Shelton kicked off his boots then scuttled into the tent like his ass was on fire. Crow followed at a more leisurely pace, zipping the flysheet and inner tent behind him.
“You’ve not been in the great outdoors much, have you?” He chuckled.
“Laugh it up, Davy Crockett. There’s a big-ass storm headed right at us and the only thing between us and it are a couple of layers of canvas.” Shelton flopped down on his back and listened fearfully to the rising wind, which was now doing a fair impression of a banshee.
“Then I’ll just have to distract you, won’t I?” Crow stripped off his shirt, exposing planes of hard muscle.
“Oh.” Shelton swallowed. “Sounds good to me.” His ass clenched. “But I’m not sure I’m up to…”
“I’ll never hurt you.” Crow removed Shelton’s pants with scary efficiency. “I intend to be using that cute ass of yours for a long time. It’s in my interest to keep it tight and healthy.”
“God, I love it when you talk dirty.” Shelton parted his legs, not caring that he might be coming across as a wanton slut. His cock twitched.
Crow loomed over him. “We didn’t get dinner yet, so I’m gonna take a few bites out of you instead.”
Crow closed his teeth over Shelton’s nipple and any ability to formulate an intelligent response dissipated from his mind. A few tugs later and he was a quivering wreck. He could have been in the path of a category five hurricane and not given a damn. He wasn’t moving for anything. Crow took his own sweet time abusing first one tender nipple then the other. Shelton writhed beneath him, his movement increasing the sting in a way his cock thoroughly approved of. Crow licked a damp line down Shelton’s body, taking little nips as he went. Shelton fisted the edge of the airbed and prayed it didn’t burst.
Crow took Shelton’s full length into his mouth and Shelton screamed, the sound lost in the howl of the wind. He arched his back, tilting his hips up, but Crow shoved him back down.
“You want to come any time this decade, you stay where I put you.”
For Shelton, time froze. Trapped like an insect in amber, he was poised on the edge of bliss and only Crow’s word could push him over. As Crow sucked on his aching dick, in his head Shelton repeated the word ‘please’ over and over again. Only when his throat contracted did he realize he had been saying it out loud.
Crow allowed Shelton’s cock to slide from between his lips. Shelton wanted to scream his frustration.
“Come for me, Shelton,” Crow ordered, giving Shelton’s balls a rough squeeze.
Shelton wasn’t aware of anything specific he did to respond to the order. His orgasm happened nonetheless—an ecstatic surge that blanked his vision and lit his body on fire. If this was the result of handing control over his body to Crow then he never wanted that control back. He laughed, the sound cracked and raw. “I think you broke me.”
Crow pressed a bottle of water into his hand. “Drink some of this. Your throat needs it.”
Shelton unscrewed the cap, giving himself credit for unexpected coordination, then took a long swallow. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “Did I make a lot of noise?”
“Sure did.” Crow smirked. “Good thing we’re miles from civilization. If the storm hadn’t been raging we might have gotten a visit from Border Patrol.”
Heat spread over Shelton’s skin. He debated tipping the remains of the water over his body but took another drink instead.
“There’s no need to hide from me,” Crow said, kissing away a few drops of water that had trickled down Shelton’s throat. “I enjoy stripping away your inhibitions.” He rolled onto his back with a satisfied sigh.
“I’m not sure I’ve got any left.” Shelton belatedly realized that he had come but Crow was still hard. He wriggled onto his side so he could grasp Crow’s straining member, then stroked it, marveling at the velvet skin. “So soft,” he murmured.
“Hardly,” Crow grunted.
Shelton giggled. He jacked Crow steadily, smearing pre-cum from his tip down his shaft. Crow threw his head back, his hair spreading around him in a dark halo. Shelton recognized the moment Crow reached the point of no return. His muscles tensed, becoming more defined, and he closed his eyes. Heat flooded through Shelton’s fingers but he kept up his movements until Crow was completely drained. He licked his fingers, enjoying Crow’s unique taste.
“Fuck, that’s hot.” Crow grinned at him.
Shelton couldn’t have imagined anyone ever using the word hot in reference to him, let alone a stud like Crow. He gave himself a pinch. “Ow!”
“What did you do that for?” Crow asked.
“Checking I was awake and not dreaming,” Shelton said. “Do you think it’s safe to go outside? I really need to pee.”
Crow shook his head in bemusement. “Your mind is a place of mystery.” He propped himself on his elbows then cocked his head, listening. “You can take a look. I guess the storm has rolled right over us by now.”
Shelton crawled to the tent flap, fully aware that he was giving Crow a bird’s-eye view of his naked ass. He unzipped the inner tent, then the flysheet, sending a cloud of dust flying. He let it settle before peeking out. Everything, as far as he could see, was coated with a thick layer of sand, but the air was clear and the sky pure blue. He reversed then yelped as Crow’s hand connected with his backside.
“Hey! What was that for?” Shelton rubbed the smarting flesh, secretly craving more.
“You can’t present me with such a tempting target then expect me to resist it. Besides, I think you’d enjoy a good spanking. I’d certainly relish holding you over my knees, helpless to resist.”
Crow said it so casually, Shelton gulped. He wanted it more than he was prepared to admit. He squirmed into his pants, ignored his shirt but grabbed his boots then headed outside.
“You can run, but you can’t hide.” Crow chuckled.
Shelton hopped from foot to foot as he shoved his bare feet into his boots. He sought out the spot a few hundred yards away that Crow had prepared as a latrine. The hole was half-filled with dust but usable and Shelton took advantage with a relieved sigh. Moving away, he stared out at the desert landscape, subtly altered by the storm. It was still beautiful but the rough edges had been smoothed away. The storm had coated the landscape in a syrup of sand, softening corners and rounding previously jagged points. In the distance he made out a strange ridged indentation that he didn’t recall seeing before. It was rectangular, darker than the surrounding ground.
“Looks weird,” Shelton mused. “Something the storm uncovered maybe?”
He decided to stretch his legs and check it out. He walked steadily, kicking up puffs of dust as he went. As he got closer he realized that he wasn’t viewing a rock formation or patterns in the sand. The ridges he’d spotted were a row of dead bodies laid in a shallow grave. He registered distorted features, gaping bullet holes and tangled limbs. Bile rose from his gut. Shelton fought down the nausea then turned to run back to Crow. Between him and his objective sat a Jeep full of men, one of whom was pointing a gun straight at Shelton.
Shelton sighed. “Fuck. I knew this day was too good to be true.”
* * * *
Crow spent a few moments basking in the afterglow of a spectacular orgasm. His stomach grumbled, reminding him that dinner had been interrupted, though waiting out the storm with a naked Shelton had more than made up for it. He wondered if anything was salvageable or if it was full of dust. They weren’t in the kind of location where he could send out for pizza. He ventured out of the tent wearing nothing but his boots and a smile. The air was crisp and clean, as if the storm had scoured every molecule. Drifts of dust formed mini dunes against every solid object, including the truck. The tarp was coated in a thick brown layer but, when he lifted it, underneath was fairly clean. Crow rescued the gas burner, the pan and fresh cans of chili. He’d heat the contents of those and they could eat their meal with the bread that was dust-free in its packaging. There was plenty of fruit for des
sert and Orlando had even thrown in a package of Twinkies.
He decided it was too sandy to sit on the ground with his ass hanging out, so he did a boots off, jeans on, boots on maneuver and felt safer. He didn’t want gritty bits anywhere sensitive. He moved the supplies to just in front of the tent, then munched on an apple to stave off the hunger pangs. There was no point in starting to heat the chili until Shelton returned.
“Where the hell is he?”
There was no sign of Shelton so Crow began to walk in the direction he would have taken. He skirted rock formations and giant saguaros, shading his eyes against the low sun. He spotted movement in the distance but it wasn’t Shelton, it was a Jeep, speeding across the desert and leaving a cloud of dust in its wake. Crow froze next to a cactus. He caught sight of a lone figure walking toward some strange ridges in the sand.
“Shelton.”
Crow wanted to run to his man screaming a warning, but he resisted. He needed to be in a position to rescue Shelton if needed. A lizard scuttled over his foot and he dropped his half-eaten apple, scaring it away. In the distance, Shelton raised his hands then dropped to his knees. There was a glint of light on metal and Crow cursed the setting sun, which was blinding him. A second vehicle appeared, much farther away. Crow started to run but even as he sprinted through the sand he knew he was too late. Through a cloud of concealing dust, he could just make out Shelton being bundled into the first Jeep, which screamed away at high speed. Crow reached the spot where Shelton had been standing moments before the second vehicle, a Border Patrol four-wheel drive, skidded to a halt.
Crow bent over, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. He straightened then saw what must have attracted Shelton’s attention. A newly exposed grave containing several bodies was just yards from his feet.
“On the ground. Hands where I can see them.”
Crow glared at the Border Patrol Guard barking orders at him, but dropped to the ground anyway. Shelton needed him in one piece, not riddled with bullet holes from some trigger-happy dictator in a uniform. He didn’t resist as he was cuffed then hauled to his feet, spitting dust.
“You morons just let the bad guys get away,” Crow barked. “And they took my fucking boyfriend. So get a clue and call for backup.”
A second man climbed from the 4WD, staring at the grave. “This isn’t good.”
“No shit, Sherlock.” Crow had an overwhelming desire to hit something. Or skewer it with his knife. Either would do. “Not for the poor bastards in the hole and not for you if you don’t get me out of these cuffs.”
One of the guards pulled out his phone, took a picture of Crow then sent it into the ether.
“You want a name to go with the happy snap?” Crow snarled.
“No need.”
After a few seconds of them staring each other down, the guard’s phone beeped. He glanced at the display and Crow thought he paled a little.
“Let him go,” the guard barked at his partner.
“What the fuck? Why?”
“Because Mr. Francis Redway here, Crow to his miscreant friends, apparently has allies in high places.”
Crow concealed his surprise. He’d expected to get hauled off to the nearest detention center while the Border Patrol debated his colorful arrest record.
His new friend removed the cuffs with a shrug. “I’m Hernandez, he’s Fox. What did you see?”
“Not enough.” Crow massaged his wrists. He gave a succinct description of events since the storm. “They were too far away from me to get a decent look at either the men or their vehicle. But they obviously objected to Shelton seeing the grave. I’d guess they were here to check up after the dust storm. Shelton was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“And is he part of The Wyverns too?” Hernandez smirked. “We know who you are. There’s not a member of the Border Patrol who doesn’t.”
“Celebrity is a curse.” Crow spit into the dirt. “Yes, he’s a fully fledged member. Now what the fuck are we going to do about getting him back?”
“They’ll be across the border by now. Out of our jurisdiction,” Fox said. “We need to protect the scene and wait for backup to get this place processed.”
“Fuck.” Crow could see he wasn’t going to get any help. “Can your radio get me through to someone who can place a call for me? The phone signal out here isn’t worth shit.”
“Sure. Knock yourself out.”
Hernandez got in touch with his base and left Crow to issue instructions. It wasn’t long before he had Rogue on the line.
“What’s up?” Rogue asked. “It better be good because your call resulted in Orlando’s lips leaving my dick.”
“Everything’s gone to hell here,” Crow replied. “Fucking dust storm uncovered a mass grave. Shelton got curious. He was taken before I could get to him and now the fucking Border Patrol are here with their thumbs up their asses, protecting a bunch of corpses that can’t exactly get up and run away.” He didn’t care if the Border Guards heard him.
“Okay, that’s not a bad reason for calling. Cartel work?”
“I’d guess so. Execution-style killings. They’ll be across the border by now.”
“Fuck. Well, if they didn’t shoot Shelton on sight, they’ll have ransom in mind. He’s seen their faces, but that means fuck all in Mexico.”
“I know it.” Crow scrubbed a hand through his hair.
“We’ll meet you at the diner in Ajo. I’ll get in touch with Trap first—he’s bound to have intel if there’s any to be had.” Rogue paused. “Don’t head across the border alone, Crow. I mean it. Shelton stands more chance if we do this together.”
For a second, Crow contemplated telling Rogue to fuck off. He wanted to get after Shelton immediately. He’d let him down. Failed to protect him. He’d only just made Shelton his and now he’d been ripped away. However, he recognized that The Wyverns were stronger together. “I’ll need my bike.”
“Let me worry about that. Just get to Ajo in one piece and sit tight. Don’t make me hunt your ass down, Crow.” Rogue ended the call.
Crow sighed. “Fuck it all to hell.” The Border Patrol officers were giving him the stink eye. “You two charmers can relax. I’m outta here.”
“Where are you going?” Fox asked. “Leave the investigation work to the professionals. You head across the border and there ain’t nothing we can do to protect your hide.”
Like they would anyway. “Enjoy the company, boys.” Crow gestured at the exposed grave. “Those poor bastards are about your speed.” He strolled away without a backward glance.
Crow knew that even traveling at well over the speed limit, it would take Rogue and the others more than two hours to reach Ajo, so he took his time breaking camp and stowing everything in the truck. He pulled on a shirt then shoveled down a few spoonfuls of cold chili because his body needed fuel, though his belly rebelled and roiled in discomfort. By the time he was done there was no trace of the camp remaining. He prayed that wouldn’t be the case with Shelton. The longer he delayed pursuit, the colder the trail became. He sure hoped Trap would come through with information. The man was scarily connected and just this once, Crow was glad.
The drive to Ajo didn’t take long but it was fully dark by the time Crow got there. The glow from the diner was a welcome sight. Crow parked the truck on the street so Rogue and the others would spot it easily then went inside. The waitress who served him was a different woman from when he and Shelton had called in earlier that day. Crow ordered coffee and when she returned with it, it was accompanied by a generous slice of cherry pie.
“Seems to me like you need it. On the house,” she said, leaving him alone.
Crow wondered at the small kindness. He inhabited a rough, callous world where life was given little value. He was touched by the gesture. It was the kind of thing Shelton would appreciate even more. Crow had often wondered why Shelton, with his innocent face and sharp mind, had chosen the life he had. After spending time together it was clear. Shelt
on valued his freedom more than respectability—something Crow was entirely in tune with. It made it even more difficult to contemplate what Shelton might be going through. Crow prayed the cartel would see his value without any parts missing.
Crow ate the pie on automatic pilot, staring out of the window at the dimly lit street. The coffee was strong but mellow and his mug was refilled without him having to ask. Time dragged and he drifted into a semi-alert state where images of Shelton seemed to be fixed to the insides of his eyelids. Every time he blinked, Shelton was there.
The low hum of motorbike engines in the distance was a huge relief. The sound grew to a dull roar as four powerful bikes pulled up right outside the window.
“I’ll be needing more coffee.” Crow caught the waitress’s eye and gestured at the lights outside.
“I’ll put on a couple fresh pots.” She gave him a conspiratorial wink.
The door banged open, letting in a rush of warm air. Rogue strolled in, looking for all the world like he owned the joint, stripping off his leather jacket while he walked. Hatchet was at his shoulder, immediately sizing up the diner and its clientele. Behind him were Teddy and, to Crow’s surprise, Adrian Hayder, out of uniform. Their combined size filled the room and one or two patrons made a hurried dash for the exit. Crow had to admit The Wyverns were an intimidating bunch, especially with the fierce expressions they all currently sported.
Crow stood and took the hand Rogue extended. He found his forearm gripped firmly and returned the hold. Rogue’s comfort and strength soothed him.
“What the fuck, Crow?” Hatchet slapped him on the back. “You’ve only been gone a day, for fuck’s sake. You’ll be challenging Orlando for the record on how fast you can get in trouble.”
“Nah. The brat only has to part his lips to start open warfare,” Teddy said, sliding into the booth. He tugged Adrian in next to him.
Sand Trap Page 4
