Delta_Ricochet

by Cristin Harber

  Or maybe he did.

  Hours had passed, and he’d spent his time with Delta.

  Colin ignored the empty tickle plaguing his chest and recalled the directions back to his hotel. He flipped on the radio so he couldn’t wonder why exhaustion gnawed when he’d done nothing more than sit and think.

  CHAPTER TEN

  One week later. One job later. Too many connecting flights later... Colin thought he might use his semi-new, almost-official position on Delta team to suggest that Titan Group run a carpool to Iowa with one of their jets. The amount of time the teams had logged into airports this week and last neared comical levels. Not that they didn’t normally spend time on airstrips—but not in the land of business travelers and vacationers.

  The team had had a lively debate about where it was best to fly out of Washington—Reagan or Dulles with BWI thrown in for good measure. What none of them had initially considered until Parker had laughed, throwing a monkey wrench into their conversation, was that it wasn’t just Delta flying out. Titan Group had several members with significant others and children. It wouldn’t take a jet— it would take a C-130 to fly everyone to Iowa at once.

  Suddenly, Colin and the others had realized en masse that they were the vacationers others dreaded. They were the group travelers that would normally make them cringe—except they wouldn’t be those morons. They were all seasoned travelers, even most of the kids. Everything would go smoothly.

  Right?

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. Delta team had arranged transport to pick up everyone and drop them off at their airport of choice. Rental cars and hotel rooms waited for them on the other side. Colin nursed a coffee as Javier lugged down Sophia’s third bag from upstairs. He still hadn’t seen proof of life. “Tell me she’s awake.”

  Javier side-eyed him. “Up before dawn.”

  Colin groaned. His sister wasn’t a quiet morning person. “Sorry.”

  “I can hear you two.”

  “She lives!” Colin called up the stairs. “Come on down before our ride shows.”

  “We have two minutes.”

  He pulled out his phone and saw the notification for missed call from his father that he’d purposefully sent to voicemail. After swiping away the notification, he saw Sophia had nailed it. “Someone’s studied the agenda.”

  “Don’t be a smart aleck.”

  “Finally, she graces us with her presence,” Colin teased as she appeared at the top of the stairs.

  Javier opened the front door as a dark SUV pulled into the driveway. “If you two are going to be at each other’s throats the whole trip, I’m switching seats with someone.”

  Sophia scowled. “Don’t you dare!”

  “You know I wouldn’t.”

  Colin grabbed bags to bring outside. “Did Dad call you this morning?”

  “My cell’s in my purse, and Javier just grabbed it with my bags.”

  Colin tried to recall Javier carrying a purse. “You sure?”

  “Of course I’m sure.”

  “Load up,” Javier called from outside.

  Sophia swished by. “I’ll check my phone at the airport.”

  “No big deal.” Besides, he didn’t want the stress of a Dad conversation before they were wheels up.

  It took less time than they anticipated to load and leave, and they hit the highway, heading toward Dulles International, bantering about Mayhem and the wild two years it’d been getting to know the real people behind the news headlines.

  “Son of a—” the driver mumbled, and Colin in the front passenger seat turned around to a sea of red brake lights forming quickly as they shifted lanes and dropped speed and stopped.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Bet this does shit for the agenda.”

  “Hang tight,” the driver offered and swiped his cellphone screen, sending a call that went into his Bluetooth earpiece. After a quick greeting and grumbling laugh, he agreed. “Yeah, you know that’s why I called.”

  A few uh-huhs later, he ended the call. Colin feared there wasn’t much that could be done. Dulles had one way in and out once they hit the toll road. The only thing they’d find out was how bad the standstill would be.

  “Not good, yeah?” Javier asked.

  “Not the best, but we won’t be here all day,” the driver confirmed.

  “Super.” Sophia fidgeted. “Can anyone reach my purse?”

  Javier reached into the SUV’s hatchback. “Nope. Sorry.”

  “It’ll clear up.” The driver flashed a promising smile in the rearview mirror. “Do you want to reschedule your flights?”

  “We had some wiggle room,” she said. “Let’s wait it out and run for it.”

  The driver laughed and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. “My kind of girl.”

  Javier and Colin joined in banter and killed time with stories, learning how the driver, Marcus, joined Titan’s network of trustworthy contractors to be called upon at any time. He was a former Army Ranger, and this was his “retirement job,” something to keep him from going stir crazy at home while his wife scrapbooked their grandchildren’s every waking moment.

  Forty-five minutes later, they broke free of a nasty accident, and Marcus did his best to get them to Dulles. They slid into an open spot on the curb, rushed to check their bags—and failed.

  “Can’t check bags curbside this close to the flight.” And they were directed inside.

  “I should’ve known we’d have to run,” Sophia grumbled. “These aren’t running shoes.”

  “You had to pack this much for a weekend wedding.” Javier grabbed bags.

  “I’ve got it.” She swatted away his hands.

  Colin grabbed one of hers. “We’re good. Breathe.”

  “Breathing,” she snapped at Javier.

  “I didn’t tell you to breathe.”

  “Nice start,” Colin muttered and started to see why vacationers were such fun travelers to be around. “Let’s go.”

  They bungled their way inside with all the finesse of water buffalo pushing through sliding glass doors, found the right airline, nowhere near the outside check-in, and waited.

  And waited.

  Waiting still.

  For self-service kiosks.

  “Do you know what I’d give for Parker right now?” Javier muttered.

  “He’s probably watching and laughing his ass off.” Colin dropped everything as Sophia requested her purse from him. “I don’t have it.”

  “Me either,” Javier said.

  “What!” She stomped over, inspecting, accompanied by the groans of the people behind them. “Colin!”

  “Yeah?” He didn’t look up from the screen, trying to follow the directions. Golf clubs? No. Military. Not today. Armed? Uh…

  “This is my purse.” She held up small fabric bag.

  That wasn’t a purse but more like a mini-duffel bag. He waved her out of the way. “‘Kay, Soph. I’ve gotta deal with this.” Looking over her head, he tried to flag down the one person servicing about a thousand travelers. “Javier.”

  Colin checked over his shoulder to find Javier with the same oh-fuck stare.

  Sophia caught their mirrored looks. “What?” Her lips parted—and fell. “Don’t tell me you didn’t realize you couldn’t waltz through security with guns strapped to you.”

  “Well…” Colin decided it was safer to stare at the offending kiosk.

  “Javier?” Her face was pure un-amused disbelief. “Do you have a gun under your shirt?”

  As though gun was a buzzword that could be picked up by special airport listening devices, they were suddenly approached by the lone person helping the entire bag-checking section. “Can I help you?”

  “How do we go about not checking service weapons?”

  “Law enforcement?”

  “Contractors,” Colin volunteered.

  “You don’t.”

  They were those people. “How do we go about checking our weapons?”

  “Weapons?” Her unimpres
sed glare was one of the best Colin had ever seen, and “weapons” must’ve been another word for the secret airport listening devices. Two airport security guards eased their way into the line, silently standing behind the woman. “Come with me.”

  “Sure thing.” They grabbed their bags with Sophia’s mutters peppering the process and followed.

  Two frustrating hours later with a new flight booked and a new secure handgun box purchased from the extraordinarily overpriced luggage store in the airport, they made it through ticketing and the snake of people where Javier was x-rayed and frisked.

  “You two are bad luck. My flight last week was smooth.” Colin stood in line at the tram.

  “Same,” Sophia bit back as they boarded.

  Colin’s phone rang as they packed into the overstuffed tram, and he silenced it. There was no work to be done right now, and family would drive him to the edge. Hell, even if he wanted to talk to Dad, Colin couldn’t reach into his pocket and press the phone to his ear without inappropriately touching at least one stranger.

  They zipped along, and the next concourse came into view as they rounded the corner. The lights dimmed. The tram slowed and stopped short of the concourse. Was this really happening?

  “Why aren’t we moving?” Sophia whispered.

  “Sorry about this, folks,” came through the speaker. “A little electrical issue. It will take a moment to fix.”

  “If there’s an electrical problem, why do the speakers work?” she whispered, much louder this time.

  “Maybe different systems?” Javier offered, and Colin decided that was love.

  Colin loved his sister but offering an explanation as calm as his teammate’s had just been wasn’t what would have come out of his mouth. Then again, if Javier hadn’t been there, maybe Colin would have stepped into the calming, protective role for Sophia. He believed there was an innate need to care for her, and he trusted her husband to do it. But since his teammate was here, Colin simply wanted to ignore his sister and be free to fume about the tram dying.

  Five minutes turned to ten. The temperature rose. Tensions were high, and children cried. Now, there was a good chance they’d miss their new flight.

  Colin closed his eyes, again ignoring a call—probably Parker having a hell of a good time at their expense. Cool air suddenly flowed, and the lights flickered on.

  “Good news, we’re about to move again. Thanks for your patience, and please prepare for your destination.”

  They slid the final stretch into the concourse, and the doors opened to fresh air. Colin checked his watch. “We can still make our flight.”

  Maybe.

  “Let’s rock and roll, Paixao.” Javier grabbed Sophia’s hand and surged through the crowd.

  Colin was tight on their six as their names were called on the loudspeakers for a final boarding call. Hell.

  “I told you we’re going to run.” Sophia took off.

  Javier laughed and cursed in Portuguese. They followed her, straight out of a movie, dodging people and rolling bags. They were making this flight if it killed them.

  “Wait!” Sophia called as they rounded the gate corner.

  An attendant had nearly shut the door.

  “We were in the stuck tram!”

  The man smiled and stepped to his scanner. “I bet that was fun.”

  Colin snorted, and their tickets were scanned. They hustled down the jet way, and the door shut behind them. A flight attendant met them at the door, again shutting the door behind them. The welcome and warning procedures were already in full spiel.

  They took their seats, shoving bags under their feet as the overhead bags were closed. Javier and Sophia slid in first. Colin took the aisle. A woman came over, checking that their seat belts were fastened and their phones turned off. She hovered to inspect, as though they were troublemakers who might not listen.

  Sophia pulled out her purse, spilling everything out and apologizing for the mess to the attendant who didn’t seem to care. Colin and Javier pulled their phones out.

  Colin swiped the screen, ready to switch on airplane mode, but two text messages displayed below the missed calls.

  MOM: Call back! Now! It’s about your dad.

  JARED: Sorry about your loss this morning. If you need to take time off…

  “Sir?” the attendant prompted.

  He numbly tilted his head. The phone slipped into his lap. “My dad died.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Don’t fall.

  Don’t fall.

  Don’t fall.

  Adelia had one goal today. Don’t fall. It had been on her mind since she woke up, and even though she knew exactly what she had to wear—perks of being a bridesmaid—she had still torn her apartment apart, fidgeting and searching for things she had no need for.

  Maybe she needed a strapless bra. Perhaps she needed those pasty things that covered nips instead of wearing a bra. Hello, since when had she ever used, worn, or even owned those things? Band-Aids did the trick just fine. But she hadn’t remembered that until her search-and-destroy mission had transformed her not-so-organized room into a mess.

  Why was she so nervous? Adelia peered at herself in the mirror. “Because you’ve never been in a real wedding.”

  And that was the truth. Mayhem weddings didn’t count. No wedding counted where guys backed their bikes to make an aisle, or the officiant was self-ordained off the Internet.

  Adelia scowled at the woman in the mirror and pointed a finger at herself. “We both know that’s BS.”

  It was. All of those were real weddings. What was her deal?

  She grabbed a pillow and retreated to the couch, staring at the pictures around her apartment that were mostly of her with Seven and Victoria. This wedding was different because it was for people she cared about, and that was… “Scary,” she finally whispered to the empty room.

  It didn’t matter if she fell walking down the aisle at Seven’s church wedding. Jax would find it hysterical, Seven would get a kick out of it, and one of them—or Victoria—would jump out to help her up.

  Nothing was going to change because Seven married Jax in front of family and friends. If anything, it officially welcomed him to their little group—as if he hadn’t already planted himself there anyway.

  Her cell phone buzzed from the kitchen, and she jumped off the couch to read the text message.

  VICTORIA: We’re downstairs. Let’s get our girl hitched!!!

  Adelia squealed, all nerves gone, and spun, her ankle wobbling. She caught herself laughing. “Not the worst thing that could happen today.”

  Purse in hand, she rushed downstairs so Victoria could drop off Adelia at the church and take Seven to get her hair and makeup done. They each had their checklist of action items, courtesy of Victoria. Seven would have her dream-princess wedding and float through the day without a worry.

  Adelia got into Victoria’s car and listened to the chatter as they drove. They dropped Adelia at the front, and she gave kisses and well wishes. Next time they’d see each other, the three of them would be in a side room and ready to strut their stuff up the aisle.

  The car zoomed away, and Adelia drank in a deep breath of the fresh day then headed inside. Everything should have been in place already—the flowers hung, the programs laid out. All Adelia had to do was make sure there weren’t problems, unpack the extras, and remain the point of contact for unexpected headaches.

  Blossoms framed the doors. Everything was exactly where they had requested. “This is easy.”

  She pushed through the final set of double doors. A lone churchgoer sat alone toward the front row, and she guessed that was fine. They had plenty of time before folks arrived. The pianist wasn’t even there yet.

  The bag of supplies was under a small table, and she pulled out the finishing touches, distributing them throughout the church, finally placing the wedding candles Seven and Jax would light on the altar. She turned, and her eyes narrowed on the man in the second row.

  His
elbows were propped on the pew in front of him. His head ducked toward his chest. But his clothes—or rather, the suit jacket and broad shoulders—stuck out. Over dressed and out of place. He didn’t seem as though he was praying, and she crept closer.

  He picked up his head.

  “Colin?”

  It was late in the afternoon, and the wedding didn’t start for a couple hours. “You’re here early.” She left off the part where it looked as if someone had died. It wasn’t as if he’d been crying, and even if he had, she knew enough to never mention that, but the man looked beaten. Simply destroyed.

  He rubbed his nose and ran a hand over his eyes. “I got tired of waiting in my hotel room.”

  “Well…” She glanced around the church. “There are a lot of guests in town, people getting together—”

  “Wasn’t in the mood for people either.”

  “Oh.” She gave him an apologetic smile, backing away. “I’ll let you have your quiet.”

  Should have guessed that if he was hiding in a church. What did she know about him, anyway? Every time she saw him, a new facet revealed itself. Last weekend, he’d had a baby in his arms, but it wasn’t just that. It was how she could see from far away on the dance floor, how he talked to the little girl, showing her things, and pointing. Adelia wondered if her life would have been different if anyone had done that for her or Javier.

  And now, here he was, praying, meditating, or perhaps, just hiding. She rarely caught a glimpse of what they did except when Ryder and Victoria elaborated on occasion, but intense might be a safe way to describe it. Maybe Adelia had interrupted his detoxing.

  “It’s okay,” he said quietly, and his chin dropped, not as it had before, but in a way that seemed painfully sad.

  She hovered by the edge of the pew. “Are you…” She bit her lip. “Talking to God?”