Delta: Revenge, page 8
Screw it. He grabbed the soap, lathered his hand, and pictured her full lips and sweet tongue. He grasped his cock, and the pleasure made his chest shudder. With slick, strong strokes, Javier pumped his hand over the rigid flesh. Sophia on her knees. Sophia with her mouth open, her tongue reaching for a lick, for just a taste.
God. Damn.
He put a hand on the wall, breath coming faster as the shower rained overhead. Her small hands would grip his shaft, tug on his sac. But as much as he wanted to come, he wanted inside her again. Just to press her to the wall, to sink himself deep into her pussy and feel that searing tightness grip him with every. Single. Stroke.
Straining, his fingers bit into the tile as he remembered the sound of her moans as she gripped his body, her pulsing muscles milking his throbbing cock. Paixão. His shoulders tightened, and his thighs flexed as he palmed himself to the brink, thinking one last time about how she sounded. Javier came hard, spurting his release into the shower and heaving a gasp, wishing to God he’d been inside her.
His head dropped back as he released his cock, but the hand he’d used to hold himself against the wall bunched into a fist. Not for a punch—just one solid slam against the wall. He’d just come, but it wasn’t anything like he wanted. Like he needed. It wasn’t Sophia.
Washing off one last time, he turned off the shower and towel dried, wrapping it around his waist and heading to a sink. What he needed to do was brush his teeth and crash. But instead, he wiped the steam from the mirror and focused on the tattoo of the abstract eye over his heart. It wasn’t large, and it played into the others across his chest. It was supposed to stand as a reminder of all seeing, all knowing when it came to the matter of his heart—his sister.
Javier had that eye there to sharpen his focus, to remind him to be prudent in the path he took, so long as it helped him meet his goal. With it, maybe he would have foresight to finish the job expediently.
Why hadn’t he had the foresight to see how Sophia would affect him? He’d been jerking off to her for months, and then when she was in the room so close… Sophia could be more than a dream if he had the opportunity for that—for a girl and a relationship.
Which he didn’t. Not until his demons rested. And they probably never would.
He breathed in the steamy air, feeling bitter anger more than arousal. That was better, what he was more comfortable with. His eyes narrowed on the reflection in the mirror. There was the machine, the heartless bastard that would care about nothing except Adélia until the last PC cartel men bled for her pain.
That was enough to make him forget about sleeping under the same roof as Sophia Cole. But as he turned away to dress, the last glimpse of his reflection laughed at the lie.
CHAPTER EIGHT
On her third outfit and second mini you-can-do-this speech, Sophia opened her bedroom door to head for breakfast. The muffled voices made anxiety spike in her veins. Delta team was louder than the small contingent of staff at the embassy, and while it was nice to have new faces, she wished her first and only one-night stand didn’t need to be there.
He’s just a guy. We’re two adults. It was months ago. The three sentences were on constant mental repeat. She squared her shoulders and ignored the awkward feeling that her arms were hanging heavy like an orangutan’s. She didn’t know what to do with her hands, which was one of the reasons she brought a notebook to breakfast—at least she had something to hold onto. If she wanted to fidget, she’d twirl the pen. If she needed to think, she could outline her thoughts on the upcoming meeting with Hana. If she looked up, and Javier did the same, she could quickly bury herself back in the notebook.
Brilliant plan.
The sugary scent of sweet dough and coffee hung in the air. Janny’s sticky buns were legendary, and she made a mean brew. Coffee kept Sophia sane. Caffeine kept her going. All would be fine.
“Morning.” Sophia beelined for the coffee carafe and went about making a large cup with a smidge of sugar before finding a seat at the table.
Ambassador Jensen had the newspaper spread out, and Mr. Brackster clacked away on his phone. Brock Gamble slugged back coffee as he nodded hello to her. Grayson and Ryder were both handsome and blond. Their golden-boy looks showed more now that they were showered and out of gear.
Then there was Javier. His hair was no longer matted down after hours trudging in from God-knew-where the previous day. His face was wiped clean of the dirt splatters, but his expression was a mask of anger and indifference, rolled into one. Whereas everyone else was polite enough to say hello in their own way, he simply stabbed a fork into a piece of fruit and ignored her.
Not awkward at all…
The part of her that no one could see, her internal strength that was trying so hard to keep it together, sighed sadly and slouched while she sipped her coffee as though it was any regular day at the embassy.
“Sophia?”
Her head shot up, and it was evident from the annoyance on the ambassador’s face that he’d been speaking to her. “Sorry, sir?”
“The embassy lockdown will continue, and we will remain inside for now.”
She could have guessed that, with Delta making themselves comfortable. “How long should that take?”
Brock leaned his elbows onto the table. “A day or a week. Depends on how quickly we come to an agreement.”
She wanted to ask what they were willing to kill each other over this time but kept that to herself. Her concern went to Hana, whom she hadn’t been able to reach on the phone for almost two days. While Hana was an asset, she had also become a friend. Jensen would give Sophia an update, privately, as to how the lockdown would affect Whispering Willow, which in turn would ease concerns about Hana.
“So, Sophia?” Grayson asked. “When you go out there, who goes with you?”
“Well, until about two weeks ago, there was another aid worker here.” One who was actually an aid worker, who gave me street cred and made introductions.
“Female?”
“No, a guy.”
Their heads nodded as though that made sense. And it had made sense to her, too, at first. In the area, it wasn’t normal for a woman to be unaccompanied. When Sophia left the safety of the embassy grounds, she was properly dressed and clearly known as someone there to help. It wasn’t anywhere near foolproof, but it was the best thing she had going.
“But,” she continued, “he left, and I had a job to do. So…” She shrugged. “I did it.”
“Alone?” That one word growled in Javier’s accent. She remembered how he’d sounded against the shell of her ear. She remembered how his lips tasted.
Though her heartbeat picked up speed, she focused her faked indifference at him. “Alone.”
Ambassador Jensen gave that bureaucratic chuckle that he used when defusing heated conversations. “Sophia’s been perfectly safe. It’s been quiet around here.”
“Until it wasn’t,” Javier replied. “And it’s never really.”
“Agreed.” Ambassador Jensen didn’t pale in the face of angry soldiers—one of the reasons he’d done well in this post. “There’s been unrest; you’re here to deal with what I won’t. Sophia’s been smart and safe about her work.”
She smiled at the compliment, but it didn’t lessen the freeze in the room. “I’m fine.”
Javier leaned into the table. “You’re—”
“Stand down,” Brock interrupted, focusing on his coffee as though he wasn’t monitoring their back-and-forth.
With concentrated effort, she flipped open her notebook and jotted a few pointless notes. Still, all the note-writing in the world wouldn’t take away the questioning glances of every man in the room.
“Who’s up for a refill?” Janny bound into the room, breaking the tension with her fresh pot of coffee.
With that as the distraction, Sophia grabbed her refill and a sticky bun to go, made a pleasant good-bye to almost everyone at the table, then hurried to her bedroom, where she could sulk and stew, wondering why Javier was as devastatingly handsome as he was—even when angry.
As her door softly clicked shut behind her, she dropped the notebook and placed the plate and coffee on the desk then picked up her binoculars to stare out her window. It was tiny and the only source of natural light in the room. She’d been told to stay away from it, and for the most part, she did, except when she was bored, irate, or worried. At the moment, she was two out of three of those. The binoculars allowed her to see the main street.
From her vantage point, she knew things locals didn’t expect, which made them think twice about acting a certain way. Her opinion mattered, especially to Hana, and for that, she was grateful, maybe even hopeful, that she would have a long-lasting effect—
Knock! The knob twisted the door open.
“Hey!” She jumped, not unsurprised to see Javier. “You can’t just walk in here!”
Shrugging, he seemed indifferent to her reaction. “Just did.”
“Well, you shouldn’t. Knock and wait. Like normal people. Or don’t, and go back to being a jerk to me in front of everyone. That’s really nice of you, by the way.”
He smiled, and God, it wasn’t fair how great his smile was, nor was it fair that he’d been there since yesterday and was just now smiling. Someone with a grin like that shouldn’t hide it.
“Knock next time, Javier.”
His dark eyes twinkled at the mention of next time. What was it with him? She couldn’t get a read on his mood swings, but something had shifted between the dining room and her bedroom.
“You should go.” Before I stick my foot farther into my mouth. She pressed her lips together in an I’m-done-with-you smile and twisted to her desk.
“What were you doing?” He sidestepped her as she placed the binoculars down.
“Nothing.”
“You’re not hanging in that window.” He clucked. “Right?”
“Right,” she said even though hanging out the window was something she did regularly. Not that that was any of his business. “Did you come here to lecture me? Tell me to go home a few more times? What?”
“Maybe.”
“Then get on with it. I have things to do.”
“You can’t leave the grounds. What do you have to do?”
“You have no idea why I’m here. So back off, and get out.”
“Then tell me.”
“Ha. Not a stinking chance.” Sophia grumbled, trying to figure out how to place more room between them. Her feelings were evident and his for the taking, so she needed to protect herself. Not that she even liked him, but he’d been there for her when she hurt, and he made that dull ache go away and made her feel something. God, she was mentally rambling. He made her blather even in silence. Overthinking to the max.
“You shouldn’t be here, Soph.” Javier stepped closer, his hand drifting up to tuck a wayward lock of her hair behind her ear. “I don’t care what it is you’re doing.”
“I’m doing something important to me.” But it came out less forcefully than she wanted it to. “You don’t have to get it, but respect it or leave.”
He rolled his lips together, ignoring her suggestion, and let his fingers glide over her cheek before he dropped his hand. The touch was too intimate, making a tingle of excitement burn where his fingers brushed.
“Paixão.”
God. That word. Whatever it meant. It sounded like sex. Which was likely all he wanted. That hurt. “I’m not here to be your piece of ass.” Her throat ached. Sophia didn’t want him to see her as a grab-and-go screw.
His beautiful, near-black eyes widened at the accusation. “No kidding, gatinha.”
“Paixão. Gatinha. You were rude to me downstairs, and now you’re all suave and—”
“Suave?” Amusement tickled in his question.
Awesome. She was inspiring him to run the gamut of emotions, from anger to amusement. “Yes, suave. Do you have anything to say except to mock me?”
“I’m not trying to. I just want you to go home.”
“Why?”
“Because Colin wouldn’t want you here.”
That sentence was proof that Javier had never breathed a word of their encounter. “Colin doesn’t care. He probably knows exactly why I’m here.”
But that also meant Javier hadn’t asked about her. That hurt more than she wanted to admit because she’d grilled her brother on all his teammates to learn more specifically about Javier.
Slowly, he shook his head. “Then I want you home, safe.”
“This is what I do. Like what you guys do, but different.”
“Not different enough.” His head dropped, shaking slowly, and he balled his fists, rubbing his eyes, and then threaded his hands into his hair. Without looking up, he said, “We all start for a reason.” He paused. “Delta team—war on terror, drugs, traffickers, militants. Protecting the homeland, your home country.” Javier tilted his chin up and let his arms drop.
She swallowed, remembering the day her brother had enlisted and then later when he’d left the military and joined a private security firm called Titan and referred to the men on his team as his brothers. She remembered the day her father had asked her to work small assignments as he built her up to taking on Operation Whispering Willow.
Sophia was more worried about Colin than she was about herself, and she wanted to prove that she could do something just as powerful as he and Javier did. There was also a part of her that wanted to prove to her mom she wasn’t a lady who lunched as a social activity.
“Somewhere along the line, things change.” Javier’s voice dropped. “It’s less about the greater good and more about making sure the men on either side of you make it home.”
Her defensiveness dropped a notch. “I’m going to make it home. I always do.”
Javier’s jaw twitched, and his eyes hardened, conveying more before he blinked than he’d said any other time they’d been together. He was worried, protective, accepting that he was acting like a jerk but needing her to understand. His unsaid words were more intimate than sex, more promising than a kiss. They were antagonistic and well-meaning.
“I’m being careful,” she whispered. “I stay in when it’s not safe. And when it is safe, I go out and do my job.”
“It is never safe enough for you.”
“It is. I follow the rules. I watch my back.”
“You have a window perch and binoculars. What rules are you ignoring or which do you not know?”
Busted. She bit her lip. “I’m not leaving Honduras or any job because you have a problem with it.”
“Go home, Sophia.” He leaned over to kiss her cheek. It was careful yet cold, and then he left. The door quietly clicked shut, separating her from the man who could make her cry for the first time since her pity-party wedding night.
“You’re such a jerk.” Wiping away a rogue tear, she grabbed her binoculars in spite of him and went back to staring outside for no other reason than she needed to focus on anything but how he made her feel: special.
CHAPTER NINE
Brock’s arms were crossed over his chest. As he leaned against the wall, tense and terse, his posture spoke before Javier’s team leader took the opportunity to growl in displeasure. “Brazil.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Get your shit together.” Brock’s jaw cracked, whether from the grinding of molars or just holding back his sheer force of nature under the excuse of acting like a boss.
“It’s together,” Javier lied and took a seat next to Grayson. The makeshift war-room table should focus him on the business at hand. He took a deep breath, letting the world apart from his Delta brothers slip away.
“Then don’t be late to my meetings, Brazil.”
At least, Javier was trying to let it go. He grunted an agreement and wished that Luke had been part of this job. That guy would get where his head was at. They were made of the same fabric, expending energy and adrenaline the same way: women, ink, and street fights. All of those extracurricular activities drove their team leader to the edge of sanity—which was maybe why Brock was acting like king of the pricks today—but they worked for Javier and Luke, and Brock let them have their escape.
Javier cracked his knuckles, swallowing the tinge of adrenaline-laden saliva that came with thinking about a fight. His pulse picked up, and he took a breath and popped another knuckle, trying to forget about everything—everything. Had he really left Sophia crying upstairs? What kind of man—
“Javier?” Brock’s attention bore into him. “Do we need to speak in private?”
He should be in this room, listening to his team leader, not worrying over a few crushed feelings when a girl needed to hear the truth. “No.”
Brock held his gaze, assessing the lack of truth of Javier’s answer, then shook his head and turned back to the whiteboard. They’d arrived the day before with two mission objectives: make their presence known—which they’d done in a big way on the outskirts of Tegucigalpa—and help the local government maintain the semiregular peace that they seemed to enjoy with their number-one trade partner, the United States. All while collecting intel.
The mission was half peacekeeping and half intelligence seeking. One hundred percent, nothing was ever as it seemed. The local police lacked a unified, dependable structure. There was a clear concern about cartel infiltration in the ranks of law enforcement. Delta did a few training sessions, a couple upgrades of local law-enforcement weaponry. They also kept their ears to the ground about PC traffickers who were moving people and product.
That was the high point of this job: PC intel. Not Sophia. But could it be both?
That was not an option. He shook his head, slowing it into a stretch when Brock turned around to ask Grayson about an ammo count. Javier forced his body to relax, focusing on Grayson’s report, Brock’s whiteboard mapped with arrows that pointed to thermal imaging. This wasn’t a danger zone like one of the ones they’d worked a thousand times before. It wasn’t great, but really…
