Page 12 of Delta: Retribution

CHAPTER SIX

Trace located the rendezvous point on the river minutes before a rickety fishing boat drifted by. A light flashed two times, and he flashed a response—two quick and one long. The boat veered off the murky, marshy river, and Trace put Marlena in and hopped in behind her.

Roman and Ryder, who manned the shitty vessel, nodded their hellos. Marlena acted unsure of them, maybe of the boat, and definitely of their plan to take their time in meeting the rest of the team and getting the hell out of South America.

She sat on her bottom, looking small and unassuming. “The man who took me—”

“Romatar,” Roman jumped in.

She nodded. “He has a lot of money invested in a project. They won’t be happy about this, and they have a lot of men with guns.”

Trace sat on a bench next to her. “There’s a lot of money invested in you coming home. I’d bet on us any day of the week.”

“Oh.”

They floated down the slowly winding river. Mosquitoes the size of baseballs hovered around, and if they hadn’t been in stealth mode, Trace would’ve wasted the time picking them off as target practice.

Mallory-Marlena—whatever her name was—moved from the bench to the floorboards and was asleep in five minutes. Her back pressed against his shin, and there was nothing better to do than keep an eye on her. She was far more interesting than the scenery, anyway.

As high-value targets went, she didn’t look like much. Not deadly or dangerous. With dark-brown hair that had fiery red highlights, lips that looked used to being shiny and pink, and days-old eye makeup smudged around her dark, almond eyes, she was damn sure the best-looking HVT he’d ever picked up. So, it hadn’t been a few too many drinks, back in Germany, that had told him she was well past a solid ten.

Ryder and Roman sat on the boat’s bench on the lookout. Their trigger fingers were at the ready, but Trace also knew they were watching him watch her as the minutes dragged by. The incoming questions would arrive soon enough. They’d all been privy to his conversation with her in the jungle, even if it was one-sided through their earpieces.

“So what’s the deal?” Ryder asked.

It’d taken him fifteen minutes to ask. Not bad, considering he was a nosy bastard. Trace shrugged. “No deal.”

The Aussie sniper tilted his head, angling for a better glance. “You know her… well?”

In the pit of his stomach, Trace didn’t want her around Ryder. Didn’t want her to hear the accent that his buddy could dial up, given the right girl. But did he know her? No, not in any real sense. He only knew her naked and in bed. “Not really.”

“Ah.” Roman nodded. “I get it.”

Ryder chuckled. “Even the grim reaper needs a little piece of action, occasionally.”

“Alright, assholes.” Even if that’s what it had been, he didn’t like the way it sounded. “Small world, that’s all.”

Marlena stirred on the ground, wiping at her eyes. Slowly she propped herself on her elbows and took them all in. “Hey. Sorry I fell asleep.” Her eyes drifted over them and then out to the water.

“No worries.” Ryder smiled. It was amazing how much of an accent he could punch into that.

She didn’t seem to notice. Her eyes leveled on Trace, brows raised. “Are you going to tell me who you guys are?”

He nodded. “Titan Group, Delta team.”

She tucked her legs under her, and the rickety boat swayed in the water. Her forehead pinched. “I hate boats.”

How could anyone hate boats? Floating down the water was the most relaxing thing he could think of, as long as no one was shooting at him. And even then, he enjoyed the hell out of it. “You going to be sick?”

She gave half a smile. “No telling.” When she moved, the boat rocked back and forth, and her grin faltered. “Eh, maybe.” She waved her hand. “No. Just ignore me.”

Now, that’d be pretty damn hard. She wasn’t wearing a bra. While she’d been sleeping, her dark-cherry nipples hadn’t been in his line of sight. But with the sun breaking, a soft morning glow illuminated her threadbare white tank top. That sorry excuse for a shirt wasn’t hiding much. Not that he hadn’t seen it all before.Shit. He scrubbed his face with dirty hands.

“How about you, Trace? You alright over there?” Roman laughed.

Dick. They had another thirty minutes or so until they docked and met up with the rest of the team. From there, the job would be a cakewalk. Go wheels up. Get her to the states. Debrief.

After that, he had the small problem of surviving in the temporary stateside housing. Maybe he’d beg Brock and Jared to release Delta into the wild again.

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