Sanam’s laughing. She’s got that squinting-eye look as her hands clap together, mouth parted. I can’t hear it over the loud music, but I know the sound is high-pitched. I tap her slender hip, getting her attention.

I shout, “I’m going to use the restroom!”

She lifts a finger in the air, the universal sign for wait one second.

Jayme takes Sanam’s hand as she daintily steps off the table.

Picking up a bottle of tequila, she fills a full shot glass and lifts it up between her perfectly manicured fingers. “At least take another drink before you go. I hate seeing you so miserable when we’re all happy.” She pouts.

Rolling my eyes, I take the drink from her hand and swallow it down in one gulp.

2

Slade

I gave my friends shit when they told me we were going to a costume party, but apparently, this is tonight’s hot spot. A well-known rap artist, whose name I can’t even remember, is performing.

Hip-hop blasts around the dimly lit club as we step into the throng teeming with sweaty, half-naked bodies. The dance floor is full of women in lingerie and men who look like they just left lockup. People see us walking forward and immediately make way, parting to steer clear. Lots of guys on the SEAL Teams aren’t big. But we are.

At the Mile, we work our security team with a single-minded purpose that borderlines on insane. Working for Vincent Borignone means staying in complete control all the time. But, tonight, we’re in Vegas to let out some of that pent-up steam, and we aim to tear it up.

I lean on the black lacquered bar. “Three tequila limes.”

The bartender wears a black push-up bra and micromini. She’s got a throwback 1950s Playboy centerfold thing going for her. Retro or whatever the word is. Jet-black hair with straight-cut bangs. A black line on her eyelids that flicks up at the end, sort of like a cat eye would look. She’s even got bright red lipstick. I let my eyes take their fill, her practically nude body on display. I’ll be able to enjoy it more when I’m drunk enough to relax.

“Anything else you want?” She leans forward against the shiny bar top, putting her massive fake tits closer to my face. Her question is filled with possibilities that have nothing to do with my drink order.

“I can think of a few things. Let’s start with those drinks though, yeah?” My voice is gravelly.

She smiles wide. “I’m Candice.”

“Slade.” I want to grin, but my mouth refuses to turn up. I’m so damn tired. I drank my body weight in liquor last night and slept like shit. My liver is angry as fuck, but here I am, planning on doing it all again. But harder.

Turning around to pour the drinks, she makes a nice show of bending over, showing me her tight, pert ass.

Nice.

Rob rubs his hands together, scheming. “Bachelorette party, twelve o’clock.” He points north, his white button-down shirt rolled up to his tatted forearms. “Could be just what we need tonight.”