Title: Anywhere You Are

Author/pseudonym: Tinnean

Fandom: The Sentinel/'Crocodile' Dundee II

Pairing: Jim Ellison/Blair Sandburg

Rating: NC-17

Disclaimer: They belong to Petfly, 'Crocodile' Dundee II belongs to Paul Hogan.

Status: new/complete

Date: well, I started it 12/02, but it looks like it won't be finished until 1/03. Happy New Year, everybody.

Series/Sequel: I did say no, didn't I. ::sigh:: This is the sequel to 'Crocodile' Ellison.

Summary: Eli Stoddard has been killed by Columbian drug lord Rico Fernandez, but not before he sent an incriminating video tape to his former student, Blair Sandburg. Now Blair is in danger, and only his Sentinel can save him.

Warnings: m/m, spoilers for the movie, and do I really need to tell you this is AU?

Notes: This first appeared in The Chapters of The Sentinel. Thanks to Patt for working so hard on the pics for that zine, and to Gail for the encouragement and the great beta.

Anywhere You Are

By Tinnean

Prologue- wherein it all started

Eli Stoddard was almost dancing with excitement. He’d come to the rainforests of Colombia in hopes of chronicling an indigenous tribe of natives who had only recently been discovered, but this… this was beyond anything he could have dreamed of.

The ruins, partly concealed by the jungle’s reclamation of its own, were breathtaking. He had never seen anything like it, not Incan, not Mayan, not even in the awesome cliff dwellings of the Anasazi. Blindly he reached for the mini camcorder Blair Sandburg had given him as an early Christmas/Chanukah gift. He spared a fond thought for his former student.

Blair had been as exuberant as a puppy in his studies, and Stoddard had never taught anyone so responsive, so hungry for knowledge and the experiences that life held in store for him. And oh, that riot of curls, and those deep blue eyes. Eli Stoddard sighed. If Sandburg hadn’t been so young, if he hadn’t been so…

Suffice it to say, the age difference had been too great to allow for anything other than friendship. Not to mention the mentor/student factor.

He sighed again, raised the eye piece of the camcorder to his eye, and steadied it. He concentrated on filming the passageway that led through a narrow corridor, and opened into a surprisingly growth-free clearing. Thoughts of the beautiful young man were wiped away as if they had never been, replaced by stunned awe.

Stoddard stood there, letting the lens pan over the area, recording the play of shadow and light on the vines that hung like veils to shield the crumbling walls of this place, getting the images down on film. There would be plenty of time to move on to the tribe he had come to study.

And then abruptly, brain and eye connected, and he realized what he was filming: a group of men, one on his knees, apparently pleading for his life. Two men held his arms twisted high behind his back, so he was forced to bend forward, while another, much larger, man

stood with a machete gripped in his fist, waiting for the orders to go ahead with the execution. Because that, Eli Stoddard understood with chilling comprehension, was what he was witnessing through the camcorder lens.

A couple of feet away, watching with dispassion, was a dark-complected man, a little under medium height, his black hair slicked back. He gave a sharp nod, the big man with the machete raised it with negligent precision, and the man on his knees cried out as it descended. "Ay, mi madre! No! No!" There was the sickening slice-and-drag sound of metal through flesh, and then the sodden thud of the head hitting the ground and rolling lopsidedly for a foot or so.

"Buen trabajo, amigo. Good work. Rip out his heart, then make sure the body is left where it can be found. Give the heart to our Jivaro friends in payment for shrinking the head."

It paid for an anthropologist to know as many languages as possible. Although Stoddard had never heard that dialect spoken before, he didn't have much trouble translating the words, which were based on Spanish roots.

He backed away as quietly as possible, not bothering to take the time to shut down the camcorder, leaving it in record mode. Things began falling into place. He realized he'd been able to follow the path because of its frequent use, and he castigated himself for his carelessness. The policia had warned him in Cartagena that things were getting out of hand, the various drug lords making noises of a cartel war.

For a middle aged man, Stoddard was in decent shape, and once he was out of the corridor, he ran for his jeep, pausing to vomit only once, unable to contain the bile that had risen to his throat. He tossed the camcorder onto the seat beside him, wedged himself behind the wheel, and tramped on the gas.

There was a shout behind him, and he began to pray. And then he began to speak, letting the machine record his words. "I appear to have landed myself in what you would say is deep shit, Blair. I'm going to send this to you. The Colombian mail being what it is, if you haven't heard from me by the time this reaches you, then I think it's safe to assume that I'll be dead. I don't expect you to avenge me, or anything melodramatic like that, but I do want someone to know what happened to me. You were the best of my students, Blair Sandburg. Vaya con dios, mi amigo querido."

The drive to the little town was arduous, but Stoddard was still in the lead by the time he turned into the narrow street that led to the rear of his hotel. He bolted into the lobby, where the portador was flirting with the pretty girl who was behind the desk.

"Un minuto, por favor?" he asked the letter carrier as he reached for one of the padded envelopes that was kept at the front desk for the convenience of the hotel's patrons. Of course the price of the envelope, greatly inflated, was then added to the bill. At this moment, that was the least of his worries. He scribbled an address across the front, slid the tape into it, and sealed it. Then he pressed a handful of American dollars into the man's hand. "Quickly, please?"

"Señor, this is too much," the man protested good-naturedly as he studied the address.

"Keep the rest of it. Go quickly now? Por favor?"

"Si." He gave the girl a look that clearly stated he was humoring the crazy Americano, but he jogged out into the street and threw a leg over his motorbike. The engine revved once, twice, and then he was gone.

Eli Stoddard hurried up to his room on the second floor. The ceiling fan rotated sluggishly, not giving much relief to the stifling atmosphere of the close room. He grabbed another tape and inserted it into the camcorder.

From the first floor he could hear the girl cry out in protest, and his mouth went dry. She hadn't seen the address; no matter what they did to her, she couldn't reveal it. But her boyfriend… Footsteps pounded on the stairs, his door burst open, and the giant of a man from the ruins stood there. He stepped aside, and the smaller man, so obviously el jefe, entered.

"You took some pictures of me, I believe? I am not very… how you say… photogenic? I would like them back please?"

"I don't have any pictures, amigo." A bead of sweat started at Stoddard's temple. It trickled over his cheekbone and hung at the hinge of his jaw. "My camera malfunctioned and…"

"But still you saw what you should not have seen. Do you take me for a fool, hombre? Miguel." He snapped his fingers. There was the soft sound of metal leaving a leather sheath, and Miguel, the big man, pulled out the machete.

This close to it, Eli Stoddard could still see the viscous coating of blood that smeared the edge. He opened his mouth to say something, but all that emerged was a soft, "Oh!" as the blade was driven deep into his gut, twisted, and then withdrawn. His hands came up to clutch the edges of the wound, and he stared at the fountain of blood that poured through his fingers. "Oh, my!" The words were a soft whisper as he collapsed in on himself.

Eli Stoddard was dead before he hit the floor.

Part 1- wherein Blair meets some nasty characters

Blair Sandburg had every reason to be happy. Six months before, he'd gone to Peru on assignment, having been sent there to photograph a man who had survived an encounter with a killer crocodile. He had returned home with the man, Jim Ellison, who proved not only to be a sentinel, a man whose five senses were enhanced, which he'd incidentally been searching for his entire academic career, but who was also a gorgeous hunk who just happened to be ass over teakettle in love him.

Their sex life was amazing, hot and wild and passionate, like nothing he had ever experienced with any of his other lovers. For those first halcyon months, after Jim had returned to Major Crimes in the Cascade PD, he'd worked days, and they'd been with each other constantly. They cooked dinner together, shared the chores, although truthfully, Blair could never see the urgency in cleaning something that would be dusty again in three weeks, and of course made love. Blair was often so deliciously sore from Jim bending him over at every opportunity and on every surface, flat or not, that he had gone through the days relishing the deep ache that signified the older man's possession.

Blair was even considering going back to teaching at Rainier .

So, yes, Blair Jacob Sandburg should have been happy. Only he wasn’t.

****

It was a couple of weeks until the New Year. He had been summoned to the office of the CEO of the Cascade Post-Tribune. The fact was that the Chief Executive Officer of Cascade's leading newspaper was also his mother. Naomi loved her son, but she often went by the policy that mother knew best; she wasn't above trying to coerce him into doing things her way. Such as now.

"Naomi, I don't want to go!" Blair winced at the whine in his tone. He rose from the chair and faced his mother across the vast expanse that was her desk, then began pacing.

His mother sighed impatiently. "Blair, I know you hate these parties, but it's really important to me! How would it look if the only son of the paper's CEO didn't put in an appearance? And you know I want Jim to come as well." Naomi's expression softened as she observed him, and Blair mused that her competitors would not have recognized the dragonlady of South Seymour Street .

Once she had thought a man like Richard Mason, suave, educated and ambitious, would be perfect for her only child, and she'd had serious misgivings when he had brought home someone who was not only older, but who also seemed to see and hear things he shouldn't. Although she had kept those misgivings to herself, Blair had been aware of them, and he had been relieved to see her gradually warm to his lover and accept him as more than the decent, honorable man he was, but as a man who took his responsibilities seriously, who loved Blair unreservedly, and who made him deliriously happy.

Blair cleared his throat. "Jim's been working the graveyard shift for the last month, and we won't even be able to spend our first New Year's Eve together; he can't go with me."

"Well, in that case, Blair, you have no excuse to miss the party. He wouldn't want you to sit home all alone. Now, why don't I get in touch with Simon Banks and see if he'll give Jim some time off, so you and Jim can come to dinner for Christmas Eve?"

"Naomi, you know it will make Jim nuts if you try to influence his captain. Just… let it go, okay? I'll talk to him when he gets in tonight." No, he couldn't do that, Jim would be exhausted and fit only to go straight to sleep. Blair would be lucky if he got a good night kiss. Of course, in the morning, chances were excellent that he would be awakened with Jim's lips wrapped around his dick. He cleared his throat and brought his attention back to his mother. "Well, I'll talk to him, and I'll let you know if he has that night off. Maybe we can work something out for a late lunch?"

"That sounds lovely, sweetheart. And perhaps that fascinating Captain Banks might be interested in coming to the New Year's Eve party as well?"

Blair hunched a shoulder. The last thing he wanted to do was spend an evening in the company of Jim's irascible captain. When Jim had first returned to Cascade PD, it had been obvious that he needed Blair to help him gain some sort of control over his senses. Captain Banks had reluctantly agreed to permit Blair to ride along as a 'civilian observer'. His attitude seemed to have spilled over onto the other members of Major Crimes, and Blair often felt as if he were barely tolerated.

"Now, you're coming, right? I'm insisting, Blair. And make sure your tux is ready."

The woman had the tenacity of a bulldog. "Yes, Naomi." Blair kissed her offered cheek and left her office. On the ride down to the lobby he mused over the unfairness of life. Jim would probably have a Wonder Burger, and he'd… he bit his lips to prevent a grin. An affair sponsored by his mother would be nothing less than exquisite. At the last one he had attended, the main course had consisted of filet mignon and lobster tail. None of that rubber chicken, cardboard mashed potatoes, and limp, overcooked vegetables for Naomi Sandburg's guests, thank you very much. Maybe he could convince his lover to put in for the evening off. James did love meat.

He was just crossing the lobby when, "Blair!"

No! Oh, please, god, no! Life couldn't be this unfair!

"Cupcake! Wait a second!"

The day had just gone from bad to worse. Richard Mason, his one-time lover! Blair was positive Naomi had said something about him working for some newspaper in New York . What was he doing here?

Without pausing to acknowledge the voice that was calling him even more loudly, Blair shoved the revolving glass doors opened and almost raced out into the watery Cascade afternoon sun.

Feeling somewhat safer, he risked a glance over his shoulder. "Ooof!" He had barreled into what felt like a brick wall. "Ouch! Sor…" Before he could get an apology out, he was gripped by the collar and hurled into a limousine, to land on his knees. The brick wall got in behind him, and the door slammed shut.

Blair sat on his heels and brushed back the hair that had come loose from the leather thong that normally kept it out of his eyes. The man who sat on the plush leather bucket seat observed him with cold, black eyes.

"¿Usted es Blair Sandburg?"

"Yeah, I'm Sandburg," he responded cautiously. Blair didn't like being on his knees before a man like this; he'd never been into the dom/sub thing, and this smacked entirely too much of it. He moved to one of the fold-down seats that faced the rear of the luxury vehicle, which would place him as far from the man as the confines of the limo would allow, and sat down. "Who are you?"

"Is not important. I think you will not recognize my name."

"Try me." Blair bit his lip. Not the brightest thing to say to someone who looked as if swimming with sharks was his favorite pastime.

The man shrugged. "I am Rico Escobedo."

"You're right. The name doesn't ring a bell," Blair lied easily. Even though he wasn't involved in the newspaper business in the general sense of the word, he had traveled South America enough as a photojournalist for National Geographic to identify the man. Rico Escobedo was an up-and-comer in the illegals racket; on the fast-track to becoming a moving force in the drug gang known as Los Mal Malos, he had a reputation for playing down and dirty. Blair touched his tongue to his upper lip and asked, "Who's the jolly green giant?"

"This is Miguel." Rico flashed blindingly white teeth in a grin, and Blair suppressed a shudder. If the Colombian really did swim with sharks, the sharks would come out the losers. "He does… odd jobs for me. Miguel enjoys doing odd jobs for me." The big man stared at him with flat, humorless eyes, and Blair decided he didn't want to know what would cause him to smile, just as he had no desire to ask what those jobs might entail. Escobedo abruptly dropped the pleasant demeanor. "You have something I believe is mine."

"Excuse me?"

"Señor Sandburg, do not play me for a fool. Eli Stoddard sent you a package, and its contents belong to me!"

"I haven't seen Eli in a couple of months," Blair countered guardedly, "and I've received nothing from him." He wondered how they knew Eli had sent him something; he didn't think his former mentor would have willingly told them. It was obvious Escobedo would never tell him.

"¿Es verdad? Perhaps you speak the truth, perhaps not. However, the mail in my country can be regrettably slow." Rico Escobedo glanced out the passenger window. "Ah. We have arrived. If you will exit the car, please?" The drug lord gestured politely, and Blair thought it best to go along with his… request. "Miguel, you will see our guest does not try anything stupid, eh?"

Blair stared at the two gold-covered canines that Miguel's smile revealed. //The vampire look is out this year, amigo.// He could have gone his entire life without seeing Miguel smile. He offered a saccharine grin in return.

He stepped out of the car and blinked in surprise at the house that stood before them. Three stories that looked as if it couldn't decide if it wanted to be Art Nouveau or Gothic Revival when it grew up, it belonged to the mayor of Cascade. The Mayor often rented it out to celebrities or anyone who was willing to meet the outrageous price he demanded. Miguel's big, beefy hand wrapped around Blair's upper arm and squeezed.

"Don't wrinkle the merchandise, big guy." Blair tried to yank free, but the grip tightened and pulled him up onto his toes. "All right, already! I'm coming." He found himself being dragged into the luxurious mansion. Because of his mother's position in the community, Blair had been here before. He knew that the 'Oriental' rugs had all been manufactured in Pittsburgh , and the statue of Julius Caesar, which stood in a corner, was not really made of marble.

Rico curled his lip at his quarry's back as he followed them. It had been so easy to take the stupid Americano, snatching him right off the main street in broad daylight. He had fallen into his palm like a ripe fruit. The Colombian was pleased with his own pun. Of course he knew this Blair Sandburg was a fag. Someone with all those curls? And the ring in the ear that signified he preferred men over women? It was so obvious even a blind man could see it. If Rico's need to retrieve that videotape wasn't so pressing, he would give the sissy boy to his men to play with. Perhaps he still would.

He picked up the telephone from the table in the hall and held it toward Blair. "You will call one of your little playmates. He is to go to your apartment and check the mail. If the package has come, muy bueno; I will arrange a meeting to pick it up, and you will be returned unharmed. If it hasn't…"

Was it possible that the man before him was unaware of his commitment to the big police detective? Blair could only hope, but he wasn't about to let this little tyrant intimidate him. "If it hasn't?" he repeated, putting his hands behind his back, so that Escobedo was left standing with the phone dangling from his fingers.

"Ah, amigo, then I fear that your visit with us will be decidedly short! Señor Sandburg, I am not playing games. You will never again see your friend, Eli Stoddard, because he met with an unfortunate accident, and he is… dead." The word hung in the sudden silence of the hall, final and unforgiving. Blair bit down hard on his inner cheek to prevent the drug lord from seeing how angered he was by the news. Eli Stoddard was a good man who had not deserved to meet his fate at the hands of this scum. Escobedo scowled at him, and again thrust the phone toward him. "Make the call. You are really too pretty to die young."

Unable to think of any way to get out of this situation with all his body parts intact, Blair took the phone and punched in Jim's cell phone number. "Ellison." Before he could breathe a sigh of relief, the voice continued. "You know the drill. Leave a message, and I'll get back to you."

Sandburg felt a touch of dismay crawl up his spine. "Uh, Jim? You there? If you're there, please pick up." Blair took two deep breaths. "Okay, I guess you're not there…"

"Chief? Hi! What's up?"

"Jim!"

"What's wrong?" Jim's question was sharp and tense. Blair should have known he'd never be able to keep anything from his Sentinel.

"Uh… Listen, Jim. Eli Stoddard sent me a package, and it's really important I get it as soon as possible." Wisely, Jim did not demand to know who this Eli Stoddard was. "Did anything come for me from South America in today's mail?" Blair didn't know if he should pray that it had, or pray that it hadn't.

"Yeah, as a matter of fact… I'm sorry, Blair. Simon called me in to work a double shift. The mailman handed it to me as I was on my way out the front door, and I was short on time, so I just took it with me."

"Thank god! Listen, Jim. This is really important…" He was repeating himself, something he only did when he was really nervous; he hoped his lover would realize it. It was the only way he could think to get across the message that he was up shit creek.

The Colombian yanked the phone from Blair's hand and snarled into the receiver, "Is muy importante, hombre. You want to see your little boyfriend again in one piece, you listen to me very carefully. Meet me in three quarters of an hour at the Chinese Gardens , and bring that package. I will wear a red rose in my jacket. ¿Entienda? Bueno. I thought you would understand."

"Just one second! Let me talk to Sandburg again!" Even without sentinel senses, Blair was able to hear his lover's demand.

"Why would I do that?" Escobedo asked rhetorically, and he hung up with a satisfied smile on his face. "Miguel, you will come with me. Get los hombres; they will guard Señor Sandburg most carefully."

Miguel shouted for the men, and the drug lord rubbed his hands together. When they appeared, he spoke to them in rapid-fire Spanish, and they grinned at Blair in a manner so hungry, he felt his sphincter clench.

"When we return, if I have what I have come for, I will set you free." Blair didn't believe him for a split second; he understood enough of the dialect, and knew that as soon as Escobedo returned with whatever was in the package Eli had sent him, he was going to be the guest of honor at a gang bang. "Meanwhile, you can wait in this room. There are some newspapers and magazines."

****

While two men stayed in the room with Blair, a third one stood in the hall, guarding the door. The others returned to the part of the house where they had been assigned.

Blair knew he had only himself to depend on to get out of this situation. Jim Ellison loved taking care of the younger man, and Richard Mason had called him a dilettante, but the truth was that Blair Sandburg did know how to take care of himself. He'd been all over the world, and although he drew the line at photographing wars, he'd been there for the aftermath of plenty of natural disasters. And while he didn't like to rough it, he was very capable of it if push came to shove.

Right now, he was the ideal 'guest'. He asked politely for something to drink. He asked for permission to use the bathroom. He chatted inanely to the men who wandered restlessly around the room, playing with their knives. "So, what part of Colombia are you from?" "You come here often?" "What's your sign?" If they had possessed an entire brain between the two of them, they might have questioned Blair's knowledge of their language.

As it was, each question simply brought an unintelligible grunt in response.

"You guys really aren't much in the conversation department, are you?" Blair stood by the window, looking out onto the grounds, which was how he happened to see a shadow flit by. He let out a silent breath. Jim had managed to find him. "I'm going to do some reading." He didn't want them to get nervous and start the party too soon. "I'll need my reading glasses. They're in my jacket. Is it all right if I take them out?"

The one who seemed in charge gave another grunt, and Blair took the case from his inner pocket. He slid the glasses out and put them on, picked up a People magazine, and sat down in a chair that he made sure was away from the door. Idly he leafed through the glossy magazine, then removed his glasses and pulled out a handkerchief. He blew on the lenses and began polishing them, staring blankly into space, but in actuality listening very hard.

He didn't need hyper-acute hearing to hear the muffled thud in the hallway, and then a sound as if someone was scratching on the door. "¿José?" the one in charge called. "¿Que pasa, muchacho?

There was no answer, and he growled and stalked toward the door. It suddenly burst open, collapsing off its hinges and trapping the man beneath its weight. Jim catapulted into the room, the faux marble statue in his arms.

Before the second man could attack the big detective, Blair snapped the earpiece off his glasses and drove it into the Colombian's throat. Eyes wide in terror, the man scrabbled to yank the jagged object from where it was lodged just to the side of his adam's apple. He succeeded, but the wound now gushed blood freely, and he crumpled to the floor in shock.

"Are you all right, Chief?" Jim dropped the statue, patted him all over to make sure he was unhurt, then pulled him into his arms and hugged him fiercely.

"I am now that you're here."

Jim blew out a breath and rubbed his cheek against his lover's hair. He watched dispassionately as the man bled out onto the carpet, his blood forming its own pattern amid the stylized dragons and bamboo groves, then called over his shoulder. "Joel! You'll take care of this mess?"

Joel Taggart, also a member of Major Crimes, sauntered into the room. "The uniforms are arresting everyone on the grounds and in the house. We'll probably have to be satisfied with nailing their asses on illegal alien status, but this lot will be deported back to where they came from, and that will be fourteen less bastards for us to deal with. Jesus, why does all this happen in Cascade?" He crossed the room and toed the body. He looked from Blair to Jim, then shook his head. "Son of a bitch. Can you believe how clumsy some people can be? Imagine tripping and falling on a… what the fuck is that thing?"

"Earpiece, Joel." Jim handed his associate the broken eyeglass frames. "Yeah, beats hell out of me. Go figure." He gazed around. "Did you get them all?"

Taggart gave an evil grin. "Oh, yeah. We'll just wait to see if the Captain and his band picked up Escobedo and Ubarry at the Chinese Gardens . This is gonna kill the Feds."

"That we beat them out on this?" Jim's grin matched Taggart's for evilness. "Life doesn't get much sweeter!" The three men walked back into the hallway, Jim's arm firmly around his lover's shoulders.

Megan Connor, the Aussie detective on loan to Cascade PD, appeared in a doorway that led down to the basement, dusting her hands. "Mate, you should see the security command post down there! But I can't understand why they'd want such state-of-the-art equipment, and then hand it over to a bunch of drongos who have no idea how to run it! You okay, Sandy?"

Blair's fingers were twisted in his lover's jacket; Jim was the only one who noticed. "I will be, Megan. Thank you." But he was smiling at Jim, and once again she regretted that all the cute ones were either married or gay.

"C'mon Chief, let's get out of here!" Jim led the way to his pickup truck and opened the door for his lover to get in.

"Jim? What was in the package Eli sent me?"

"It was a videotape. There was some pretty incriminating stuff on it." Jim was looking so grim that Blair knew if Rico had been there at that moment, his lover would have torn him apart with his bare hands.

Blair began to ramble on about nothing. "Rico didn't even offer me lunch. Or dinner! Can you believe that? I'm starved. Can we get something to eat?" He was searching for the seat belt, and didn't realize immediately that Jim was still standing there. "Jim?"

The big man curled his fist around Blair's neck and pulled his head down until their foreheads rested together. "Jesus, I was so scared for you, Chief! After we saw that videotape, and listened to what Dr. Stoddard had to say…" His lips were hard and demanding, his desperate fear for his partner clearly evident.

When he finally released the younger man's mouth, Blair's breathing was unsteady. It was a couple of minutes before he was able to murmur, "He's dead, Jim. Eli's dead. Escobedo told me."

"I know, Chief. I'm sorry. Somehow Escobedo found out that he was sending you the tape. It contains footage of him ordering an execution and having it carried out. From the information Brian Rafe was able to pull up on him, he's been managing to keep his hands clean, but this would have nailed his ass to the wall. He came after you to make sure that didn't happen."

Blair touched his fingers to Jim's face, staring into his eyes. "I knew you'd come get me."

Jim took the hand that cupped his cheek, turned it upward and pressed a kiss to Blair's heart line. The jangle of his cell phone jolted him out of his preoccupation with the texture of his lover's palm. "Ellison." The smile in his voice quickly vanished. "What? Simon, say that again? Oh, fuck! Okay, I'm bringing him in with me. We should be at the station in twenty minutes." He flipped the phone shut. "You're coming back to Central Precinct with me until my shift is over. Escobedo never showed up."

Blair's eyes were chill, but Jim didn't notice. "Do you think he'll come after me again?"

"If he has any brains, he'll realize we've seen the tape, cut his loses and run."

"Why do I get the impression you don't think much of his brains?"

The big detective shrugged, then shut the passenger door of the pickup and strode around to the driver's side. He climbed in and jabbed the key into the ignition. "Because they don't, usually," he finally ground out. "He was stupid enough to be filmed ordering an execution. He's failed to get the tape back, so his next best hope is to get the man it was sent to."

"Me?" Blair gulped. He had been in dangerous situations before, but they were all courtesy of Mother Nature. No one had ever wanted to kill him. "Wait a second, Jim! That doesn't make any sense! I haven't even seen the goddamned tape! Why would Escobedo want to get me?"

"He's like a wild animal who's been injured. He'll strike out at what he perceives is the source of his pain. In this case, you." Jim fell silent. He extended his visual and auditory perceptions, keeping a part of his awareness on the road.

For long minutes there was silence. Eventually Blair asked, "How did you know where to find me? I wanted to give you a clue, but I couldn't think of anything that wouldn't get my throat cut right then and there."

"You did the best thing, Chief. You called my cell phone. I've got Return Call on it, remember? Once I hit star 6-9 and got the last phone number that called, Simon leaned on Cascade Bell, and we were able to track it back to that monstrosity of a house the Mayor owns."

//You mean you made Simon lean on the phone company.// But Blair didn't bring up the ambiguous feelings the captain of Major Crimes had toward him. "Speaking of that house, Jim, Naomi is sponsoring a New Year's Eve party. I don't suppose Captain Banks will give you that night off?" They were entering Cascade proper.

"Well, I'll ask him, but you know that's one of the busiest nights of the year!"

"What, they're going to make the Detective of the Year man a sobriety check point? Please, Jim? I don't want to go alone!"

Jim was turning into the basement parking garage, and he glanced at Blair from the corner of his eye, a secret smile on his lips. "Aw, babe, you know I hate those things."

"Listen, tough guy! The least you can do is…" The rest of his sentence was cut short as Jim abruptly shoved Blair's head down, his hand hard on the back of the younger man's neck. "Hey!" And then Blair was covered in a shower of glass as the rear window exploded into the cab of the truck. It was only as the bullet continued on through the windshield that he registered the sound.

"Stay down!" Jim floored the gas pedal, and the tires of the truck screeched as they spun madly, gained traction, and it leaped forward. They heard the sound of a bullet ricocheting off one of the pillars. He reached for the truck's police issue two-way radio, only to find it had taken a hit. He swore and spun the wheel, and the truck fishtailed almost out of control, the rear fender slamming into a parked car.

"The elevator, Jim?"

He shook his head. "The odds of one being down here, with the door open, just waiting for us, aren't good. I'll pull up by the stairs and angle the truck to give you some protection. Get the door open and start running up to Six."

"Jim…" Blair released his seat belt and reached for the handle. "You'll be right behind me, won't you? Because if you're not, I'm coming back after you!"

"I'll be right on your ass, Chief!" Jim unfastened his own seat belt. "Go! Now!"

Blair was out, through and on his way up the stairs, moving faster than Jim would have given him credit for. Two sets of footsteps pounded up the stairs. A glance behind him showed Jim had his police issue revolver drawn and ready to fire.

"Out on Two, Chief, and head for the elevator." Jim had been tracking its descent from the fourth floor and knew its occupant would be getting out on the second floor.

Blair was starting to feel the exertion on his knees, and he staggered as he reached the second floor landing. Jim's hand on his thigh steadied him, and then they were both out in the corridor. As Jim had known, the elevator doors were just sliding shut, and he leaped forward and shoved his arm between them, causing them to open again. He pushed Blair into a corner and planted himself in front of his lover.

The doors closed, and the detective allowed himself to relax marginally. He extended his hearing, and only when he was sure there was no longer any danger did he put his Smith and Wesson revolver away.

"All clear, Jim?" Blair rubbed soothing circles on the broad back in front of him.

"For now, babe. But I'm going to need to get you some place safe." They arrived on the sixth floor, and Jim used his enhanced senses to assure himself they could exit safely.

Major Crimes looked as if they were expecting a visit from the Terminator. Officers were hastily donning riot gear. Brian Rafe was handing out shotguns and tear gas canisters. Captain Banks was chewing furiously on his omnipresent cigar. He spared a glare at Sandburg, then turned it on the tall man at his side.

"Ellison, what the fuck is going on?"

"Someone opened fire on us as I was pulling into the parking garage. I heard the hammer being cocked and got Blair out of the way, otherwise he'd be about a head shorter!"

"That is so not funny, Jim!"

"Sorry, Chief. It sounded like one of those new semi-automatics that the Feds told us someone was selling illegally in South America ."

"You think this is tied in with that videotape we viewed earlier? Fuck. I did not need this the week before Christmas! Rafe, see what you can find down there. Report back to me as soon as possible." Banks glowered at Jim and Blair. "My office. Now!"

They followed the captain into his office. He pulled the cigar out of his mouth, stared at it as if he couldn't imagine how it had gotten between his fingers, then tossed it in the wastebasket. He turned on the combination TV/VCR that sat in a corner and waited for the screen to lighten. "I think the kid should see this, Jim. I contacted the Feds about Rico Escobedo. According to them, he gives psychos a bad name. We have no choice but to get Blair to a safe house."

"Wait a fucking minute, Captain! He's the criminal, but I'm the one going to be imprisoned!"

"It's a safe house, Sandburg, not a jail. Totally different."

Blair opened his mouth, but Jim spoke before he could. "I've got a better idea, Simon. I'll take Blair back to Peru . I can see them coming there, and the Chopecs will help guard my back."

"Jim…"

"I'll take care of you, babe, I promise. I promise."

"That's not what I…"

Simon was reaching for the phone, and he spoke over the younger man. "I know someone who has a license to pilot a Lear jet. He can get you to Lima . From there you'll be on your own, I'm afraid."

"I'll get in touch with a friend in Machu Picchu . Raphael will contact Incacha, the Chopec shaman. Wait until you hear from me before you leak the information. H might be the best man to do that. He has the most innocent face!" Jim and Simon both laughed.

"Wait a second! We want Escobedo to find me?" Blair looked so cute when he was confused. Jim was tempted to kiss him, even though his captain was present.

"Us, babe. He finds us, he thinks he has us, and I show him what happens when he fucks with a Sentinel and his Guide."

"In that case, I think you'd better change that to 'we'll' show him."

"Right, Blair." Jim's eyes caressed his lover. "We'll show him."

Simon turned away to speak into the phone. "Hi, Slick, how they hanging? Got a job for you, my man!" Within minutes their transportation to South America was arranged.

Jim tipped his lover's face up to study his deep blue eyes. Simon suddenly found something of interest in his lower desk drawer.

Blair's eyes darkened with passion. His lips parted, and Jim leaned forward, his fingers tangled in the warm curls that had once again escaped the thong Blair used to confine them. Before their mouths touched, Jim paused. "We'll make a great team, don't you think, Chief?"

His mouth swallowed the answer.

Part 2- wherein Jim and Blair have to leave the country, and no one is happy

After the decision had been made to get Blair out of the country, Captain Banks refused to allow them out of Major Crimes. If Central Precinct was under surveillance, their plan would be discovered before they could put it into action. He sent Joel Taggart and Megan Connor to the apartment at 852 Prospect to pack some clothes for Jim and Blair.

Taggart and Connor both breathed a sigh of relief that no one appeared to be watching the apartment building, but they stayed alert as they walked in and took the elevator up to the third floor. Taggart had the key to get into 307 that Jim had given him. He inserted it into the lock, but before he could turn the key, the door swung open. "Fuck!" He flung an arm in front of the Aussie transplant to prevent her from entering. "Oh fuck!"

She gasped in shock. The loft was a disaster area. The balcony doors hung crazily on their hinges. Through the opening, they could see the plush area rug that had covered the hardwood floor hanging from the railing in tatters. The kitchen was littered with broken plates and cups; food was tossed onto the floor and ground into every surface. The cushions from the couch and loveseat in the living room lay where they had been flung, sliced open, the stuffing spilling out of them as if eviscerated in a graphic demonstration of fury. Books were torn, and what pages hadn't been scattered throughout the apartment, had been burned in the fireplace. Clothing had been ripped, forming a snowdrift of linen, cotton, denim, flannel. Nothing more than two inches square remained.

Taggart's mouth tightened in a frown. He pulled out his cell phone and called Major Crimes. "We've got problems, Captain!"

On the other end of the line, Simon Banks listened with growing fury. "They did what?" He spat a vicious curse around the cigar in his mouth.

"What is it, Simon?"

Simon held up a hand. "Listen, Joel, you and Megan get out of there now, and get back here on the double! And for chrissake, be careful!" The captain disconnected the call. "Your place has been totally trashed, Jim. Since Sandburg's most likely number one on Escobedo's shit list, we're going to assume he was behind it. You'll have to replace everything." He repeated what the big detective had told him.

Blair was horrified. Jim hadn't brought much back from Peru , but what he'd brought was now gone, wantonly destroyed. He rested his hand on his lover's forearm in an attempt to keep him grounded.

Jim was pale with restrained anger. He was able to sense how devastated the younger man was by the loss of his possessions, many of which were irreplaceable. At that moment he would have taken great pleasure in taking the Colombian apart one body part at a time. Jim brought his emotions under control and tried to lighten the atmosphere. "Just what we needed on top of everything else!" he grumbled. "Shopping in the middle of the busiest shopping season of the year!"

"No, Jim, we're okay!"

"Oh, yeah? You care to explain that statement, Chief?" When they had first moved in together, Jim had had a difficult time dealing with how casually his lover spent money, and he'd insisted that they manage on their salaries alone. "You'd have to tap into your trust fund. All those beautiful things…"

"Things aren’t important, Jim!"

"But you're so upset!"

"Of course I'm upset! That bastard was in our home, Jim!" Blair lowered his voice. "The place where we made love! We're okay, though! As for replacing everything…" he shrugged. "I still have some clothes at Naomi's apartment, and I've been leaving your Christmas presents there, as well." Jim looked affronted. "You know what you did before your birthday! He made me crazy trying to find where I'd hidden his presents," Blair informed the captain, who, in spite of the seriousness of the situation the two men were in, found himself intrigued at this insight into the dynamics of their relationship. "He almost destroyed the loft!" Blair's expression became sad as he realized that the loft had truly been destroyed, and by professionals who knew how to do the most damage. He glanced at his watch. "Listen, Captain. Can you have Taggart and Megan swing around to Naomi's? She should be home now. I'll give her a call, and she'll have everything packed and ready by the time they get there."

"Sure, Sandburg. Nice… uh… nice going." The praise was grudging. Captain Banks reached for the phone.

While the captain was getting in touch with his detectives, Blair was on another phone, calling his mother. "Hi, Matilda, it's Blair. Is my mother there?"

In a matter of seconds, Naomi was on the line. "You just caught me, sweetie. I was on my way out…"

"Mom?" He was surprised at the wave of emotion that overtook him. His throat clogged, and it took a minute before he could get another word out. Jim saw and put his arm around the younger man.

"Baby, what's wrong?" Naomi's voice was sharp. "What's happened?"

"I'm fine, Naomi; really, I'm fine. But Jim and I have to leave the country for a couple of weeks."

"You're not doing this to get out of the New Year's Eve party, are you, Blair?"

He gave a choked laugh. "No, Naomi, I promise I wouldn't go to these lengths. Eli Stoddard taped something, and he sent the video cassette to me. This man from South America wants it. That's the Readers' Digest version. Anyway, would you have Tilda pack a bag for us? I'm also going to need that backpack that's in the back of the closet in my old room. It has my spare camera."

"Sandburg!" Simon hissed.

Blair arched a questioning eyebrow, but the captain just held out his hand implacably. "Hold on a second, Naomi. Captain Banks wants to talk to you." Blair gave Simon the phone.

"Ms. Sandburg? I wanted to warn you. We're getting your son out of the country because he's in danger. But there is a possibility that you could be targeted also. I can assign some plain clothes officers to you, if that would help you feel more comfortable."

"That's very kind of you, Captain Banks. I have my own security."

"Jess Franklin heads your team, I believe. I served with him in the Marines. He's a good man. Tell him I said to stay frosty."

"I will, thank you for your concern. By the way, Simon… I may call you Simon, mayn't I? And of course, I'm Naomi."

Jim watched in interest as his captain's cheeks turned ever darker under a flush. Simon frowned at him and turned a shoulder. "Certainly you may call me Simon… Naomi."

Unashamedly, Jim stretched his hearing so he could listening in on the conversation.

"I'd love for you to come to the New Year's Eve party I'm having at the Mayor's place," Naomi was saying, adding graciously, "and any of your officers who might be free to come, also." It was an obvious afterthought.

Jim nudged Blair away. "I think Simon has an admirer."

"Huh?" Blair was clearly not paying attention, and for a moment Jim wondered where his mind was.

"How would you feel about your mom dating Simon?"

"Huh?" Blair's eyes widened in stunned surprise. It was clear he had never given a thought to his mother's social life. Jim grinned, pleased that he had succeeded in diverting his lover from whatever somber images had been disturbing him.

"Come over here, Chief, and I'll explain the facts of life to you."

****

"Ms. Sandburg." Joel Taggart had never met the kid's mother before; it wasn't likely they'd travel in the same social circles. He found himself a little uncomfortable. A little, hell! He was so intimidated he was lucky he remembered to accept her politely offered hand.

Naomi was aware of the ambivalent feelings of the Cascade PD toward her son. In spite of finally devising a way to meet the fascinating Captain Banks of Major Crimes, she wasn't happy, and she made no effort to conceal it from the two detectives Matilda, her Jamaican maid, showed into the living room. "Listen to me carefully, Detective. If anything, anything! happens to my son, I will personally make the life of every last member of Major Crimes a living hell!"

"We understand your concern, ma'am, but Detective Ellison will see to his safety," Megan Connor assured the older woman. She looked beyond her at the big man who stood just behind her shoulder.

Naomi hmphed. "He better had!" She noticed where Megan's eyes lingered. A man might not pick up on the interest in them, but Naomi Sandburg prided herself on her astuteness. And the fact that she wasn't a man. "This is Jess Franklin, head of my security."

Over six feet tall, with ink black hair and eyes like green ice, Franklin had been reluctant to leave the Marines, but then Naomi Sandburg had made him an offer too good to refuse, chief of her security, the ability to hire whomever he chose, and an unlimited budget for high tech gadgets. The seven figure salary she'd promised had been icing on the cake. He'd bid farewell to the Corps, taking a number of his best men with him. He let his gaze wander over the Aussie woman, liking what he saw. Strong women had always appealed to him. He turned his attention back to his boss.

"Captain Banks suggested that I should alert my people since he felt I might be in danger of being targeted as well as my son." She gestured to where a duffle bag and a backpack were waiting on the sectional couch. "Blair said he needed his spare camera also."

Megan picked up the duffle, while Taggart reached for the backpack, stifling a surprised grunt. With the excuse that time was of the essence, they politely bid Ms. Sandburg good-bye. As they hurried out of the luxurious penthouse apartment, Megan risked a backward glance at the chief of security. She blushed to find that his pale green eyes were on her legs. He raised his eyes and licked his lips, and the corner of his mouth kicked up in a grin. Megan found herself returning the grin. The bloke was definitely dinky-di! She hoped she'd have the opportunity to… work… with him closely. Her nipples tightened, and she tugged her suit jacket to make sure they were concealed.

"Damn, this thing is heavy!" Taggart groused as they strode to the elevator. "What does Sandburg have in here? Rocks?" He'd been glad to see Jim back on the Cascade Police Department, but even after six months, he wasn't sure of the young man who'd come back with him. In his experience, rich young men who couldn't seem to settle on a job weren't to be trusted. He hoped Jim wasn't riding for a fall.

"Joel? What's wrong, mate?" They entered the elevator.

He shook his head. "I just hope Jim knows what he's doing."

Megan grinned at him. "Jim was Black Ops! If anyone can get Sandy out of this mess, it's definitely him!"

Keeping his eyes on the numbers that flashed above the door, Taggart didn't bother to correct the other detective. They left the building and crossed to where they had left their unmarked vehicle.

"I'm driving, Joel!" Megan jiggled the keys to the police vehicle in the air, and Taggart laughed, his apprehensions set aside for the time being.

He liked the Australian woman, and they made a damned good team. When they'd first been partnered, he'd been dismayed, unsure how she would react to having a black partner. Henri Brown had told him to chill, that it would work out fine, and to Taggart's everlasting surprise and relief, it had. Megan was one of the best cops he'd ever worked with. When he'd confessed as much to H one night while they were basking in the afterglow of a torrid round of sex, the younger detective had reached around and pinched his butt. "Told you so, big guy!"

By the time Taggart and Connor finally arrived back at the Precinct, the plan was only waiting on them to be put into action. Joel handed Blair the backpack-cum-camera case, and he took it with an absent 'thank you'. Taggart noted that Blair had no problem shifting the pack's considerable weight to his shoulder. He felt a grudging sense of respect for his friend's lover.

"All right, gentlemen, if you're ready to go?"

"I feel damned stupid dressed like this, Captain!" Brian Rafe complained as he tugged at the hem of the uniform skirt he wore. Opaque pantyhose hid, for the most part, the fact that he had very hairy legs. "How did I get volunteered for something like this? I didn't raise my hand, and I sure as hell didn't take a step forward!" He settled the wig with its long, straight blonde locks that fell past his shoulders firmly on his head.

"No, they all took two steps back!" one of the detectives who'd come in earlier from a stakeout snickered. She gave a playful leer and waggled her eyebrows. "Besides, Rafe, you have the cutest legs of all the guys in Major Crimes."

"Hey, hey!" Blair protested. "That is so not true! No offense, Brian. But Jim has legs to die for!"

The Bull Pen erupted into laughter, and Ellison pretended to bang his head against the wall. "Thanks for sharing that with everyone, Chief."

"That's enough, people!" Captain Banks thought it best to step in before things got totally out of control. "Let's get this show on the road. Jim, Blair into the cart." The stainless steel donut cart was about three feet long and two feet wide. It had doors on each side which opened to reveal a storage space that would normally contain enough stock to supply the entire station with goodies. Now donuts, Twinkies, cupcakes, HoHos, and a variety of other pastries were scattered over the desks in the Bull Pen to make room for Jim and Blair. "Don't anyone touch them!" Simon barked. "The last thing I need to deal with is a squadroom full of cops on a sugar high!"

Jim got in first, and Blair wedged himself in after, settling in the vee of the bigger man's thighs. They'd practiced when Jim first got the idea of being smuggled out of the station in the Donut Dolly's cart; they knew they would fit, but with the duffle bag and the backpack, it was a tight squeeze. By the time Blair was settled as comfortably as the narrow space allowed, Jim's cock was nudging his lover's ass. Neither of them saw any reason to complain.

Simon closed the door of the cart and gave it a light tap. "You're on your way. Rafe will get you into the van, drive to the airport, and you'll catch your flight to Peru from there. Good luck, and make sure you don't get yourselves killed! I'll expect you back here by New Year's!"

****

The flight to Peru started with Blair's head cradled on Jim's shoulder. Blair was quickly sound asleep; being kidnapped had that effect on him. The pilot strolled to the rear cabin. "I've got the jet on auto. Want to take a turn at the controls, Jim?"

Jim's smile was soft and tender as he gazed down at the riot of curls that tickled his chin, and he shook his head. "Some other time, Slick."

The flight ended fifteen hours later with Jim's ear pressed over his lover's heart, the rhythm soothing and grounding him. Both of Blair's arms were around him, holding him securely, and he nuzzled Jim's short-cropped hair. The small jet rolled to a stop on the postage stamp-sized, private airstrip that was just outside of Lima . Not too many knew of it, only a very few of the locals.

"Come on, Jim. Time to wake up. We're here."

"I know." There was a chuckle in his voice.

"Have you been awake long?"

"About twenty minutes, Chief. I felt and heard the change in the engines when the pilot started the descent, and it woke me." They unwound themselves and unfastened their seatbelts.

"Why didn't you let me know?" Blair got out of his seat and stretched his arms above his head.

Jim admired the expanse of flesh that was exposed as Blair's shirt rode up. "I like being in your arms, Chief."

"These arms?" The gratification in Blair's voice startled the older man. "They're just arms, Jim."

"No, Chief." Jim caught the Henley in his hands and pushed it further out of the way, then ran his nails over the flat abdomen that was revealed. The soft hair that disappeared beneath Blair's waistband tantalized Jim's fingertips. He nipped at the muscles that rippled under his ministration, and his lover shivered and flushed with pleasure.

Blair was almost breathless from the abrupt sexual excitement. It seemed too long since he'd felt safe enough to indulge in passion. He leaned forward to deepen the contact.

"All ashore who are going ashore," the pilot called from the cockpit, reluctant to disturb them but needing to refuel and start the journey back to the States.

"Later, Chief!" Jim let him step away from him.

Blair hummed agreement, then jammed his fists into the small of his back and arched to work out the kinks. He reached into the overhead compartment, but Jim was there before him.

"We'll be staying in Lima overnight at this little hotel I know of, Chief, and then we'll take the train to Cuzco . Raphael will meet us there with the jeep and drive us to the hotel below Machu Picchu ." He took the duffle that contained changes of clothing, their shaving gear and a first aid kit, and handed the backpack to his lover. "I don't know why you wanted to take your cameras, Chief. This isn't going to be something you'll want to film." He was catching a hint of an odor from the backpack that he'd never associated with cameras, but before he could identify it, Blair turned his head, and his hair slid loose from the thong that normally kept it off his face. It seemed to caress his lush lips, and Jim lost his train of thought.

Blair shrugged. "I always take my cameras with me, Jim. I'd feel naked without them."

That earned him a lascivious leer. "I want to feel you naked, Chief."

"You know what I mean." He bumped Jim's hip with his own, smiling up at him through his lashes. "All I want right now is a room, a meal, and you in my bed."

"Sounds good to me, Chief." Jim started toward the exit, swearing to himself that he could feel Blair's eyes on his ass. "But not necessarily in that order!" He grinned over his shoulder. Sure enough, deep blue eyes were fastened on his butt, stripping his jeans off. Jim's step was jaunty as he headed for the lone taxi parked on the edge of the airstrip.

The driver, a small man of obvious Andean descent, leaned against a fender, and his lips parted, revealing a wide space between his front teeth. "Allinmi jamusgayki, Enqueri!" he called in Quechua. "Welcome! It has been too long."

"Aquilino! Allillanchu? How are you? It's good to see you again." Jim responded in the same language. They gripped each other's forearms, then embraced warmly.

The small man studied Blair, his eyes narrow in consideration, and then they widened. "He is the one, Enqueri?"

"He is the one, Aquilino. Blair Sandburg."

Blair stood by, looking from one to the other but saying nothing.

The Peruvian nodded in approval. "Incacha will be much pleased to hear of this." He took Blair's hand and pumped it vigorously. "I am happy to know you, Blair Sandburg," he said in Spanish.

"And I you," Blair replied in the same language.

"Now come, you have had a long journey, and you must be weary. I will take you to Hostal de las Artes." He turned to Blair and continued in Spanish. "I think you will find the beds there very comfortable, guía de Enqueri." He opened the door for them with a flourish, then got behind the wheel.

The drive was a smooth one, and soon they were turning into Jiron Chota, the street where the hotel was located. Aquilino pulled up in front of the restored, colonial style mansion, and Jim leaned forward to press some large bills into his hand, over the man's protests. "For your family, amigo, for what you did for me when I stayed with them."

The man squeezed his hand in gratitude. "Until we meet again, my friend."

Blair followed Jim out of the cab, and watched as it drove away. He decided he'd wait until they were shown to their room before he asked the many questions that were rioting in his brain.

Within a quarter hour they were registered and took the key from the concierge. Jim lead the way to their room, which was quite spacious for Lima . It had what was called a matrimonial bed, and a private bath.

Blair set his backpack carefully aside, then made himself comfortable on the double bed, testing the firmness of the mattress. "What did Aquilino's family do for you, Jim?"

Jim looked startled, then remembered that Blair had told him he had learned Quechua when he was working on his doctorate. "They took me in when I was first stranded in Peru . They helped me bury my men and hold the Pass. Incacha, the Shaman of the tribe, tried to help me with my senses."

Blair felt a flash of emotion. Had the Shaman also been Jim's lover? He struggled to suppress the irrational jealousy. "I don't understand. If he taught you control of your senses, why did you leave Cascade?"

"I said he tried to help, Chief. By the time the army got me back to the States, my senses had gone offline, and I buried the memory. When they started acting up again a few years later, I thought I was losing my mind. I panicked and ran back to Peru . It took a while before I could find Incacha, and then he told me I needed a guide."

"That's what Aquilino called me, Enqueri's guide."

"Yes. Enqueri is my Chopec name."

"So… I'm your guide." He tested the words on his tongue. "I'm your guide. I'm your guide?"

"Uh, Chief… Starting to get a little repetitious here."

Blair scowled at him. "All right, let's try this instead. Tell me why you waited all this time to tell me I'm your guide."

"Chief…"

"You didn't think I could do it, did you? You thought I'd let you down at the last minute. You think I'm a dilettante, just like Richard does, just like Naomi does. Jesus, Jim. Why should anyone in Major Crimes take me seriously, when it's so obvious you don't?"

"Chief, you don't understand…"

"Damn straight, I don't understand. I'm twenty-eight years old, Jim. I've got a doctorate in anthropology, one of the youngest candidates for it in Rainier history. I'm a damned good photographer. Just because I didn't want to spend the rest of my life carrying a gun, or pounding education into college students who'd rather be anywhere than in my classroom, that doesn't mean I'm not responsible."

"Babe…"

"Don't you 'babe' me! Look at this!" He gestured toward his lower body where his cock was tenting his jeans. "I'm hard! As crazy as you make me, I'm fucking hard!" He rose from the bed and stalked toward his lover, backing him up until he was against a wall, with nowhere else to go. Blair cupped Jim's crotch, and his hand was filled with hard, Sentinel cock. "Yes." He traced the outline with his fingertips, and a massive shudder shook Jim's body. "Oh, yes."

Blair fisted his hands in the linen shirt his lover wore, the shirt he had bought him, and he could feel Jim's nipples become pebble-hard as he rubbed his knuckles against them. With a savage yank, he tore the shirt apart, the buttons scattering over the floor.

"You were never going to stay with me, were you?" All of Blair's insecurities came pouring out. "The first time I screwed up, you were going to be out the door!" He curled his fingers around Jim's neck and pulled his head down for a kiss. "Well, fuck that! I won't let you go!" He whispered so softly that only the hyper-active hearing of a sentinel would have heard the words. "You're mine!"

"I was never going to leave you, Blair! I'll always be yours! Don't ever let me go!" Warm, firm lips met, caressed, parted only to return in branding, claiming kisses.

"This time I'm topping you, Jim," Blair murmured hoarsely. "This time, you're going to know what it feels like to belong to me!"

Blair's hands became frantic as they scrabbled to divest first Jim, and then himself of the clothing that interfered with their pleasure. His Sentinel's eyes were wide, the blue iris a mere ring as the black of his pupil expanded to take in every nuance of the expressions that chased themselves across Blair's face; his fingertips touched his lover's face as if he were memorizing it; his nostrils flared, taking in their combined scents, and Blair realized Jim was extending all his senses, making him vulnerable to the man who loved him.

When they were finally naked on the double bed, Blair positioned Jim on his front. Warm lips nibbled their way from the indentation of Jim's tailbone up the knobs of his spine, and he moaned in approval. Warm palms cupped and kneaded his buttocks. Jim got his knees under him and raised his hips, rocking back into his lover's touch.

"Like that, Jim?" Somehow Blair had managed to get to the lube, and his slicked fingers slid easily into his lover's body, twisting and curling to engage the bigger man's prostate.

"Yessss!" Jim was breathless. "Now, baby, please, now!"

Blair withdrew his fingers, flattened his hands on his lover's buttocks and parted them, leaving his anus exposed to the onslaught of the cock that was about to ravage it. Jim pressed back against the flared head of Blair's cock, and it began a steady, relentless forward movement. Both men sighed in relief as its length passed the guardian muscle and continued until it was buried deep within Jim's body.

Blair lay against his back, keeping his hips still, occasionally flexing a muscle so his cock would quiver against Jim's prostate. He ran his hands over his lover's nipples until they stabbed into his palms, while Jim struggled to remain motionless. Blair's other hand was wrapped snugly around Jim's cock.

With his heightened Sentinel senses, Jim could actually feel the blood pulsing through the large vein on the underside of the cock that was impaling him. He groaned. "Fuck me, baby, please!"

Blair nudged Jim's legs further apart and began to move with slow, lazy thrusts that gradually grew faster, deeper and harder. Jim was almost zoning on the needy sounds that spilled from his lover's mouth, pants and moans and whimpers.

"Yes! So hot! So tight! Oh, god, Jim, yes, squeeze me like that again!" Blair's legs trembled as the heat of his lover's passage first threatened to overwhelm him, and then in fact did. With a hoarse cry, he drove himself as deep as he could into Jim's snug channel. The inner muscles rippled rhythmically, milking his essence from him.

"Blair!" There was desperation in the Sentinel's voice, as his own orgasm shimmered just out of reach.

"I've got you, love." His hand tightened on his lover's cock, and he used Jim's pre come to lubricate the strokes that saw him filling Blair's hand as he shuddered to a climax.

****

"Come back to me, Jim. Come on, babe. Listen to my voice." Blair was stroking his body with a warm washcloth.

Jim had never felt so sated, so replete. He sighed and stretched languidly into his touch. He must have zoned from the intensity of his orgasm. "I'm with you, Chief." He opened his eyes to stare into the worried blue eyes of his lover. The corner of his mouth curved in a satisfied grin. "Why haven't we done this before?" He winced a bit at the pull of muscles not usually brought into play.

"You never gave any indication you wanted me in your body, Jim." There was no resentment in the explanation.

Jim's euphoria vanished, and he felt like a real shit. "I'm sorry, Blair. I should have at least asked if you wanted to switch positions."

"I did, Joe Friday, and you turned me from my front to my back." Blair finished wiping the evidence of their shared passion from his lover's body and returned the washcloth to the bathroom. "I didn't mind, Jim. I love any way you want to take me."

Of course. Blair always accepted his decrees good-naturedly. Before this day, Jim had never seen him lose his temper.

He'd never once complained about the way Jim's fellow detectives treated him. Jim thought of Simon's disdain, Joel's mistrust. He himself tended to treat Blair at times as if he were a trophy.

"Chief…" Abruptly, Jim remembered the broken eyeglass frames, the earpiece jutting out of the Colombian's throat. Blair had coolly killed the man, but afterwards he had acted as if he would have been helpless if Jim hadn't come for him.

Having no idea where his lover's thoughts were taking him, Blair rested a knee on the bed. "I'm starving, Jim. I haven't eaten in twenty-four hours, except for that package of Sno Balls back at Major Crimes. I loathe Sno Balls."

"How does the L'Eau Vive grab you, Chief?"

"The L'Eau Vive? That's the one on Jiron Ucayali, isn't it? Sure! I could go for French food, Jim, and they have the best chef in Lima ." Blair gave his lover one of his sweetest smiles.

He pushed himself off the bed and turned to start dressing. Jim wondered how he knew of the French restaurant, but he didn't ask, and Blair didn't tell.

****

L'Eau Vive was actually a converted convent run by French nuns, and the food they served was fantastic. Blair decided to try the aile de raie aux câpres, skate wing with capers, while Jim ordered boeuf bourguignon. He was relieved to note that as Blair consumed more and more of his fish dinner, he relaxed more and more.

Finishing the last of his white wine, Blair's tongue swept out to catch a drop that lingered on his upper lip.

"I'm sorry, Jim. I shouldn't have exploded like that. It won't happen again, I promise."

"No, Blair, I'm sorry. You had every right to be angry. After everything I told you when we first met, I should have told you that you are my guide. You're the reason I was able to go back to work on the Cascade PD. I should have told the men I work with that you're what's kept me from losing my mind. Oh, god, Blair, if it wasn't for you…" He reached across the lacey white tablecloth, sliding his palm over the smaller man's hand. "Forgive me."

"Jim, it's okay." Blair turned his hand and curved his fingers to clasp his lover's, and Jim shivered from the sensation. "Just please don't tell me, 'Love is never having to say you're sorry.'"

"I promise." Jim felt better than he had since he'd picked up his phone and realized his lover was in trouble. "Let's go back to the Hostal. I'll call Simon, and we'll get the ball rolling."

"Yeah." Blair's eyes were heavy-lidded. "Tomorrow is going to be a busy day."

Part 3- wherein things do not go smoothly for the bad guys, and a new player enters the field

"Catorce, Miguel! Fourteen of my best men under arrest. They wait to be deported." The Colombian drug lord was furious. Now there was just him and his segundo, Miguel Ubarry.

"Jefe, perhaps we should cut our losses and leave?"

"Perhaps I should cut off your balls, eh, Miguel? We stay until we find where they are hiding Blair Sandburg! And then…" Escobedo's eyes glittered with anger that bordered on the insane. "Then I will give him to the men as a toy. They will force him to his knees and make him take it in his mouth as well as in his ass. He will beg and plead for mercy; I will laugh and give him none. Long before he is dead, this gringo will be praying to die." His lips were covered with spittle.

Ubarry was wary of el jefe when he got like that, something which seemed to be happening more and more frequently since he had ordered that Americano killed. "Jefe, I will go see what I can learn."

Escobedo was lost in the vision of what he would have his men do to Blair Sandburg, and waved his segundo away.

The segundo made his way to the police station, where he strolled in the early twilight, as unobtrusively as a six foot five inch man could, and cursed the damp chill of December in Washington . Finally he got the break he'd been hoping for.

"Hey, H! Wait up!"

The young, black detective had been walking down the street, and he turned to face the police officer who was calling him.

Ubarry slid deeper into the shadows of a doorway.

"I hear Sandburg is really up shit creek!"

"Yeah. Captain Banks had to send him out of the country! Trust hair boy to get himself into trouble just walking out onto South Seymour Street ! Well, this Rico Escobedo will never find him."

"You know where he is, H?"

The dark face split into a wide grin. "You bet your ass I do! Only, I ain't tellin'! C'mon, I'll buy you a drink. This has been a day!"

"I hear that!"

The two men continued down Pender Street , turning into the tavern where most of the off-duty cops stopped for a drink at the conclusion of their shift.

Miguel Ubarry knew that men often thought with their little head. The black policeman would prove himself to be like every other man, making a fool of himself over a pretty face and a seductive body. Ubarry knew the woman who would be perfect for this job. He would send her to tempt the black detective, and because he was a man, and she was a woman, she would succeed; they would learn where Blair Sandburg was hiding, and el jefe would be happy.

****

The woman was beautiful. She had smooth, café au lait skin and jet-black hair that tumbled down her back past her waist. Her eyes were like bittersweet chocolate, and they gleamed with avarice as she faced el jefe.

Rico Escobedo stared at the woman dispassionately. "What did he have to say?"

"That Henri Brown, he was like putty in my hands, señor." She licked her lips and spoke, her voice a husky promise of sex, secure in her allure. "His eyes, they grew hot at they looked on me." She ran her hands over the small, high curves of her breasts, down to the indentation of her narrow waist, and over the flare of her hips.

Escobedo curled his lip. Crazy Americanos. They preferred a woman who was all angles, when one who was cushioned in softness was so much better. He motioned for her to continue.

"He was unable to resist me. Every question I asked, he fell over himself to answer. He boasted of what happened at the big house outside of town, telling me he was one of the men who rescued Señor Sandburg. It was so easy, like taking candy from a child, he said. He was hoping I would be so impressed I would tumble into his bed."

Escobedo gritted his teeth. The black gringo was unimportant. He did not have the time to destroy every fool who angered him, and he was becoming impatient with the woman's drawn-out recitation. "What did he have to say about the whereabouts of Señor Sandburg?"

"There was no need to take him to my bed, señor. He spoke quite freely."

"What did he have to say, mujer?" His irritation was evident.

"Blair Sandburg was taken by his lover, the police detective, James Ellison, to Machu Picchu in Peru ."

Escobedo glowered at the woman, his hands clenched into fists, strongly tempted to strike her. "Do you think I am stupid? I know where Machu Picchu is!"

"Perdóneme." She gazed at him from under her thick lashes, moistened her lips, took a step closer, her fingers stroking his upper arm. "What do you wish me to do now, Rico?"

His hand shot out, and the palm connected with her soft cheek, leaving a livid print. "Señor!" he snapped. "Always, you will address me as señor! Miguel! Get her out of my sight!"

She cradled her cheek in her palm, her eyes liquid with tears. The bruise throbbed with each beat of her heart. "Why?" she whimpered when Miguel had lead her into another room. "Why did he strike me? What did I do?"

"It is best you do not ask, pequeña. Here is the money you were promised." He stuffed a handful of bills into her cleavage, then dragged her forward and ground his mouth against hers and squeezed her breast cruelly. "Remember, if you speak of this, el jefe will know of it, and I will come after you." He grinned, his golden canines catching the faint light in the room. "Now go, woman."

She didn't wait to be told twice. She bolted out of the cramped apartment that was all the two men needed since their numbers had been so reduced.

"Miguel!"

"¿Si, jefe?"

"See that everything is in readiness. We go to Machu Picchu . I am sure Señor Sandburg will be most surprised to see us there!"

****

Machu Picchu , at eight thousand feet above sea level, was a city in the clouds. A remnant of the once mighty Incan empire, now only ruins covered the terraced slopes. Few people lived there, descendants of the original inhabitants who had intermarried with the native Indians, and those who found the casual attitude of the locals conducive to all manner of enterprise, some legal and some not so legal.

****

"You about ready to go, Chief?" Jim zipped up the duffle and looked across the room to his lover. "I'll take the backpack."

"No, that's okay, Jim. I've got it." Blair slipped his arms into a light jacket, then slung the backpack over his shoulder, rolling the joint to settle the heavy weight. He hoped Jim would buy his innocent smile.

Jim sighed, but didn't say anything more. He tucked his police issue revolver into its shoulder holster, then put on his own jacket and caught up the duffle bag. One last glance around to make sure they weren't leaving anything behind, and they went down to the lobby to turn in their room key.

"This way, Chief." Jim nodded toward the door that opened onto a courtyard at the rear of the hotel, and Blair followed him into the cool, morning sunlight. In a few hours the temperature would have risen to the low seventies, but right now the jackets they wore were welcome.

"¡Hola, amigo!" At the entrance of the courtyard was the mestizo Blair had first met six months before.

"Rafe!" Jim dropped the duffle, and the two men embraced. "It's good to see you again, amigo!"

"Si. It is good to have you back, Jim! Things have been too quiet since you leave us. You are looking well. Living with Señor Blair agrees with you!"

Jim pulled Blair to his side. "Yes, it does."

"Hola, Raphael." Blair's hand was engulfed by the warm paw of Jim's friend, but he didn't need sentinel senses to know the man was riding on nerves.

"We had better get on the road, si? It is not the full rainy season yet, but we do not want to chance getting caught in a shower. Mi amor, she is just outside the courtyard." Raphael led them to the battered jeep that was parked on the side of the road. Jim said something softly to him, and Raphael grunted in response. He took the duffle and placed it in the rear of the jeep, and gestured for Blair to do the same with the backpack. "The drive, it will take more than five hours."

"The train would get us there quicker, Jim." Blair wasn't challenging his lover's choice of transportation.

"It would have been quicker, Chief," he agreed as he climbed into the jeep after Blair, "but it would also have made us more vulnerable. Escobedo knows where we are now. He'll be able to get in touch with his people and have them start tracing us, and I'm not about to give that bastard any kind of edge. Rafe?"

"We have heard of this band, Los Mal Malos, but Rico Escobedo, him we do not know. I have sent word to Incacha. His Chopecs should be at Machu Picchu by the time we get there." Raphael turned in the seat to grin at him.

"Excellent, amigo! Now, just keep your eyes on the road!"

"Si, Jim. But you are such a worry wart!"

"That's why I'm still alive, amigo!" Blair shivered. "Are you cold, Chief?"

"No. I…" //… just got that feeling that someone walked over my grave.// "Yeah, as a matter of fact, I am, a little."

Jim pulled his lover closer against his side, and the rest of the ride was passed in that manner.

****

" Valdez 's ain't been the same since you left, amigo." Raphael tossed over his shoulder as he guided the ancient jeep over the hairpin turns that led to the hotel where Blair had stayed on his last visit. "Let's go to the bar. Pablo has promised us a tin roof!"

"Uh… tin roof, Jim?" Blair couldn't help but notice how relaxed his lover had grown the further away from civilization they had gone. "Is that some kind of drink, like Sex on the Beach or Long Island Iced Tea?"

Jim burst into laughter. " No, it's on the house." The jeep parked in front of the cantina, and they got out and stretched, stiff from the long drive.

"On the…? Oh, I get it."

"Not right now, Chief, but you will later!" Jim was right behind him, and the bulk of his body concealed the sly brush of his palm over his lover's ass. The breathy sound Blair made was only audible to Sentinel ears.

They walked into Valdez 's, pausing to allow their eyes to become accustomed to the dimness within. "Amigo, I must go see a man about a horse," Raphael murmured, and he made his way to the door labeled Gaucho.

At a table at the far end of the room, tourists were gathered around, listening in fascination to the tale being spun by a tall man wearing a bushman's hat that was angled back on his head.

"Well, that reptile caught me by the arm and went into a death roll! I thought I was a goner, for sure!"

A very pretty woman turned pale at the danger he had been in. "And you faced that crocodile all alone, Mr…?"

"'Gator', please. Call me 'Gator'. And no, I wasn't alone. I had old Betsy with me." The man patted the knife that was sheathed at his side.

"Son of a bitch!" Blair bristled. "He's trying to cash in on your experience with the crocodile! Jim!" he whispered, annoyed to hear his lover laughing, "it isn't funny!"

"It's a rip, Chief. You just have to know how to look at it!" Jim walked toward the group and laid his hand on the man's shoulder. "Hello, Gator!"

The man jumped and nearly fell off his stool. He reared around, staring at Jim in astonishment, and then his blue eyes crinkled into a smile. "Jim! I missed you!" He swept the man into a bone-crushing embrace, and planted a noisy kiss on his cheek. "I missed you!"

"I missed you too, Stevie."

"You want to introduce us, James?" Blair bristled even more.

"Yes, James." The other man was laughing. "Introduce us."

"Blair Sandburg, my brother, Steven Ellison. Steven Ellison, my partner, Blair Sandburg."

Steven Ellison released his brother and thrust his hand toward the man who stood there staring in stunned amazement.

"His brother?" Blair accepted the hand, studying him, noting the similarities he had first missed, the same ice blue eyes, the same cheekbones and long jaw, and ghost of a cleft in their chins. "You're Jim's brother?" They even had the same color hair, although Steven wore his longer and shaggier.

"He's spoken of me, I gather. And you're Jim's… partner. I always wondered when he'd find someone to settle down with. Guess that kinda makes us related." He pulled Blair into a hug, then stepped back. "Welcome to the family, baby bro."

Blair opened his mouth to make a casual, flippant remark, but nothing came out. The easy acceptance by Jim's brother astonished him.

Jim was pleased to see his brother's approval of his lover and watched their interaction with amusement. "I never thought I'd see the day when Blair Sandburg was at a loss for words! I'd say this calls for a drink! Pablo?"

"Si, amigo. And the first round is on the house!" That raised a cheer.

They took their bottles of beer and retired to a table in the corner. Steven raised his hat politely to the group he had been regaling with tall tales, and the pretty woman smiled at him. "Perhaps you and your party would care to join us for a drink, fair lady?"

"I'm sorry, our tour bus will be leaving in a few minutes. But I did enjoy hearing of your adventure. Gator." She fluttered her lashes.

"Do you have a map?" he asked, and she shook her head, confused. Steven sighed gustily. "I keep getting lost in your eyes."

Her lips parted. "Oh!"

"Come on, Nan . The bus is going to leave!" Reluctantly she followed her companions out of the cantina, gazing behind in fascination as Steven swung his booted feet up onto the table and tipped his chair back onto two legs, pausing to give him a wave.

"She has the most velvet-y brown eyes," Steven remarked to no one in particular.

"My brother, the ladies' man!" Jim whispered into Blair's ear.

"I always wanted a brother," Blair mused, someone who was as fond of him as Jim obviously was of the man who was now blowing softly across the mouth of the beer bottle, making it hum.

"Bite your tongue, Chief! Steve was the bane of my existence when we were growing up, always stealing my girlfriends!"

"Don't you believe him for a second, Blair!" Jim's brother attempted a pious expression, but the wicked glint in his eye gave him away. "Could I help it if every one of those girls took one look at me and dropped Jim like a hot potato?" Steve smoothed his thick brown hair back off his forehead. If his widow's peak was as pronounced as Jim's, his hairstyle concealed it.

"So I have you to thank for the fact that Jim came to me a virgin?" Blair asked innocently. The cantina had fallen silent, the occupants listening avidly.

"Chief! I was not a virgin!" Jim turned red. "Um…"

Laughter erupted, and Jim, his elbows on the table, dropped his head into his hands. "There goes my reputation as muy macho!" he mourned.

Blair leaned toward him. "Your reputation is safe with me, tough guy." He raised Jim's chin. Snaring his eyes, Blair pursed his lips and blew him a kiss. He rubbed his thumb over the corner of his lover's mouth, then calmly finished the rest of his beer. "Pablo, tres cervezas, por favor."

The grinning bartender brought three more bottles to their table. "Gracias, amigo. There has not been so much entertainment in my cantina since… since the last time you were here. It is good to have you back. Both of you. Salud."

There was a chorus of 'saluds', followed by the musical clink of bottles and glasses tapping each other.

"What brings you to this part of the world, Steve? The last I had heard, you were chief operating officer of Ellison Enterprises."

Steve licked the trace of beer from his upper lip. "Still am, big bro. But Dad sent me to check out our interests here in South America . There's been some heavy duty shit going down in these parts. I figured since I was going to be in the neighborhood anyway, I'd stop by and pay my favorite brother a visit, only Pablo told me you were back in the States. It's a pretty sad state of affairs when I learn from my brother's bartender that he was living not more than three hundred miles from our home! Why didn't you let us know?"

"You know Dad never approved of my lifestyle. I just didn't think he'd… want to hear from me."

"And me, Jim? Did I ever once give you the impression I disapproved of the way you chose to live?"

"No, you never did, Stevie. I'm sorry. I should have; I didn't, and I should have."

Steven leaned forward and smacked Jim's shoulder. "Next time, call!"

"I promise, Steve." The brothers stared into each other's eyes, and then Jim cleared his throat and rubbed the bridge of his nose, and Steven became busy with the laces of his hiking boots.

And Blair was charmed by their behavior.

"So, Steve, how long will you be in Peru ?"

"Just another few days. I promised the old man I'd be home for Christmas this year."

"Naomi, my mom, is throwing the New Year's Eve party to end all New Year's Eve parties, and if you're only going to be a few hundred miles from Cascade, why don't you come? I know it would mean a lot to Jim to ring in the new year with his… brother."

"Chief, you don't even know if Simon will give me the night off!"

"Jim, if your brother is going to the party, the least Simon can do is let you join him!"

"You're devious, you know that, Sandburg?"

"I love you too, Ellison."

Raphael meandered up to the table with a glass of tequila in his hand. "Did I miss anything?"

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~