Triple Team: A Military Reverse Harem Romance, page 18
Gregor juggled three oranges until the boat lurched and an orange thudded against the side hull. After that he was too scared of making noise, and sat back down.
“You have any idea what we’re going to do next?” I asked.
“Nope.”
“No plan? No course of action to save the day? No follow-up to your brilliant decision to hop on board a boat traveling to God-knows-where?”
“Nope.”
“Is that all you’re going to say?”
“What do you want me to say, kiddo? That we should valiantly charge onto the deck and demand the surrender of the crew?”
“Of course not. That would be stupid.”
Gregor spread his hands as if to say that was all he had.
The worst part was that the woman and two men had stopped talking in the cockpit. We had no idea where they were on the barge.
“The silence is killing me,” I said. “Talk to me about something.”
“Like what?”
“Anything.”
“Okay,” he said. “The thing that looked stupid about LOST is that there’s a polar bear on this tropical island. How does that make sense?”
“Anything but LOST,” I corrected. “I know what I want to talk about. Why are there only three people on this barge?”
Gregor frowned. “What do you mean?”
I gestured around us. “All this cocaine and they’re only guarding it with three people? How much sense does that make?”
“It makes sense if you understand how powerful Blanco is down here,” Gregor said. His tattooed arms glistened in the darkness. “He can leave his barge lightly guarded because nobody would dare attack it. What’s someone going to do with all this cocaine? It’s useless without Blanco’s distribution channels. And it would just invite Blanco’s retaliation. Do you know what drug lords do to people who steal from them?” He shivered.
“I guess it’s just weird seeing all this cocaine guarded about as heavily as an American middle school,” I said.
“Blanco’s main hideout, wherever it is, will have a lot more firepower. So enjoy this while it lasts.” He chuckled. “Hey, about last night. I hope it wasn’t too awkward to bring up relationships at dinner.”
“Only a little awkward,” I said. “Honestly, it was good to get it out in the open. It cleared up some concerns I had.”
He frowned. “You had concerns?”
“You know. About the nature of our relationships. Donovan and I had already, well… And then Michael and I had a moment on our trip. More than a moment. I was confused and didn’t know what I wanted, so talking about it out loud helped. Better than me speculating.”
Gregor nodded and looked at the ground. “Thanks for understanding. Not everyone appreciates bluntness. They’re great guys. My closest friends in the world. I just wanted to make sure another woman didn’t get between any of us.”
“The situation Donovan mentioned?” I asked.
“Yep. Our ex. It worked out well having two men to occupy her… But in the end it wasn’t enough. She wanted us to quit the mercenary business, cut Michael out. Get normal nine-to-five jobs that make you wear a tie.”
“She sounds like a real bitch.”
He shrugged and didn’t take the bait. “That sort of relationship isn’t for everyone.”
“But it’s right for you?”
He picked up and orange, rotating it in both hands. “I don’t know what’s right for me. I…” He shook his head. “You don’t want to hear my story.”
“Kiddo,” I teased, “We’ve got nothing but time right now. Let’s hear it.”
“I’ve always had trouble keeping relationships. As a teenager I played soccer and was good enough to be on a traveling team, so I was away a lot. Then in the Army, you know. I was out on deployment. That rarely works. Tough to keep a fire burning when there’s no fuel. Then we got back and formed Eagle Eye—and don’t even think about making fun of the name again!—and the mercenary company created another on-and-off schedule. Date a girl for a few weeks, then disappear for a month while we’re on contract? It’s like a miniature deployment. Most girls don’t want that sort of relationship.”
“Until this ex you and Donovan shared?”
“Emily,” he said. “She didn’t mind our chaotic schedule. She thrived on it, even. She was hot and cold like that, so it suited her.”
Even in the dim light I could see the faraway look he got in his eyes. There were some good memories there. I couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy. Not just because she was one of Donovan’s ex-girlfriends… But also because she was Gregor’s.
I studied my partner in the darkness. Why did I feel that way?
“But yeah,” he said, scratching the stubble on his chin. “Sharing Emily worked well. I’d fly out on a mission and she’d spend time with Donovan. Then I’d get back and Donovan would leave, giving me some time with her. And we’d have fun when we were all together…”
He trailed off, smiling to himself. It reminded me of the fun I’d had with Michael and Donovan last night. Wedged between their muscular bodies, the sweat from Donovan dripping onto my back as he spread my ass cheeks, the splash of their seed on my chest while they moaned and cried out with ecstasy…
Gregor shook his head like he was coming out of a spell. “But that wasn’t enough for her. She was weirdly possessive of us. Didn’t want us hanging out with Michael or doing anything on our own. She had to be there for everything. Finally gave us an ultimatum.” He shrugged. “Too bad.”
“You didn’t really answer the question,” I pointed out. “Is sharing a girl right for you?”
“Like I said, I don’t know. The sample size is small, but it worked out for me. Until it didn’t.”
Gregor went back to studying his orange. I thought some more about last night. I’d considered it the fulfillment of a fantasy, a one-off event. Some physical fun with the hot guys I was working with.
But what if I wanted it to become more? A long-term relationship with Donovan, Michael… And maybe even Gregor?
The idea was so foreign I struggled to imagine it. Especially the part about Gregor. I wasn’t sure how I felt about him, let alone the rest of the situation.
“Hey,” I said, choosing my words carefully. “Have you ever—”
He suddenly stood up and shushed me, listening in the darkness. “I heard one of them say Blanco.”
I stood near him beneath the vent, straining my ears for any sound even though I didn’t speak Spanish. There was nothing, not even the soft mumble of conversation.
Gregor sighed. “I missed what they said. But I caught the tail end of the conversation: we’re pulling into port. Cabruta, wherever that is.”
The pitch of the engine was changing. Diminishing. And although it was hard to tell in the darkness it felt like the boat was turning.
The woman up on deck shouted. Not an alarmed shout, but like she was calling out to someone far away. The engine noise sputtered and then cut off completely.
“What do we do?” I whispered.
Gregor reached into the bag and handed me one of the pistols. “Don’t shoot unless I do.”
“That’s not a plan.”
“I don’t have a plan,” he hissed. “Listen.”
With the engine off we could hear voices from the cockpit much more clearly. The two men were chatting.
“She’s going to make another deposit,” Gregor translated. “The two guys are discussing what food they’re going to go eat!”
All three people on the boat were leaving. We might have a chance to escape.
We heard the sound of boots on metal as they climbed down the ladder along the side of the hull, then the muffled sound of voices. Their conversation dimmed as they moved farther and farther from the boat.
Then there was only silence.
“Let’s make our move while we can,” Gregor said. “Get up top, search the cockpit, then get the fuck out of here.”
We tried the main cargo hatch but it was bolted from the other side, so we went back to the hatch at the rear of the ship where we had entered. Gregor climbed onto a pallet and opened it, the hinges screaming loudly. The sun was already below the trees but the twilight was still painful after the near-complete darkness of the cargo hold. Gregor climbed up, I handed him the bag, and then he helped me up to the deck.
I looked around. We were docked at a pier along the river, with the city 100 yards inland. On the single road leading to the city were the crew of the drug barge walking away from us.
Two of them.
“Where’s the third…” I began.
He appeared around the corner of the crate, a puzzled look on his face. He gestured and started scolding us in Spanish, but made no move to reach for the gun on his hip.
Gregor launched himself at the man, tackling him in the chest. They tumbled back onto the deck in a flurry of punches and kicks.
“Ayudame!” the man tried to yell, but was cut off by Gregor’s hand over his mouth. The other crew walking to the city hadn’t heard.
Gregor and the man wrestled on deck, rolling end over end while trying to gain control. I aimed my gun, hoping I wouldn’t have to use it. A gunshot would certainly draw attention on us. But if Gregor was in danger…
Gregor was throwing punches into the man’s ribs. “Sit. The. Fuck. Down,” he grunted with each punch. The other man threw an elbow and caught Gregor in the jaw, knocking his head against the metal deck. Then he rolled on top of Gregor and wrapped his hands around his throat.
I flipped my gun around and swung it in a vicious arc, hitting the man on the back of the head. He crumpled to the side.
Gregor groaned as I helped him up. “Let’s bind his hands and mouth.” We found some rope from the supply crates and set to work wrapping his wrists together, then tying a bundle around his mouth. His eyes were closed but he was breathing.
Gregor grabbed the duffel bag. “Let’s see what’s in the cockpit.”
We bent low as we rushed across the barge. I still felt like someone would see us, that at any moment we would hear shouting and men with guns would come running up to stop us. Somehow we made it to the cockpit without any fuss.
The front of the room was all glass, with an instrument panel beneath that and various wheels and levers. To the left was another door leading into a small sleeping room with four bunks welded into the wall, two on each side. Beer bottles were scattered on the ground, and the stench of cigarettes was omnipresent.
“Look at these maps,” Gregor said, pointing to the wall. “This is the Orinoco River. These pins must be their stops.”
I held up a notebook. “Ciudad Bolívar, Mapire, Cabruta?”
“Yep, all marked.”
I went to the first city on the notepad. “Puerto Carreño?”
He pointed. “That’s the farthest city west. Right on the border with Colombia.”
I showed him the notepad. “There are numbers here, with a signature on the right. Can you read that? Looks like Julio Suarez…”
“Juan Suarez?” He grabbed the notepad. “Juan Suarez! I know that name. He’s a mayor or governor or something. Long suspected of working closely with JGB.”
“These signatures prove it.”
“Puerto Carreño.” Gregor grinned. “Sounds like we have our next waypoint, kiddo.”
I looked around the cockpit until I found what looked like the fuel gauge. It was half full. “What’s the plan? Commandeer the boat? Use that to get to Suarez?”
“Fuck that noise,” Gregor said. “I don’t want to be around this cocaine any longer than necessary. Follow me.”
We went outside and took stock of our surroundings. The Orinoco River was about as wide as the Columbia River back home, and there was another city on the opposite shore. A ferry was approaching our side, slowing down as it pulled up to another pier where eight people stood in line to board.
“I’ve got a plan,” Gregor said.
I climbed off the barge, then Gregor lowered the unconscious man down into my arms. He was heavy but manageable as I dragged him up the pier to a dumpster. Once I’d hauled him inside I closed the lid and waited for Gregor. A few minutes later he jumped off the barge with our duffel bag over his shoulder.
“To the ferry,” he said.
We had to run to catch it, jumping across a foot of open air as it began pulling away from the dock. There was no attendant to stop us, and none of the passengers seemed to care. We made our way to the top deck and leaned on the railing as the ferry began drifting across the river to a city whose name was apparently Caicara del Orinoco.
“Smart thinking having me hide the man,” I said. “If we’d left him on the barge the others would realize something was wrong as soon as they got back. Now it’ll take them much longer to realize what’s going on. That buys us plenty of time to get away.”
Gregor gave me a funny look. Like he was trying to suppress a grin.
“What?”
“That’s not why I wanted him off the boat,” he said, pulling a device out of his pocket. It was like a small walkie-talkie with an antenna on one end. He flipped open a protective cover, revealing a toggle-switch and an orange button.
“Ready for the fireworks?” he said.
“Wait a minute. Did you—”
He pushed the button.
There was a half-second delay before anything happened. Then the barge in the distance erupted in a giant fireball. The sound of the explosion hit us a second later and the other passengers cried out with shock. I could feel the heat on my cheeks as the boat went up in flames, belching black smoke high into the air.
“That’s a great way to avoid drawing attention,” I said sarcastically. “What if they stop the ferry and search it before we get to the other side? It won’t be hard to figure out that the two Americans with a duffel bag full of weapons did it!”
A serious expression fell over his face as he pulled out a cigar and lit the end with his lighter. “Don’t much care about laying low right now. I couldn’t let those drugs go on to their destination. Eventually shipped out to America. Leading to who knows how many new addictions and overdoses. Fuck that.” He puffed the cigar and handed it to me. “Maybe by destroying those drugs we made the world just a little bit better, huh kiddo?”
I took two celebratory puffs on the cigar. “I think we did.”
We watched the fire burn as the ferry drifted across the river.
27
Juliana
By the time our ferry reached the other side of the river the drug barge was surrounded with flashing police lights and swarms of people. The other passengers on our ferry grew bored with the scene and went back to chatting or staring at the water. I wondered how many drug-related explosions they’d seen down here. Violence among the cartels wasn’t uncommon.
Caicara del Orinoco was more touristy than Cabruta. Vendors lined the river path selling goods strewn out on blankets: cheap sunglasses, purses, pirated movies burned onto disks. As we exited the ferry we were immediately bombarded by the locals selling their wares.
“Police,” Gregor said, pointing to where flashing blue lights reflected off the buildings down the street. He grabbed my hand and led me in the other direction, ignoring the vendors’ annoyed curses. We stopped when we were around the corner of a bank and looked back toward the ferry. The police were on scooters, which they parked in front of the river. They immediately marched onto the ferry and started shouting orders at the passengers who were slower to exit than we were.
“Shit. This way.”
We wound our way through the town, sticking to alleys and dark roads. It was easy to avoid detection now that night was falling but we didn’t want to take any chances. Everyone here had darker hair than me. I was keenly aware that I stuck out.
We heard other sirens drifting through the town as we made our escape. I didn’t know if they were looking for us specifically or merely questioning people in general, but I certainly didn’t want to find out.
Gregor was leading me by the hand along a busy road when a police scooter appeared ahead. We slipped into the door way of a closed shop until the cop drove by, then we continued on even faster.
The crowds grew thicker as we entered a market. I was thankful for the cover, a place we could disappear where the cops wouldn’t find us, but Gregor hesitated.
“What’s wrong?”
His face hardened. “Nothing. Let’s go.”
He led me by the hand into the market. The crowd was so thick we had to shoulder our way through the people milling around in front of food and drink stands. The smell made my mouth water and my stomach growl, but Gregor seemed suddenly worried—his skin was flushed and sweat trickled down his cheeks and neck.
“Are you okay?”
He ignored me and led me deeper into the crowd, moving faster and faster with each passing moment. Finally we reached the other side of the market and open air. He quickly fell against the wall of a candy shop, panting heavily. His face was now a ghastly shade of white, like all the blood had been drained.
“Gregor, oh my God!” I said. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”
He nodded frantically, and I saw something in his eyes that worried me: fear. He was afraid. I looked around the market and wondered if we would be discovered.
“I’m okay,” he said after a few moments. “I’m better now. Let’s keep moving.”
I let him guide me along, but now I watched him with concern.
About half a mile into the city we saw a building with a sign in English. Hotel 911. Guests welcome.
Gregor ducked inside without hesitation. It was an old converted house with the foyer changed into a front desk. The place looked deserted. Gregor rang the bell on the desk, which prompted noise upstairs. It took the woman over a minute to stomp down the stairs toward us. Her annoyed expression changed to glee when she realized we were potential customers.
