Delta: Revenge (30 page)

“Paixão?”

Sophia broke from his heartbeat trance and tilted her head, resting her chin on his breastbone. Her eyes asked,
Yes?
while she couldn’t muster a single word.

“It’s okay.”

The burn of emotion stung in her eyes. “I—”
want to tell you. Want to share. Need you to know.
But instead of mumbling any half-assed thought, she clung to him, hugging him with the burning need to show him how she could not possibly love, need, care, and crave anyone the way she did him.

He stroked her hair, soothing away the surge of desperate panic. “When it’s time, I’m here.”

And
it
was gone—the fear and uncertainty. He was simply the best. The sting in her eyes lessened, and the squeezer in her heart relaxed. Javier Almeida was a saint. And she’d been pushing him away for weeks because he couldn’t commit to a picket-fence lifestyle.

“Thank you, Javier.” A single tear spilled, and with it, she took a breath and kissed his chest in an emoting way, claiming him in the only way she could until she could find a way to say,
Javier, I love you too
.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

The smell of bacon and eggs pulled Sophia from an easy night’s rest in Javier’s arms. His strength and the memory of his words surrounded her. Yes, she was happy and willing to put aside her list of what she thought would constitute a happy life. What did it matter if he roamed the world? She too felt that need, and hadn’t she given Josh hell for taking advantage of it?

Javier was what she wanted. Nothing about him needed to change. Silly things like where he might bank or sleep or what vehicle he might drive didn’t matter. Those criteria were armor for her heart, an impenetrable coating that Javier would never get through because he wasn’t that man. Deep in her soul, she knew that.

Wow. Good job looking out, subconscious, but it’s time to ease toward another risk.
She couldn’t flat-out
tell him
how much she loved him, but actions spoke louder than words anyway.

“Lost in thought?” The scratch of morning-tinged words was quiet and powerful. Sophia felt each syllable massage down her body as the scruff of his cheek touched her shoulder.

“Yes.”

“About?”

“You,” she said.

“Ah.” Deft hands turned her languid body to him. “Want to clue me in?”

“Should I?”

Javier nodded. “You should.”

“What if I say something that scares you?”

His eyebrows went up, and he laughed, squeezing her into a hug. “First, I don’t scare. Second, that thing I said to you that I won’t say again but still mean?”

Oh God. There the world went, spinning sideways even though she was safely tucked in his arms, in bed. “Yeah?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“Okay.”

“Tell me your thoughts.”

“Bossy.” Sophia smiled, blushing and biting her lip.

“Please.” He kissed the lip she bit, taking a moment to bite it as well before sweetly, gently letting it go. “Tell me.”

“Is this our version of happily ever—” A hot blush hit her cheeks. “Happily for now?”

“You want it to be? For now? If I try for you, when—” He shifted, uncertainty tightening his jaw. “When I don’t know how I feel about you doing what you do—”

“And,
I
don’t know how
I
feel about you not having a place in the world.”

“Meaning?”

“No car, no truck, no rent, no apartment. No home.”

“But I will have you.”

Wow. Her mouth hung open.

His eyes locked to hers. “That’s enough for me to ignore my concerns. Is it enough for you?”

“I already decided yes.”

“We try?” he asked. “We make an
us
work.”

“Yes.”

Javier rolled on top of her, threading his fingers into her hair, letting her take the brunt of his weight just enough that she could feel his ownership, breathe in his happiness, and wrap her limbs around him, hoping to hug and share a tenth of how loved he made her feel.

***

Three days in paradise had gone by in a flash. Now, in grand Delta fashion, Javier stood by Sophia on the runway next to two Lear jets. One was headed to Titan Headquarters to drop off Sophia and give her the opportunity to take on a job that she was excited about but that gave Javier heartburn. The second jet would take Javier to meet his team in an undisclosed location.

This was it. Time to say good-bye. The real world called, and their real world was a lot tougher than most people’s.

“You okay?” she asked.

He was worried about her. Titan HQ was one of the safest places on earth, but what about where she went after that? Not that she was taking jobs that had her repelling out an Abu Dhabi skyscraper, but she had managed to find a decent bit of trouble in Honduras.

“I’m good, paixão.”

Tension hung between them still. She shifted, and neither of them walked toward their respective jets.

“Oh, Hana is in the US.”

Sophia legitimately looked thrilled. “Good.”

“She’ll be safe,” he said.

“Never one hundred percent.”
Just like you
was the part she didn’t say. “But that’s great news. Javier, tell me this will work.”

He blew out a breath and looked down at the one thing in the world he couldn’t stand to lose. Scooping Sophia into his embrace, he whispered into her ear, “I promise, paixão. Promise. We will make this work.”

“Good.”

“Besides, I’ve always wanted a girlfriend.”

Her face lit, chin resting on his sternum. “I’m your girlfriend?”

Laughing, he shrugged. “I don’t have a car, apartment, or mortgage. Have to start somewhere.”

She hugged his chest and stifled a sob of nodding agreement. “See you soon.”

Then the woman he loved planted a kiss on his lips that didn’t last nearly long enough and took off for her jet, trying to hide her tears.

“I love you, paixão.” Javier boarded his jet, torn apart, all because he’d found his reason for breathing and missed her already.

CHAPTER THIRTY

Four Weeks Later

Outside Kandahar, Afghanistan

Brock came over to the team huddled on the ground, sitting in the sand, wondering what on earth had trumped their current job enough that he walked away midsentence during their ops briefing. They soon found out. Rodrigo Moreira had been found with a cartel trading partner in Saudi Arabia who had placed him in a safe house in Afghanistan. With this takedown, Javier would be able to finally ruin the PC, finally take out his revenge and dismantle the last slippery piece of the PC puzzle that he’d searched for his entire life. Tonight, his life’s mission would come to rest.

But apparently, he’d have to wait until after Brock handled whatever had interrupted their final debriefing for what everyone was now calling Javier’s job.

Never one to mince words, Brock stopped at the head of their gathering. “Colin, on your feet. Let’s go.”

Again, without another word, he left. All eyes went to Colin, who looked just as caught off guard as the rest of them. But he jumped up and trailed their team leader. From twenty feet away, under the cover of a quickly falling sun, Javier watched the two men talk. Colin’s stance shifted. Brock squared, finished with whatever he had to say. Then they stood in silence, the tension evident.

Colin said a one-word answer, and Brock nodded, slapping the guy on the shoulder. Whatever that conversation had been, it held meaning. A beat passed, and they stalked back. Colin’s hardened face was unreadable other than he was
pissed
. Murderous. Vengeful. One bad decision away from okaying a nuclear war.

“New priority.” Brock dropped down, pushing what he’d been working on aside.

That
pissed Javier the fuck off. They were closing in on a trafficker who they’d been chasing for months from one side of the globe to the other. His gaze flicked from Brock to Colin and back again. “New priority?”

“Yeah, asshole,” Brock growled. “Stand down.”

Javier’s molars ground together as his fists clenched, but he kept his jaw wired shut and tried to focus, nodding his willingness.

“Sophia Cole was kidnapped four and a half hours ago in Paris. Algerian Combat Group has taken credit.”

Javier’s head swam. His heart sank. The last month had been the best in his life even though he and Sophia had often been ships passing in the night. More than that, terrifyingly, the ACG were the assholes who’d videoed beheadings and posted them on YouTube. They were the fucks who didn’t negotiate. Not that there was a negotiation to be had. No, he wanted bodies.

Sweat brimmed on Javier’s brow. His nostrils flared as he tried to maintain composure, and he wanted war. He wanted blood. He wanted them to pay. He wanted his woman, and he wanted in on the rescue. There was nothing to stop him from getting to her.

Brock continued. “Titan HQ is confirming with CIA and the Pentagon. We’re the team closest to her assumed location.”

“Which is?” Javier asked.

“Tunisia.”

He growled. Tunisia meant mountains and desert in a country that might’ve had a democracy but still had jihadist attacks, where the ACG had their fair share of home bases. Delta could get there in a couple hours. If one drop of her blood had been shed, God help the men holding her. Had terrorist groups been put on earth to terrorize the women he loved? Eradicating them wasn’t even an option anymore.

“We’ll break up into two teams. Javier, you’ll stay here, take a smaller team, and complete—”

His blood froze. “No.”

Brock’s jaw hinged before he squinted. “Excuse me?”

“I’m on Sophia’s op.”

Brock flexed his jaw and ran a hand over his chin, studying Javier. “You’ve been tracking
this
job.”

“
No.
Sophia is
mine
. This is a
job
.”

Brock had made assumptions when he’d invited Sophia to Brazil, but that’d been over a month ago and primarily to focus him back on Delta. No one knew what’d been going on with them, and he hadn’t shared. They were perfect as they were, doing what they did and living as they lived—quietly, happily, and figuring things out as they each took on jobs traveling the world, trying not to tell the other to stay home.

How had that that worked out for him?
Not. Good.

Colin’s confusion pinched to a glare, but with the stakes what they were, he settled back, more unsure of why Javier was claiming his sister than pissed that a stake had been made. “What?”

Javier held Brock’s eye. “I’m on her op, with or without you.”

All eyes fell on Javier, but he didn’t waver from his demand. He knew their thoughts. They’d watched him obsess over the PC, and cartels in general, since Brock had brought him on board.

“I promised you one thing, Brazil.” Brock’s scrutiny intensified. “One. And this is it. The day I found you, I offered you this gig. Gave you a job on Delta, with Titan. I said you have the opportunity for revenge. The day has come, Brazil. This is your chance. Rodrigo Moreiro on a platter. Blood for blood.”

“I understand that.”

“You do?”

“I do.”

“You miss this job, and someone else on this team will take your revenge.”

It didn’t matter. PC blood would be shed; the last piece of the cartel would be shattered. They would be dismantled. Ruined. Never to exist again. He might not deal the final blow, but they would be gone. “I’m on Sophia’s op.”

An eternity of a second ticked by. Brock nodded. “You’re on Sophia’s op.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Shivering on the floor, Sophia knew there was a bounty on her head that the US government would never pay, and even if they did, the Algerian Combat Group would kill her anyway. They’d behead her and make a YouTube video of it. Those sensationalist cell-footage shots were the hype that the ACG thrived on.

But at least her death wouldn’t be pointless. Someone had to care that a girl from Pennsylvania went out that way. Someone would talk about the good she’d done in the world, how she’d fought for equality and basic human rights for women and children. Sophia sobbed, realizing that she was drafting her obituary.

The room was the size of a closet and smelled like the memories of victims. She leaned back, tapping the back of her head against the cement wall. Dirty light crept into the small space through large crevices along the ceiling and doorframe. The harsh wall crumbled into dust when she scratched and kicked at it, but judging from her brief glance as they locked her in, it had to be more than a foot thick. She could scratch and kick for weeks, turning her confines into a pile of gravel, but it wouldn’t make a difference. There was too much material to go through and not enough time to enact a plan or room to hide her destructive process.