they would be thinking. They would either cut him loose, or ask him to stay and help them.

He would be an asset to them. If Talin could get him into the FBI databases and files, he would know where to access all sorts of information for them. Also, he wasn’t too bad with a gun or the hand-to-hand, even if they did have a few inches on him and more than a couple pounds. He could beef up a bit with some more working out and hold his own against any of them.

Probably.

If they tossed him out, he hoped they would at least give him a few days to get a new life together, or maybe help him do it. It seemed Talin could get just about anything done if he had a computer in front of him.

Blake knew he would have to be buried deep, and even then he would have to live the rest of his life on the run. At some point, someone would figure out that it was him who had busted into Area 2, and he would have a bounty on his head, and he wouldn’t be a bit surprised if the FBI hired a few “specialists” to take care of that bounty.

Yeah, he’d be a hunted man.

As he paced around the room, he noted the high-class, yet comfortable furnishings. His bed was still rumpled from his sleep the night before, the rust-colored sheets looking like blood against the white comforter. Perhaps they had put him in this room in case he sprung a leak and bled all over the place.

He had watched the eleven o’clock news the previous night on the big sixty-inch plasma on the wall, and there had been a very small story of drug activity on a lonely stretch of highway down by the border. They hadn’t mentioned any names, but they did note that there was three death and two injuries.

The drug cartel was always a great fallback. He had fabricated stories for the media using the drug cartels as the instigators many times when secret shit went sour down by the border.

Sitting down on the rust-colored overstuffed chair, he contemplated what he wanted to do. “Should I stay or should I go now?” he sang softly to himself. God bless The Clash for that classic.

He dug deep for an answer.

He actually really did like the Warriors. Working with Talin to set up the mission, and then actually executing the mission with Jovan, Rayner, and Noah had upped his trust in all of them. Cohen must not think he was too bad if he used his healing gift on him, and he really did have a special place in his heart for Jovan.

Feeling he belonged here, he was certain he wanted to stay.

For the first time in his life, he felt like he didn’t have to hide his past. These people knew exactly what he was, and because of them, he knew now too. He was half SR44ian, and these people were his tribe. Granted, he was part of the SR44 clan that they wanted to eradicate, but he hoped he had proven himself otherwise, and that someone’s past, or heritage, didn’t always mean that was what the person brought with them to the present.

He rubbed his head and decided he was going to let his hair grow out. It would be pretty ugly while the black grew back, but maybe he could make the whole blond-on-black thing work. Or maybe he should just have Faith and Liberty dye it back black. That was probably the best course of action.

He thought about the females of the house. They seemed like a happy bunch, and he liked that each had their own thing going on. He learned Abby just had a book published, Faith was doing fundraising for her tribe, and Beverly served as a back-up doctor for the Warriors, and, of course, she was a new mom.

He wasn’t quite sure how Annis and Liberty were going to fit in to everything, but they seemed to get along with everyone.

Annis.

That was one attractive woman. Female. Whatever. She was pretty during the day, and he felt bad for her that she couldn’t see, but it didn’t seem to dampen her spirit. She moved around the house with an intricate knowledge of the layout, which she must have studied when she had her sight at night.

When her eyes lit up, she was gorgeous. He loved watching the ridges of her heavily muscled body move under her dark chocolate skin.

The phone rang, interrupting his thoughts. He jumped and quickly strode over to the phone.

“Your fate will be determined by how fast you can get your ass up here,” Noah said.

Blake didn’t bother with the formalities of goodbye; he had on his Nikes and was ready to make a run for it. He hung up the phone, threw open the heavy, wooden door, and didn’t bother with the elevator, glad he only had three flights of stairs to go.