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“Please, River,” he gasped. “Please, please—fuck, more!” A drawn-out groan left him as Reese stroked him faster.
Nearly there.
Heat rushed through me, and I stared down at where we were connected. With each thrust, some of Reese’s come was pushed out, soaking Shay’s ass and my cock.
“Let go, sweetheart,” Reese murmured to him. “You’re such a good boy for us. Let go.”
I grunted and screwed my eyes shut, just about to lose the fight.
Shay surrendered with a breathless moan and clenched down so hard that he brought me with him. Pleasure exploded around us, and my lungs started burning for air.
I wanted to freeze time then and there.
* * *
Reese Tenley
2023
God-fucking-dammit. I stuck the flashlight into my mouth and splayed out the map across the hood of the Jeep. Greer handed me the marker, and I drew a new line around what we knew was Blanco territory. This circle was bigger than the previous one.
We’d wasted eight fucking hours on hiking through the jungle just to see where the Blancos had jammed communications. Most of our satphones had zero coverage because these rich coke-slingers had the money to block the world’s biggest satellite network. Thank fuck we still had two phones operating on a private frequency, and we had contact with Crew. That was all that mattered.
“That’s what, roughly seven hundred acres?” Danny eyed the map too.
I attached the flashlight to my helmet that I’d left on the hood instead. “Give or take. Maybe closer to eight hundred.”
We only had the manpower to cover about two hundred, though they were the important ones that included the entrance to Blanco’s estate. Much of the rest was terrain too tough to get through, and we had to rely a lot on educated guesses.
Down the road, Mathis flashed the headlights of our second vehicle, letting us know he’d returned with more supplies.
We were approximately an hour outside Blanco grounds, but they still had men everywhere. All we could do was set up camp as far away from civilization as possible and hope Blanco scouts weren’t around. We did have our own tech up, so I wasn’t exactly worried. Every ding from the laptop in the Jeep had come from registered heat signatures of wildlife.
“Round up,” Elliott announced. “Assuming River and Reese want the first sector for the next shift, Joel and I will do sector two—the Finlay brothers, sector three. Coach, the Paynes, and Mathis will assist in the background.”
“I really don’t like being in the background,” Danny muttered. “I’m just not a background kind of man.”
We’d need him plenty for close combat later, but he had enough shrapnel in his leg and hip to light up a metal detector like a Christmas tree, and he couldn’t run great distances any longer.
Mathis lit a smoke and opened up the back of the Jeep. “Any word from the inside?”
“Last one was two hours ago,” Emerson replied. “Crew and Mercier concluded a sit-down with Marco and Enzo Blanco, and now we know Luiz Gajero is setting up Carillo Mesa’s human trafficking operations. We think they’re headed for Europe too.”
I snuck a glance at Elliott and Joel, seeing their clenched jaws and anger.
I knew exactly what they were thinking. For weeks, we’d had the slightest comfort of believing we’d get our loved ones back as soon as Carillo was happy—as in, as soon as Vincente was dead. And Carillo hadn’t figured out we were carrying out our own chase. But now… Shay had been sent here to Colombia, and Marisa and Blake were in the hands of a man who was hoping to strike gold in human trafficking.
Coach joined me briefly and handed me an energy bar and a bottle of water before he went to give the others the same things.
I sent River a pointed look to eat.
We knew our next step; we weren’t going to sit still while we waited for Crew and Mercier. We had to continue mapping out Blanco’s first line of defense, which was the goddamn jungle. We’d established the perimeter, and we’d located eleven watchtowers—simple, wooden constructions—one pipeline, too much trip wire, and four narrow paths patrolled by four-wheelers. Watchtowers and roads were good. They indicated permanent lookout positions, which beat stumbling upon random guards in the middle of nowhere. Those guards still existed, but it helped to mark the fixed locations too.
While the others talked among themselves and continued setting up our campsite, Greer, Elliott, and I kept studying the map.
Our three sectors included number two, west of the entrance, number one, the entrance itself, and number three, east of it. Greer and Cullen had searched fruitlessly for hidden roads and tunnels, and I reckoned they’d continue their search in the third sector when we headed out again.
I chewed on a mouthful of the meal bar and drew a line between the outer watchtowers, six of them, always occupied by two guards. Based on the distance between the towers, the area we covered would have dozens of them.
