Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 66205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66205 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Tiny flying critters buzzed in the glow from the light, and hopefully they weren’t lethal. If killer moths were a thing, they’d be in Belize, no doubt.
“Thank fuck.” Ryan smirked faintly. “Otherwise, Angel would kill me.”
Legit.
While Gray worked and cleaned the wound, Greer and Darius kept watch, and Reese gave River and Shay an update.
“Hold here.” Gray had trapped a few layers of compresses against Ryan’s flesh wound. “Press down hard.”
Ryan did as told and winced.
He was lucky that direct pressure was enough to slow the bleeding.
Gray grabbed one of the larger rolls of elastic bandage, then began wrapping it around Ryan’s arm as tightly as he could.
“We’re gonna have to start callin’ you Doc.”
Gray smiled ruefully and eased away Ryan’s hand again. “Or you could stop getting hurt. That’s an option too.”
“Eh.” Ryan dismissed the notion.
“All done.” Gray started grabbing the supplies he’d used. “Make sure to get on the same helicopter as Cullen and me. I’ll have time to stitch you up on the way.”
“Roger that. Cheers.” Ryan grunted and swung a leg over the ATV. “Let’s move out, Reese.”
Gray stepped back and pocketed everything, including the trash. The last thing he saw before he flicked off the flashlight was the blood covering his gloves, and he shook his head to himself. It wasn’t a Quinn adventure without somebody getting shot.
River’s voice filtered through in the earpiece. “Our ride’s here in seventeen minutes. Time to get off that mountain.”
“Aye.” Darius lowered his thermal scope and nudged Greer, who wasn’t on the same line as River. “Helicopters are here in seventeen.”
Greer nodded with a dip of his chin. Unlike Darius’s handheld scope, Greer’s was attached to his helmet, so they decided to use that on the way. They’d gun it and stop briefly every sixty seconds to check for heat signatures.
They didn’t have time for a leisurely jog—and who knew if more cartel soldiers were trying to catch up.
The three men took off after making sure they hadn’t left anything behind, and Gray let his eyes adjust to the darkness again.
“How long till we reach the beach, you think?” Gray asked.
“At this rate, maybe fifteen minutes.” Greer was already breathing heavily, which made sense. He’d had the workout of a lifetime tonight.
’Cause it sure as fuck wasn’t poor physique. The Finlay brothers were as tall as they were ripped for pushing…forty-five, fifty, thereabouts, Gray guessed.
“Fifteen more minutes in the Killer Bug Capital of the world. Got it.” Gray was definitely looking forward to his twenty-four hours at a nice hotel outside of Cancun after this.
“Don’t forget the frogs,” Greer noted. “My boy gave me a long fuckin’ rant on the frogs here before I left.”
“Is that your boy as in, your son, or your boy as in, ‘Jump on that Daddy dick’?”
Greer coughed around a laugh.
“The latter, but I’m only Daddy to our kids,” he chuckled breathlessly.
Well, Gray wasn’t gonna make assumptions around friends of River and Reese.
They made it off the mountain and to the beach in the nick of time, with only River remaining on the beach.
“Step on it!” he yelled. “Greer, you’re with me!”
Gray reached one of the two Jet Skis first and pushed it out into the water as sweat continued running down his neck. Darius wasn’t far behind, and Greer followed.
Three helicopters hovered silently over the dark horizon farther out.
The third group was on their way out there.
“Okay, go,” Darius ordered, jumping on behind Gray. “Goddamn, I need a smoke.”
“That’s literally the last thing you need.” Gray white-knuckled the handles and sped up, getting sprayed by the ocean every time they hit a wave.
One of the helicopters ascended and tipped sideways as it turned around and flew away. At the same time, the third group arrived on the sandbank, and they wasted no time in climbing up on the ladder they’d lowered. Those things looked so fucking flimsy that Gray almost wished he could take the Jet Ski all the way to Mexico.
Instead, they’d go the same route they had coming in. Helicopter between here and some tiny-ass airstrip in Dangriga, tiny-ass planes—and in two, so they’d all fit—between Dangriga and Belize City, and from there, a flight to Cancun.
It was in Belize City they turned into American tourists, excited to continue their vacation in Mexico.
Right before they reached the sandbank, Gray slowed down and turned off the engine, letting the Jet Ski glide forward until they hit sand. Darius was quick to dismount.
The loud thump-thump-thump of the helicopters above was nearly mind-numbing.
“We need the medic over here!” one of the men shouted over the noise. He was the last of the third group.
“Let’s go.” Gray made sure Darius followed him, and they ran up the sandbank and over to the other helicopter. “Are both Cullen and Ryan up there?” He had to yell for the man to hear him.