Authors: Cristin Harber
Actually, she’d been gone, lost in her memories, lost in Javier’s smile and the gentle dream of his kiss. She thought of how he could almost order her to climax, and her body would obey. Her heart wanted him to feel love the way she did for him.
“You’re crying.” His brows were up as though he genuinely didn’t want a girl crying while he worked on her. “We can start again another—”
No, she wasn’t—whoa, she was. “No, that’s, I’m… it’s something else.”
His face changed as though he understood. It couldn’t have been the first time a tattoo memorialized an unrequited future. “You’re sure?”
“Positive.” Sophia wiped away her tears with her other hand, and the man went back to work. She was a mess and getting a tattoo that wouldn’t do anything to calm the storm inside her.
Again, the gun stopped, and he squeezed her forearm, silently asking for her attention. Her attention he got. The work of art on her skin was… breathtaking.
“Wow,” she whispered.
“What do you think?” he gruffly asked.
Beautiful. “That’s…”
“No tears—come on.” He gently placed her wrist down. “Whatever it means, we did it justice.”
“You did.”
He shrugged. “Just the conduit, darlin’.”
“I love it. Thank you.”
“Good.” He went about swiping goo over the tender flesh, as manly and careful as a tough guy like him could be, in a few quick motions then wrapped her up and sent her packing with strict instructions.
As she walked down the street with the brisk night overhead, she couldn’t let go of her Javier thoughts. She and Javier were under the same moon and stars, walking the same planet, but she’d never felt so alone, as though she’d lost something so important.
Taking in a deep breath, she found her Jeep and got in, aware that every move made her arm throb a smidge and that she was being a complete baby. Her phone vibrated in her purse as she turned the engine over, and she absentmindedly searched for it. She found it a second too late.
Missed Call: Unavailable
No voice mail. Part of her heart dropped as though it
knew
the missed call had been from Javier. She’d shut him down the last time he’d reached out to her, yet here she was with his memory indelibly inked into her flesh.
She should have gotten that tattoo with a girlfriend in tow. Then maybe she wouldn’t feel so lost and empty. But no one understood how and why she felt the way she did about Javier—not even Tabby—mostly because
Sophia
didn’t understand it. Even though Tabby would’ve been a good sport about it, her company at the tattoo parlor would have been less than genuine.
Sophia watched her phone’s screen, praying for a voice mail, but none came through. Hell… she scrolled to the number she should’ve deleted, not knowing if it was really his number or maybe a burner phone, but she pressed the green button and—it was ringing. She held her breath until his voice mail picked up.
You know what to do.
His simple voice was her undoing. She couldn’t leave a message. Couldn’t speak. Sophia ended the call, hugged her wrist to her heart and, alone in a parking garage, let loose the tears she wanted to ignore.
***
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Blood pounded.
Pain exploded.
An aching, hurting, crushing headache hit behind Javier’s eyes. All of that could only mean one thing: he was still alive. If he could drop his head back and say a prayer of thanks, he would, but there wasn’t a lot he could move at the moment. He couldn’t hear much outside the ringing of his ears.
Javier blinked to figure out his surroundings. Trace had his arm around him, hauling Javier down the stairs. Alright, so he was moving…
His feet couldn’t find purchase. His legs wouldn’t obey commands to walk. His boots fumbled to find each step. All he could do was try to regain his bearings and ignore the squealing, piercing noise that rang in his ears.
Cold air hit his face as they burst outside, and Javier licked his bleeding, raw lips, unable to focus in the black of night.
The supporting hold from under his shoulders dropped carefully, and Javier was on the ground. Vertigo rolled over him. He wasn’t moving; that much he knew. But he was falling. Sinking into the ground.
“Damn it.” He groaned, trying to take inventory of his senses. He could hear his voice and some of the surrounding noises. Trace talked into his comm piece while he paced. Everything was coming back. He’d survive. A sigh of relief began.
Trace crouched down next to him. “You okay?”
Finally aware of a tingle in his fingers, then his arms, Javier brought his fists to his eyes, rubbing his knuckles to stop the pain. He understood and heard Trace’s worry through the ringing. “I’m okay—enough.”
“Can you move or—”
He huffed and ground against sore muscles, pushing up. “Yes, just a few minutes.”
Time ticked before Trace offered an outstretched hand. Javier growled and grasped it, using more of his teammate’s strength to pull up than he was accustomed to. Once on his feet, he removed his fried earpiece and tugged at his ear.
Trace grimaced. “Dude, since you’re alive, Brock is gonna kick your ass.”
Javier hoped their team leader wouldn’t bench him. Not that he didn’t deserve it what with rushing and putting Trace in danger. He’d put the whole team in danger, actually. Fuck. He’d screwed up. “Better get to it, then.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
The faraway pull of the ringing of a phone woke Sophia. She fumbled, grasping for it, and squinted into the brightness of the screen.
Unavailable.
Immediately, her mind jumped as she answered, simultaneously hoping and hating that Javier would call.
“Hello?” Sleep coated her voice, and she swallowed away what surely wasn’t sweet or sexy but had to be expected because it was the middle of the night.
“Sophia?” Not Javier.
“Yes, this is.” But there was a familiar hint she couldn’t place, and her tired brain pushed through dreamless sludge to identify.
“Brock Gamble here. I’m with Delta.”
“
Oh.
” Cold panic hit her veins like a freight train. “Is my brother okay?”
“Yes.”
If not Colin… dread joined panic, cold and sickening, daring her to hyperventilate. “Javier?”
“He’s alive, but he’s not great. I need you to get down here.”
“Here? Sure. Where’s here?”
“Brazil.”
“Okay.” Her mouth couldn’t ask the right questions about Javier’s health or why Brock had called her. “Now?”
“
Yes.
”
“I can get there…” How did one get to South America in the middle of the night? “Soon.”
“Drive to Virginia. Titan will get you the rest of the way.”
Her eyes went wide. “Okay. I can do that.” She nodded in the dark, processing his orders.
“He lost something he needed, Sophia. We
need
him.
He
needs
you
. That’s how this is going to be. Get down here.” He hung up—or so Sophia thought, but then he cleared his throat. “Please, get down here.”
“I can do that,” she whispered, more concerned that she was about to fail Brock than Javier losing whatever he needed.
“We’ll get you wheels up in an airplane when you arrive.”
Her fuzzy mind tried to make sense of the details. She didn’t keep a “go-bag” on the ready as Colin did. When he was home, he was never far from a bag that he could grab before heading anywhere in the world, surviving for a few days without stopping at a convenience store—or, knowing her brother, an ammo depot.
Okay. She stood up. Things to bring? A passport. Contact solution. She paced, but her phone charger kept her from walking too far. She needed to pack that too, and her international adapter kit, but her list-packing mind was a poor front of her most basic concern. “Brock?”
“Yes, ma’am?”
Painfully, she swallowed her pride, letting panic and dread take a backseat to her desire for Javier to get better from whatever had him down. “I don’t know that I’m what he… needs.”
“I do, Sophia. Get up. Get moving, and
go
.”
Then, without question this time, the line went dead.
***
The sun beat down on her along with all the guilt and worry that Sophia beat herself with. It could’ve eased up, but the self-flagellation was fine by her. It was a distraction from the worry. Why she thought Javier would be in a hospital or a doctor’s office, Sophia had no idea. Delta didn’t
do hospitals
. And they certainly didn’t
do
private jets staffed with people who could tell her
anything
about Javier’s condition.
Private jet? Yes. White-glove staff from Titan Headquarters to the G-5 they were riding in? Yes. An update on Javier? Absolutely not.
They’d landed in Rio de Janeiro, and she was promptly escorted off the plane and deposited in an armored vehicle. Maybe an hour later, the driver pulled up at a monstrosity of a mansion. Covered in vegetation, the estate was like a cultivated jungle. There were greens and pinks and a smattering of yellows as if someone had placed flowers there for effect. In the background, birds sang. The scene was out of a movie, ten shades past what she would call gorgeous, and nothing like the medical sanctuary she had expected.
“Not a hospital,” she whispered as the driver closed her heavy armored door.
The warm, fragrant air and lush greenery made her take an easier breath. The looming front door was equal parts intimidating and inviting, and she was unsure whether works of art were supposed to be actually knocked on.
“Ms. Cole.” A butler swept his arm back, welcoming her in.
No knocking.
Her family had a mansion built for receptions. As Sophia stepped inside, she recognized this as a
home
that happened to be a
mansion
. The expansive space was filled with personality and love. It oozed the same warmth that was outside—very much not what she’d expected. From the vivid walls to the personal touches—both family pictures and religious art—the décor was abundant, overdone, and
perfect
.
“This way, please.”
She nodded, following in awe, mesmerized. They walked up a grand stairway and padded down the gorgeous tile floor until they stopped at a door. The man knocked once then left her alone.
“Thank you,” she said to his back and turned to see Javier’s bruised and scratched face. “
Oh!
Um, hi.”
His mouth parted. “Uh, hey.”
Nerves crawled up her throat. “You look surprised.”
“I am.”
“They didn’t say I was coming?”
He shook his head.
A hard, hot blush hit her cheeks. “Oh, okay. Brock said—told—kind of ordered me to come. I don’t know. I’ll just head back.”
To North America.
“See you.”
She turned, embarrassed and panicked, wanting to run and not having any idea where to go. No car waited for her in the driveway. She had no commercial round-trip ticket. What had she been thinking? Where was Colin? Maybe she should call Brock.
A strong hand touched her shoulder. “Wait, paixão.”
Her legs went heavy at the sound of that one word. Fingertips tingling, she tilted away from his touch, but it pained her to leave his hold. Her mouth mumbled the ego-saving words so she might not cry in front of him. “No, this was crazy. I don’t know what I was thinking. I’m sorry I showed up unannounced.”
But he spun her to him. “Stop.”
“I—okay.” Embarrassed pain sliced in her throat. A white-hot coiling pushed the tears from her eyes and cut the air from her lungs. His eyes… oh, he pitied her. No, no, no. And yeah, she loved him. Wanted to be in his arms. Wanted to take care of him for as much as she was hurting.
“Take a breath, Sophia.”
But she couldn’t. It wouldn’t happen. His bare feet stepped closer. Her bottom lip trembled. She searched his face. It’d been cut and bruised. He was in pain, but he cupped her cheek, letting his thumb slide on her skin, wiping away a tear.
“Hi, paixão.”
“Hi,” she whispered.
She swallowed, catching her breath, remembering how to breathe and that she needed to. “You’re in Brazil.”
“So are you.” His smile was such a gift. Then he winked. God save her; she was melting…
“It’s where I live.”
Wait—“This is your house?”
Javier tossed his head back and howled—laughter and pain commingled. “No. But nice, right?”
She smirked at him, laughing as he hooked her under his arm. It’d been too long since they’d been in an embrace. “Are you okay?”
Nodding, he held her a little tighter, maybe thinking the same thing. “Bumps and bruises. Just my ego, I guess.”