Page 16 of Secret Mission

IwantAllison Westerly.

The woman is totally kissable.

Clenching my hand, I lean back, angling my torso away.

Abort mission.

N.O.W.

I’ve got to get her off my lap.

She yawns, covering her mouth. “Is it normal for me to be this tired?”

“Yeah. You just nearly drowned. You’re not feeling short of breath or any other symptoms, are you?”

Shaking her head, she takes a couple of deep breaths, which only serves to wiggle her warm curves against my aching cock.

“Seems like my lungs are okay.”

I lift her off my lap and move to sit on my heels.

My teeth grind, my dick throbs, and my vision is weird, like my brain is being starved of oxygen.

Trying not to sound strained, I mutter, “Good, but tell me if anything changes. Sometimes people die?—”

She curls up again like a kitten, her hands under her cheek, and nestles down. And just like that, long lashes drift close, her lips part, and she’s gone.

Oh, fuck. She looks like a drowned angel.

Not good.

So not good.

What am I going to do?

I push off the ground and pace around the small opening that borders the riverbank.

As I mutter to myself, I check the satellite phone that was in my cargo pocket.

The screen is blank.

Dammit.

A cloud of emotions settles into my throat.

Am I glad it’s not working? And if I am, what does that mean?

I’m a man of action. Get shit done and all that.

Scrubbing a hand over my open mouth, I look up at the sky for an answer that I know is not going to be there.

The heavens and I don’t have a relationship. So, I turn my gaze to the river.

“This is fucked up, Truck.”

As if talking to myself ever convinced me to do something other than what I’d already decided.

Chapter Five

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