WREN SAT temporarily transfixed and perplexed by Jaeger’s audacity. He expected Wren to grovel and be eternally grateful for keeping him safe from his deadly family, but Wren had other ideas. Since when did grateful equate with slave labor? Just because Wren volunteered to cook didn’t mean he’d do everything.
Wren’s muscles seized up, and a tension migraine began to set in with all the worry he’d carried for the last few weeks. Rubbing his temples to alleviate the stress didn’t help. He’d need food and his migraine medicine if he hoped for any relief. He should feel safe―and to a point he did―but his nerves were beginning to unravel, and the response was a migraine. It was an affliction he’d dealt with since childhood, and it became progressively worse the deeper he found himself entrenched in the family business.
And… it didn’t help that he was drawn to Jaeger, not only his features―the rugged good looks, the miles of thick corded muscle—but to the power that radiated from him. Jaeger was all man, and in any other circumstance, Wren would roll over, bare his belly, and beg to be fucked. Hell, he might still do it if he couldn’t control his wayward libido.
His sexual preference might have been the catalyst for the start of the Rincón-Chino family feud. No, that wasn’t entirely true. The Rincón Family had been in business for many years, and Wren’s part was small potatoes compared to what the cartel was really all about.
And Wren could no longer turn a blind eye to the crimes of his uncle and his henchmen—the many people they extorted money from or sold drugs to. Tío Juan was authoritative, and everyone did his bidding.
Wren began the tedious task of unpacking the cooler and then searched the freezer for something quick yet hearty. He chose ground turkey and found beans and canned tomatoes in the pantry. Chili with homemade corn bread would be on the evening’s menu. Good thing he learned to cook at his mother’s knee.
Graciela Rincón liked to cook and kept a well-organized home. In retrospect Wren realized his mother had shielded him from his father’s part in his uncle’s business. Seamus O’Riley chose to live a short, violent life. Wren loved his father, but he didn’t understand him.
With no cell phone or radio, Wren turned on the television for background noise. He quickly flipped through the channels and realized cable was nonexistent. But he found a large collection of DVDs, stacked neatly and in genre order, when he opened the cabinet under the TV. So he started a semiromantic flick and retrieved his meds from the bedroom and then went back to the kitchen.
He snatched another cup of coffee and downed his pill. Then he filled the porcelain sink with hot water and submerged two packets of ground turkey to thaw while he chopped an onion and made some corn bread. If he was lucky, the headache would ease in a matter of minutes. The stimulation of double caffeine should do the trick.
Soon delicious aromas wafted throughout the cabin and drew Jaeger from his computer cave.
“Smells good. What’s cooking?” Jaeger leaned over Wren’s shoulder and sniffed at the pan on the stove. Wren felt the heat of Jaeger’s body traverse his back, and the smell of musk tickled his nose. He could get lost in that fragrance.
“I’m making chili and corn bread. That okay?” Wren’s desire to lean back into Jaeger’s muscled chest overrode his sensibilities, and Wren fought to control himself. But he relished the feel of another man’s body against his.
Wren’s last affair had ended badly, with shouts, tears and eventually…. Wren didn’t want to think of that fateful day. Maybe not ever again. But he knew that, in due time, he’d have to. His family had not only made it impossible for him to find love, but their warped sense of duty and control had brought him to the defining moment in his life, and he would testify and help make them guests of the United States penal system.
While Wren was lost in his thoughts, Jaeger moved away from him, to the wooden cabinet to retrieve bowls and plates. Wren brought the chili pot to the small wooden table and placed it on a dish towel. As Jaeger served them, Wren retrieved the corn bread and slathered it with butter.
They enjoyed the meal and filled their bellies. The only sounds were Jaeger’s groans of approval, and Wren thought about what it would be like to hear those sounds in the throes of passion―preferably while Jaeger fucked him draped over the table.
After three bowls Jaeger stood and retreated to the comm room. “Thanks for dinner.”
Well, at least he liked the food.
JAEGER STRODE to the communications room and locked the door behind him. He knew it was a dick move to leave Wren with barely a grunted thank-you, but he needed to monitor the perimeter and make sure nothing lurked in the woods.
He needed to keep Wren O’Riley safe, and he also needed to get the hell out of Dodge because his dick had decided to betray him and go ramrod straight. Jaeger’s overriding thought was to shove Wren over the table, yank down his jeans to expose his ass, and fuck his tiny hole. But that was not what he signed up for. Fucking a witness was frowned upon, at the very least. Jaeger was sure it was written somewhere in the manual.
The sun had already set, and the sky was bright with the twinkle of stars and the luminescent moon over the treetops. It wasn’t the same as being outside, but he could see clearly through the monitors. Additionally the infrared cameras picked up every little movement in the woods. Small animals scurried about but didn’t set off the alarms.
He removed his gun from the back of his waistband, adjusted himself, and sat in the uncomfortable cracked leather swivel chair and made contact with SAC Chase. His boss would know that they had arrived at their destination and were ensconced safely in the house for the next month or until Jaeger received further orders.
But his wayward dick would not subside. Thoughts of Wren O’Riley filtered through his brain and both heads wanted a piece of him. He needed the little head to stop, so he opened his legs, leaned back, unbuttoned his jeans, and drew down the zipper. The click of the enclosure seemed to take forever until his black briefs were exposed and the top of his dick peeked out, the tip glistening with precum. He fished out his cock and tucked the briefs under his swollen balls.
The cool air did nothing to soothe his stiff cock. It merely sent shivers down his spine and ramped up his libido. Jaeger ran his thumb over the crown and smeared the translucent liquid around the swollen bulb. More precum seeped out, creating a fine film along his cock and giving him the lubrication he needed to jerk himself off. He slowly slid his hand up and down and savored the feeling.
When he cupped his balls with his other hand, Jaeger imagined Wren’s mouth lapping at the orbs and then working his way up Jaeger’s cock and engulfing the rod. Jaeger moved his hips up and off the edge of the chair and back down again as he pumped his hand. He maintained a tight grip and squeezed as he tugged. His breathing changed into low moans and rapid pants. Jaeger rolled his balls, and the fine, soft hairs tickled his palm.
He reached back and ran the rough pad of his finger along his taint to loosen the muscle and then inserted the tip of the digit. That was all it took. Finger inserted in his own ass, Jaeger pumped his dick through his tight fist as the tingle began at the base of his spine. His balls churned and his dick swelled―then erupted. Cum shot from the tip. It filled his hand, and some landed on his belly.
Jaeger bit down on his lower lip to keep from shouting into the darkened room. The only light came from the screens of the computers. His heart raced, and his breath was ragged. Even after he came, his dick remained half-hard―something he expected he might have to deal with in such close quarters with Wren O’Riley.
He was an enigma. Jaeger needed to read the whole confidential file and then ask questions. He required answers if he planned to keep Wren protected and alive. Although fucking Wren had physical appeal, the complications held little.
Jaeger reached for some tissues and cleaned himself. When he tucked himself back into his jeans, he noticed his spent seed had gotten on his leather band, so he removed it from his wrist. The scar appeared more jagged and raw than usual. Jaeger had no idea if anyone else in his biological family carried the mark or if it meant anything. He learned long before that he was adopted, so he had no point of reference.
He only knew that his dreams—or nightmares—led him to a slumber so deep that he never remembered faces, dialogue, or action. But he woke in a cold sweat with his scar burning and with the raw desire to kill.
Jaeger kept it covered because it was an identifying mark. A simple leather band seemed more innocuous than the rare scar. He fiddled with the leather and once again stared at the screens. Since night was upon them, silhouettes dotted the views and were only illuminated when something larger than a rabbit appeared. Only something large would set off the alarms, and Jaeger better not see any. If he did, there would be trouble.
Jaeger peered at the small clock on the screen. He’d been sitting for close to four hours, and it was after midnight. Nothing stirred, so he decided to call it a night. The alarms were set, and if anything unusual occurred, the deafening sound would alert him and possibly the dead.
Gun in hand Jaeger dragged himself toward his room and stopped at Wren’s door, which he had left ajar. Jaeger was awestruck by the sight before him. The small lamp on the side table illuminated Wren, who lay atop the granny-square afghan, naked as the day he was born. Jaeger’s mind fought a hopeless battle. He knew the right thing to do was to keep walking, but the sexy feast that lay before him called to his primal side.
Wren’s olive complexion framed the tautest ass Jaeger had ever seen. Sinewy muscles traversed his back, ending at the swell of his buttocks, which were slightly paler than the rest of his body, and then crossed the mounds to long legs covered in dark hair. His right leg, drawn up and over, exposed his balls as they nestled against the afghan. The tip of his dick also peeked out under his groin.
Jaeger’s mouth went dry, and his dick went ramrod straight. Again. What the hell was up with his wayward libido and that damn kid? He was the scum of the earth. He worked for a family—a family who stole, sold drugs, and killed with little regard for others except to line their own pockets. And it was Jaeger’s job to protect and deliver, not to fuck. Entanglements were not part of the job.
Jaeger quietly moved away from the door and strode down the hall to his room. He was wound tight, and he needed sleep—to lie down and temporarily shut his brain off. He entered his room, placed his weapon on the night stand, and walked into the en suite. He couldn’t piss with a dick that stood at full mast, so he brushed his teeth and exited the bathroom.
He rubbed his wrist and then his jean-covered dick. Both were beyond relief. Jaeger needed to concentrate and not be distracted by the lovely Venezuelan with the Mexican-cartel family and do what he was born to do. Kill. And if Mr. Wren O’Riley got caught in the cross hairs, then so be it.