his vehicle.
“Yo, Raptor!” a voice shouted.
Grinning, he turned to see Grayson headed his way. He had a surfboard tucked under his arm and a towel in the other hand.
“Gonna catch some waves?” Blake asked.
“You know it. Besides, nothing attracts the women more.”
Blake chuckled. “Sure, but you’ll be out there in the water while we’re tossing a football around on the beach. Who do you think they’ll talk to?”
“Amateur,” Grayson scoffed.
“What happened to the waitress from last night? Shawna?”
“It happened,” he said with a grin. “She’s got a rocking body and kept begging me for more. I’m taking her out for drinks tonight after she gets off work. And then we’re heading back to my place again.”
They sauntered onto the sand, seeing Troy and Logan already setting up next to a group of women.
“Hell, those boys are in a hurry,” Blake said, watching as Troy flirted with a brunette. The woman turned around, and Troy was already rubbing sunscreen on her back.
“To get laid? Always,” Grayson said with a chuckle.
Blake crossed the hot sand, taking in the busy Saturday afternoon beach crowd. The Pacific Ocean gleamed in the sunlight, waves crashed on the shore, and jets rumbled overhead in the sky.
“God damn, I’ll never get tired of this sight,” Blake said appreciatively.
“Me either,” Grayson said, turning his head as a woman in a bright red string bikini walked by. “Hell, she looks like Shawna. Smaller boobs though.”
“Jesus,” Blake muttered.
“The beach is pretty sweet, too,” Grayson agreed. “But I mostly come for the women.”
“Yo, fellas!” Logan shouted out as they got closer. “Come meet the ladies. Oh, there’s Ethan!” He hollered at the other member of their team, drawing attention from people nearby.
Blake and Grayson walked over, and introductions started with the group of women. Blake set his cooler under an umbrella in the sand, reaching down to open it and grab a cold beer. He’d just popped the cap when his cell phone buzzed in his pocket, and he frowned as he pulled it out.
“Shit,” Troy muttered, grabbing his own phone from his swim trunks.
“What’s up?” Ethan asked, glancing over at them.
“It’s the CO,” Blake muttered, lifting the phone to his ear. His CO began barking commands as the noise and fun of their Saturday at the beach faded into the background.
“Well hell,” Grayson said, dropping his surfboard onto the sand. “There goes our afternoon.”
Chapter 4
Clarissa muttered under her breath as they trudged through the Colombian rainforest, her head pounding. She’d woken up on a dirty, tattered blanket in a makeshift tent near the river, but as soon as she was conscious, they’d been on the move.
Apparently, they hadn’t wanted to carry her unconscious through the jungle.
Her mouth was dry, her stomach queasy, and she felt grimy and gross. The moisture in the air coated her skin, and while it had been almost refreshing when she was gathering samples at the water, now it just felt stifling. The heat was oppressive, and she wanted to lie down and sleep, not trudge along with these men.
They’d been following the river for the past hour, and she wasn’t sure if the men were lost or just far away from wherever their camp was.
Her throat tightened as she thought of her own camp and how her guide was nowhere to be seen when she’d woken up. Had they killed him? Left him for dead, bleeding out on the ground?
Nausea roiled through her again. She didn’t even dare ask about him and draw attention to herself. How many hours had passed since they’d kidnapped her? It had already been late in the day when they’d been ready to head back.
The beautiful rainforest she’d been enjoying on her trip now felt humid and oppressive. Even if she could somehow escape from these men, they’d taken her backpack. She had no supplies. No food or water. She didn’t know how to get back.
Where would she even go?
She was lost, at their complete and utter mercy. If she ran, they’d probably shoot her, too.
“You are American, no?” one of her captors asked, looking back at her. Her gaze tracked over him. He had dark eyes, a dark beard, and carried an assault-style rifle. His voice was heavily accented, but he didn’t have a Colombian accent like her guide.
Another man chuckled. “Of course, she’s American. We can collect a hefty sum for her.”
“You shouldn’t have been wandering around our jungle,” the first man laughed.
Warily looking between the two men, she stumbled over a vine on the ground. A rough