Page 11 of Delta

This is not good.

I really, really, really fucked up. The boys don't even know I'm gone. Neither do the guys. Or my parents. They'll find out eventually, but it'll take Lear's expertise to track my movements.

I can't bank on being rescued at the last second by my family. I mean, they'll rescue me eventually. But in the meantime, anything could happen. And by anything, I mean rape and murder.

Plus side: I'm not bound. I wonder if I could just sneak out? And go where? I'm on a fucking train in the middle of nowhere at night. Barefoot. In a skanky little skirt.

The girl across from me shifts on the seat, moaning as she rouses to consciousness. Beside her, the man cracks an eye open, peers at her, and then closes the eye.

So, they're not sound asleep. Sneaking out likely wouldn't be an option anyway.

I close my eyes to the point that I can see through the hazy flutter of my eyelashes, considering my situation, what led to it, and what to do about it.

I've been at odd ends for a while. Killy has taken an interest in the family business, training with Dad's underlings in hand-to-hand combat, close quarters combat, room clearing, intelligence gathering, recon, off-grid operations, surveillance…everything he'll ever need to know to eventually take over Alpha One Security if and when Dad ever retires.

I've expressed interest, but Dad won't let me do any of the fun stuff. I mean, I’ve done all that stuff, too. I’m damn good at it. But he won’t put me on any real missions. He wants me to work with Uncle Lear on computer operations.

I’ve done recon training, intel gathering and processing, self-defense, off-grid stuff, room clearing, and firearms training. Top marks in all categories, according to Uncle Duke and Sasha.

"You're not ready, emotionally," Dad says.

The fuck does that mean?

And Killy is? Killian still thinks crop-dusting me is peak humor.

I want to learn how to be an A1S badass like everyone else I know, but I'm not emotionally ready? Sure.

Not that I'm bitter.

I wouldn't need fucking bodyguards that I have to sneak away from if they'd teach me what I need to know. Or rather, I don’t need the bodyguards because I do know all that shit.

What, because I'm a fucking girl I can't be a badass? What about Auntie Cuddy? Or Mom? Mom is a certified badass.

That was circumstantial, she said. She told me she hoped I'd never need to learn the way she did.

Well, guess the fuck what, Mom? Here I am, up shit creek, alone, learning the way you did. Must be a family trait, like the curly hair and brown skin.

I recognize the burn of anger in my gut, and I'm cognizant that letting anger take over is a bad plan, so I let my eyes close all the way and try to release some of it.

The train sways as we round a long, sharp curve.

One of the men lets out a long, bubbly, wet-sounding fart, and a few moments later the compartment is choking with the godawful smell of it. The other man rouses, leans forward, and kicks his companion in the thigh, grumbling and cursing at him in whatever language they speak.

This starts an argument with lots of wild gesticulations, and both men end up on their feet, nose to nose, all but barking at each other. At any moment, I expect them to bust out their dicks and a ruler. Or maybe start throwing down—that’d be better. I could use the distraction to escape.

I sneak a glance at the other girl—like me, she's pretending to be asleep, but I see her eyes slitted, watching the men bickering.

After a while, their tempers cool and they each retreat to their side of the compartment, petulantly turning away from each other like scolded children.

The girl and I trade eye rolls: Men. Ugh.

The man next to the girl pulls out his phone, leaning against the window and scrolling idly. The man beside me seems content to just…sit there. Freak.

After perhaps ten or fifteen minutes of scrolling, the man opposite me rotates his phone to landscape, resting it on his thigh. I hear dialogue; obviously, I have no idea what’s being said, but…god, how do I explain it? Even in a language I don't understand, it just sounds like bad acting. Lines being recited stiffly and woodenly.

And then…a female moan. A male grunt. A gag. Wet slurping sounds. Another gag. A male voice growling something that's probably a version of "oh yeah, baby, take it all."

The jackass is watching porn. Just, like, in public, volume up, no earbuds, with three other people mere feet away.