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“Yes. I was trained by the military. I know this procedure. Don’t worry about me, my friend. Let’s just hope we find nothing below.” He unbuttoned and shrugged out of his guard uniform shirt, and Shark did the same. It would give them ease of movement and be cooler. The rain had dropped the temperature, but the moment the sun rose, and it was close to the horizon, this forest area would turn into a sauna.
Shark nodded. “Juan. Why are you doing this for us? You don’t know us and so far, you haven’t asked for a single dollar.”
Juan grinned. “Taking money from an American is expected,” he murmured. “I didn’t want to draw attention to myself, especially from some of the bastards Ramos hires. I’m not here for a job with him or for any kind of bribe scheme. I’m here for revenge.”
With that, he pushed off the side of the cliff and started down. That was interesting information, and Shark wanted to know what kind of revenge he wanted on Ramos. Was that a bullet-between-the-eyes kind or justice-is-served kind? Things now became clear with Juan. Fuck him, but this guard was one of the good guys.
He pushed off and rappelled down to where Juan had unclipped his rope. They would have to walk down the rest of the way as the terrain sloped. He followed Juan’s back, sliding in mud and scrambling over rocks—and sweating. Sweat stains darkened his white T-shirt, making it translucent.
There were pools of water everywhere, everything wet and slippery from the storm. Shark was damp in the small of his back and on the back of his neck. Moisture beaded on his brow, sliding down his face in rivulets. He didn’t mind sweating. He was from Arizona, and most of his work involved a lot of sweat—humping ninety-pound rucksacks of gear from one indescribably hot and humid spot in the jungle to the next indescribably hot and human spot.
Today, he was getting off lightly. He only had to hump his two-hundred-and-ten-pound ass down and back up this ravine.
The trail grew steadily steeper for the last twenty-five meters to the crash site, before it leveled off. The truck had come to rest in a rocky patch, its engine remarkably intact. But that was the only good news. Both axles were busted, all the tires long gone. The passenger door was a few feet away, the driver one crumpled and dented, hanging on with only one of its hinges. The windshield was still intact but smashed and broken. He took a breath and looked inside. Nothing but part of the dash, the cab’s two long seats ripped from the back of the truck, falling over each other like pick-up sticks. No blood, no sign of anything human.
He looked at Juan, and he grinned and nodded. “So far, so good,amigo.”
They fanned out, searching the shallow water, behind rocks. Juan touched his shoulder and pointed. “We should search a little farther up that way.” He looked up at the cliff, studying it.
“What?” Shark asked, coming to a stop beside him.
Juan gestured upward. “There was a flash flood here. You can see where it ripped those trees right out of the ground and the amount of dirt it turned into a mudslide” He pointed to two large trunks lying just below the cliff face, their roots ragged and torn, huge puddles of earth, rocks, and water nearby. “It was a powerful amount of water and if it caught the truck on the road and pushed it all this way, bodies could have easily gotten caught in the deluge.”
Shark nodded and they trudged through the groove Juan had said was the trail of the water as it passed this way. They found tires, pieces of rusted metal, but to their relief, no bodies.
“They survived, Shark. That is good news. The bad news is, if they did, they wouldn’t have gone far in that kind of rain last night. They would have looked for immediate shelter.”
“Which means, they could be really close by.”
“Sí, let us get back before Ramos busts a gasket.”
They made quick work of hiking back to where the truck was and climbed up the slope to where they had left their ropes. Shark was drenched when they reached the top. He stepped out of the harness as the guy who had given it to him took it out of his hands and started pulling up the rope.
Ramos rolled down his window. “So, are they dead?”
Shark was tempted to tell him that they found the bodies, but he couldn’t take the chance that Ramos would want to see them.
“No,Hefe, but they could have been washed even further down the valley. There’s no way of knowing.”
He nodded, relief in his eyes. Shark only knew it was because Ramos was obsessed with Crazy Choos. He wanted her and it made him sick. Again, he wished he could just put a bullet in him.
He turned to look at Garcia. “They couldn’t have gone far. Radio the chopper and have them search this area for shelter.”
Damn, he wished he had a way to signal Easy that they were coming, but he couldn’t risk it right now. Hopefully, Tex had gotten through to him, and he was on guard. Although Shark knew Easy. He wouldn’t have let down his guard for one minute, unless he’d lost his shit and boffed the beautiful, crazy woman. That was a distinct possibility. He saw the way his buddy was looking at her at the prison, and it wasn’t wholly sexual, but there were sparks going on there. Easy had a soft spot for the people he rescued. Shark kept everything in perspective, remaining detached, committed, but detached. People in his business were either on his side, trying to kill him, or part of the mission. He didn’t fuck with the mission.
* * *
Damn,he hadn’t had so much sex in his life, at least not with one woman he had only met a few days before. He collapsed on his side when it was over, but he kept his arm around her and snuggled her close when he settled on his back in the big, comfortable drug dealer’s bed.
She had been so perfect around him, the sex was still out-of-this-world, but this time like the two times since they’d been here, they took it slow, which in no way lessened the intensity, and when she came, he didn’t stop. He just kept pumping into her, letting her ride her pleasure for as long as they both could take it.
Before they had come up here, he reconned the house, reconnected the alarm, and armed it. They had discovered a sweet garage that Jack said was as large as her loft, filled with cars from Mercedes to Lexus, but she had gravitated to the Porsche 718 Boxster GTS 4.0 convertible that was a flamboyant hot pink on the exterior and a soft, puff pink interior she described as unicorn pink, including the steering wheel. It looked custom.
It had to go with the woman, most likely the guy’s wife or girlfriend, who had all the sexy lingerie. That woman didn’t skimp on indulgence.
He chuckled at the memory of Jack’s predatory, wide-eyed, adrenaline-filled look as she ran her hand over that paint job.
“What’s so funny?” she asked softly, smiling at him, an utterly lazy, satisfied smile that appeared to almost take more effort than she could muster, and he grinned back.
