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That’s the mission—watch and gather intel.
Kidnapping for ransom is serious business in Central and South America and happens way too frequently. Most ransoms are paid and victims reunited with families, but sometimes a family won’t cough it up. They want to rescue their loved one and save the money, because they can hire mercenaries cheaper than the price of the return of a daughter, son, wife, or husband.
In this instance, Jameson was hired to gauge the viability of a rescue versus paying a ransom. This isn’t something Kynan normally does, but it came as a personal favor from some US congressman who Kynan owes one. It’s recon only as Kynan doesn’t risk the lives of his men for rescue situations unless it’s the only option available.
That’s not the case here. Some wealthy fuck in the congressman’s district received a ransom demand for his son who was using his trust fund to surf his way around Latin America. He wasn’t even able to enjoy the waves of Guatemala before he was plucked off the streets of the capital city.
The ransom is only a million dollars, something his father could easily afford, but he could hire a civilian special forces team to try to rescue his son for a lot cheaper.
Not Jameson, mind you. Kynan told the guy to pay the demand, but he balked. They reached a compromise, and Kynan agreed to send us in to gather intel and report back, but with the distinct understanding that no matter what we found, we would not be the ones doing the rescue.
I had to admire the guy. He’s turning down what could be a three hundred thousand dollar fee for work that would take us a few hours. But he’s not willing to risk a hair on our heads for something that just doesn’t need to be done. We flew down here with the hope we’d find well-fortified criminals who would make any rescue way too dangerous to consider.
“I’m counting five men on the west side,” Malik says through the ear comm. The technology is so good, it sounds like he’s sitting right beside me and not a quarter of a mile across the shallow valley.
“Three on the north,” Cage pipes in.
“Only two on the east,” I say as I stare through the binoculars. “But they have a mounted PKS.”
“That’ll tear through anyone coming at them from the jungle,” Jackson mutters.
He’s not wrong. It’s a heavy machine gun—Russian made—and it’s heavier armament than what you’d typically find in one of these kidnappings. They might even have some crooked police or government backing for a share of the profits.
It’s not unusual to find Russian-made weapons in the hands of the criminal element. There was a large influx of them during the Guatemalan Civil War when Communists tried to take over the country, and then the weapons went into the black market system after the unrest ended in 1997.
Lowering the binoculars, I check my watch. We’ve been here for only a few hours, but we’re going to pull a forty-eight-hour surveillance. We’ll rendezvous higher up and work in shifts so we can take turns sleeping.
For now, we keep watch from our current positions. It’s sometimes boring work, which makes it hard not to let the mind wander.
Not that I need boredom to think about Abby. It seems all that woman does is occupy my thoughts.
Last weekend was one amazing minute after another. With our first kiss, to sex, to cake sex, to dinner with my parents, and then a full day and night with her on Sunday, my fate was sealed. I am fucking falling for her.
I find it weird, too, given that I just got out of a relationship a little more than three months ago. I thought Adriana’s infidelity would make me bitter and jaded and wary, but fuck, it’s hard to be those things around Abby.
Just this morning, I woke up spooned against her body. She stayed at my house because she didn’t have to watch over the clinic, and her warm, naked body put me in the mood for a nice send-off.
I slipped my hand between her legs and stroked her right out of her slumber. It was so fucking sexy watching her body respond to my fingers, even while she was sleeping. She made noises, and her hips rolled, and by the time she was groggily asking what was going on, she tumbled into an orgasm that had her thrashing against my hand as she groaned.
I’d never moved so fast or efficiently in my life. I rolled slightly away from her, used my long reach to nab a condom, and had it on my cock in a matter of seconds.
“Kellen,” she’d murmured in a languid voice.
“Shh,” I ordered as I scooted right behind her again and lifted her leg. It took some maneuvering and testing angles, and hitching her leg a bit higher and wider, but I was able to thrust into her from behind as we lay on our sides. So fucking tight that way. I swear, when I came, my damn soul left my body.
