The Sentinel

Anywhere You Are

Part B

Part 4- wherein the bad guys arrive in Peru and make their move

"I appreciate the loan of the backpack, Steve." Jim stuffed the last of the clothes they would need into it, then fastened the bedroll across the top. He reached for the rifle he would be carrying, and checked to make sure it was loaded.  

"Listen, Jim. If you need any help…"  

"Thanks, but Incacha and his Chopecs will be watching our backs. They're familiar with the territory. When we guarded the Chopec Pass , they made sure if anyone got through, they never made it out. They're lethal fighters."  

"They're even deadlier than the Jivaro. And every one of them would die for Jim." Blair was securing his bedroll to his backpack. He glanced at his lover, and the words he spoke were barely a movement of his lips. "So would I."  

"All right, but if you change your mind…" Steven looked around. Blair wore cargo pants whose legs could be unzipped above the knee and removed, and Steven absently noticed the bulges in the numerous pockets. A leather thong to tie back his hair was in his hand. "Will Blair be all right?" he asked quietly.  

"Blair will be fine!" Blair huffed, not needing acute hearing to catch the question. "Why does everyone treat me as if I can't take care of myself?"  

"Beats hell out of me, Chief." Jim smiled and crossed the room to where his lover was glowering. "I know you're one tough cookie!" His gait was a little stiff. He ran his fingers through Blair's hair, tugging it gently.  

They both heard the door close quietly behind Jim's brother, but neither bothered to glance in that direction.  

"Are you okay, Jim?" Blair's voice was sentinel-soft. He ran his thumb across his lover's cheek, the leather thong drifting along Jim's jaw. Then he reached up to tie his hair back off his face. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"  

"No." Jim looked into his blue eyes, almost zoning on the emotion he saw in them. "I loved waking up with your cock inside me. Deep inside me! Every time, and how ever many times we did it, Chief."   

"I kind of lost count, Jim." Blair's face flushed with sexual heat.  

"So did I." He brought the younger man's mouth to his and traced the lush lips with his tongue.  

"I just had to have you. Last night might be our last night!"  

Jim covered Blair's mouth with his fingers. "No. I won't let anything happen to you. And nothing is going to happen to me," he added, when he saw that Blair would have protested.  

Blair parted his lips and sucked one of Jim's fingers into his mouth. Jim groaned as his lover's nimble tongue curled and glided over the finger.  And then, "Oww! You bit me!"  

"Pay attention, Ellison, and don't you dare zone on me!" Blair's gaze was burning in intensity. "You make damn sure nothing happens to you, because I don't  intend to live without you, do you understand me?"  

Jim turned pale. "Chief…"  

"I'm not fucking kidding! Now get that backpack on your back, and let's get this show on the road!" Blair made sure the straps of his own backpack were comfortable on his shoulders. He opened the door and strode into the hall. Steven Ellison was standing just outside the door, grinning. Blair nodded carelessly. "We'll see you on New Year's Eve, Steve."  

"You know something, Blair?" The younger man paused at the top of the stairs and glanced back, his eyebrow arched. "I envy my brother. If you were a girl, I'd try my damnedest to take you away from him!"  

Blair started down the stairs, his right arm up, the middle finger extended.  

"The boy is mine, Stevie!" Jim grinned and punched his brother lightly on the arm.  

He followed his lover down to the first floor, but he had no trouble hearing Steven whisper, "Yes, he is, you lucky son of a bitch!"

****  

Miguel Ubarry, crossed the tarmac, a semi-automatic dangling beside his left thigh. "Manuel! ¿Cómo esta?"  

"Ah, amigo! Is good to see you again!" He clasped Ubarry's right arm, then looked past him. "Señor Escobedo. I am honored you called upon me to help. These are my men." He indicated five men, although three of them looked as if they'd barely started to shave. They lounged against the overland station wagon that was waiting to take them into the foothills. The rifles they all carried belied their casual stance. "That mestizo over there, Nanto, he's our tracker. He will find this Sandburg for you."  

"There is someone else with him. I want this hombre, Ellison, taken care of also."  

"Ellison?" The tracker gazed at Escobedo with hooded eyes. "Would that be Jim Ellison?"  

"Si. So what?"  

The man just smiled and picked up his bedroll.  

Escobedo dismissed him. He was a peon, nothing more. "Your men can get this Ellison out of the picture. He's just another queer. But Sandburg, he is mine. I will leave him bleeding from a thousand wounds. I will see him begging for mercy. I will…"  

"Hey! Nanto! Where you going, muchacho?" one of Manuel's men called, interrupting Escobedo.   

Manuel frowned at the tracker's retreating back. "Pedro, go bring him back! We will leave as soon as the tracker locates the trail, Señor." He waited impatiently, unhappy that he was being made to look foolish in front of someone as important as the drug lord was sure to become.  

"Boss! He is gone! I cannot find him!"  

Escobedo's face darkened, and Manuel became nervous. He licked his lips. "What do you mean, you cannot find him! He cannot have disappeared!"  

"He is like the jaguar that slips away in the grass! One minute he is there, the next he is gone!"  

The leader took a deep breath and turned to Escobedo. "Is not a problem, Señor. I will find another tracker. It will merely take a couple of days…"  

"You won't have to, boss." Carlos, the most brutish of his men, lit the cigarette that was between his lips and inhaled. "Jim Ellison will turn over this Blair Sandburg that you want."  

"Why would he do that, hombre?" Escobedo snarled.  

"At the hotel at Machu Picchu , there is another Ellison. I see him when I visit Valdez 's cantina." The brim of Carlos' hat shielded his eyes. "He is the brother of the other man. I think he will be of help to us. When 'Crocodile' Ellison learns we have his brother, he will do whatever we want."  

"Ah, si." Miguel nodded approvingly. "He will give up the pretty boy in order to protect one of his own blood."

"Sssssi!" It was like the hissing of a snake. Escobedo's eyes gleamed with satisfaction. "Take him!"  

****  

Steven Ellison regained consciousness slowly. His head throbbed like a hollow drum, and he groaned. //Jesus, whatever made me take that last tequila shooter?//  

A hard, booted toe nudged his ribs, and the threat behind it was implicit. Get up, or have your side staved in.  

And abruptly, it all came back. He hadn't spent the night on the tiles, drinking with his brother and the man who was his lover. He'd been bent over the engine of Raphael Fernandez's piece of shit jeep, cursing the alternator so creatively his Spanish professor would have been impressed.  

The jeep had crapped out on them in the middle of the drive to Cuzco , and while he had elected to remain with the decrepit vehicle, Rafe had gone back to Machu Picchu to see if Valdez had any replacement parts.  

A sound had broken Steven's concentration, and when he had straightened to see what it was, he'd hit the jeep's hood, giving himself a major whack on the back of his head.  

Only now he was realizing it wasn't the raised hood of the jeep he'd come into contact with, but something more deadly. He opened his eyes and stared into the black, unwinking eye that was the muzzle of a .357 Magnum.  

//Oh, fuck.//  

"Buenos dias, Señor Ellison. How kind of you to finally rejoin us." The voice was smarmy; Steven was positive he'd heard it before, and recently, but the lingering pain in his head made it difficult to recall exactly where.  

"Who… who're you?"  

"You do not remember, amigo? I am distressed! We met at the cantina. I am Carlos, but that is not important. What is important is that you are going to help this señor."  

The muzzle of the gun dug into his temple, and Steven flinched. He didn't dare take his eyes off the man called Carlos to see who he was supposed to help. "Yeah, sure, whatever you say. Uh… what do you want me to do?"  

"Your brother has a young man with him. You will convince your brother that it is in your best interest for him to give me this man, Blair Sandburg."  

"And you'll let me go if I do?" Steven had a pretty good idea of the fate that would befall him no matter what he did. Carefully, he sat up, grateful that he didn't see two of everything and that his stomach didn't go seesaw-knock-on-the-door up through his gullet. He breathed a sigh of relief. No concussion.  

"Si, amigo. We will set you free." Smarmy's voice was innocent.  

Steven could have told him he didn't do innocent at all well.  

He also didn't believe that for a minute. Jim had revealed enough for him to know these were ruthless men. He needed to find a way to buy some time. "Well, it's no skin off my nose if you want that little cocksucker. Bastard's trying to drive a wedge between me and my brother! If you can get Blair Sandburg away from my brother, Jim will come back to his senses in no time!"  

"I'm glad to see we think alike, amigo. So tell me, where are they? Carlos says they are not at the hotel below Machu Picchu , and they were not at the cantina when he went there."  

"Where are they?" //Good question. Think fast, Ellison!// "Uh, could I have some water? I'm so dry. Makes it kind of hard to talk, y' know? Oh, gracias." Steven took the canteen and uncorked it, carefully wiping the mouth with his shirt tail. He took several deep swallows, then dragged his sleeve across his mouth. "There's a… a place, about five miles from the border. Sandburg kept wheedling my brother to take him there. Jim finally caved in, and that's where they were going. Get that little fairy away from my brother, and I'll be eternally grateful!" And he prayed they wouldn't know he was lying through his teeth.  

****  

"Ellison! Jim Ellison!" The shout rose up the tumble of boulders.  

Blair turned pale at the sound of that voice. "Jim!" he whispered frantically. "How did he find us so soon? I thought we'd have a few days!"  

Jim grinned at him. "I've left a trail even a city boy could follow."  

"Jim Ellison! Give us Blair Sandburg!"  

"Why would I want to do that, Escobedo?" Jim yelled back. He recognized the voice from their telephone conversation, as truncated as it had been.  

"Because if you don't, we will kill your brother! Speak, you!"  

"Uh, Jim? Sorry, big bro. Looks like I really stepped in it this time!"  

"Stevie?" Jim  ran a hand over his face. "Oh, fuck!"  

"Jim, you weren't expecting this?"  

He shook his head.  

Blair was ashen. He licked his lips and swallowed, then swallowed again. And again. "All right. I'll go down."  

Jim could hear his lover's heartbeat ratchet higher. "Fuck that. You're not going anywhere, Sandburg."  

"But…"  

"Chief, I'm not going to let them get their hands on you! Now stay put, and keep quiet, or I'll tie you up and gag you!"  

"Promises, promises!" Blair tried to smile, but it was wobbly, and Jim determined to get them all out of this alive. He went down on one knee beside a boulder, braced his elbow on his other knee, and balanced the Radom Hunter semi-automatic rifle on it.  

"Ellison!"  

Once he had his aim steady, he  called down, "Shoot the son of a bitch!" His brother was in his sights.  

The stunned silence was shattered by the sound of Jim's weapon firing. Steven cried out and fell backwards. The bullet had grazed his forehead, gouging a narrow furrow, and it was bleeding profusely.  

Shots were fired up the slope, but Jim was already moving, getting himself and his lover away from that spot.  

"Jim!" Blair was shocked. "Are you out of your fucking mind? You shot your brother!"  

"Yeah," Jim said heavily. "Keep moving, and keep down! It was the only way I could think of saving him! I just hope to god it works!" If they thought he wanted his own brother dead, maybe, out of sheer perversity, they'd keep him alive. Jim just hoped Steve wasn't so dumbfounded by his action that he blew the whole deal. If Jim had to start shooting now, the chances of his brother surviving were nil. He extended his hearing.  

"Why for your brother shoot you, hombre?" Escobedo.  

Steve was overplaying his injury, moaning and swearing and clutching his head as the blood seeped through his fingers. Jim hoped it was to give himself some time to reason out his brother's action. Jim would never kill his own brother, there was never even a question of that, and Steve knew he was too good a marksman to miss an easy headshot. Fortunately, Escobedo didn't know that if Jim shot to kill, then whoever he shot at was killed. With a little luck, Steve would come up with a reason for his brother shooting him.  

"Well, wouldn't you shoot your brother if he tried to take your lover away from you?" Steven's voice was sullen. "I tried to show Jim what a slut Blair Sandburg is by taking him to bed myself. Fucking fag is a bad influence on my big  brother. You gotta get him, Escobedo. Sodomy is wrong! It's just wrong! Jim's gonna go straight to hell if he doesn't see the error of his ways!"  

"Ah, si. You think like me, Ellison. I let you live. For now."  

Jim let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Okay, Chief, let's fall back to those ruins. Wait a second!" What the fuck was his brother saying?  

"That's a good idea, Mr. Escobedo. My brother is a magician. A very powerful magician. Why do you think they call him 'Crocodile'? Even though he is angry with me right now, if you hurt me, he will call the reptiles of the river and the jaguars of the rainforest to come to his aid."  

Escobedo growled in response.  

"My brother is fucking brilliant!"  

"What is it, Jim?"  

"Steve's trying to convince them that I have supernatural powers. Escobedo won't believe that, he's too much a man of the city, but the others, especially the younger ones, they're just a generation away from their headhunting grandfathers! Remind me to kiss Steve when we get him free! After I beat his ass for getting caught in the first place. Now, where's that thong you were wearing yesterday?" Blair's hand went to his hair, and Jim laughed quietly. "No, not that one; the one that didn't cover your butt." He cupped his lover's ass cheek and squeezed.  

"Oh, that one. It's in your backpack somewhere."  

"Hold the rifle. Fire off a warning shot if anything moves, but don't try to hit anything. There are Chopecs out there!" They had put enough distance between Escobedo and his men and them that Jim was able to pause and dig through the clothes. He came up with the black scrap of silk and let it dangle from his finger. "You do have nice taste in underwear, Chief." He brought it to his face and inhaled. "It has your scent all over it. I love your scent."  

"Jim!"  

Jim was amused to see the blush that swept from Blair's throat to his hairline. He wrapped his hand around his lover's neck and drew him close enough to nuzzle his lips, touch the tip of his tongue to them, and snatch a quick kiss. "I love your taste, too! Now let's just leave this where one of Escobedo's little amigos can find it."  

****  

Estaban didn't see it. His eyes were focused on the horizon, and he walked into it. The black silk brushed his face, and the musky odor of male arousal filled his nostrils. His laughter was coarse. He snatched it off the branch where it dangled and waved it above his head like a trophy. "Hey! Amigos! Come see what I have found!"  

His foot was in the noose of rope on the ground, which he also didn't see. Before any of the men could join him, the wild boar on the other end of the rope, objecting to the sting of Jim's slap to his rump, took off running. The noose tightened, pulling the man's feet out from under him, and the boar dragged him screaming through the underbrush.  

By the time his comrades reached the spot where he had been, there was no trace of him, not even the echoes of his painful cries. "We have no time to look for Estaban. He have to take his chances. We go looking for him after we catch the gringo."  

The two youngest of Manuel's men eyed each other nervously, remembering the other gringo's words. 'My brother is a very powerful magician.'  

****  

"This Americano, he leave a trail a girl could follow!" Manuel sneered. "We catch up with him by midmorning tomorrow the latest." He gazed around, then peered up at the sky. "Soon night will soon fall. We make camp here. All right, Señor Escobedo? This a good place. Kindling for fire, water close by, agouti for dinner." He indicated the rodent Pedro had knocked over with a rock.  

Escobedo was tired and hungry, and he needed to take a leak. And his feet hurt. He hadn't thought the Americano would be able to stay just one jump ahead of them. "Si, we camp here for the night."  

"Carlos, you start the cooking fire. Pedro…"  

"Si, boss. I gut the agouti. Too bad we don't got no seasoning. This is good with a little salt and rosemary."  

"Hunger is the best seasoning, amigo," Manuel told him unctuously. "Jesus, take the canteens down to the river and fill them."  

The young man picked up the canteens and swung them from their shoulder straps. He raised his head and sniffed appreciatively; the wood Carlos had chosen for the fire would flavor the rodent as well as any seasonings. His mouth began to water.  

Jesus squatted at the water's edge, and one by one he emptied the canteens, rinsing and then refilling them. A movement in the river caught his eyes, but before he could cry out, he was seized and dragged under the water.  

A terrified scream split the twilight, and the men at the camp froze for that crucial instant before rushing to the riverside. On the bank were six canteens. The seventh bobbed gently near the shore. "Ai! What is that?"  

"You! Ellison! Get that!"  

Gingerly, Steven reached for the object floating on the surface, managing to catch it before it could sink.  

"That is Jesus' hat!" The brim had been shredded, as if huge, crocodilian teeth had savaged it. "Ai de me! He has been taken! Mi amigo! Mi amigo!"  

The lamentation was cut off by a sharp slap across the face. Escobedo glowered at the boy and hissed, "¡Silencio! That will not bring that one back! Pick up the canteens, and let us return to camp before our dinner burns."  

The young man glared at Escobedo's back, but dared not object. He gathered up the canteens, murmuring a soft, "Gracias," as Steven Ellison helped him. "Señor, do you think el cocodrilo got him by his cojones?"  

Steven shrugged. "However it got him, it got him."  

"And… and your brother, Señor?"  

"My brother?"  

"He is a magician, no? Did he make the crocodile take Jesus?"  

"¿Quién sabe, amigo? But I would say my prayers this night if I were you."  

The young man's eyes became huge, and he crossed himself several times.  

They joined the others at the campfire and ate in silence. "Juan. You will take first watch. Pedro, you the second, then Carlos, then me. And remember, muchacho. If you fall asleep, this time I cut your throat!"  

"Si, boss." Juan stared sullenly into the fire as his companions crawled into their bedrolls and fell asleep.  

****  

Pedro woke abruptly. The fire was dying, and a glance at the stars told him it was past the time the boy should have alerted him for his watch. Beside the fire, the boy was on his side, huddled in a blanket. "I told the boss he was too young! Niños!" He rolled out of his sleeping bag and went into the bushes to relieve himself.  

Disturbed by Juan's lack of movement, Pedro approached him cautiously. In spite of his age, Pedro also was disquieted by the Americano's words about his brother. "Hey. Muchacho,"  he called softly. No response. He toed the figure. The blanket slipped off, and Pedro leaped back, stifling a whimper, tripping over his own feet as a huge, ill-tempered iguana hissed at him, its tongue flicking out restlessly.  

Pedro landed on his ass, and the jolt of his tailbone hitting the ground caused his teeth to snap painfully on his tongue. Scuttling backward away from the reptile, Pedro found his pistol and began firing wildly. The gun shots awakened the entire camp.  

"Who's there?" "What's going on?" "Is it the magician?"  

The futile click and roll of the hammer on an empty chamber shocked Pedro back to his senses. He ran his hand through his hair.  

"Carlos, fix the fire! Pedro, what's happening here?" Manuel demanded. "Why was the fire allowed to die down? Where is Juan?"  

Pedro staggered to his feet and pointed to the blanket. His throat worked repeatedly as he swallowed the blood from his bitten tongue. He rubbed his mouth to conceal the way his lips were trembling, and almost succeeded in hitting himself with the pistol. "Gone, boss! In his place was a creature so ugly… so… evil… so…"  

"Black magic," Steven murmured, just loud enough to be heard.  

"Crap magic!" Escobedo snarled. "Manuel, control your men, or I will see you even more unhappy than you are right now!" He raised his voice. "This 'Crocodile' Ellison likes to play games, eh, Miguel? Well, tomorrow we show him some good games! You take the watch, segundo. These men are obviously worthless pieces of shit!"  

"Si, jefe." Miguel let his eyes drift dispassionately over his friend's men, concealing his chagrin. Once this was over, he would have to kill them. He glanced at the gringo, who was settling himself in his bedroll once more.  

"Black magic." The words weren't spoken, simply mouthed.  

Miguel spat on the ground and turned to watch the night.  

Part 5- wherein the shit hits the fan

The place of ruins was on a small mesa that was surrounded by terraces built of stone.  

"The Incas had to have brought the stones up from the lowlands. This type isn't native to this part of the Andes ." Blair had his camera out. Lush green spread over the walls of the ancient buildings, like a living carpet. "It must have been some royal's summer estate." All that was left now were roofless walls that were crumbling back to Nature. "How'd you find it?"  

"Incacha showed me the way. I had my first spirit vision here, Chief."  

"It must be even older than Machu Picchu !" Blair made a sound of awe. He was snapping away steadily. "Beautiful! Someday I'd like to come back  here and do a paper on this place, Jim."  

"Then we will, Chief. Whenever you'd like."  

****  

They brought the first of their captives to the place of ruins early in the afternoon. He was covered with scratches, bits of twig and dried grass sticking to his clothing and hair. Patches of skin were revealed where the unforgiving brush had shredded his trousers and shirt.  

"Patch him up. We don't want him dying on us."  

"We don't?"  

Jim grinned and ran his hand over his lover's hair. "You're supposed to be the civilized one, Chief. I'll be back as soon as I can." He went to track the progress of the men who held his brother.  

"You're lucky Jim Ellison is a good man, muchacho," Blair grumbled as he treated the worst of the gashes. "If it was up to me, I'd let you  bleed to death. Oh, stop making a fuss. You're barely hurt!"  

"You say I bleed to death!" the young man whined.  

Blair made a rude noise. "How'd you get involved in this?" Not that he actually cared, but maybe talking would distract the kid and keep him from pissing and moaning.  

"Manuel say this an easy job. He say two Americanos cross un hombre muy importante. He not say even the air speaks to the one, and that the other one, he is loco!"  

"And I assume I'm the loco one, amigo?" Blair paused in his ministrations to glower at the younger man. "You are so not endearing yourself to me! Now, maybe you'd better shut up, or I'll gag you!"  

****  

Shortly before dusk, Jim returned with his second captive dangling over his shoulder like a sack of cassavas. Bound hand and foot, the young man was soaking wet, his clothes clinging to him, and he shivered from the remnants of his terror and his impromptu dip in the river. Jim dumped him on the ground beside his companion, then stripped off his own wet clothes.  

"Let me get a towel for you, Jim."  Blair dug one out of the backpack he'd been carrying and handed it to his lover. "Sorry, this is the best I can do."  

"Not a problem, Chief." Jim took the small piece of cloth and quickly dried off. Blair felt his body flush with sexual heat as he watched his lover. "Thanks. I really hate being wet."  

"Yeah. It sucks, doesn't it?" Blair gazed down at the young man dispassionately. "You know something, Jim? There's nothing quite as uncomfortable as wet clothes that dry on you. They never seem to get really dry, know what I mean? Geez, I'd hate to have to spend the night out here in damp clothes." A massive shudder ripped through the kid's frame. Blair turned back to his lover. "How is Steve?"  

"He's still alive. I've got to go back and see if I can even the odds a little more. I need you to stay here and watch these clowns, Chief."  

"I understand. I don't like it, Jim, but I understand. I won't tell you to be careful; I know you will be. But…"  

"But, Chief?"  

Blair went into his arms and kissed him. "But… be careful!"  

Jim gave a soft huff of laughter. "You bet your ass I'll be careful!" He buried his hands in his lover's thick curls and returned the kiss.  

The feel of those fingertips flexing on his scalp soothed Blair even as it aroused him. Jim's lips brushed back and forth over the younger man's lush mouth in feather-light movements, and he swallowed his sighs. He deepened the caress, licking the smooth tissue of Blair's inner cheek and the ridged tissue of his palate.  

The tiny, needy whimpers Blair made were muffled by the tongue that was ravaging his mouth. He finally forced himself to turn his head away, breaking the kiss. "We… we have a … an audience, Jim," he panted, but he made no move to separate their bodies.  

"Fuck. You're right." Jim's forehead rested against his lover's. "And I have to go."  

"I know. Just you make sure you watch your ass, okay, tough guy? It's a very fine ass, and I've grown really fond of it!"  

"All right, babe." Jim released his hold on Blair's hair and curled his fists in the opening of the jacket that his lover was wearing. He yanked him close. "When this is over, Chief…"  

"Yes!" Blair moaned in soft agreement.  

Jim ran the edges of his teeth over the curve of Blair's throat, nipping his adam's apple. The dark stubble of Blair's incipient beard tantalized Jim's lips. The satisfied sound he made was very like the rumble of a jungle cat. "Mine!"  

Blair raised his arms from Jim's shoulders, threading his fingers in Jim's close-cropped hair and letting the short strands slide through them. He didn't have hyper-acute senses, but when it came to touching Jim Ellison, he didn't need a sentinel-enhanced sense of touch. Blair shivered and pressed against him from thigh to chest, and brought their mouths close together. "And mine!"  

Jim twined his fingers with his lover's and removed Blair's arms from around him. He pressed quick kisses into the palm of each hand and released them, then picked up the semi-automatic and made sure it had a full clip of ammunition.  

Their captives were staring at them, one with an expression  of confusion, and the other of … wistfulness?  

"Now, don't you two give Señor Sandburg a hard time. You have no idea what walks these ruins at night. He's not here to guard you; he's here to protect you!"  

"I wish I never meet Manuel Artega!" the one whimpered to the other, who nodded morosely.  

"Si."  

Jim heard their whispers. Maybe if they got out of this alive, things would change for them. Maybe not. He had more important things to worry about.  

"Chaymi kutimusaq, Blair." //I will always come back to you.// He disappeared into the growing gloom of the night.  

//And I will always be waiting.//  

****  

The two budding badmen were huddled together in a corner of the ruins. "Él está loco, Jesus. I think maybe we are dead men, amigo."  

Sound carried in the quiet night, and even without hyper-active senses, Blair could understand what they were saying. He started a small fire and began singing softly, "'You better watch out, you better not cry, you better not pout, I'm telling you why: Santa Claus is comin' to town.' We're missing Christmas because of you two assholes, you know that?"  His prisoners watched him with wary eyes. Blair rose abruptly, gazing across the campfire to the edge of the ruins. "Incacha," he called. "Welcome!"  

The young men shivered in terror as the Chopec shaman seemed to coalesce out of the darkness. "Where is Enqueri?" he asked in Quechua.  

"He has gone to see how his brother fares," Blair answered in the same language.  

The shaman rested his hand on the younger man's shoulder. "I will leave two of my men with you. The rest will make sure no harm comes to the Sentinel of the Great City ."  

"Thank you, Incacha."  

As quickly as he appeared, the shaman vanished. In his place stood two Chopecs, their faces marked with their own personal war symbols in red and black. "It is our privilege to serve Enqueri's shaman," the taller murmured.  

"You honor me with your help," Blair responded formally.  

"What… what did the indio say?" the one Blair had patched up demanded.  

The Chopecs stared at him stoically, fingering the knives at their hips. Blair knew that to be called an indio in Peru was an insult of the highest magnitude. He gazed at them pensively. "He asked if they were going to be allowed to eat you. I told them they couldn't."  

"Gracias, señor! Gracias!" The second one was almost weeping in relief.  

"Not yet."  

And they moaned in despair.  

****  

It was a few hours past full dark when Jim arrived back at the place of ruins with the third hostage, who hung limply over his shoulder. He dropped him next to the other two, and the second inched close to his friend and moaned, "Juan. Mi amigo! Are you dead?"  

"He'll sleep it off; in a few hours he'll wake up with a headache that will make him wish he was dead." Jim's grin was hard. He turned toward his lover. "The Chopecs have this decoction they prepare for when they go hunting… two-legged prey. They dip the tips of their arrows in it, and when their target has been struck, they go down like a ton of bricks, unconscious, but alive. I left an iguana wrapped up in his blanket." Jim laughed softly. "Only that iguana isn't going to wake up happy. There's something about having a dart jabbed in their ass that pisses the hell out of them!"  

That surprised a choke of laughter from Blair. "I don't blame him.  I'd be majorly pissed if someone shot me in the ass. You're really evil, Jim."  

"But you love me anyway."  

"Well, yeah! You had to be a rocket scientist to figure that out? Now what?"  

"Now we wait until daylight. They'll follow the trail I left, and hopefully I'll get a chance to get Steve away from them. Meanwhile, we'd better get some rest. The Chopecs are keeping an eye on them. They'll let us know if Escobedo and his men break camp sooner than I'm anticipating they will."  

"I've got an MRE for you, Jim." Blair reached into his backpack and handed his lover the package that contained a complete freeze-dried meal.  

"I thought you just had your camera in there, Chief." He thought about it. "You had the towel in there, too."  

"You never can tell what might come up when you're out in the field. You definitely learn to be prepared."  

Jim opened the package and took out the can. "Feels like I'm back in the Rangers."  

There was a small kettle sitting in the fire. Blair picked it up and brought it to where his lover was sitting. He added the boiling water. "And voila! Instant beef stew."  

Jim stirred the contents of the can with a fork that had been included in the package and took a bite. He chewed thoughtfully for a few minutes, then swallowed. "Water, Chief?"  

Blair handed him a canteen. "Is something wrong, Jim?"  

His lover swallowed and cleared his throat. "I just remembered why I was so happy when I left the service. Amo! Why don't you and Ali have this?"  

The two Chopecs sampled the food cautiously. Huge smiles wreathed their faces, and they began to eat with gusto.  

"No accounting for taste, Chief. Let's go to bed."  

"Here, Jim." Blair handed him a pair of sweatpants. He'd already placed the clothes they would be wearing in the morning at the bottom of the sleeping bag, where they would not only be handy, but would also have absorbed their body heat.  

"You had sweats in that backpack also, Chief?"  

"Yep. It pays to hope for the best, but be prepared for the worst."  

"I like a man whose plans cover all contingencies."  

"I thought you would." Blair skinned out of his jeans and pulled the sweats over his legs. "It's too uncomfortable sleeping in what we wore during the day. Sleeping in clothes you sweated through is almost as bad as sleeping in the clothes you wore when you jumped in the river."  

"Chief, you never cease to amaze me."  

"Then my work is done."  

Jim swatted Blair's seat. "Get into the sleeping bag. I'm freezing my ass off standing around gabbing like this."  

"Your wish is my command, oh mighty Sentinel!"  

"Smart ass!"  

Blair snickered at that. "But you love me anyway." He parroted the words back to Jim and hurried to climb into the joined sleeping bags, shivering, goosebumps raising the flesh of his torso. And then Jim was there. "My own personal furnace," Blair sighed in pleasurable relief as his lover spooned up behind him and blanketed him with his warmth. "Damn. I think I'm too wired to fall asleep. Hey! You don't have your sweats on!"  

"Hold still and don't move, Chief. And don't make a sound."  

"Huh?" Before Blair could roll over and ask Jim what was up, he pushed Blair's sweats down off his hips, taking his boxers with them. "Ohhh!" The wiry curls that covered Jim's groin lightly abraded Blair's buttocks.  

"I'll warm you up in no time." A large, calloused palm stroked Blair's flaccid cock, which wasn't flaccid for long. Jim lightly ran his fingernails along the hardening length, teased the flared head, and probed the slit at the crown. He gathered up a drop of pre come on his forefinger and raised his hand to Blair's mouth. Tracing his lover's lips, Jim gave an almost silent hum of approval as the younger man touched the tip of his tongue to the offered finger, then drew it into the moist cavern of his mouth.  

Jim struggled to prevent a groan of pleasure at the delicate licks that seemed to connect  the nerve endings in his fingertip directly to his cock. "I never thought of my fingers as an erogenous zone!"  

He edged his other hand between Blair's waist and the ground sheet, and again captured his lover's cock while his own slid between Blair's thighs, nudging his balls. Jim slowly removed his forefinger from Blair's mouth, but before the younger man could bemoan the loss, two fingers slid in, leisurely pushing forward to caress his tongue. The movement of Jim's fingers in Blair's mouth mimicked that of their lower bodies. Blair whimpered and began sucking on them voraciously.  

Jim's cock was also oozing pre come, and he used it to lubricate the two hardened shafts, jerking them off together. Blair was making needy sounds around the fingers that were fucking his mouth, and it was driving Jim crazy.  

"No, Chief. Just feel." He kept his voice low. His body forced Blair's to remain motionless as he rocked in the vee of his thighs. "Feel my hand around your cock. Feel my cock between your legs, against your balls. I want to make this last, Chief," Jim muttered in his lover's ear, tracing the shell and biting down on the lobe.  

 Blair yanked Jim's fingers out of his mouth. "And I want you in my body. Neither of us is gonna get what he wants tonight!" he panted hoarsely. "Kiss me!"   

As Jim brought their mouths together for hungry, frantic kisses, Blair reached down to link their fingers. Jim prevented him from moving his lower body, but Blair was able to move their hands. He hurried the strokes, radiating his desperate need to bring them both to orgasm.  

"No! Chief!" Jim gasped as Blair poured blood-hot semen into their hands, sending Jim over the edge as well. He muffled his groan in his lover's hair, shaking in the aftermath of their passion. "I wanted to make this last…"  

"'S all right, Jim. Needed it fast." Blair's words were slurred with satisfaction. "Think I can sleep now."  

Jim used his shorts to dry them both off, then pulled up Blair's sweatpants. By the time he had his own sweats on, his lover was sound asleep. "I think I can, too, babe."  

****  

Moi, one of the Chopecs who was keeping watch over Escobedo and his men, slipped into the camp in the ruins, quietly waking the Sentinel. "Enqueri, Incacha says you must come at once."  

Jim unwound himself from Blair, who mumbled and batted at his shoulder, searching for the living blanket that had kept him warm. He dressed, then placed the edge of the bedroll in Blair's hand, smiling softly as his lover brought the material over his ears. He covered the lower part of his face with it, inhaled deeply, and relaxed back into sleep.  

On quiet feet, the two men made their way down from the mesa and through the rainforest. They found Incacha and his men about fifty yards from the drug lord's camp.  

The Chopec shaman appeared to be in a trance. Consulting with one's spirit guide could take minutes, hours or even days. Jim settled himself in to wait as patiently as he could. Abruptly, Incacha's eyes focused. "These are indeed evil men, Enqueri, even more than you are aware. The spirit world has decreed that their crimes have been great. Mother Earth shudders to carry them in her bosom. They must be punished."  

Jim bowed his head in agreement. "I must get my brother away from them."  

Incacha rose gracefully to his feet. "We will help you in every way that we can." He studied the Sentinel's blue eyes. "Perhaps… bats, Enqueri?"  

The corner of Jim's mouth curved in a grin. "Bats, Incacha."  

****  

Of all the species of the order of Cheroptera in South America , three of them were Desmondontidae. With a wingspan of about eight inches, and a body the size of an adult man's thumb, they were otherwise known as vampire bats.  

Steven Ellison sat huddled in the worn blanket one of the younger of the bad men had given him before he'd vanished. It barely kept out the night chill, and from time to time a shiver would ripple through him. He had tried standing and stamping his feet, but one glance from the flat, deadly eyes of the segundo who kept watch, and he decided it might be better to chance the possibility of freezing rather than the certainty of being shot. He observed the sleeping camp in an effort to distract himself from his discomfort.  

Pedro was wrapped in his own blanket. Occasionally, an almost soundless whimper would pass his lips, and he would shudder, no doubt remembering the creature that looked like something from a cheap horror movie.  

Carlos, who was his amigo, was close beside him. Whenever the other man would whimper, he would rest his hand on Pedro's shoulder, in a surprising gesture of comfort.  

Only this time… "Oww! Carlos, why for you pinch my shoulder?"  

"Huh? What, amigo?" Carlos blinked the sleep out of his eyes. "I no pinch you." Pedro struck at him with his hat. "Hey!"  

"If you no pinch me, then you stick me with your knife! And I think you my friend!"  

The flickering light of the campfire revealed what was happening. Carlos shook off the mist of sleep and focused on the form of his friend, and his eyes widened in horror. "Ai! Pedro! Basta! What is that on you?"  

A fair-sized bat clung to his shirt, lapping fastidiously at the wound it had made through a tear in his shirt. Pedro screamed. "Get it off me! Get it off!" His shrill cries woke the others, and once again the camp was in turmoil.  

Carlos grabbed the skillet and swung at the bat.  

Steven imagined the creature, which could tell location through high-frequency sound waves, felt danger in the flow of the air cresting toward it, and decided to remove itself from the scene of such violence.  

The skillet hit Pedro, causing him to screech even louder. "You son of a bitch! You hit me!" He launched himself at Carlos, and the two tumbled into the campfire, scattering the burning kindling.  

Steven stared at them. He heard the soft rustle of wings, but didn't connect it with the fracas that was unfolding before his eyes. All of a sudden, a tidal wave of bats cascaded onto the camp, whether to avenge their mate or join in the feast, Steven had no time to puzzle out. A hard hand landed over his mouth, and another seized his shoulder, and he was dragged into the underbrush.  

Furious curses from Miguel alerted the rest of the camp as to what was happening with their former hostage. The segundo yanked out his pistol and began firing, at the vampire bats, at where Steven had been, at the night in general.  

The bats fled before the volley of bullets, and silence once more reigned in the camp. Manuel approached the furious man cautiously. "Amigo, is not important. We know where this 'Crocodile' Ellison is hiding from us. Is almost dawn, now. We will break our fast. Before noon we will have found him and his amor. We have a good time, then, amigo, no?"  

"Manuel," the big man growled, "this is the second time you make me look bad before el jefe. If we do not find those men, I will kill you myself, and before I am done with you, you will curse your madre for ever giving you life."  

"Sure, amigo. Whatever you say." Manuel licked parched lips and glowered at his two remaining  men. "Fix the fire and get breakfast, hombres. ¡Rápidamente!"  

"Si, boss." The two men exchanged glances. "Si."  

****  

Steven struggled against the painful grip that was hauling him away from the camp of the drug lord, then found himself upended over a hard shoulder. A soft voice whispered, "Take it easy, Stevie. We have to get away from here pronto!"  

"Jim?"  

"Who else, little bro? Now keep quiet. The Chopecs are guarding our trail, but I need all my breath to get you away." There was something in his brother's voice that he'd never heard before.  

"Are you all right, Jim?"  

"Yeah. He just winged me. Good thing Miguel was too distracted by the bats to take careful aim." He ran, following a path in the underbrush that only a sentinel would have been able to see.  

"Winged you? Goddamn it, you've been shot? Put me down! I can run. I'm in training for the Los Angeles Marathon; I won't slow you down!"  

"Running through a rainforest almost a mile above sea level isn't the same thing, Steve. All right, but if you start lagging behind I'm going to whup your ass." As Steven was getting his balance, he suddenly noticed the semi-automatic rifle his brother was carrying, and his mouth went dry. "Now shut up and run. We need to get as far away from those bastards as we can, as fast as we can."  

By the time he finally thought they were at a safe enough distance from the badmen, the sky was just beginning to lighten. "Okay, we can take a break here, Steve."  

Steven thought he was going to pass out from his exertions. He bent, his palms on his knees, puffing and struggling to regain his breath. "Jesus, you… you weren't kidding about… about that altitude, were you?"  

Jim was breathing hard as well, although nowhere near as hard as his brother. "I never kid about something as serious as that, Stevie."  

The younger man straightened and swiped at his face with his sleeve. "What the…? Jim, how bad were you hit? I've got blood all over my sleeve!"  

"It's nothing, I told you. It's already stopped. Listen, I have to go back and help the Chopecs. Keep heading north for about two miles. Doesn't sound far, but…"  

"I got it, Jim. At this altitude, and in this rainforest… Yeah, I got it."  

"Okay. Like I said, keep heading north. You'll come to a mesa with ruins at the top. Start climbing. That's where Blair is. Stay with him until I come to get you."  

"Let me help you, Jim. Give me a gun!"  

"I don't have a spare, Steve."  

"Then let me get some fucking rocks! You know I was the star pitcher on my high school baseball team. I can bean them with my knuckle ball!"

"No. I need you to stay out of the way."  

"Jesus, Jim! Is this the way you treat the kid? Making him stay back while you go into danger? How the fuck does he stand you?" His brother turned to stare at him in shock, his face pale. "Oh, fuck, Jim, I'm sorry…"  

Jim chewed on his lower lip. "Listen, Steve. When I go back there, I'll be aiming at anything that moves, shooting to kill." For the first time, Steven appreciated the training his older brother must have had to undergo to become a member of an elite Black Ops team. "The Chopecs know this land; they're one with it. I won't have to worry about hitting one of them by accident."  

"I understand, Jim. I do. And I was out of line. You'd never be able to live with yourself if you hurt Blair. Or your boneheaded brother." Steven hugged him. "I love you, big bro," he whispered against Jim's neck, and Jim's arms tightened around him. Then he stepped back. He was relieved to see the wound on his brother's upper arm really had stopped bleeding. "Go get 'em, slugger. I'll find Blair and tell him you've got everything under control."  

"Uh, Steve? North is that way." Jim chuckled as he pointed him in the correct direction. "I love you, too, little bro."  

"Huh?" But Jim was gone. Steven began to walk north.  

****  

"Tayta Blair! Tayta Blair!"  

"What? Amo? What is it?" Awakened from a sound sleep, Blair shot up in his bedroll, his gaze wild-eyed as he studied the occupants of the camp. The place of ruins was even higher above sea level than Machu Picchu , and threads of cloud hovered knee-high, waist-high, eye-high, obscuring visibility and muffling sound.  

"Someone is coming this way. We have gagged those foolish boys to make sure they do not give us away."  

"Damn!" Blair scrambled into his clothes, trying to expose as little of his body to the early morning chill as he could, then got out of the sleeping bag. " Where's Jim?"  

"Who? Jim?" Suddenly the Chopec seemed to have difficulty understanding Blair, although previously there hadn't been a problem. "What? Oh, you mean Enqueri? He is here somewhere, I think." He waved his hands around vaguely. "Ali, where is Enqueri?"  

The other Chopec had been gazing off into the distance, and he started and tried to appear as if he had no idea what was passing between the two men. "Eh?" 

Amo gave a sickly smile. "Perhaps Enqueri goes to answer the call of Nature?"  

Before Blair could respond to that, he heard the click and rattle of stones that formed the terraces rolling down the incline, followed by muted swearing. It was impossible to tell who was coming or how many there were.  

"Take cover!" he whispered sharply, waving them back behind the ruined walls. He dove for his backpack and hastily pulled various pieces of metal and wood from it. His movements quick and competent, he put together the real reason he wanted that backpack with him: a compact, custom-made rifle that was accurate to within five hundred yards.  

Within minutes the rifle was assembled. Blair slapped in the clip of ammunition, and he was ready to rock and roll. The stock rested comfortably against his shoulder, the weight of the barrel steadied by the boulder Blair crouched behind. He held his breath and waited.  

"Goddamn fucking noble son of a bitch! 'I need you out of the way, Steve.' 'I don't have a spare gun, Steve.' Well, I've been walking for hours, Jim, and now I'm fucking lost!" The grumbles reached Blair, and he choked on a laugh.  

"Steve? Steve Ellison?"  

"What… Is that you, Sandburg? Where the fuck are you? I can't see anything!"  

"Amo! It is the brother of Enqueri. Fetch him, please, before he falls off the mountain."  

The Chopec grinned and hastened forward.  

"And then you will explain to me where Enqueri has gone!"  

****  

Blair tossed his lover's brother a freeze-dried breakfast. "Eat that while I make some coffee. And bring me up to date. How did you get away?"  

Steven opened the package, this one automatically heating when the seal was broken. He sniffed. "Pancakes and sausages? All right!" He smeared a pat of partially hydrogenated butter substitute over the pancakes, then tore open a packet of syrup and squirted it on them. "Ah. Just like mother used to make."  

"If mother was on K-P duty in the army!" Blair grinned. "You're practically inhaling that!"  

"Hey, don't knock it, this is pretty good!"  

"Didn’t the baddies feed you?"  

"I never developed a taste for rata."

"Excuse me?"  

"Well, they called it something else, but I know a rat when I see one, and this was one fucking huge rat!"  

"Must have been an agouti. They're really quite good, Steve. They taste a little like…"  

"If you tell me they taste like chicken, I'll hurt you, Sandburg!"  

Blair laughed, poured out two tin mugs of coffee and handed one to Steve. "There should be creamer and sugar in that package, also."  

"Yeah, there's even a couple of sheets of toilet paper! Thanks, baby bro." The older man began talking around a mouthful of breakfast, and he missed the look of stunned joy that crossed Blair's face. "… So after the bats attacked the camp, Jim grabbed me and got me the hell out of there. Good thing, too. That big one, Miguel, started shooting like a madman!"  

"Shooting? Jesus, Steve, there's blood on your shirt! I didn't see… Oh, my god, how bad are you hurt?"  

"No. It's okay. It's not mine. It's Jim's. He was just…"  

The younger man was on his feet, glowering at him. He scooped up his rifle. "Jim was shot, and you let him go back there?"  

"Blair, I'm trying to tell you… "  

"What kind of brother are you, Steve?"  

"… it was just a flesh wound. It nicked his shoulder, but he's okay. Blair, wait! He said to stay here!"  

"No. Those men aren't playing games. They're fucking serious! They've already killed at least two men, and they won't blink an eye at killing one more! Amo, Ali, keep watch over those three. If I don't come back," his eyes were blue chips of ice, "kill them." He ignored the frightened pleas, and started down off the mesa.  

"Wait a second, will you? I'm coming too!" Steven grabbed up a fistful of stones and shoved them into his pockets. "Um, not to be snarky, or anything, but how do you plan on tracking my brother? I had the world's worst time getting here from where he left me."  

Blair was already a number of yards ahead of him, and increasing the distance between them. He called back over his shoulder, "Simple, Ellison. I'll just follow the path that you made!"  

****  

On the trek to the drug lord's camp, Steven quickly came to appreciate Blair's abilities as he moved silently through the underbrush.  

"That's the South American version of cat-brier, the wait-a-minute vine, Steve." The vine was growing horizontally between some bushes. "We'll go around it. Watch out for the thorns. If you get hooked, it will take some time to free yourself."  

Steven walked into the second patch of them before Blair could warn him. "Ah, fuck. Blair, wait a minute, I'm…" He started to laugh. "I see why they got that name."  

"Yeah. Hold still, I'll cut you free." Blair laid his rifle down and pulled a knife from one of the pockets of his cargo pants.  

"You really did come here prepared."  

"Absolutely! What'd you think,  I was just another pretty face?"  

"You know something, Sandburg? If I could find a girl with your looks and your brains, I'd…"  

"Yeah, you said. You'd marry her in a minute."  

"Well, actually, I'd rather boff her brains out!" His smile was angelic. "Are you sure you don't have a sister?"  

"Sorry, Ellison, I'm an only child! Come on, let's get going. Oh, and watch out for that patch of green over there."  

"The one with the white flowers in the center? How come?"  

"Quicksand."  

"Shit." Steven swallowed and made sure he gave the spot a wide berth.  

When they finally arrived at the empty camp, Blair studied the scuffed ground. Steven stayed out of the way, intrigued as his brother's lover cast about in widening circles.  

Blair gave a grunt of satisfaction. "Look at this, Steve. That's Jim track. He had to get those boots resoled a couple of weeks before all this shit started. And see these prints here? Boots, sandals, and overlaying them, bare feet. The bad guys are following him, and the Chopecs are following them. This way!"  

Steven was right behind Blair as he kept the sun ahead of him. Finally they reached a grassy stretch of land that was almost prairie-like.  

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" Blair was examining the ground. " Houston , we have a problem!"  

"What is it?"  

"There are only the bootprints here. Somewhere the sandals split off. How the fuck did I miss that?" He began to curse himself for his carelessness.  

"Blair. Blair. BLAIR!" The fierce whisper sought his attention.  

The younger man wheeled around with a savage growl, prepared to tear a strip off Steven's hide, but Steven wasn't looking at him. Blair followed his gaze, and felt his insides turn to slush.  

Somehow, Rico Escobedo had gotten the drop on Jim. The Sentinel was standing with his arms raised above his head while the drug lord had him in the sites of Jim's rifle. A sudden hush fell over the rainforest.  

"Steve! There's something…"  

But the sound of the rifle being cocked halted Blair in the middle of whatever he'd been about to say. It jolted Steven out of his temporary state of shock, and he let out a howl of anger. He pulled a golfball-sized rock from his pocked and hurled it with such accuracy that even at that distance he was able to hit Escobedo in the head. The man fell to the ground, unconscious or dead, they had no way of knowing.   

Steven's savage exclamation of satisfaction changed to a cry of horror; the segundo rose from his hiding place and fired at Jim, hitting him in the head and causing him to collapse at Escobedo's feet.  

****  

The Colombians didn't realize they were being followed. They didn't even realize when Manuel's two men trailed further and further behind, and when Manuel himself disappeared. They were too concentrated on finding and capturing the Americano, Jim Ellison. Once they were done with him, they would go looking for his playmate, Blair Sandburg, and deal with him as well.  

Ubarry and Escobedo had split up in an attempt to catch the Americano between them in a pincer-like maneuver. The segundo had lost sight of Escobedo for a short while, and he started to grow concerned. He searched the landscape diligently until abruptly two men came into view. The drug lord appeared taller than the man he held captive, but Ubarry dismissed it as the angle of the land. He grinned with savage pride; el jefe had managed to make the foolish gringo his prisoner.  

Escobedo raised his rifle. Ubarry wasn't close enough to hear what passed between them, but he had no doubt the drug lord was gloating over his conquest. He was so focused on the scenario before him that he didn't know others had come upon the scene, and he didn't see the man who hurled the rock that knocked Rico Escobedo unconscious.  

Ubarry swore viciously. He would not let the gringo get the upper hand again. Jim Ellison stood staring down at the body, too stupid to even reach for the rifle, and Ubarry seized his opportunity and shot him between the eyes. The back of Ellison's head exploded outward, and he dropped to the ground like a puppet whose strings had been cut.  

The birds squawked in protest of the alien sound. Agoutis and coati mundis squeaked and fled. The predators snarled and coughed in warning to the newest  threat to their territory.  

Ubarry grinned tightly. Before he could approach his jefe to see how badly the rock had injured him, a scream of rage reverberated through the rainforest. There was the sound of another rifle being cocked, and then the shooting started.  

****  

An ululation of such fury and despair arose that the creatures of  the rainforest were stunned into silence. Blair began to fire at Miguel Ubarry, methodically, mechanically, as if he was at a target range, over and over, his breath hitching and catching as he refused to let his tears fall.  

The first bullet tore through Ubarry's upper body, spinning him to face the menace he had not realized was there. Another bullet gouged a deep, bloody path through his scalp, taking with it most of his ear. The third bullet struck his ribs, shattering them and causing them to puncture his lungs. The fourth fractured his shoulder. The fifth broke his hip. The sixth was a gut shot, and that wound alone would eventually have killed the Colombian, but still Blair continued to fire. Pausing only to reload, he matter-of-factly resumed his systematic destruction of the man who had murdered his lover, and the body bounced and jittered as bullet after bullet tore into it.  

Only after he had fired the last bullet from the last clip did Blair let the rifle sag and then fall to the ground. He dropped his head in his hands and wept. Steven approached him cautiously and touched his shoulder. "Blair?"  

The younger man straightened and gazed across the pampas-like area. "You know, Steve, if this was Shakespeare, I'd kill myself now, and then Jim would turn up alive." Sniffing hard, Blair dried his tears on his sleeve. "Escobedo. I want to see his body. I want to see him dead. If he isn't … " He withdrew the switchblade that he had used to free Steven from the wait-a-minute vines and ran his thumb over the blade, testing its sharpness. His mouth was tight. He turned to stalk across the clearing, but suddenly found himself confronted by the Chopec shaman.  

"Guide of Enqueri…"  

"Shaman." Blair's voice was hard and cold. "You promised me no harm would befall my Sentinel! Is this how you keep your promises? Is this what you call no harm?"  

The shaman shook his head. "Enqueri had matters well under control, until his brother saw fit to interfere and hit him with a rock."  

"'Hit him?' What are you talking about? Steve hit Escobedo!"  

"No. Enqueri exchanged clothes with Escobedo so he could flush out the segundo. His plan was working until you arrived. Did he not tell you to remain at the place of ruins?"  

Instead of answering, Blair rapidly translated the gist of the conversation to his lover's brother, adding, "I thought there was something odd about it, something about their height in relation to each other, but then you threw that rock."  

"Fucking hell!" Steven was ashen. "Do you know what my knuckle ball was clocked at? I could throw that sucker at eighty miles an hour! I could have killed him!"  

Incacha smiled and pointed. 

"You didn't, Steve! Oh, thank god, you didn't!" Blair took off at a run across the open space to where the man dressed in the drug lord's clothes was staggering to his feet. "Jim!"  

"Chief?" The Sentinel probed the side of his head and flinched, but a half-smile crooked the corner of his mouth. "This is gonna be one mother of a lump!"  

Blair threw himself into his lover's arms, trying to burrow into his skin. He shivered in reaction to the knowledge that his Sentinel hadn't been killed. "You're alive! You're alive!" He tucked his head under Jim's chin and held on.  

"Yeah, baby, I am. And I'm gonna have a bitch of a headache."  

"That's the least you deserve, you macho schmuck!" Blair pulled back and cuffed his lover's shoulder. "I could have helped you, Jim! You didn't even give me that chance!"  

"All right, Chief, I promise. Next time…"  

"Oh, no! No next time! Do you realize what it nearly did to me when I thought I'd lost you?"  

"You'll never lose me, babe. I'll be eighty years old and needing a hearing aid and eyeglasses, and you'll still be stuck with me." Jim bumped his shoulder against his lover's. Blair looked up at him, and the other man caught his breath at the expression in his eyes.  

As if he didn't realize what he had revealed, Blair murmured, "That sounds good to me." He gazed around. The Chopecs were disposing of the bodies. "Do you think anyone's going to be interested enough to question the disappearance of those two bastards?"  

"I doubt it, but if they do, the Feds can handle it. They live for that kind of shit."  

Steven wandered over to join them. "What happened to the men who wore the sandals? I thought Blair was going to have a heart attack when he realized they weren’t with our two favorite bad guys."  

Jim shrugged. "The jungle is an unforgiving place, Steve. If they do make it out of here alive, I imagine they won't be in very good shape. Do you really care?"  

"Hell, no! I just want to make sure we don't have to come back here to tie up any loose ends!" Steven began to empty his pockets of the rest of the rocks.  

"All this adrenaline in my system, Jim. I feel like I've been on a rollercoaster." Blair's voice was so low only the sentinel could hear his words, although Incacha was watching him with a smile. "Can you smell how much I want you?" Blair tried to keep his breathing even, not wanting to reveal to the others the sexual heat that was pouring through him. "Can you?"  

"Oh, yeah, Chief. Makes me… hot." Jim ran his eyes over his lover's body, and Blair found he was the one who felt scorched. "What do you say we go back to the place of ruins and pick up our backpacks?" Jim angled his body so no one could see the arousal his lover's words had caused, or the hand palming his lover's ass. Blair leaned into the caress. "Steve, we'll meet you at Machu Picchu , okay?"  

"Well, I… I kinda thought I'd come along with you guys." The Chopec shaman was suddenly beside Steven, speaking earnestly in Quechua. "Jim, what did he say?"  

"He said, 'Brother of Enqueri. We will take you to the city of the clouds so you will not get lost.' Seems like your reputation has preceded you, little bro. We'll see you there in a couple of days, Steve!"  

Steven stared wistfully after the two men as they strode away, then turned to Incacha and smiled. "Let's go, Shaman," he said, even though he knew Incacha wouldn't be able to understand him. "Maybe I can track down that woman with the beautiful brown eyes while I'm waiting for them to show up."  

****  

Once Blair was certain they were out of sight in the thick brush of the rainforest, he crowded his lover against the trunk of a palm tree, pulling his head down. "I've got to have you inside me, Jim!" He took his lover's mouth in a ravenous kiss.  

"No lube, Chief," Jim groaned, even as he drove his erection into the notch of the younger man's thighs. Blair laughed and reached into one of the numerous pockets of his cargo pants. This time he came up with a tube of aloe vera, and Jim joined his laughter. "You really do believe in being prepared!"  

"Yeah. It won't be as good as Wet or Glide, but it will get you inside me." Blair switched their positions, so the tree would be at his back, supporting him. He undid his pants and shoved them down his legs. "No time for finesse, Jim," he panted. His fingers fumbled with the fastening at his lover's waist. While he was unzipping him, Jim squirted some of the lotion onto his fingers, found the puckered opening of his lover's body, and slid two fingers in. Blair accepted them easily, moaning for more.  

Jim withdrew his fingers to coat his oozing cock, and his lover whined at the loss. "Easy, Chief. I'm gonna give you what you want, what we both want." Jim skimmed his forearms between Blair's thighs, raising him up and parting them, exposing his puckered anus. The flared head of his cock shoved past the tight ring of muscle, and then he was seated deep in Blair's warmth, nudging his prostate.  

Blair had no time to sigh in relief. "Motherfucking, cocksucking… Can't get my legs around you, Jim!" he gasped. Awkwardly he reached for a bootlace, desperate to get at least one boot off so he could free a pant leg and lock his ankles behind Jim's back. Each time he moved, the cock inside him moved, sliding, burning, measuring its length in his channel.  

"I'm not gonna last, babe!" Jim's hands were braced on the tree trunk. "Touch yourself!"  

Blair finally got his right leg free and was able to wrap his legs around his lover's hips. He reached for his own cock, using the pre come to lubricate the strokes he knew would bring him off the quickest. He could feel Jim's eyes on him, watching his fingers move over his hard flesh, and that drove him higher. "Almost there!" His other hand curled around Jim's neck, brought his lover's lips down to his, and they bit and licked and sucked at each other's mouths, their groans a chorus of lust.  

After that, it didn't take long. Blair shuddered as Jim's cock pulsed scalding ribbons of come deep into his body, and he exploded, splattering himself and his lover with his semen. The harsh rasping of their breaths was the only sound in the quiet jungle.  

Blue eyes stared into blue eyes, and they both shivered as slowly, their bodies came down from the sexual high. Blair languidly licked his palm clean.  

"Let me help you with that, Chief." Jim took his hand and brought it to his mouth. "I love the taste of you on my tongue!"  

The younger man arched his back and clenched inner muscles in an attempt to keep his lover within him. Jim stroked the damp skin of Blair's back, curling his hand over the curve of the younger man's buttocks. His breath caught as Jim explored the crease of ass and thigh, stroking his fingers higher to tease the spot where they were still joined.  

"We have to get going, Chief. The sooner we hit the trail, the sooner we can get back for Naomi's New Year's Eve party."  

Blair winced in spite of the care Jim took to disengage and groaned as he released the death-grip his legs had on his lover, and they dropped to the ground. The movement caused their groins to rub together, and identical hums of replete pleasure slipped from throats slightly hoarse from the moans and gasps and general vocal expressions of a good time being had by all.  

Blair stepped into his pant leg and wriggled his pants back up over his hips, glancing up to see Jim watching his movements with interest. He leaned forward with every intention of nuzzling his lover's throat, and then pulled himself up short. "Later. Dress now, more sex later. Where'd my boot go?" Apparently, his sock and boot had gone missing. "Damn, I don't want to walk back to Machu Picchu barefoot!"  

"Come on, Chief," Jim teased. "You mean to tell me you don't have a spare pair of boots in that backpack at the place of ruins?" Jim held up the sock and let it swing gently in his grip. "I am so disappointed!"  

Blair scowled at him and reached for it, brushing off his sole before putting it on. He studied the ground, searching for the boot, and then his eyes widened and took on an almost manic glitter as he pounced. "Ah hah! Gotcha, you little bugger! How the heck did it wind up all the way over here, under the elephant-ear palm?" He made sure no creepy crawlies had taken up residence in the boot, then put it on and laced it up. "Let's get going. I really want to go home."  

Suddenly serious, Jim's fingers touched his lover's hair, tugging it gently. "I am home, Chief. Didn't you know?" Blair caught his breath at the look in his eyes. "Anywhere you are, that's home."

Epilogue- wherein all the loose ends are tied up.

Sambas, foxtrots, line dances like the Electric Slide, Jim and Blair had been dancing nonstop. Now the orchestra was taking a break.  

"I'm really glad we got to spend New Year's Eve together." Blair shed his tux jacket and loosened his tie before accepting the flute of champagne his lover handed him and taking a swallow.  

"You were right, Chief. As soon as Simon learned Steve was going to be here, he gave me the night off."  

Of course, Naomi had also done a little leaning on the stalwart Captain Banks, but Blair wasn't about to tell Jim that. He just smiled angelically and took another sip of the sparkling wine, then turned to gaze over the ballroom.  

His mother and the big black police captain were just coming in from the balcony, in spite of the cold December air. Naomi was looking mussed, and Captain Banks… Blair sighed. "I'd better get used to calling him 'Simon', Jim. It looks like you were right. Naomi told me that she started seeing him while we were in Peru , and I guess it is serious."  

"Simon knows a good thing when he sees it, Chief." Jim draped his arm around his lover's shoulder, and Blair relaxed against him. "And I can vouch for being involved with a Sandburg."  

"Oh, yeah? It's a good thing, Jim?" Blair shamelessly flirted his lashes at his lover.  

"It's the best." Jim nuzzled the spot under Blair's ear that was guaranteed to turn him to mush. "I'm glad you're wearing the earring I gave you for Christmas." It was an amethyst stud, representing Jim's birth month.  

"Of course." Blair reached up and stroked Jim's cheek, then touched his ear. "And you're wearing the one I gave you." Jim wore an emerald stud, which was Blair's birthstone.  

"Well, it was either reopening that hole or getting my nipple pierced. Having my ear done hurt less."  

"You're so practical. I wish I could have seen you when you were in Vice. I'll bet you were hot, wearing a stud like this one."  

"I wore a hoop, Chief."  

"I still bet you were the hottest thing on the force. Come on, admit it, Sonny Crockett. They all wanted you, didn't they? And not just the bad guys! I'll bet every cop on the force wanted to get in your pants, even those anal jerks from I.A.!"  

"You know something, Chief? One of these days we're going to play vice cop and rentboy, and I'll show you what the phrase 'assume the position' is all about!" Jim dropped a kiss on his mouth. "Come on, let's go join my brother."  

Blair ran his tongue over his lips, trying to taste Jim on them, and discreetly adjusted his dress trousers. It would be a while before they could go home; resolutely he yanked his mind away from images of his lover tossing him up against a wall in the loft, kicking his feet apart and doing a body search, a very thorough body search. He opened his collar button, wondering if the temperature in the room had suddenly risen.  

"I… uh… I can't believe Steve found that woman from Valdez 's." He glanced to where Jim's brother was chatting with Naomi and Simon. At his side was the woman Steven had flirted with in the cantina in Machu Picchu .  

"He's a real Ellison, Chief."  

"Meaning what? Has Steve got hyper-active senses also?"  

"Don't get excited, Richard Burton. I'm the only sentinel you'll be studying." Jim removed his own jacket. "Meaning he gets what he sets his heart on. Just like I do. And as soon as that ball drops, I'm going to let you take me back to the loft and boff my brains out."  

"'Boff,' Jim? Sandburgs do not 'boff'. We make wild, passionate love."  

"Works for me, Chief. As long as it's me you're making that wild, passionate love with."  

Blair linked his arm through Jim's and urged him toward the knot of revelers. "You know I wouldn't want anyone else in my bed."  

"Just as well. I wouldn't let anyone else in your bed." He paused a beat. "Speaking of the loft…"  

Blair sighed. "We weren't, actually." He had hoped to avoid that particular topic of conversation.  

"Chief, Naomi had the whole place repaired and refurnished. That's an awfully extravagant Christmas present. Especially for someone who doesn't usually celebrate Christmas."  

"Jim, please. Let her do this for us? Jess Franklin told me she nearly fainted when she saw what Escobedo had done to the loft. He also told me how badly the apartment had been damaged, which you wouldn't do."  

"Jess Franklin ? Who… Oh, Naomi's pet guard dog? He told you? Should I be jealous?"  

"Asshole." Blair bumped his shoulder against Jim's. "Jess is just a friend. Besides, he's over there on the dance floor with Megan, and it looks to me like she's made a conquest. He never dances! And don't change the subject."  

"I'm not going to win this one, am I, Chief?"  

"Do you really want to?" Blair studied his lover's ice blue eyes intently.  

"I guess not," Jim sighed. "If I insist on Naomi having everything taken back, you'd just go out and replace it and probably wind up spending more than she did."  

"Jim! I'm cut to the quick! You know I've never objected to your style of early Salvation Army!" He caught a glimpse of the expression on his mother's face. "Oh, fuck. I hope your brother isn't telling Naomi about what happened in Peru !"  

"Problem there, Chief?"  

"I … uh… didn't  exactly tell her the whole story."  

"Well, I would hope not."  

"Not that, smart ass!"  

"Oh. Fuck."  

"Yeah, that's about the way I see it!"  

They arrived in time to hear Steven say, "… And the Chopecs found sandal tracks leading up to this patch of grass, but the tracks seemed to stop right there."  

"So those three pieces of… scum just dropped out of sight? And that's it? No one is going to make any effort to find and punish them?"  

"Naomi." Blair had seen Steven shudder. He had warned the older man about that patch of grass. They knew what it now concealed. "I appreciate you wanting to protect me, but it isn't necessary. Trust me on this one."  

Naomi frowned at her son. "They're just lucky they didn't succeed in hurting you, sweetheart. If they had, they would not be able to run far enough or fast enough, there would be nowhere on the face of the Earth for them to hide."  

"Wow." Blair went to his mother and kissed her cheek. "Thank you, Naomi. But Jim would never let anything happen to me." Blair returned to his lover's side and leaned against him.  

"That's the truth, Chief!" Jim toyed with the amethyst stud and winked down at him.  

"I'd like to know what happened to the boys you left tied up in the place of ruins," Steven's date said. "They were kind of young, weren't they? Steve said you ordered them killed if he didn't return. Isn't that rather cold, Mr. Sandburg?"  

"You think?" Blair was irritated. "They were in with a band of men who wanted to hurt me." He waved aside as unimportant that they wanted to do him an injury. "They were willing to get to Jim to do that, and they were willing to use Steve to get to Jim. Those boys were old enough to make that choice. They were old enough to face the consequences."  

She flushed at the implied rebuke. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"  

"I've got a son a little younger than those boys, Blair," Simon interjected. "What happened to them? You obviously didn't kill them."  

"Would you believe they're working for Valdez now, Captain… Simon? Valdez is teaching Estaban how to mix drinks, and the other two, Jesus and Juan, are learning to become tour guides! They'll run the bus from Cuzco up to Machu Picchu . I even wrote a whole spiel for them to give about the Incas and tying the sun at winter solstice to the intihuatana, the holy stone, so it won't totally disappear. See, the conquistadors destroyed all the intihuatanas, but because they never found Machu Picchu … " His lecture was interrupted.  

"Blair! Cupcake!"  

"Damn! Who invited Richard?"  

Naomi was studying the delicate, diamond encrusted watch that adorned her wrist. "Oh, look! It's almost midnight ! Simon, why don't we get our champagne?" She dragged him across the room to the open bar.  

"Meringue!" Steven grabbed his date's hand. "Come on, Nan . This dance has our names on it!"  

"Jim, your brother is a very smart man."  

"Because he knows when to get out of Dodge? I think you're right, Chief." Steven and Nan had joined Joel Taggart and Henri Brown who were already on the dance floor. Jim turned to observe the man Blair had once been involved with hurrying toward them, and his eyes narrowed. "And I think Steve's got the right idea. Let's go!"  

****  

"Didn't Blair hear me calling him? I wanted to talk to him!" Richard Mason muttered to no one in particular. "I really think he'd better have his hearing tested. This is the second time he hasn't heard me!" 

Richard stood alone, sullenly observing his one-time lover and the man he was dancing with now. "I must say I'm surprised to see Blair is still with that Neanderthal. It can't be for much longer." After all, he thought to himself, Blair Sandburg came from money. His mother knew all the best people. He'd had nannies and servants all his life, and he'd gone to the best schools.  

He was probably just going through a rebellious phase. Yes, that had to be the explanation.  

Well, Richard Mason was back in Cascade to stay. He hadn't at all liked being a small fish in the big pond that was New York City 's newspaper world. He'd be here waiting to pick up the pieces when that affair fizzled. He'd graciously allow Blair back into his life.  

And never let it be said that Richard Mason couldn't learn from past mistakes. This time he would see to it that Blair didn't find out about his extra-curricular activities.  

A scowl marred his handsome looks. Jungle Jim was dancing behind Blair, a large hand splayed on the younger man's abdomen, keeping him much too close to Ellison's body. Blair's hands were on his partner's hips, his ass nestled against the bigger man's groin. Richard felt his body tighten in response to the blatant sexuality of their dance, and his scowl deepened.  

A passing waiter paused and offered him a flute of sparkling wine. " Champagne , sir?"  

"Sure, why not." Richard accepted a glass. "Just a second. Might as well enjoy myself." He took another. He downed the first glass and started on the second, his eyes on the couple on the dance floor. "I'm sure the novelty will wear off any time now." He sneezed as the bubbles tickles his nose. "After all, how good can the man be in bed?"  

****  

"'After all, how good can the man be in bed?'"  

"He really said that, Jim?" Blair leaned into his lover's side, panting lightly. A mist of perspiration made his dress shirt cling to his torso.  

"Scout's honor, Chief." Jim's nostrils flared, and he inhaled appreciatively. As always with Blair, under the scent that was uniquely his, there was the hint of arousal. Jim found that to be an extreme turn-on, and he was glad that his dress trousers were cut loosely enough to conceal his erection.  

"Richard always was an asshole. Which doesn't say much for my taste."  

"Hey, you're with me now, babe. I'd say that shows excellent taste!"  

"Yeah. I am with you now." He rubbed his cheek against his lover's shoulder, but a frown creased his forehead. "How are we going to get rid of Richard? He doesn't look like he's getting the idea I'm with you now, and that you're the only one I'll be going home with."  

"You know something, Chief? Words like that will get you soundly kissed!" Jim pulled his lover into his arms and slowly brought their lips together, and then thoroughly mapped the interior of the younger man's mouth. Blair sighed happily and gave himself up to the palpable eroticism of the kiss.  

The room was ringing with whoops when they finally surfaced for air, and Jim was pleased to see that Richard was nowhere in sight. "Guess Mason finally bought a ticket on the clue bus!"  

"Yeah. I'd never let him do anything like that in public. I barely let him hold my hand!"  

"Jesus, Chief, did I embarrass you? Are you okay with what I just did?"  

"Jim, in case you hadn't noticed, I practically seduced you on the dance floor. I'm wonderful with what you just did!"  

Gratified color swept over Jim's cheeks. "So… um… Chief. How… uh… how good am I in bed?"  

Blair grinned up at him. "Couldn't say, hot shot. We've done it in a sleeping bag, in a waterfall, against a tree trunk…"  

"Well, what do you say we blow this popsicle stand and see what we've been missing?" Jim's eyes were on his lover's mouth.  

"You sure you want to use the word 'blow,' Jim?"  

Before Jim could answer, the orchestra leader tapped his microphone, and the feedback had the Sentinel wincing. "Sorry, folks."  

"Dial it down, Jim!" Blair stroked his lover's hair soothingly until he relaxed. Jim caught his hand and turned his face into his palm. The tip of his tongue traced Blair's heart line before he pressed a kiss against it.  

"Ladies and gentlemen, it's almost time."  

Waiters handed out fresh glasses of champagne, and everyone turned to face the orchestra leader as the seconds were counted down. "Five. Four. Three. Two. One"  

A roar of "Happy New Year!" filled the room. Balloons sailed to the vaulted ceiling, confetti rained down to the parquet floor. The orchestra struck up the traditional strains of Auld Lang Syne, and the party goers began to sing, //Should auld acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind…?//  

The two men looked into each other's eyes.  

"Happy New Year, Chief."  

"Happy New Year, Jim. *Now* we can blow this popsicle stand!"  

They picked up their jackets and went home.

~End~

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