Page 18 of Burning for Him

“C’mere.” Grasping her upper arms, he drew her close and hugged her. Despite being seven inches shorter than his six-foot-three frame, they fit together like she was made for him. At first, she was stiff in his arms, tucking her own between them, but then her body melted against his, her face nestled just below his neck. A deep shuddering breath escaped her, and she wrapped her arms around his waist. Warm puffs of air caressed his skin every time she exhaled, leaving goose bumps in their wake.

They stood there silently for a minute or two, neither saying a word nor doing anything but holding on to the other. Of course, his cock didn’t get the memo that nothing sexual would happen, and he cursed it in his mind and kept a sliver of distance between his pelvis and her abdomen.

Finally, Jenn squeezed him tighter for a moment before pulling away. “Thank you. I needed that.”

“I did too.” The huskiness in his voice caught him off guard, and he cleared his throat. Pivoting away from her, under the guise of scanning their surroundings, he furtively adjusted his semi-hard dick, willing it to behave.

Once he could do so without any discomfort, he crouched down, pulled two reusable water bottles from the knapsack, and held one out to her. “Here. Drink before you get dehydrated.”

She took it and unscrewed the top before guzzling several mouthfuls of water. He had to rip his gaze from her throat.Damn it.Watching her swallow made him hard again, his minddrifting to how that same motion might feel if he were ever lucky enough to have her mouth wrapped around his cock.

This time, when he turned away from her and glanced around, he forced himself to focus on the survivors on that side of the village. He drank from his bottle, wishing the lukewarm water would slake his desire as much as it quenched his thirst. The bottle was nearly empty when he recapped it. “Let’s...uh...let’s see who else needs our help.”

They worked side by side, checking on the people who were already outdoors, triaging and treating their injuries. Then, they searched each of the remaining buildings for anyone else who needed assistance. In all, Doug counted twenty-two people—nine children and thirteen adults—not including him and Jenn. More than half weren’t injured with anything other than some minor scrapes and bruises. A few had broken bones, and one man suffered a compound fracture of his forearm that would require surgery. Doug did his best to splint it, keeping it immobile until the military rescue team arrived. An older woman had symptoms of a heart attack but seemed stable. Nothing could be done beyond keeping her calm and comfortable in her home, which her family took care of. Doug passed all the information on to Romeo.

It was nearly dusk when thethump, thump, thumpof a helicopter resounded through the air. Doug grabbed the flares from the emergency kit, lit them, and created a large triangular target in the middle of the dirt road. Soon, a UH-60 Black Hawk helicopter hovered above the tree line and slowly lowered a large bundle of supplies, wrapped in rope netting. Once it hit the ground, Doug hurried over and released the drop line’s hook from the netting, which loosened from around the heap. The helicopter then flew to the other side of the landslide and dropped more supplies there.

Jenn approached him as he searched the contents of several large crates and duffel bags. “Do you need help?”

“Yeah. Help me sort what they sent while we still have some light.” He used a crowbar he found attached to a duffel bag with a bungee cord to open the crates. “We’ve got water, what looks like the Colombian version of MREs—ready-to-eat meals—first aid supplies, lanterns, flashlights, batteries, blankets, and more.”

Diego and another man came over and volunteered to assist. Between the four of them, it didn’t take long to inventory everything and parcel out the supplies to those in need. While it wasn’t a lot, there was enough to sustain two dozen people for at least two, maybe three days at the most, until the rescue units could safely reach them. Hopefully, it wouldn’t take that long, though.

After finding a bottle of aspirin among the first aid supplies, he returned to the potential heart attack patient and gave her two pills, hoping they would prevent any clots from forming in her system. It wasn’t much, but at least she and her family appeared relieved he could do something for her. As far as he could tell, her pulse and respiration rates were steady and regular. Maybe it had only been a panic attack—who could blame her after everything that happened? Either way, she was stable.

After the supplies were distributed, Diego pointed to a small cabin that belonged to his brother’s family. They’d all gone to the chapel earlier, where they were hopefully still safe. Diego told Jenn and Doug they could spend the night in there. It was far enough away from the landslide for Doug to accept the offer. He’d slept in far worse places, but as long as they were protected from the elements, he didn’t care—they didn’t have much of a choice either.

The temperature was dropping, but Doug’s go-bag, with his spare clothes, and Jenn’s sweatshirt were back at the chapel, which did them no good. At least it was still warm enough that neither shivered, but that could change within half an hour.

They carried their supplies to the cabin and placed everything inside, except for two bottles of water, two green plastic bags—the MREs—and a package of unscented wet wipes. A nearly full moon rising overhead was bright enough that they didn’t need a flashlight, so they decided to sit outside, on a wooden bench under a window, and eat. The light would only attract mosquitoes and gnats—it was bad enough that the scent of human sweat lured them in.

They used about a dozen wipes each to clean their faces, necks, arms, and hands as thoroughly as possible. He found a can of bug spray in the knapsack earlier, and they put a little on in an attempt to keep the flying nuisances away.

When Jenn opened her meal bag and cautiously peered inside, Doug chuckled for the first time all day. At least as far as he could remember. “Have you ever eaten an MRE?”

“Once,” she replied, pulling out two white packages with labels on them. One wastamaleswhile the other wasarroz atollado, otherwise known as pork risotto. Doug pulled out the same. Other packages contained food for breakfast and lunch, along with a few additional items. “When I was a freshman in high school. One of my friends dared a bunch of us to try them. We were all military brats, so of course, no one was going to turn down a dare.”

When she didn’t continue, he side-eyed her as he opened his meal. “Well? What happened?”

“They had a variety of them. As I’m sure you know, it’s a literal crap shoot which one you pick. And don’t yell at me for saying crap.” He stayed silent, and she continued. “Anyway, we put them in a bag and mixed them up, then took turns pullingone out without knowing what it was. I was lucky and got the cheese tortellini.” She paused and stared out into the night. “Wow. Ten years later, I still remember which one I ate. Guess it was more memorable than I realized.” She shrugged. “Anyway, it wasn’t great, but it wasn’t too nasty either. If I was starving and no better alternatives were available, I’d eat it again. But a few of my friends had to eat stuff that gave them...um...let’s sayseveregastrointestinal distress.”

He laughed at her polite way of saying they each ended up with a bad case of diarrhea. “I’m sure they did. You learn real quick which meals are safe and which ones will leave you hurting. The chicken burrito bowl is the worst, at least from my experience.”

“Yeah. I heard Cain got sick during that training mission in the Rockies. He turned green any time someone mentioned MREs—or burritos for that matter—for weeks afterward.”

Cain Foster was a retired Secret Service agent who was one of two leaders of the Trident Security Omega Team. He had his first taste of an MRE on that trip, when a routine training exercise turned into a real mission to find a missing college student in foul weather. His teammates, all of whom had served in branches of the military before being hired by the private security company, knew which meals to avoid. So the poor guy got the ones nobody else wanted and suffered for his lack of experience with them.

They ate with little talking after that, each lost in their own thoughts and meal. It had been a while since Doug ate an MRE, but surprisingly, the tamales weren’t half bad. Either that or he was hungrier than he’d realized. When those were gone, he dove into the risotto, a relatively dry biscuit, and the cookies. Jenn must’ve been as hungry as he was since she ate the same.

Saving the breakfast and lunch packages for tomorrow, Doug gathered the leftovers and garbage, then brought them inside,stuffing them into the emergency bag and zipping it up to keep out any insects and prevent them from attracting any animals.

He turned on one of the camping lanterns that the helicopter had dropped off, lighting up the interior of the home. It was larger than Diego and Maria’s, but instead of the exterior walls being constructed from wood, they were concrete, as was the floor. The non-load-bearing interior walls were made of wood, while the roof was constructed of metal. A thin full-size mattress on a wooden bed, with worn pillows and blankets, sat behind a wall and an open curtain that could be pulled to block the doorway. Two woven straw mats, with pillows and blankets, were positioned on the opposite side of the living area, which consisted of an old table, chairs, and a small kitchen area. An old potbelly stove stood in the corner—an unexpected find. A tiny bathroom was located in the back corner and consisted of only a wooden toilet and a small square table beside it, which held a pitcher of water and a bowl.

While searching the other homes earlier, he discovered the locals had a rudimentary septic system in place, and for that he was grateful. It wasn’t the greatest, but at least they didn’t have to go into the woods in the dark to relieve themselves as they’d both done earlier. The chapel was one of the few buildings not hooked up to the system. A nearby river and waterfall provided the village’s water supply. A wood and metal chute had been built to funnel the water to the residents, but it was damaged in the quake. Diego told them earlier that the falls were close enough to carry buckets to and from until the chute could be repaired.

Jenn inspected the home’s interior with her arms wrapped around her waist. “I will never in my life take for granted what I have. These poor people. This is all they have, and then to lose half the village and possibly family members or their own lives. I just...”

She shook her head but didn’t finish the sentence, nor did Doug need her to. He understood, having seen people living similarly in third-world countries during his tours in the Marines.

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