Page 19 of Stains of Desire
Dirk is next to me and his jaw clenches.
Hunter shifts.
"Keep your head on, Hunter," Andre orders.
Maybe Hunter will take him out, like he took out that one guy he was ordered not to.
He grunts. "Why do I always get singled out?"
Andre folds his arms across his chest. "Do I really need to answer that?"
"Because you're a hothead," Kalim says under his breath.
Hunter turns to him. "Seriously? Again?"
"Knock it off, you two," Andre barks.
Dirk rolls his eyes, and I hold back my chuckle. Kalim knows just how to get under Hunter's skin. Dirk usually does a good job, too. We've all been together for so many years and we know how to push each other's buttons. Like most guys full of testosterone, we take our jabs when we can.
"Let's roll," Andre booms.
The hot night air is stifling, and we put on our night vision goggles and leave camp. We travel through the dark jungle on a two-track road for several miles until we get to the opening our surveillance shows as the best way to reach the women.
We trek through a small area of woods. It's dense, and the howls of jungle animals fill the air. I'm not sure what kind of animals they are, except the monkeys. The others could be wolves, jaguars, or something else. I'm not sure if those even exist in this country. Dirk probably knows, but Interpol has always kept us in Europe or the Eastern Hemisphere, so my knowledge of this area is almost nonexistent.
Dirk and I were surprised when we found out we were coming to Central America, but we don't question our assignments. We go where they tell us and rescue whomever we're supposed to.
One by one, we take out Santiago's men, except for the ones who surround him near the campfire. We have silencers on our guns, and I kill two thugs on the perimeter. We get to the pit, and someone on Kalim's team shoots the kid guarding the hole.
There's a ladder, and Andre climbs down it. A few seconds later, Penelope appears. Her face is filled with confusion, surprise, and a bit of fear. Her red hair shimmers in the dark, and her green eyes twinkle. She bites down on her lip.
Holy...oh fuck.
Keep your head in the game.
She glances at the dead teenager who was guarding the pit and now has blood pooling around his head.
Instead of losing it, she straightens her posture. She should appear disheveled, but even covered in dirt, she looks like a classy goddess, somehow in control of herself, even though we're in the middle of hell and surrounded by death.
Adrenaline and testosterone are already pumping through me. It happens on every mission. But it multiplies tenfold, and a buzzing concoction of heat and lust swirls in every atom of my being.
I want to completely unravel her and make her lose all control while she claws her hands down my back, writhing underneath me, and begging me with sweat dripping down every inch of her skin.
Now I'm completely crossing the line.
Where's my professionalism?
I've never had these thoughts during a rescue mission.
Focus, asshole.
I put my fingers to my lips.
She nods.
I place my hand around the curve of her waist then guide her toward the tree line, pulling her closer as we move farther away from the pit. She fits next to my body so perfectly, my cock twitches.
She's in shorts and a T-shirt but doesn't have a bra on. Her nipples are visible through the thin cloth.
