Callery Soenen knew he was the premier tourist guide in the Amazon jungle. There wasn’t a white man alive that knew the jungle the way Callery did, and he loved his job. Even when he had no tours scheduled, he wandered the jungle, making notes on breathtaking sights and places to avoid.
He even lived in the jungle, his medium sized cabin surrounded by dense trees and animals galore. It wasn’t unusual for Callery to sip his coffee on his porch in the company of several types of boas, including an Anaconda that seemed to think Callery’s ratty and tattered couch on his porch was its own personal bed, Capybaras, a Jaguar or two and inside his cabin, a young Ocelot that he’d rescued who was now more a pet than a wild animal. There was a Giant Anteater that lived in a tree a few yards away and a family of Sloths who wandered by every once in a while. And occasionally Callery would get annoyed as Howler monkeys migrated by, or the Toucans used his roof as a launch pad. Oh, and who could forget the insects that inhabited the giant rainforest? Callery certainly couldn’t, though he’d been here long enough to be fairly acclimated to them, and very aware which were poisonous and which were harmless.
All was peaceful and right with his world, until he stumbled upon a group of tourist that were not part of any tour he did. The men looked swarthy and suspicious, and rifle in hand, Callery stalked them until they left the jungle. He didn’t like strangers wandering around his part of the jungle unsupervised. On his way back to his cabin, he stumbled over a rise in the jungle floor, landing heavily on the ground. When he turned to see what he’d tripped over, his heart seized and he was in motion in seconds.
There, stretched out in his jungle was a man. A man that was obviously hurt, and most likely left for dead by those men who’d looked so suspicious to Callery. Well, so much for his peaceful and quiet existence.
Zuriel Alverez knew trying to escape the Columbian Cartel was going to be tough, he just didn’t know it was going to be his last act on earth. He should have as Jesus and his thugs marched him deep into the jungle, his hands bound behind his back. He stumbled too many times to count, bruises blooming all over his body from slamming into the ground. Marcos had yanked him up the first time, wrenching his shoulder painfully, but didn’t help him after Jesus growled at him not to do it again. Zuriel was on his own to struggle to his feet when he fell.
It seemed like hours before they finally stopped, but then the beating began, Zuriel unable to defend himself. He could feel bones breaking, the agony too much to bear and he lost consciousness, figuring he wouldn’t be waking up.
But he did wake up…and not under the canopy of green he expected. Eyes swollen, it was difficult to look around, but he could see he was in some kind of rustic cabin. When he turned his head, white hot pain shot through his neck and shoulder, and then he screamed as a wild animal stared into his face just inches away.
Slowly, but surely he began to heal…with the help of the sexiest man Zuriel had ever laid eyes on. Working for the Cartel, he’d kept his sexuality secret, but now he no longer had to because the Columbians thought him dead.
Turns out, the flirting turned into so much more, and Zuriel found himself falling hard for the jungle man. An independent tour guide, Callery was everything Zuriel had ever wanted in a man, and Zuriel was now free to pursue him. Not that Callery gave him a run for his money. The man was more than receptive to Zuriel’s advances.
Zuriel was loath to leave his new lover, but he had to get back to civilization so he could pass on the information he had on the Cartel, and hopefully bring them down. Seemed Callery wasn’t too happy with his plans to abandon him, but there was nothing Zuriel could do. He only hoped when he was done, his jungle man would still be here waiting for him.