Ark of Fire

CHAPTER 50

Oh, man, he wanted to fuck her.

So bad his johnson had been standing on end for the last couple of hours. Ever since, with his peephole video camera shoved against the hotel room door, he’d had a front-row seat on what turned out to be an unbelievable fuck fest.

At first he’d been pissed that he’d been given the graveyard surveillance shift. Small wonder Sanchez had been grinning when he relieved him of duty. Who the hell would have thought the curly-haired bitch had the moves of an experienced whore? It’d been all he could do not to hump himself against the adjoining hotel door like a Pakistani raghead in an Islamabad alleyway.

The colonel was fond of saying, “When lust hath conceived, it bringeth forth sin. And sin, when it is finished, bringeth forth death.” The Bible verse helped keep his lusts in check. Usually.

Placing a hand over his crotch, Boyd Braxton rearranged his equipment.

A shopkeeper hauling a bucket of flowers behind a plate glass window glared at him. He glared right back and continued on his merry way, Aisquith and the woman one block ahead of him. The streets were practically empty of pedestrian traffic, so shadowing them was a piece of cake. Besides, the redheaded Brit was too intent on whispering sweet nothings into the bitch’s ear to even realize he had a tail on his six.

On account of the audio surveillance, he knew they were headed to the local bus depot. His job was to head them off at the pass, grateful for the chance to redeem himself after the goat-fuck four days ago in D.C.

He adjusted his stride, quickening the pace.

As he did, his heart excitedly pounded against his breastbone.

He couldn’t wait for the takedown. Knowing it would happen in ten, nine, eight . . .