Authors: Sara York
Coming To Colorado
Coming to colorado
The fourth book in the Colorado Heart Series
By Sara York
Coming To Colorado Copyright © 2015 Sara York
Cover Art by Sara York ©Copyright 2015
This book is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of Sara York.
Coming to Colorado
Ryan Pruitt stared through the scope mounted on the SV-98 sniper rifle, watching the scene below. He drew in a shallow breath, letting it go just as slowly. Ice flowed through his veins, or that’s what others said about him. But it wasn’t the truth—he felt everything. To the outside world, including the men in his unit, it appeared as though nothing made him hot, nothing ruffled his feathers, nothing threw him out of balance, but this mission had fucked him up, leaving him filled with rage.
This was what he’d spent years training for. Hours and hours had been given in preparation for this type of mission. He just didn’t agree with the way things had gone down. Dissatisfied didn’t even come close to how he felt. But no matter what his thoughts were about this mission, or his commander, he would do this job because that’s what he’d signed on for.
Darkness approached, leaving him a ten-minute window to get the shot off. His mark had abducted fifty women and was holding them prisoner in another section of the city. Normally, the military didn’t step in like this, but this time they had, and he didn’t like it. It wasn’t because he didn’t want the abductees recovered—hell, he wanted them rescued too—but this wasn’t the only wrong the man had committed. Once he died, they’d lose the location of the other places where helpless women and children waited for a fate worse than death. To set them free, they needed the information the mark could provide. But capturing and interrogating wasn’t what Ryan had been told to do. Even though he knew the head of the terror clan had other warehouses full of victims, he’d “Yes, Sir”-ed the appropriate people and was here, on this rooftop, ready to blow the guy away. This bastard, the one he could see through his scope, had arranged for more than one terrorist bombing. The Jerk was high up in the group’s hierarchy. Killing him would solve some problems, just not all of the problems that this freak had created.
The raid on the compound, the one where the women were being held, was set to happen in twelve minutes. If he didn’t kill this guy now, it would fuck up the entire mission—or that’s what his superiors told him. And as a Marine, he always did what his superiors wanted. Ryan thought they should take the bastard captive instead of killing him, but the powers that be with bigger pay grades than he, had spoken. They’d supplied Ryan with a Russian made weapon and ammunition. The rifle and bullets matched what the local terrorist used, thus leaving no trace of American Imperialism.
Ryan saw his mark step out of the front door. He drew in a slow breath, and on the exhale, he shifted his finger slightly, squeezing the trigger. His ear protection kept his hearing from being destroyed as the sound reverberated from the rifle.
“It’s a clean kill,” Ibrahim, his spotter, said as he began helping Ryan pack so they could escape.
They were on the highest building in the area and no one could see them—that was the plan. It would take a while before anyone below figured out where the shot had come from...at least he hoped so. Today wasn’t a good day to die.
With his gear stowed, he and Ibrahim ran to the other side of the building, attaching the carabiners to the harnesses worn under the traditional Middle Eastern robes they both sported. Yesterday, they’d set up the hooks, hoping no one disturbed their work overnight. This morning, before the sun had come up, he and Ibrahim had been on the roof laying out their ropes and preparing for the shot. After fifteen hours up here, he was ready to leave. Ryan made sure his weapon was strapped tightly to his body before climbing over the side of the building and dropping the five stories to the street below. He didn’t slow until he was close to the ground. The rush of falling filled him like he was a kid on a rollercoaster, but this was high stakes, and he could easily end up dead. That’s why the ropes, like everything else left behind, were Russian made. No one would be able to trace the kill back to the Americans unless something went tragically wrong in the next few minutes.
Ibrahim hit the ground a little hard, letting out an oomph of air before straightening. They both unhooked from the lines, Ryan glancing to Ibrahim to make sure he was fine. The man had lived in the USA since birth, and though his parents practiced Islam, he was more interested in other pursuits, like playing cards and chasing women. In other words, the guy was just like ninety-nine percent of the other guys in the military—all talk and bluster, but little action where women were concerned.
Once they were free from their harnesses, they ran through the streets, sticking to the shadows close to the buildings and out of the glow of lights. Luckily, no one was around, and they made it to the waiting car, quickly stowing their gear in the trunk before Ryan hopped into the driver’s seat.
After a few twists and turns to make sure they weren’t followed, Ryan pulled into a parking garage across the city from where they’d completed their mission, stopping the car on the first floor. Ibrahim drew in a slow breath before releasing it.
“I’ll see you around.” Ibrahim stepped out of the car and took off after grabbing his pack.
Ryan grabbed his rifle case and headed to another car, this one on the second floor. It didn’t seem like he was being followed, or that anyone was watching. If they’d been seen, they would have just appeared to be two men driving in a car through town. They weren’t doing anything weird, nothing special, and there was no need to pay any attention to them.
The drive to his extraction location only took an hour. After changing clothes, he crawled into a box and hid in the back of a truck. Though he’d worked with Ibrahim on previous missions, the man wasn’t leaving the region. Ibrahim had connections in the city, ones that would be used later to finish their assault on terrorism.
Less then six hours later, the truck slowed and Ryan woke, his head throbbing and his body aching from being cramped in the box. He needed a change. In six months his time was up unless he reenlisted. After today, continuing on in the military was the last thing he wanted to do. His mind wasn’t made up, but all it would take was one more thing to push him out.
Grant kicked his feet, trying to keep up with Roger as they dove deeper into the sea. The water was clear, the conditions a bit choppy at the surface, but it was a beautiful day down below. The reef was stunning, amazing, beyond anything he’d seen before.
A blue fish with a yellow tail darted in front of his facemask and Grant smiled. This was perfect. They’d spent the last few months traveling from Europe to Africa, and now they were in Australia. Eventually, the vacation would have to end, but for now, everything at the ranch remained calm. Everyone was taking an extended leave, and Craig was still in custody. Duff had turned down jobs because everyone at Wild Bluff needed time to rejuvenate.
Roger slowed and turned, pointing to his left. Grant glanced over, seeing a huge shark headed their way. A school of fish swam by, and the shark followed the sea creatures, leaving them alone. Roger held out his hand, and Grant swam over, taking it. He pointed up, and Roger nodded. Slowly, they rose, making sure not to go faster than their bubbles. They hadn’t dove too deep, but they’d been down for a while, and he was getting tired.
Once Grant’s head breached the surface, he pulled his regulator from his mouth and spit, the salty taste from the ocean still fresh on his tongue. Roger bobbed in the water beside him and wiped his face after removing his mask.
“That was a big one,” Roger said.
“Yeah, let’s head to the boat.”
Their yacht was near, and they were out of the water in five minutes, both of them laughing because Grant had ungracefully rolled to his back after taking off his oxygen tanks, his legs sprawled wide and his arms flung to the side. Roger dropped to the deck beside him, his lips near Grant’s.
“Maybe we should take this below deck?”
“Probably.” Grant pushed at Roger’s shoulder then rolled with him, pressing him to the wet sundeck. “But you know, no one is close by. We have the area to ourselves.”
Roger wiggled out from under Grant and sat up, looking around. He shook his head before turning his molten-hot gaze on Grant.
“Fuck me here,” Roger whispered.
Heat built in Grant’s stomach and spread, his cock going stiff. Roger at the ranch was hot, Roger in action was even hotter, but Roger begging to be fucked on the deck of their boat off the coast of Australia was electrifying.
Grant began working his way out of his wetsuit, hoping Roger realized that his actions were confirmation to the request. He didn’t know if he could actually talk anyway. His brain had short-circuited, and all he wanted was his hot, naked Roger underneath him.
Roger began stripping off the neoprene suit, his hands shaking as he fought with the material. The wetsuit appeared to be winning, and Roger tilted to the side, almost falling as he tugged the suit over his left leg. He reached out to steady Roger but momentum had their number, and they both tumbled to the padded seat before they ended up in the bottom of the boat. Roger threw back his head, laughter spilling from his lips. Grant loved the full-bodied sound of Roger’s merriment. It was refreshing. His heart felt light and his head spun with happiness. Then Roger’s gaze hit his and the laughter died on Grant’s tongue. He needed to possess this man immediately. The urge almost overwhelmed him.
Roger moved to his knees and propped his hands against the bench seats, his legs spread wide. Grant groaned, disappointed that they didn’t have their supplies up here, but lube bottles would get washed overboard or become too hot for use.
“Hold that thought. I’m going to go grab the lube.”
“Hurry back, I wouldn’t want someone else to see me and think they can have me.”
Grant slapped Roger’s ass on his way to the stairs leading down to their cabin. Once on deck again, Grant stared at Roger, taking in the beautiful sight of his lover, legs spread, balls hanging low, dick hard and jutting forward. He really was the luckiest man on the planet. With lube spread over his fingers, Grant didn’t waste time playing nice. He was two fingers deep, searching for Roger’s prostate before he even sank to his knees.
“Fuck! Damn, that’s hot,” Roger growled.
“You like it when I’m rough, don’t you?”
Roger pushed back against his hand and moaned. “Yes.”
“You needy little bottom. You love having me top you.”
Roger glanced over his shoulder, his eyes crinkled at the corners. “And I love topping you, too.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” Grant slid his fingers out of Roger and lined up his dick against Roger’s hole, pressing gently. “Taking you like this, out here on the open ocean, it’s perfect. Really, this is perfect. Being with you means everything.”
Roger groaned and eased back as he relaxed. Grant slid in deeper, loving the familiar heat. Here on this boat, at the ranch, or anywhere else, this was the only man for him. On his third press in, Grant held Roger’s hips, keeping him close. The rocking of the boat lulled him, and he closed his eyes, reveling in the feel of his lover. Grant dipped low, sliding a kiss over Roger’s back, his lips skimming over the man’s salty flesh.
“Thank you,” Grant whispered.
“Loving me. Accepting me. Spending time with me. Thank you for coming with me on this trip. It’s been great.”
Roger rocked his hips, reminding Grant of their connection. Grant chuckled and drew out before slamming forward. Roger grunted, air whooshing out of his lungs. Grant pulled almost all the way out, tilting his hips a little as he pushed back in. Roger groaned, the vibrations going all the way to Grant’s balls. He smiled as he continued to fuck Roger. Eventually, they’d make their way back home, but for now, this man was all he needed.
The boat rocked gently as he continued to slide into Roger. He reached around, grasping Roger’s cock. The moan from his lover raked over his already frazzled nerves.