Delta: Retribution by Cristin Harber Page B

“I like the girl.”
    “I don’t know if it’s a good thing or not. I’m worried you might hop from one obsession to the next. I’m worried that, until you deal with Michael’s death, like really handle your shit, you’ll always chase what you can’t really have.”
    “The tags.”
    “And the girl.” Javier gave him a sad smile. “We get the green light, and we’re gone. No more happy college-girl fuck buddies.”
    Trace paced the sidewalk, his stomach knotted, his mind dry heaving incoherent thoughts.
    “Hit up your Screen on the Green. Hang with her. Have a good time.” Javier sighed. “And give yourself a break, Trace. Your brother’s with the good guys—tags or not.”
    Rubbing the back of his neck, Trace had no idea why one beer and losing a game of pool would make him reevaluate the direction of his life or give him an insight that everyone else, apparently, already had. He nodded a good-bye to Javier and headed toward his car. Michael. Dog tags. Marlena. Fucking Screen on the Green. So much shit rambled through his brain.
    He clicked the Charger unlocked and closed himself off from the world in the front seat. With a turn of the key, Trace revved the engine and hung on to the steering wheel, trying to take his mind off it all. He couldn’t. His mind wandered, leading him to pick up his phone and search “Screen on the Green,” confused about why he had focused on a stupid gathering. Maybe Marlena had something to do with all of it.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN
     
    There were picnic blankets everywhere on the rolling hill. Marlena hadn’t done that event since she was a freshman. Not that she hadn’t wanted to go to the movies over the last two years, but she didn’t have time because the biological engineering program was an ass-kicker, and she didn’t have someone to snuggle up with on a blanket. Not many guys stood in line to play boyfriend to a girl who took harder classes than they did, which was funny, because she had such a self-esteem issue.
    But there she was, on Trace’s arm, carrying a giant blanket from her closet. He’d shown up with a bag of food and drinks, looking slightly unsteady about what he was offering. The man was a tatted-up warrior. He’d seen death and destruction, he was avenging the death of his brother, but walking onto school grounds with a picnic looked like it might kill him.
    It was also Marlena’s first major public outing since Delta had rescued her. She hadn’t returned any phone calls, and while she walked through the crowd with Trace, more than a couple of people said, “Hey”—both people she’d avoided calling, and others who were interested in the guy who held her close.
    God, did he have to do that? And did she have to go with him?
    Because with every footstep, she was falling harder.
    He towered over her. Even when he wasn’t dressed as though he should be in an action movie, he still carried that air about him. No guns strapped to him—that she could see—but his attitude begged someone to screw with him. Marlena’s gaze skipped over the crowd, and—deep breath in—she’d never felt safer.
    “Why ya grinning, Cinderella?”
    “This is really fun.”
    With a sideways glance, he snagged her around the waist and kept them moving. “We haven’t done anything yet.”
    “But still having fun.”
    His smile didn’t show up often, but when it did, it stole her breath. He gave a quick nod and maneuvered her to the corner of the farthest section.
    “We won’t be able to see the movie very well.” Maybe that was the point, if he wanted to get a little wild where no one could see them.
    He paused and scanned the crowded hills. “It’s the best strategic, defensive position.”
    “Just lost a couple of romance points.”
    Trace laughed. “Not very date-ish, huh?”
    She smiled, shrugged, and leaned into him. “I don’t think we’re much of what anything should be like.”
    “True enough, Cinderella.”
    Music came on, and the screen lit up.