Stones of Fire

50

Oh man, he wanted to fuck her.

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

At first Boyd had been pissed off he’d been given the surveillance shift. Small wonder Sanchez had been grinning when Braxton relieved him. 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 jerk himself off against the door like a 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 to keep his lusts in check. Usually.

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

A shop assistant manhandling 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 practically empty of pedestrian traffic, shadowing them was a piece of cake. Besides, the red-headed Brit was too intent on whispering sweet nothing into the bitch’s ear to even realize he had a tail.

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 fuck-up four days ago in DC.

He adjusted his stride, quickening the pace.

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

He couldn’t wait for the take-down. Knowing it would happen in ten, nine, eight…