Delta's Baby Surprise (Special Forces Elite 1)

Published By Violet Paige

Copyright © 2017 Violet Paige

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places or events are entirely the work of the author. Any resemblance to actual persons, events, or places is entirely coincidental.

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One

Damon

The bourbon was watered down. I flicked my wrist, washing it over the melted flecks of ice. I looked around, bored. That was the problem. I bored easily.

A waiter walked by without glancing at my table. That had always been the deal in this fucking place, though. They treated me like every other guy in here. They didn’t cater to one of us over the other. As if we were normal. As if we weren’t rich as s

in. As if I didn’t own the entire country.

We existed under a cloak of secrecy. The façade that inside these walls we were on an equal playing field. Maybe there was some truth to that for one night a month. Gala night.

I slung back the last swallow of the hundred-dollar glass of booze. I pushed back from my chair to straighten my cramped legs, standing just shy of six-five. I moved across the room trying not to attract too much attention. It wasn’t easy to blend in, even if people were committed to ignoring me.

I knocked on the black door behind the bar and waited for someone to let me in. The incessant bass pumping through the speakers drowned out the hammering of my fist. It was loud as fuck in here.

“Damn it.” I gritted my teeth, pounding again. I wasn’t patient.

The door cracked enough that I could see a sliver of the stage. It was dark.

A stooge who couldn’t have been more than twenty stood in my way. I tapped at my watch. It probably cost more than ten cars in the parking lot put together. “You’re running late.” I kept my voice low.

He nodded. “I know. I’m sorry, your m—”

I put my hand up to stop him. “I have a reservation tonight,” I reminded him.

He looked over his shoulder nervously. “There have been a few setbacks,” he reported.

“Setbacks?” I cocked my eyebrow. When had The Titan had a setback?

“I assure you we’ll start any minute. I can personally escort you.”

I didn’t want to hear his bullshit. I didn’t tolerate excuses no matter the circumstances.

I exhaled. “That won’t be necessary. You have five minutes,” I warned. “Figure it out or I’m leaving. I don’t need to waste my time.”

“I’ll let them know.” He closed the door with a solid shove.

I turned for my table. Ashford Grant was a few feet behind me. He smirked. If I didn’t know better, his tattered jeans and T-shirt suggested he was a man who was out for a round with his buddies.

“I see you escaped for the night.” He tipped a drink toward me.

I scowled. “It’s never easy.”

I glanced over his shoulder at my guards standing by the front entrance. Their arms were crossed. They scanned every guest who walked past. They didn’t give a shit that every person in the club was a member. You couldn’t walk through the front doors without a signed contract. Correction—a hefty deposit and a signed contract.

There were standards for all members.

“You can’t shake those two?” he asked.

“They go where I go.”