Road Trip, Volume 2 Read online

  Table of Contents

  Blurb

  Dedication

  Author’s Note

  Under Pressure

  Walking on the Sun

  More from BA Tortuga

  Readers love Road Trip Vol. 1 by BA Tortuga

  About the Author

  By BA Tortuga

  Visit Dreamspinner Press

  Copyright

  Road Trip Vol. 2

  By BA Tortuga

  Road Trip Collection

  The course of love is a rough ride, but for ecoterrorist MJ, ridge runner Sonny, physicist Paddy, psychic Neil, genetically enhanced English professor Duncan, and the assassin known as Cowboy, the road to romance is a heart-stopping trip—one full of kidnappings, explosions, secret programs, and supersoldiers. They’re an awful ragged bunch to be considered heroes.

  Under Pressure

  Sonny and MJ’s retirement may be in jeopardy, but at least they’re together on a new boat—with no annoying hostages. Then Cowboy, MJ’s old friend, gets in touch, bringing with him a host of complications, including Professor Duncan, who has ties to the Program. A call for help from Paddy sets them all on a collision course with a deadly specter from the past. As MJ makes his plans, Sonny is shaken by the possibility of losing everything.

  Walking on the Sun

  Sonny is determined to raise hell to hunt for MJ—problem is, will MJ know anyone, or himself, once they catch up to him? Neil and Paddy are healing but reluctantly join the effort, as Cowboy and Duncan help Sonny prepare for a showdown. Sonny might be ragged, but he’s MJ’s hero, and he is not about to give up on the most important thing in his life, even if it kills him. Will everyone survive the last epic battle, or will they go out in a blaze of glory?

  To Julia, who loves MJ and Sonny more than anyone. Love you, baby. BA

  Author’s Note

  THESE BOYS broke my heart. I make no apologies, except possibly to Paddy. He deserves an apology. BA

  Under Pressure

  Chapter One

  “THAT WAS a hell of a light show, huh, Precious?” Sonny steered the new boat out of the bay, watching the waves that would eventually come up to slap the bow, trying to keep the damned boat between the buoys. His adrenaline levels were pretty damned high, so it wasn’t easy. Hell, his hands were still shaking. Fuck, he’d just seen someone’s motherfucking head roll across the bar floor.

  It hadn’t been a head he knew or nothing, but still. Man. Human heads weren’t supposed to do that.

  MJ, though, he looked cool as a cucumber in a deep freeze.

  “Not bad. Not bad at all.” Those binoculars never moved, MJ watching, even though Sonny didn’t think the son of a bitch could see a fucking thing, as much C-4 as the bastard’d used. That fucking flashbang probably echoed off some goddamn satellite in space. Probably interrupted the transmission of a ball game or something. That thought sort of made him grin.

  MJ rolled those inked shoulders, muscles rippling. “Keep going, Sunshine. No slowing down.”

  “Shit. When have I ever slowed down?” He steered off the center line a bit, trying to get less chop. It would kinda suck to break up their pretty new schooner. “You think we got him?”

  “He was on the boat. He was on the deck, though.” MJ’s lips twisted, just once. The man had liked that boat.

  “Good.” If they hadn’t killed the bastard, they’d at least put the hurt on him. “So, where to, Precious?”

  “How do you feel about the Galapagos?”

  “We’ll have to get gas….” Lord. Galapagos. Turtles. That was all he could think of.

  “We can do that in Jamaica. Panama. It’ll take a while.” MJ shrugged. “There’s Trinidad.”

  So, it didn’t matter. MJ in the grip of apathy was a dangerous thing. “Maybe we should just find a cove someplace, anchor. Have some R and R.”

  Fuck like bunnies.

  “As long as it’s not obvious, yeah. Yeah.” The too-long blond hair just moved in the wind, the full set of Samsonite under MJ’s eyes starting to show. The son of a bitch had been going for five days, nonstop. Five days of planning and setting charges and making sure that bastard found them. Five days. Shit.

  “You should go lie down, man.” Look at him, all mother hen. Of course, he couldn’t use his usual MJ sleep aid. Either one of them—the fucking or the drugging. He had to drive.

  “I’m fine.” MJ’s belly looked like he could bounce quarters off it. “I need to check on my folks, make sure they’re wrapped up tight. Once I do that, I’ll be fine.”

  “Sure you are. Fine as frog hair. You’re fixing to have a psychotic episode. Now, you know I love that, but where are you gonna go, huh? We’re on a boat.” They got out of the chop, and Sonny gave it some speed, needing to get… somewhere.

  “I haven’t had a psychotic episode in weeks. You’re confusing me with the Brit.”

  “No, he was just sick as a dog….” The Brit and the little redhead were gone. Thank God. They were pretty, but man, those two cramped their style. There was something about hanging with a mind reader that made him itchy. “You think they’re boinking, like right now?”

  “Ew. No.” MJ shuddered, nose wrinkling. “Rick is… not sexual. God. Ew. I’d just gotten the image of those two out of my brain.”

  “Yeah, but the blond was pretty.” He knew that would get him some heat, but damn it, he needed MJ to do more than stare back toward the wake and be all zombie. Arrr.

  He almost got worried, but then that eyebrow went up.

  And up.

  And up.

  Oh, hell yes. Score.

  “I didn’t think you were into nutcase tea-drinkers, Sunshine.”

  “Well, maybe not tea. But you know I like crazy blonds.” The crazy remark might even get MJ to come hit him.

  “I wonder if the boat will move faster if I lose a couple pounds of deadweight….”

  Sighing, Sonny turned to a new heading, searching the horizon for landmarks. “That was lame, Precious.”

  “Lame.” He thought he could hear the lenses in the binoculars trying to crack.

  “Uh-huh.” Turning on his most offensive drawl, he went on, “You aren’t even trying. I mean, if you’re gonna make a death threat after all this time, it needs to have some oomph.”

  He heard the sounds of MJ’s feet hitting the deck about half a second before MJ tackled him. God damn.

  His chin cracked against the wheel casing, his hands scrabbling as MJ’s weight sent him crashing down. Sonny grunted, tasting blood, and sent one elbow back in a vicious blow. He could feel the muscles bending, then bouncing back, pushing him away. “Motherfucker.”

  Teeth sank into his shoulder, MJ’s hands pushing hard at the base of his skull. Fuck. It hurt so bad that it brought tears springing up. It hurt so good that his cock went zero to sixty in record time. Sonny moaned, trying to fight back but wanting to hump instead. Too damned long….

  MJ spun him so fast his back cracked against the deck, that hot mouth landing on his lips. MJ’s eyes were huge, staring, fucking awake.

  “Shit. MJ….” His hands came right up, clutching at MJ’s shoulders. Damn. His head was just spinning.

  “Uh-huh.” He got himself another kiss, this one hot enough to melt iron. That was it. Just fucking like that.

  The boat rocked, starting to turn in a lazy circle, and Sonny broke off, gasping for air. “We need to turn the engine off.”

  “Then turn it off.” MJ slid down his body, tearing at his clothes, nails scoring his skin.

  Surging up to his knees, Sonny flipped the key and the engine died, screaming a little because he hadn’t throttled down. Then he grabbed MJ and tore the man’s shirt right in half. Goddamn.

  “They didn’t get us.�
� MJ bit his hip, hard.

  “No. No, we’re right here.” Poor Precious. The man had some issues, what with that weirdassed government-type group hunting him. Sonny couldn’t blame him. Hell, he admired the man. Tangling his fingers in that too-long hair, he yanked MJ’s head up, meeting those bright eyes. “Mine.”

  “Prove it.”

  Like he couldn’t? Sonny growled, ripping at MJ’s thin linen pants, sending them flying overboard with a twist of his wrist. He pulled MJ’s mouth to his again, taking a kiss that set off fireworks of pain and beautiful fucking need. MJ’s fingers were digging into his scalp, holding him tight, that kiss going on and on until lights flashed behind his eyes.

  They broke apart, gulping in great gasps of air before plunging right back in. They rolled, MJ landing hard on his back, Sonny pressing MJ’s hands to the slick wood. MJ stared at him, not asleep anymore, not even a little bit cold. Fuck, no. That was pure heat.

  “I got you, Precious. Okay? Got you.” Rocking his hips, he let MJ touch him, let his cock rub and press and feel like it might explode.

  “Sonny.” MJ groaned, legs coming up to wrap around him. Jesus, look at that belly roll.

  “Yeah.” They didn’t have anything like lube, so he used spit, holding MJ’s wrists with one hand, wetting the fingers of his other. His fingers tasted salty, rough, but he got them wet and pushed them against MJ’s hole, just not able to stop. MJ didn’t seem to be spending a lot of energy on complaints either. No, those hips jerked, pushing right onto his fingers as MJ’s wrists pulled against his hands.

  The wind whipped sea air at them, but he could still smell MJ, the musk and earth scent making him groan. He got his fingers deep inside, got MJ open for him, ready to go.

  “Fuck me. Come on.” Fuck, nobody needed like his Precious. Nobody ever had.

  “Now,” he agreed, moving his fingers out of the way and pushing his cock into place. He slipped right in, and MJ pulled him in deep, those legs clamping around him. Sonny moaned, bent to kiss those lips, needing more contact. MJ’s tongue pushed into his mouth and fucked his lips just like the man was starving. Fucking A. Sonny slammed into MJ’s body, hips driving hard and fast, feeling the scrape and burn of that hot, tight ass all along his shaft. Jesus fuck. He could hear MJ’s moans—harsh, raw noises just pushed into his lips. Their bodies slapped together, their balls swung, his chest hair rasped against MJ’s skin. “Precious…. Yeah.”

  “Come on. Come on, Sunshine.” MJ’s hands squeezed hold of his buttcheeks, grabbing hard and tugging him in deeper.

  “Need more….” Damn it, he needed to feel MJ move. Needed to hit just there. Right. There.

  “Uh….” Fuck, feel that ass squeeze him, work his prick like a goddamn hand.

  “Precious. Yeah. Like that.” Goddamn. His whole body felt like it was gonna shake apart. Like a fucking earthquake.

  MJ nodded, nipped his bottom lip hard, muscles rippling something fierce. He reached up, finding MJ’s nipples and twisting them before sliding his hand down to stroke that pretty, pretty cock. Jesus, MJ was hard for him. Needing. Those blue eyes went wide as saucers, MJ looking damn near shocked for a second before heat just poured over his hand.

  Sonny’s teeth snapped together, the damned edges closing close enough to the inside of his lip that he tasted blood. His cock swelled impossibly, and Sonny shot so hard he couldn’t breathe, filled MJ deep.

  MJ rode it out with him, holding on tight like he’d jump ship or something.

  Wrapping around MJ, Sonny rolled them to their sides and held right back. “I got you, Precious. Just me. No one else.”

  “Just you.” MJ melted for him, cuddled in, eyes closed.

  Thank fuck, the man was relaxing. MJ in work mode was a little unnerving after the second or third day. He liked happily dangerous better.

  “You’ll keep watch?” It said something, that MJ’d let him watch over.

  “I will. Crash a bit, huh?” They’d go, find someplace far enough away to anchor and swim and relax. Maybe ride a nice little buzz for a couple of days.

  “Yeah.” MJ kissed his jaw, nodded. “You poke me if you need me.”

  “I will. With something you enjoy.” Kissing MJ’s chin, Sonny hoisted himself up, hauled MJ to the little bench seat. “You hang out here.”

  “Mmrph.” He figured that was a yes. ’Course, MJ was already sound asleep.

  Sonny smiled, kissing that sweaty forehead before going back to start the boat and get them going again. They needed a place to hole up and remember how to be them, no hostages, no work, no evil ex-bosses.

  Just them. They were always best that way.

  Chapter Two

  HE STILL wasn’t sure if this was a good idea or not. He just wasn’t. Still, if he didn’t get a drink and get Sonny off the motherfucking boat, there might be a catastrophic incident. MJ did his best to avoid catastrophic incidents.

  Usually.

  Well, sometimes.

  Okay, lately.

  At least today.

  He’d talked to his mom, checked his money, looked for whispers of a deadly boat explosion. All the good stuff.

  “You want the cabin in the back or on the end?” he asked Sonny, forcing himself to look calm, settled. Fucking easy in his fucking skin.

  Goddamn islands.

  Goddamn people building things and ruining the water table and native animal habitat….

  “The back. It sits far enough away that we won’t have to worry.” Sonny was jittering like the man always accused him of doing, tapping one leg over and over.

  “You stay out of the stash, man, or I’m knocking you out.” He headed over to Joie, her smile shining in her dark face. “Au fond du terrain, s’il vous plaît.”

  “Oui. Oui.” She held up two fingers. “Deux lits?”

  He shrugged. One or two beds worked for them. Sonny wandered, just visible from the corner of his eye. The man looked like he might explode. Joie handed him the keys, giving Sonny a nervous glance or two.

  “Ça ira bon. Just fine. Don’t worry.” He handed over enough money to keep her quiet, but not so much she’d think on them. She smiled again for him, nodding and slipping away with the money, back up to her own little cabin. Sonny was bouncing on the balls of his feet, growling a little.

  “In the back. Now.” He grabbed the bags, growling right back. They needed a bed.

  A bathtub.

  Hopefully a lizard-free bathtub.

  Putting his feet down hard, Sonny headed on back, schlepping one of the big duffels. The man was sore as a lion with a thorn in its damned paw, and MJ was getting a little sick of it. He watched Sonny walk, trying to decide if a coconut to the back of the head would help or hurt. Of course he’d have to climb a tree to get a coconut, because there was no deadfall, and that would be way more effort than slamming Sonny’s head against the cabin door a few times.

  “You’re not listening, are you?” Sonny growled, snapping him out of his pleasant daydream.

  “Nope. I was admiring your backside.”

  “No. You were looking a lot higher. You try to hit me and I’ll tear your ass up, and not in the good way.” Those big hands opened and closed, Sonny staring at him, daring him.

  “One, how the fuck would you know? Two, you won’t tear my ass up, you enjoy it too much.” He put the bags down. “And three, if you want to fight, you stubborn fucking redneck, quit being a pussy and bring it on.”

  “Pussy.” The word was barely audible. The sound of Sonny’s fist connecting with his chin was much louder.

  At least they could finally get on with their day now.

  MJ dropped down, swept Sonny’s legs out from under him, the tall asshole going down with a very satisfying thud. Sonny fought dirty, though, kicking out at him, spinning so one booted foot connected with his knee. Fuck, that stung. He went down, elbow slamming into Sonny’s stomach, sinking in a second before the abs contracted and pushed back. Really, they needed to eat before fighting.

  Grunting, So
nny went absolutely limp, arms and legs flopping like a rag doll’s. The man didn’t even cuss. There was no way his blow had damaged Sonny that much. He rolled away, figuring either Sonny’d passed out or was waiting to pounce again. Either way, he’d need some space.

  Those dark eyes opened, almost black, staring right at him. “Your heart’s not in it, Precious. Is the romance gone?”

  “Well, we’ve experienced kidnapping, explosions, and a beheading. Does that mean the honeymoon’s over?”

  Sonny rubbed his belly, fingers exploring right where MJ’s elbow had hit. “I think I’m tired. Shit, Precious, I have this weird urge to apologize.”

  Man, the world was askew.

  Drastically.

  “Let’s just jack off and nap. We’ll explore paradigm shifts and shit later.”

  “We have chocolate.” Climbing stiffly to his feet, Sonny held out a hand and pulled MJ close when he took it. He got a kiss, and there was nothing apologetic about it, which was a fucking relief. He wrapped one hand around Sonny’s waist, fingers working the small of Sonny’s back, pushing hard.

  They needed less catastrophe and more fucking.

  “Mmm.” That big body pressed against his a moment, Sonny leaning hard before they both moved to grab bags and get inside.

  The cabin wasn’t bad at all—hell, it was cleaner than the one in Jamaica and bigger than the one in the Bahamas. It beat the living hell out of being stuck with a rotting corpse in a box on a boat.

  Sonny looked around and nodded. “Not bad, Precious. You think there’s a shower?”

  “Yeah. Supposed to be.” The bed looked clean, the kitchenette functional.

  “Get naked, then. I want to get clean and maybe spend some quality time in bed, contemplating your ink.”

  “Mmm. You haven’t done that in forever…. Contemplated me.” He was an enormous fan.

  “I need to. Hell, if I’m going to tattoo you, I need to make a map.” Sonny started tugging at him, pulling at his clothes, pulling him to the bathroom.