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)
Ryan was in the first group too, because they needed an extra marksman.
And because this was the lifestyle they’d chosen. They could retire; many of them had, but they kept a certain phone charged and ready just in case someone needed help.
It’d been Gray a few years ago. When his life had been hanging by a thread, Darius had been there. He’d called in favors to get help, so Ramirez had shown up. Ryan had dropped from a helicopter with a rifle and a big serving of Quinn hell-raisin’. Then Vegas… So many had come to help Gray and Darius.
Now it was their turn.
Darius held back with his orders for the second group while the third got ready farther away on the sandbank. They were the perimeter watch and consisted of four friends of Cullen’s, three of them also ex-military. Their job was to stay near the roads but not on them, to keep watch over everyone passing through their escape route, and to intervene if they had to.
They’d been here all week, preparing and laying the groundwork, while the first group had focused on recon and surveillance.
Gray listened in silence as the groups disappeared, both physically and from his earpiece. One man from each group remained on their main line of communication, and the rest switched to a private line.
“All right, let’s go,” Darius said quietly. “Remember not to linger on the beach.”
Right. They were running straight for the jungle.
Why was it always a place crawling with animals that could take you out with a single bite?
Once Darius had pushed a Jet Ski out into the water and boarded it, Gray climbed on behind him and made sure his handgun was secured and his knife strapped tightly. Unlike the combat squad, the others were in civilian clothes. Army-green utility pants, matching long-sleeved tees, and Kevlar vests. All their gear fit into their pockets, aside from weaponry.
Gray had put on a beanie too, ’cause the way he figured, he’d rather have insects crawling on cotton than on his scalp. He just didn’t fucking like bugs.
The shore was only a couple minutes away, so it wasn’t going to be a long ride on the calm waves.
About thirty minutes south was the Guatemalan border, and the area was rife with conflict, both because of the drug trade and the never-ending contention between Guatemala and Belize.
Gray wrapped an arm around Darius’s middle as they were off, and now it made perfect sense that Darius had smirked when Gray had wanted to make sure his boots were water-resistant. Didn’t fucking matter one way or another when they’d just stepped into knee-deep water to get on the Jet Ski.
Keeping an eye on the shoreline, Gray went through the mental list of tasks for the night, and of course, he couldn’t help but wonder what might go wrong. As Darius always liked to say, no plan survived the first contact with the enemy.
In an attempt to keep the worst of the tension at bay, Gray took it upon himself to tell his travel companions a little about Belize.
“Welcome to Belize, gentlemen,” he said, loudly enough so they’d hear him in their earpieces over the ocean spray. “Unlike our nice hotel in Mexico, there’s no room service here, nor any protection from the exotic wildlife. They say if you wanna see a jaguar, come to Belize. But that’s not all—oh no, it isn’t. Belize is home to some of the world’s most dangerous creepy-crawlies, from the bullet ant named after its sting supposedly feeling like a fucking gunshot, to the highly aggressive fer-de-lance snake. In fact, no nice animals exist in this country. They’re all out to kill you, so chances are if we survive our run-in with a drug cartel, a fuzzy little beetle will finish the job.”
It was quiet for a few seconds before Shay cleared his throat. “Thanks, man. I feel better now.”
Darius shook his head. “Get off Wikipedia, knucklehead. They’re more afraid of you than you are of them.”
“I love you, but you have zero credibility on this topic,” Gray replied bluntly. “Oh, there are no sharks here—wait! There were. Oh, you won’t see a fucking rattlesnake—wait! Ryan was attacked by one!”
Ryan better freaking watch himself up in the mountain range. He was a magnet for trouble.
“How about we focus on our job?” River drawled.
Yeah, okay. Fine.
Five minutes later, there was no time to discuss which venom could literally rot your leg anyway. River and Shay sprinted up the beach and into the jungle, with Darius and Gray going the same way but farther up the beach. A four-wheeler waited for them on a small dirt road, and it was Gray’s turn to drive so Darius could be ready in case anything happened.
The clock was ticking, so there was no waiting around. Gray started the engine and tore out of there as soon as Darius was behind him. They were going inland and up the mountainside to function as backup to the rescue team. The plan was to simply be ready—and then provide cover when the rescue was complete and it was time to get the fuck out of there.