Free Delta: Retribution by Cristin Harber

tags. Focus on the tags. His twin was dead, and he was alive. They’d had a funeral. The symbolism and the honor had all been there. But those tags were still overseas, still in the hands of terrorists, and that disrespect made him rage.
    Retribution. Retaliation. Those were the only possible courses of action.
    But alone, in the claustrophobic confines of his temporary house, he knew the truth. As long as he was stuck in a house, there was no way those tags were ever coming home. And until he got them, he would be in a perpetual state of panic. The tags were symbolic, and if he found them, the deep-rooted guilt would lessen.
    Would Michael have joined up if Trace hadn’t? Maybe they shouldn’t have gone after Special Forces. But he’d known his brother would be a great soldier. Probably a better one than Trace.
    Now he held his cell phone in his hand, just hung up on by a crazy woman, and he had a gnawing, gut-churning burn that he couldn’t explain. It curled through him as profoundly as the knowledge that Michael should’ve done something else to pay homage to the country they both loved more than their own lives.
    But he had no knowledge that would help explain Marlena. The only thing he knew was that the third time wasn’t the charm. She’d ditched him, walked out on him, and then hung up. He was done.
    Except his thumb hit redial. It went to voicemail.
    Hell no . That wasn’t going to happen. Two more times, she let him go to voicemail again. That was just enough time for him to get the keys to his car and pull out onto the road. If she wanted to say some BS like she was falling for him , she could say it to his face, and he could explain every reason why that was a bad idea. Miles passed as he floored it on the highway. Less than five minutes later, he arrived at her place, and he still hadn’t come up with a reason she should stay away from him. Damn it .

CHAPTER TWELVE
     
    The easiest thing to do was to leave her phone in her car. That way the temptation to answer Trace’s calls would be less. She shed her clothes while walking toward the bathroom and turned the water on as hot as she could stand it. She grabbed her iPod and stuck it in the dock, letting music fill the bathroom.
    The protective cocoon of water enveloped her. The shower speakers swirled music in with the steam. Sinking down, she sat on the floor and let it pour overhead. Marlena flipped the knob on the tub and let the water start to fill it.
    Trace wasn’t the only reason she was glad her phone was in the car. Since she had a working cell again, friends had been calling, asking her to go out. Without thinking, the automatic answer had been no. Every time. Her abduction had turned her into a homebody. Home was comfortable. Safe. No parking lot for her to be easy pickings for kidnappers. The four walls were almost reassuring.
    She turned off the water, content to sit in the bath. Sighing, she opened her eyes.
    Trace was there, in her bathroom—she could see him through the semi-sheer shower curtain. He had a T-shirt, jeans, and a body that turned her on in an instant.
    “Hey!” She covered her breasts with her hands, which was absurd because he’d seen every inch of her naked body. Hell, he’d kissed it too. “What are you—?”
    “No way, Cinderella. No way can you say something like that and hang up.”
    She shrugged, watching him take off his shirt. The heat in her body intensified. “Trace—”
    “You’re falling for me?”
    “Maybe.”
    “Don’t backtrack now.”
    “Then, yes. Which is why you should leave.” Because if he didn’t, she was going to pull him into the bath. Then she’d fall harder.
    “That’s not very smart.”
    “Tell me about it.” She grabbed a pink loofah puff and threw it at him.
    He’d turned her music off and was pulling off his belt. “I have my own issues.”
    “This bath isn’t big enough for us both. You should keep your clothes on.”
    “You can barely breathe right now.” He