Delta: Retribution by Cristin Harber

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.