Yes, she was thin from her time in the camps, her breasts small, almost nonexistent as she lay on her back, but it didn’t lessen his desire for her. If anything, he wanted her more.
He kept his voice as gentle as his touch. “You’re so beautiful. Everything about you turns me on. Not just your body…your mind, your heart”—he skimmed his hands down her chest to her belly—“the guts it takes to do what you do, the fact that you wear a diamond in your bellybutton.” He chuckled, leaned down, and toyed with her belly-button ring. He moved down, knelt in front of her, spreading her legs as he lifted them and propped her feet on the mattress. “Damn, Angel. You have no idea how pretty you are. So silky and soft, so hot for me.” He stroked his thumbs over her tight slit, parting pink, swollen flesh. She gasped when his heated breath blew across her pussy. “I’m going to eat you up, baby, take this pretty little clit into my mouth and suck until you come; then I’ll fill you with my flesh until we both lose our minds.”
She tasted good, delicately sweet and tangy as her arousal flowed across his tongue. She arched and gasped beneath the onslaught of his lips and tongue, just as he’d intended. She sobbed his name, begging him to take her, to make her come while he was inside her. He relented, unable to deny her. He rose over her, slid home, rode her hard and deep as primitive, carnal cries rasped from her throat. He drove into her, his cock slamming to the hilt over and over as she clutched his shoulders, nails digging into his flesh as she gasped his name. “Mitch, ah Mitch…gonna come.”
His balls drew up tight and hard as he lunged into her one final time. He came with a gush and a shout, her voice mingling with his. He executed a quick roll onto his back to keep himself from collapsing on top of her because, really, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to move again for at least an hour. He held her against him, her cheek resting on his chest as they both gasped for breath.
As their bodies wound down, Mitch stroked Angelique’s hair, her back, fingering each vertebra. He wanted to tell her how he felt, but did he dare? He took a deep breath. “Angel.”
She must have heard the longing in his voice, because she raised her head and gave him a sad smile. “Shhh, don’t. Don’t ruin it, Mitch. I…I can’t give you what you need from me, not now. I’m damaged goods. You know that. Just…be with me and let that be enough.”
Mitch nodded. “If that’s what you need, Angel, it’ll be enough. For now.”
When her cheek rested against his chest once more, he wrapped his arms around her and let her warm tears wash over him.
* * * *
Mitch fumbled on the nightstand for his cell. A call this early in the morning could only mean one thing, and he let loose a string of curse words when he saw Seth’s number. “Goddamn it, Boudreaux.”
“Sorry, my brother, but when the man says come on, we got no choice. Pack your gear. There’s a boat waiting for you at the harbor.” When Mitch cursed again, Seth laughed, the bastard. “Wish I could say I’m sorry to be draggin’ you out the doc’s bed, but that’d be a bald-faced lie. I’m sorry I missed the opportunity.”
“Fuck you, Boudreaux.” He sat up, scratched his chest, his cock instantly going hard when Angelique knelt behind him, breasts pressed against his back. “How much time do I have?”
A wry chuckle, then, “Not nearly long enough. Hustle, bro.”
Mitch disconnected the call with a sigh. “Sorry, Angel; duty calls.”
She sighed, kissed his shoulder. “I understand. I’ll walk you to the harbor.”
Ecuador—One year later
The small jet set down at the Nueva Loja airport well before dark, a good thing since the airport had no lights. The capital of Sucumbios province, Nueva Loja boasted somewhere around twenty-six thousand souls, many of them Americans involved in oil extraction for Chevron. Once part of the Amazon rainforest, the rainforest had been pretty much obliterated, sacrificed to expediency. Wells and pipelines were difficult to build in the jungle.
Angelique nudged nurse Carla Able, then unbuckled her seat belt. “Wake up, Tinker Bell,” she grumbled at her friend. “I’m fucking starved.”
Able yawned and peered out the window, unbuckling. “Is that Shepherd? Damn, he’s looking good.”
Angelique snorted. “He knows it too.” She leaned over and whispered to the elfin nurse, “I say go for it. He’s got a great big dick, and he knows how to use it.”
Carla gasped. “You? And Doctor Hot Shit? Damn, girl, we will be dishing later.”
Angelique stood and stretched. “I believe I just told you all you need to know, Nurse Able. What you choose to do with the information is entirely up to you, but that’s as kiss-and-tell as I get.”
“Yeah, I really hate that about you. You wouldn’t spill about that hot special-ops hunk, and you’ll probably never see him again.”
Angelique shrugged and grabbed both of their duffels from the overhead bin. “Hey, the NGO community and military intersect quite a bit. I don’t wanna put something out on the wind that might get back to him. He has a bit of a crush on me.”
Able blew a raspberry at her. “Please, Mitch Acosta is a badass, grown-up warrior man. Men like that don’t have crushes on women. They’re either in serious lust or crazy in love. And based on the screams of ecstasy coming from your bedroom, my guess is it’s both. And his buddy, the Cajun. Ho mama, what I wouldn’t give for a piece of that.” When Angelique grinned, Carla groaned. “No! Really? When?”
“Mardi Gras, while I was in med school. Wildest week of my life.”
Able’s jaw dropped. “Both of them? Together?” Able punched her in the arm. “You didn’t!”
Angelique gave her a smug smile. “Whatever you say, Tinker Bell.”
They clambered down the steps into the humid afternoon heat. “You fucking slut,” Able crowed. “I so hate you at this moment I can hardly stand myself.”
Shepherd greeted each of them with a hug and double-cheek kiss. “What have you done now, Angelique, to make Carla hate you?”
Angelique laughed. “I’ve been a bad little slut, and she’s insanely jealous.” She wrapped an arm around Carla and headed to the Helping Hands’ ancient, mud-spattered SUV. “We’re starving, Shep; you must feed us.”
“You’ve arrived on market day, which begs the question, who’s got the guts to try the local cuisine?”
Angelique and Carla looked at each other and laughed. “Really, Shep?” Carla said. “We are the queens of local delicacies. You don’t remember gagging when we noshed on the palm beetle larvae in training?”
“Ugh. You girls are seriously twisted.”
Able wiggled her eyebrows. “Nah. Just adventurous.”
The local cuisine turned out to be a tame array of meat-and-rice-filled pastries baked on a small grill.
“We’re going to have to stay at the hotel tonight. It’s not safe to travel after dark here. But the hotel has clean rooms, a bar with a dance floor, and a good mix of American and local music. You’ll be sharing a room.”
“Cool,” Angelique said, taking a bite out of her pastry. “Always ready for a party. But why isn’t it safe to go out after dark?”
“Kidnapping. FARC crossed the border and took a Peace Corps volunteer. Daughter of some rich American. The American ambassador is about ready to pee his pants, and the Colombian and Ecuadoran governments have been trying to locate her for nearly six months. So far, no luck.” They all climbed into the Rover and buckled up. “All the women are going to have to watch their asses here along the border. Kidnapping, robbery, sexual assaults, they’re all becoming way too common.”
“Shit, man, story of my life.” Angelique sighed. “Out of the frying pan and into the fire.”
“Yeah, about that,” Shepherd said. “You and I need to have a private powwow once you’re settled in.”
Angelique raised an eyebrow. “About?”
Shepherd shook his head. “That’s why it’s called private, Angelique.”
* * * *
Stunned. That was the only word for it. Acosta and Boudreaux, here, and in league with leftist FARC guerrillas? How was such a thing even possible? They were career army, at least that had always been Angelique’s impression. Both men had been in the military since their early twenties. That they were special ops was a given, since they’d been inserted into Darfur to pull stranded NGO workers out before the Sudanese Army imprisoned or executed them. Their unit had saved dozens of lives that she personally knew of. A lot more than that over the years, she was sure. How did one go from noble warrior to thug for sale? But Shepherd said he’d seen them for himself, and she had no reason to doubt him. Shep was a narcissistic asshole at times, but he wasn’t a liar.
“I need a fucking drink,” Angelique declared. “Shit, more than that. I need a bottle. What the hell, Shep?”
Shepherd shrugged. “What can I say, babe? It is what it is. I just wanted to give you a heads-up because you’ll probably run into one or both at some point. I think it was a mistake to let any of our female volunteers come here. There’s a lot of really nasty shit going down. This whole area is a corridor for drugs, weapons, and human trafficking. I don’t know what your pals are into, but it seems as if they have their fingers in every illegal pie coming across the border, and I’ve seen them with FARC, ELN, and several competing paramilitaries.
“These guys—and there are hundreds of them here—they work for the highest bidder. You’re my second in command here, so you have to make sure the women you supervise understand how very careful they need to be.” He got up, went to the bar and came back with a bottle of her favorite vodka. “It’s chilled.” They each drank a shot, and the DJ cued up ZZ Top’s “Rough Boy.” He jerked his head toward the dance floor and pulled her into a very dirty dance. “Stay with me tonight.”
She might have considered it if he hadn’t twirled her and she saw Carla paused in the doorway. “No can do, babe.” She cut a glance in her friend’s direction. “Best friend rule number one—thou shalt not boink your best friend’s crush.”
Shepherd’s jaw dropped. “No shit?”
“I’d never shit you, Shep.” She slipped from his arms, snagged the bottle from table, and blew them both a kiss. “I need some alone time. You kids have fun.”
* * * *
“Goddamn it, what the fuck is Shepherd thinking bringing them here?” Mitch said softly through clenched teeth. “He’s gonna get her raped and killed, or worse.”
The impromptu village was five kilometers, just a hair over three miles, outside Nueva Loja, but it might as well be the dark side of the moon for all the safety it offered the Helping Hands aid workers. And Angelique was right in the middle of the chaos. The woman was insane, and Garret Shepherd ought to have his ass kicked for bringing her or any female staff here.
Acosta and Boudreau were standing on the hillside above a refugee camp that had been hacked out of the Amazon rainforest, watching as Angelique and a few others stepped outside a military-style hospital Helping Hands had assembled when they’d first arrived in Ecuador. He studied her through high-powered binoculars. She looked tired, and she’d only been here a few days. The diminutive nurse stood beside her, the two leaning against one another as if to prop each other up. Angelique pulled her scrub hat off and wiped sweat from her face as she laughed at something Carla said to her.
They were joined by another doctor, younger than Shepherd. Mitch had seen him in town a few times. He had an eye for the women, the young doc did, and he watched as the man smoothed a lock of blonde hair from his Angel’s face. He wasn’t even aware of the growl emanating from his throat until Seth laughed.
“Shit, you still got it bad for that little girl,” he scoffed. “You know you’re gonna have to go down there and stake your claim to keep her safe.”
“She’ll hate me.”
“For a while, but she’ll understand once it’s over and we get her the fuck outta here. This place is a festering boil on the asshole of the fucking world. Ain’t no way we can leave her and that little nurse here when we evac.”
Mitch sighed. “Yeah, I know. Goddamn it, here they come.”
The crunch of many booted feet sounded behind them. ELN fucks escorting cartel fucks and their captives—women and children being taken to the coast for transport to the Peruvian and Western European sex trades—and there wasn’t a fucking thing they could do to help them. The slightest hint that they weren’t what they claimed and they were dead meat, which meant the wealthy media mogul wouldn’t get his precious do-gooder daughter back, and therefore, would withdraw his support of the current administration. Never mind that thugs were selling innocents into a life of slavery and early death.
* * * *
Shepherd had been right, and now she was seeing it with her own eyes. Acosta and Boudreaux in the company of heavily armed men leading a ragtag group of women and children roped together. Adam Kingston, the new, young doctor from Virginia, touched her shoulder. “You and Carla need to make yourselves scarce, now.” Angelique flinched when he started herding her and Able in the direction of their quarters. “Go go go. I’m gonna get Shepherd.”
Angelique grasped Carla’s hand and pulled her into her tent with her. She wasn’t sure what to expect, but if Adam was worried, then she figured she and Able had reason to be as well.
“Wasn’t that—”
“Shh,” Angelique hissed, straining to hear what was happening outside. The next thing she knew, there were angry shouts in Spanish, a cry of pain. “Goddamn it. What the hell is going on?” She was about to go outside to see if someone needed help when the door to her quarters flew open and two grimy soldiers with greasy hair rushed inside.
Angelique backed away, thrusting Carla behind her. “Get out,” she spat in Spanish.
The men propped their AKs against the walls of the tent, laughing as they grabbed their crotches. The bigger of the two lunged and grabbed the front of Angelique’s scrub shirt, pulling her tight against him. The other lifted Carla off her feet and hauled her out the door.
He was tugging at her scrub pants, yanking them down, pawing at her with his filthy hands, tearing at her panties. His breath stank of decay and onions as he propelled her back. She screamed, clawing at him. He shoved her onto her back and fell on her.