The front door is pulled open by one of the guards, and I waste no time slipping out and down the porch steps, but before I make it to the sidewalk, high beams flash from the driveway across the street, the rev of an engine following.

A smirk curls my lips, but I don’t play good little soldier and report to the general’s call.

I stay exactly where I am, and what do you know...

They come to me.

Chapter 11

The night is cool, but not cold, or at least it’s not on the city roads we’re cruising down. I’m sure their little cave is freezing right about now—the midnight ocean breeze is no joke.

I drop my head against the headrest, rolling my head to look at Beretta, who is behind the wheel this time.

His dark hair blows gently with the wind, and every few minutes, he runs a hand through it to help push it back.

It’s not some vain attempt to keep his standard ‘I wake up like this’ vibe, but simply him, relaxed and rolling down old roads he must be familiar with, an easy grin on his face. I’m not sure where we’re going, but I slipped into the passenger seat without pausing to ask, so I guess that means I don’t care.

I probably should after what happened tonight. Not that anything happened, per se, but it could have.

Obviously, I was in no shape to protest.

Obviously, I didn’t want to...

I hadn’t even had a single drink before the one Arsen served me, so yeah, I was stone-cold sober.

Momentarily drunk on lust.

Again, I need to spend some time under the covers.

My eyes lift to Beretta’s deep brown locks as they fall forward once more, the gust of the wind sweeping over the sides of the car as we turn left at a stop sign.

My fingers lift, gently slipping into his soft hair, swiping it out of the way for him, and he cuts me a quick glance, his grin holding as he faces forward.

As my hand begins to fall back in place, I catch Arsen’s eyes in the mirror.

He holds mine for a few seconds, looking away in the next, and when I face forward, I realize we’re pulling into a parking garage in front of a boarded-up, abandoned office complex covered in graffiti.

My features tighten as I look around, not another car in sight, and I’m about to ask what this little stop is about, but then he turns left, toward the giant ‘do not enter’ sign, where there once was an entrance. We curve around the lower level, the proof of the night disappearing as we’re now underground, and not alone.