Chapter Twenty Seven

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Later that afternoon . . .

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Shamira was a bit grouchy. She hadn't gotten much sleep at all that day, and then Shane had "summoned" her to the golf-course for a round with him and Banshee.

Clara had grinned when her lover was grumbling and getting dressed, then the Native American herself had to report to the control room to relieve Raul for security detail.

Shamira dressed up, grabbed the fancy new clubs that Shane had bought for her, then made her way to the first tee.

When she got there, Lillian was also present. She was dressed in skintight black-spandex suit that contrasted nicely with her fiery-red hair. She also had a cherry-red ball gag in her mouth, with leather straps leading from it around her jaw and secured at the back of her neck.

She was holding an umbrella over Shane, trying to look meek. Shamira just thought it made the former swimsuit-model-turned-necromancer just look sultry.

'Why can't I