Delta: Retribution (11 page)

“Doing okay over there?” he asked.

She nodded, biting her lip. What other answer was she supposed to volunteer? They’d been gagged and tossed into the back of a windowless van. The entire time, as she tried not to hyperventilate, he’d studied the vehicle and the men. As soon as they arrived at a deserted warehouse park, they said they’d cut the gags off with knives the length of her forearm. Talk about overkill. Untying them would’ve done just fine, but nope, not for those guys.

They spoke in Spanish, and she didn’t recognize any of them from when she was abducted a few weeks ago. Was it a different organization wanting to use the technology that she’d created? Same group, different guys? Why had she ever thought that she could create a biological weapon—or at least the plans for it—and not ruin her life? Even if the project was still in beta testing and had serious kinks to work out, the potential was beyond comprehension.

Trace cleared his throat. “If it’s all the same to you guys, I’m going to walk over there and talk to my girl.” He didn’t wait for an answer as though they didn’t have guns everywhere.

A few guys muttered but ignored them. She wasn’t sure if that was a really bad thing. Either they didn’t care because they were going to kill them, or they had some manners, like the Romatar people.

He sat down on the floor next to her. “Not how I thought I’d see you gagged.”

Instant heat lit her cheeks. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe.” He knocked his shoulder into hers. “But you’re too important to hurt, and they haven’t figured out who I am.”

“And who are you?”

“The asshole who’s gonna kill everyone in this room if a hair on your head gets hurt.”

Somehow, she believed that. “Who do they think you are?”

“I don’t know. A picnic-going boyfriend? A douche who wanted to watch a chick flick in the grass?”

She laughed quietly. “You’re a freakin’ trip.”

“And you’re VIP to a lot of people.” He leaned back against the wall. “We, Delta—or any ops team, for that matter—only ask questions on a need-to-know basis. When Titan sent Delta to bring you home, we did it. That was the contract, and it was done. I never asked why. Never needed to know.” He tilted his head. “Things have changed.”

“You want to know what they want to know?”

“Yup.”

“And that will help us?”

“Maybe.”

“Why?”

His eyes narrowed. “Because then I know if they’ll really kill for what you know and to what extremes they’ll go through to keep you alive. Right now, they think I’m some gun-totin’ boyfriend who walks around yelling ‘’Merica’ and punching strangers.”

“Then what are you? Because we’ve glossed over that a few times.”

“SEAL for life. Delta right now. I’m a contract killer for the good guys. An assassin when needed. A fucking machine. Other than that, I’m a guy trapped with a girl who has made him question everything. That about explains me.”

“Oh, that’s all, huh?”

“I like that you’re scared to death and sarcastic to boot.”

She smiled. “None of that sounds like a lost cause to me.”

He leaned forward, hanging his head and staring at her with empty eyes. “I never really left the war zone.”

“Because of your brother?”

A sad sigh passed his lips. “Yeah. Anyway, enough of me. Time to let me in on why you’re such a hot commodity. Other than the obvious.” He smiled.

“That’s an awful line.”

“Awful circumstances.”

She rolled her eyes, but her trembling hands had stilled, and her heart had slowed to normal. “I was the lead on a project that, in very basic terms, could weaponize the common cold. Something very easy to manipulate and virtually impossible to track. I was testing variations and mapping out possible consequences.”

“So… give me an example.”

“Ok. Bacterial pneumonia needs an antibiotic. You hit a city—”

His forehead bunched. “It’s incapacitated within days.”

“Yes. Pharmacies can’t stock enough meds. Doctors can’t see enough patients. Everyone goes down and commerce stops. As does law enforcement, first responders. Strategic epidemics could render a region useless.”

“Christ, Marlena.”

She hung her head then peeked at him. “I feel like I created a nuke that people can get their hands on.”

Anger flexed in his jaw. “There’s no way you’ve had enough protection.”

“I know.”

“You didn’t say anything.”

“We can blame that on a mixture of denial, tenaciousness, and stupidity.”

He laughed harshly. “Hell…”

“What?”

“We’re two of a kind. You know that? I travel all over the damn world blowing shit up.” He shook his head. “But here you are, all covert projects and trying to take on the world by yourself, wanting to fix something you can’t.”

“Shut up,” a man called from across the room.

Trace grumbled. “They’re still convinced I’m your meathead boyfriend.”

“You’re not?”

He laughed. “I’m a lost cause, remember?”

“You’re full of it—”

“Shut up!” the man barked again.

Trace looked at him—she could have sworn he growled—then back at her. “That fucker’s going down soon enough.”

“So?” she asked. “Meathead boyfriend?”

“Are you kidding me? We’re being held at gunpoint. You want to define our relationship?”

“Yeah. If I’m going to die, I’d like to know if I have a boyfriend. Meathead or not.”

He shook his head, smiling. “I like you.”

She smiled too, scooting over an inch. “I knew that.”

“No. You knew I liked you in bed.”

“Same thing.”

“Bullshit, Cinderella.”

“I know. Just teasing you.”

He nudged her with his shoulder again. “Glad to know you’ve adjusted well to being held captive.”

“Enough!” The man walked toward them. “One more time—”

She put her hands up. “Sorry. Sorry.”

“Leave the girl alone.” That time there was a definite growl in his voice.

The man stood above them, and when her hand dropped, Trace’s grazed hers, sending reassuring shivers up her arm.

“She is the one we need. You, we don’t. Let’s talk, boyfriend.”

“See? Meathead boyfriend.” Trace leaned over to her and let his lips dangle against her earlobe. “No matter what you hear, I’m alright.”

The man above them clapped. “None of that. Up, let’s go.”

“Let’s go with boyfriend. Works for me.” Trace gave her a wink. “Adios for now.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

As Trace walked away, Marlena’s stomach swirled with anxiety… and excitement. It was the complete wrong time to be caught up in him. But watching him walk away, muscled up, the colorful tattoos on his arms and the just-try-me-
pendejo
attitude, she skipped all the way down to really falling for the guy.

Confidence was an aphrodisiac. Right? So was adrenaline? Which made sense. Except it felt deeper than that, as if their connection was meant to be. As if there was a reason they’d ended up going all over the world together.

If she was going to fall in love with someone, she never in a million years thought it would be a fallen Navy SEAL with an unachievable vendetta. But… she had. “Trace!”

He looked over his shoulder right before turning a corner with a quick chin lift. There wasn’t anything she could say, so she gave a wave. A tiny smile flashed on his hardened face, and that was good enough for now.

A different man came over to her. “Mr. Romatar said you weren’t finished with your work.”

So these were Mr. Romatar’s men. Okay. They knew she was smart, and they had never hurt her before. Their goal was to make a weapon, probably so they could sell it. They didn’t seem like the mass-destruction-type people, just the kind who profited from it. She drew in a deep breath. “I wasn’t. Yet.”

“We’ve brought everything to you, no time to waste in transport.”

“Um, okay.” She glanced down at her shaking hands. “I need a minute.”

“No. Time to get up.”

Damn it
. She scooted off her butt and followed the man around the warehouse until they reached a temporary laboratory setup. The men she’d worked with in Romatar’s compound were there, and all of her work was laid out, in a somewhat completed fashion.

The man who guided her in made a grand sweeping gesture with his hand. When his arm came back down, he took his gun out of its holster. “Mr. Romatar wasn’t so sure you worked your hardest before. He intends you to finish immediately. If you want to live, you finish the job. Today.”

“Today?” Shock strangled anything else coherent she wanted to say.

The man nodded.

“But…” It wasn’t done. She hadn’t figured it all out. That, and the fact that she didn’t want to create this and turn it over to criminals.

“But nothing.” He pointed to a man standing by the makeshift lab table. “If he isn’t suitably impressed, then your boyfriend goes first. If that incentive doesn’t work, and you don’t produce what we need, then you’re expendable also.”

Hands still shaking, she sat on the stool next to the table and the man she needed to impress, then tried to organize her thoughts.

“I’m sorry,” whispered the other man. “But you need to do this correctly. You can call me Ross.”

She wanted to slap him. “
Correctly
?”

Even quieter, Ross mumbled, “I know you held back before. They know too, but they don’t know how much you held back. They have my children. This is a no-win for everyone.”

Grabbing the plans, she set to work, ready to fill in the intentional blanks she’d left before. Trace would save her before she finished, or Delta would show up as they did before. Hours passed. The Romatar men brought her a sandwich, coffee, soda, all without her asking, because food was fuel, and it kept her going. And then she had to go.

“Excuse me.”

Ross turned from the latest project she had given him. “Yes?”

“I have to go to the bathroom.”

He looked over at the bossy guy who’d brought her in there. The man jutted his chin. “The project is progressing?”

“Yes.”

The man nodded. “How much longer?”

Ross turned his head to her.

She shrugged. “A couple hours, maybe?”

“Not good enough.” Stepping forward, he brandished his gun as though it would make her not have to pee. Exact opposite, really. “Two more hours. Tops.”

Her stomach turned. “I don’t know if—”

The man shook his head and shouted down the hallway. Another shout sounded in response, all in Spanish, and she had no idea what they were saying. The bossy guy’s phone rang, and he grabbed it, chattering fast. He hung up with a glare.

In the background, a gunshot rang out, and all the blood rushed from her head. She was dizzy. Nauseated. Ready to pass out.

“Go to the bathroom, but finish in two hours.” The man’s harsh glare almost blinded her.

Tears ran down her face. Did they shoot Trace? Did they kill him? Was he hurt? “What happened?”

“That was your incentive to work faster.”

Her insides hurt. Her mind was spinning, and she could barely walk. “Did you kill him?”

“No. Not yet. I suggest you hurry and finish.”

She looked at Ross, who pointed her to the bathroom.

Hurrying in and out, she was back at her lab table, and the tears hadn’t stopped yet. She could hardly see the work in front of her for all the tears. “Please. Can you tell me that he’s okay?”

“Work!”

Sniffling, her breathing was labored and too fast. “I can’t. Please. Just—”

“He’s alive. Work faster, and you can save him.”

She nodded. Work faster. She could do that. “And he’ll be okay?”

The man nodded. “Finish.”

Ross whispered, “I can get them to drop him at the hospital. We’ll be on a plane out of here before you get through the front door. Just finish. I have to save my kids.”

Ross’s kids and her boyfriend. What evil bastards. “They’ll save him?”

“It’s your only chance.”

She could do it. Saving Trace was the only thing that mattered. They weren’t that far from a hospital. Marlena closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then worked like hell. So what if she made a weapon? They weren’t going to use it today. They were going to sell it, right? So Titan or the military or someone could go find it.

An hour later, she stood up. “Done! Take him to the hospital. Please.”

The man nodded to Ross, who nodded back. “It looks like it will work.”

“We test, then we’ll see.”

“What!” she shrieked. “No! If he’s hurt, he needs a doctor. You said—”

The man walked toward the hall. “Test it. I’ll be back.”

Tears were back in her eyes. Her stomach hurt. It could take hours to test it. And even if Trace was still alive… she hadn’t heard sounds of pain. What if they just killed him and—