That’s hard core, Gin,” Finn replied. “Very hard core. Kind of kinky too.” A grim smile tightened my lips. “That’s me. Gin Blanco. Hard core and kinky to the bitter end.

Still, I'd do anything for him. Even smear his clotting blood inside the vehicle of his choosing.

What did you expect? That he'd send you flowers and write you bad poetry? That dead Nemean prowler is pretty much as close to a stuffed animal as you're ever going to get from a Spartan like Logan Quinn.

You can work with me—or you can wade through the blood and bodies after I'm done.

Are you OK?" I asked. "I think so." Logan stared at me, and a smile pulled up his lips. "But maybe you should give me mouth-to-mouth, just to make sure.

He realized something was going on between Logan and me. I wish he'd clue me in on exactly what it was, because I had no idea.

The two men stared at each other. Assumptions were made, judgments rendered, dicks measured.