Delta: Revenge Read online

  Then there were the guys Colin ran around the world with, likely breaking hearts. But at least they were up-front about it, not cheating and lying like Dr. Josh. They were the boys—Ryder, the guy with the golden smile, and handsome, focused Luke, who seemed as though shadows sometimes chased him. And Javier. She couldn’t look away from him. He could’ve been the poster boy for Calvin Klein, exotic edition. He was tall, dark, and handsome. And now, he looked like a… killer.

  They all did. All for one and one for all—that might have been the Delta motto, because each of the chiseled mugs matched Colin’s. They all wore looks that said they were ready to protect what was theirs: her.

  Josh’s hand reached for the Paul Lang original, and she stepped out of reach as though the good doctor were covered in something contagious. An audible gasp swept the church. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Colin stand up in his pew as if he might side tackle her asshole of a groom. But there was no need for that. Sophia was strong like her brother. Like her father. She was tough in her own right, strong and brave, and didn’t need this bull crap. Throwing on a smile as fake as her marriage would have been, she spoke only to her mom. “Time for the reception.”

  And that was that. The smile was still there. Maybe she was strong like her mother, too.

  For all the risk she’d lived through, for every fight she’d waged overseas to help women and children in the parts of the world that didn’t value them as people, how had this happened to her?

  “Sophia—”

  “Shut up, Josh.” She squared her shoulders, held her chin up, ignored her mother’s pained expression and her father’s homicidal one, and walked back down the aisle. The only sound was the swishing of the spectacular skirt that wasn’t very Sophia Cole to begin with.

  CHAPTER TWO

  As soon as the heavy church doors shut behind Sophia, the loud explosion of gossip quickly fired up. Three inches of carved wood was no match for wedding-day gossip. Any second now, one of her girlfriends would race behind her, but if she had to bet money on who would make it out the door first—

  “Sophia Marie!”

  She smiled because she’d known it. The money would be on her brother every time. But she kept walking with pounds of white fabric in hand. Colin was by her side, matching her power stride before she could mumble, “How mad is Mom?”

  “Soph?”

  She angled around the sidewalk, heading toward the parking lot. “Got your car keys on you?”

  He chuckled. “Shit, girl. Yeah.”

  “Well, let’s go.”

  “Stop a sec.” He pulled her to a standstill, both hands on her shoulders. “Seriously, you alright?”

  Quickly taking inventory of her feelings, it was shocking how she was more upset with being pissed and publicly humiliated than cheated on. She’d spent too much time on the other side of the world doing what she could to make sure lives and feelings were valued for this to happen. “I’m ready for cake. Lots and lots of cake. And to get out of this dress.” She was literally sewed into it and needed to escape.

  “Soph?”

  “Seriously. If Josh and Lizzie want to bump uglies, good for them.”

  Colin tried to hide a laugh with a hand rubbing his face then brushing into his close-cropped hair. “You’re not alright.”

  “Probably not. But I’m ready to have a drink and eat a lot more than I’ve allowed myself in two weeks. Okay?”

  His fingers flexed on her shoulders. “You were always too good for him.”

  “What, Dr. Josh? Who’s too good for that guy? Mom couldn’t have the invitations engraved any faster than she did.”

  Voices of well-meaning bridesmaids neared them, but she didn’t want to see them. She didn’t want to know who knew, who might’ve guessed, or who’d been as oblivious as she was.

  Colin wrapped an arm around her lace-covered shoulders, and they hit the church parking lot. A minute later, he had her and several pounds of lace and silk in the passenger seat of his Wrangler. A rev of the engine and a slam of gas, and they were headed to their parents’ estate, also known as the site of the reception, the location of cake, and the home of the open bar.

  “Yeah?” Colin’s phone was pressed to his ear. “Ten-four.” He laughed in a way that told Sophia her mother had done something that would make her want to pull out her perfectly coiffed hair and veil—God, she was still wearing the veil.

  “What?”

  Colin dropped the phone in his lap. “Nothing you can’t guess.”

  Sophia dropped the visor and opened the mirror to see what could be done about the veil. Not much, at least not until they were out of the car and in a bathroom with someone dexterous with hairpins.

  “Mom announced the party is to continue. Both sides are headed over to enjoy dinner and dancing.” He shook his head. “Fun times.”

  “Of course she did.”

  “Really, you announced it first. Think Josh will show?”

  “No way. He’s scared to death of you.”

  “As he should be. I’ll track his ass down if Dad hasn’t got to him first.”

  Sophia grumbled and leaned her head back. “This is Mom’s nightmare.”

  “No, sweetie.” Colin gave her a sad half smile. “It’s Dad’s.”

  “What?” Dad’s nightmares were about middle-of-the-night phone calls and stuff like nuclear weapons.

  “His little girl hurt like that? Josh better run.”

  She let Colin’s point of view take hold. True enough. If it wasn’t her brother being overprotective, it was her dad. Either way, she wouldn’t want to be Josh with the family bulldogs loose. “Just take me to my party. I need champagne and fondant.”

  ***

  The linen-covered table matched the moneyed elegance of the Coles’ estate. The extravaganza made Javier’s skin crawl. He’d grown up in a hut in the favelas—the slums—in the overcrowded, stacked neighborhood of Complexo do Alemão. Back then, he hadn’t known palaces like this existed. His world had been military police, cartels, traffickers, crisis, and occupations. Life was hell, but hell had been normal.

  He wouldn’t have comprehended this if he hadn’t been yanked from Brazilian poverty, from the money-making hustle of street fights in Rio de Janeiro, and trained as a mercenary and a solider. As an American.

  Titan’s Delta team claimed him as one of their own. It’d worked out well. They wanted talent with local intel and a hatchet to bury, and Javier wanted a means to his revenge-fueled end. There was an added, unexpected bonus: he would travel the world, see beautiful things—beautiful people. Like Sophia Cole.

  She set the bar. She was the one unattainable woman whose face he pictured when he flirted with other available girls. Sophia, after years of coloring his dreams and starring in his fantasies, was now single.

  Maybe it was wrong to fantasize about his buddy’s sister, especially when Javier knew how protective Colin was over her. But some things could not be helped. There was plenty enough to pay attention to. Her mouth had the perfect pout with full cherry-stained lips. Brown eyes warmed the sweetheart face that softened her steel Cole-family backbone. Sophia had grace, yet there was a rawness about her that added color to his black-and-white world.

  Javier ran a hand over his mouth, hiding his smile. A wedding apocalypse shouldn’t have been fun to watch. Yet with Sophia, it was hard to look away, not because of the disaster but because of how she’d handled it.

  Again, he hid the smile that he didn’t want to explain to the world, appreciating her from afar. But his stomach dropped. He wouldn’t make a move on a woman in her wedding dress. There were some lines even he didn’t cross. What was he thinking?

  Javier’s gaze swept the room, searching for the ambassador. Nowhere to be seen, much like Colin. If Javier could guess, Cole senior and junior were having a moment with the wannabe groom.

  At least the reception was still a go. Free booze and food—and hopefully good news from Brock, Delta team leader.

  “Hi,
sexy.” Trace’s wife, Marlena, joined him at the table, smoothing her dress and pushing back her bright, newly red hair. He liked Mar; her edginess and intelligence made him comfortable. “I’m surprised to see you sitting down.”

  “Why?” he asked, even though sitting alone, staring at his phone and waiting for a phone call, was unusual. Or maybe not. All he did anymore was chase intel.

  “This many pretty girls in the room, all watching you boys like you’re a wedding-reception one-night stand waiting to happen—”

  “Isn’t that the point of weddings?” He joked to cover how distracted he was.

  “Yet you’re sitting at the table alone.”

  “Waiting on a phone call.” Brock had important Primeiro Comando intel, and as soon as Javier found out if Delta was a step closer to the PC, he could relax. The closer they moved in, the better he felt. Tonight, Javier wanted to party with his teammates and booze it up, stare at a single Sophia, and maybe make a stupid mistake. Say something he shouldn’t. Get hell from the team. Any minute after his call with Brock, he could—as soon as good PC news rang from the phone.

  The screen lit, and as if Brock could read Javier’s mind, a text message appeared.

  Need another thirty minutes or so. Not looking like the break we need.

  Javier grumbled. Actionable PC intel would happen that night; they were so close. Maybe one day he could live without craving revenge. What would it be like to wake up and not want blood?

  Marlena cleared her throat, an eyebrow lifting as she stared at his phone. “Not good news?”

  He lifted a heavy shoulder, questioning the hope he was trying keep ahold of. “It’ll be okay.”

  Trace came over with two drinks, handing one to his wife. “Yo, man.”

  “Hey.” Javier checked his watch. Not even a minute had passed. Another thirty minutes would drag like the first few bites of a tattoo’s needle.

  “What’s wrong with him?” Trace asked Marlena.

  Javier answered for her. “I’m waiting on Brock. He’s at Titan, digging through Primeiro Comando BS with Parker.”

  “Oh, gotcha.” Trace sat down. “If it doesn’t happen this time, we’ll learn more next.”

  “Right…”

  In his peripheral vision, the unmarried bride and a few bridesmaids walked across the corner of the dance floor. Her white gown covered her from neck to toe yet left nothing to the imagination. Javier needed to look anywhere but at that skirt swaying tight on her ass, surrounded by a giant poof of fabric he would dive face-first into. Sophia was gostosa. She’d always been hot, but with a booty like that and that dress putting it all on display? Whoa.

  “Down, boy.” Marlena laughed into her wine.

  Javier shifted back in his seat as heat flashed up his neck. “Just waiting on a phone call.”

  “You’re staring.”

  At the bride was left unsaid, and Javier thought he could make an argument for any of the bridesmaids. “Lots of things to look at, Mar.”

  “A ton of ladies, that’s for sure.” Marlena clucked at him. “But probably not her.”

  It would be in poor taste because Colin was his boy. And because he needed to focus on the PC.

  “Javier?” Marlena pulled him out of his guilt-tainted thoughts.

  “Yeah?” His eyes dropped to the phone then back to the dance floor. What a woman…

  “Still staring.”

  Trace gave a low laugh, throwing his arm around his wife. “Maybe that’s what little Sophia Cole needs to forget about the day: a good night with Brazil.”

  Javier swallowed the knot in his throat, partly ignoring both of them and glancing up, not taking his eyes off Sophia. “Just waiting on a phone call. That’s all.”

  “Then look out, ladies.” Marlena giggled. “South America’s finest is in a mood.”

  He tore his attention away from the bride, who was making the rounds with a vacant smile on her camera-ready face, playing the part of the diplomat’s daughter very well.

  Colin sauntered over to the table, beer in hand. “Hey.”

  Trace and Javier welcomed him with chin lifts, and Marlena gave Colin a nosy glance.

  “Kill the groom?” she asked.

  “Nah. Not worth it.” After pulling up a chair, Colin nodded to Javier’s phone on the table. “Have you heard anything?”

  It seemed that word on possible intel moved as quickly as wedding-day gossip. Javier tilted his head, hating the answer. “No. Soon, though, I think.”

  “Good. If not today, then soon.”

  “Yeah, yeah. You guys can stop saying that already.” The truth didn’t help. Who knew what would?

  “There it is.” Marlena shifted onto Trace’s knee. “When Javier gets worked up, that accent of his sounds like an orgasm waiting to happen. Take that onto the dance floor, Javier. That will be a good distraction for whatever you’re waiting on.” She crossed her heart. “I promise.”

  Javier rolled his eyes. “Pare.”

  “Holy butterflies, if I weren’t already—” she started to say, but Trace clamped a kiss over her mouth, and she dissolved into a fit of giggles.

  They were cute enough to make a man puke.

  Ryder walked over with a girl under his arm, laughing at Trace, who was kissing Marlena as though they were still the one-night stand they’d started as. “Hey, now. Are you getting an early start, mate?”

  That made Marlena laugh harder. Trace flipped Ryder the bird, not stopping what he was up to.

  Colin slugged back his beer. “Can’t go wrong with an open bar. I’m going to need it to deal with that”—he pointed at the Trace-Marlena love connection—“and that.” Then he pointed at Ryder, who grinned at the possibilities. “And you.”

  “Me?” That one caught Javier off guard.

  “If you don’t hear what you want to hear, you’re going to be pleasant.”

  “Nah. Won’t faze me.” Lying, Javier let his gaze roam. “Your sister okay?”

  Colin dropped the beer bottle to the table. “With her it’s impossible to really know. Teflon tough. But this whole thing?” He tossed his hand toward the soft woman working the room. “That’s to be nice to our mother.”

  “Yeah?” Interesting…

  Colin shook his head. “Mom means well.”

  “If I were Sophia, I’d need a drink. Or five.”

  Colin nodded. “That’s what’s in her head. She’ll have a straw in a champagne bottle at first opportunity.”

  Marlena giggled. “Trace said she needs a night with Javier.”

  Colin rolled his eyes. Trace’s laughter bled into the music as he tickled Marlena in punishment. Ryder threw his head back, pulling his girl-for-the-evening into his chest. She laughed. Everyone was laughing and happy, making out and drinking. But Javier’s mind stayed with Sophia, thinking about Marlena’s joke of spending the night with her and of all the times he had thought about her like that before.

  “Go say hi,” Marlena squeaked.

  “Cristo.” He wouldn’t put himself in that position. “I’m not going to hit on Colin’s sister in her wedding dress.”

  “Or ever.” Colin slugged back his drink. “She needs nothing from Delta.”

  Javier laughed in agreement, but the gesture was more defensive than amused.

  Trace laughed. “Everyone needs a little Brazil.”

  Javier smiled to torque the hell out of Colin. “Her innocence is safe from me.”

  “Innocence, come on.” Colin shook his head. “You guys are killing me.”

  “I—” The phone’s screen lit, and this time it read Brock calling. Not a text message. This was the intelligence Javier needed. “I’ll be back.” He swiped the phone to answer. “Yeah, boss. Give me a minute to get somewhere quiet.”

  He needed this phone call to go well. Delta needed info, a simple break of information in their hunt. But Javier needed more intel to keep functioning, to keep his focus from going haywire. They were so close. He could taste it, feel it. All that was mis
sing was a piece of information.

  He headed into an empty hall, leading away from the party. The noise died as he put the phone back to his ear. “Alright. I’m here. Good news?”

  A second ticked by. “Sorry, Brazil.”

  His head dropped back as disappointment, again, flooded him. One step closer; one step back. In the end, they might never find the fuckers that had hurt his sister. Every dead end was a reminder of how empty he felt, how bad he hurt.

  “Javier?”

  “Yeah, boss?”

  “The break’s coming. I promised it to you. It. Will. Come.”

  “Yeah, I know.” But the inevitable heartbreak had already hit hard. He could go back into the reception, find himself a good time, and forget tonight. Or he could sulk. “Thanks.”

  “Chin up.”

  “Yes, sir.” And as Javier’s chin went up, a bartender wheeled out of a back room, pushing a dumbwaiter stacked with champagne bottles—like a sign from God that he should sulk and drink. Javier grabbed one, ignoring the surprised response. “Thank you very much.”

  “Hey—”

  He wandered down the hall of a house that was so big it was a museum. A quick tear of foil and pop of the cork, and Javier was one sip closer to a buzz.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The walls of a house she hated were closing in on Sophia. The bridesmaids, sans one very noticeable maid of honor, were doing their best to make her forget the awkward day. The effort was thoughtful even if the whole concept was uncomfortably weird.

  How many people in the room did she actually know? Not many. Which was fine because her mother had transformed the reception into a fundraiser. Donations and charity could fix most situations, and while she’d rather not have had to be publicly humiliated to help raise awareness for women’s rights around the world, it was a cause that she’d dedicated her career to, and her mother did have an entire press corp there.

  “Soph, honey?” The oldest and sweetest of the bridesmaids, Tabby, bumped elbows with her playfully. “Doing okay?”