“So what do you need to know?” Rocco stared into her gorgeous brown irises. “What will convince you that I can do this undercover op?”
Jemma returned his stare. He could see her thoughts, debating whether to come clean or to be cagey, playing across her face. She took a deep breath and looked away. “Honesty from you.”
“I haven’t lied to you about anything,” Rocco said.
Crossing her arms over her chest, Jemma said, “There are lies of omission. Those count. Tell me about your father, Dr. Simon Forrester."
Her words sucked all the air out of the room. Rocco grabbed the collar of his t-shirt and yanked it from his neck.
His throat was constricting on its own.
"I read the police report,” Jemma said. “The statement of a distraught eleven-year-old child who claimed he didn’t see what happened to his father. That he didn’t know how his father had died. How Dr. Simon Forrester had been shot in the head twice, execution style.” The soft empathy in her voice was in stark contrast to her steely gaze. “It's all bullshit. I don’t believe one word of what you told the cops all those years ago. So, I'll make a deal with you. Tell me what you know about how your father died, and I’ll put you on this op as the undercover agent.”
Rocco couldn't breathe. He sprang to his feet, sending the chair clattering across the floor. He moved with long strides away from Jemma. “Find another undercover agent.”
Pushing through the door, he heard it slam behind him.
A fitting sound for the end of his career at the DEA.
Chapter 18
THREE YEARS LATER
Jemma peered out the window, taking in the palm trees swaying gently in the ocean breeze against the dark night sky. The idyllic setting was a stark contrast to the turmoil swirling within her.
The call about Tank Coyle’s injury had stopped her heart. Now, it raced with adrenaline, fury, and concern. How had he suffered a gunshot wound in San Juan? She’d been given scant details on the circumstances of his shooting, where he’d been shot, or the seriousness of his condition. The Deputy Agent-in-Charge of Proteus had already been briefed. She’d arranged for a private plane to transport Jemma from Virginia to Puerto Rico to assess the situation.
“Supervisor Winters …”
Jemma turned as Cedric Pedersen stood by the door of the conference room. She’d made it clear that Pedersen was to be found and brought to her immediately for a briefing.
“What the hell happened, Cedric?” Jemma leaned against the modern, black conference room chair and glared at the Assistant Special Agent in Charge.
Cedric blew out a breath and then closed the door behind him. He crossed the room and stood on the opposite side of the metal table. “It was a delicate situation that required swift action. There wasn’t time to go through formal protocols.”
“There wasn’t time?” Jemma scoffed. “The protocols are in place for a reason. This is another mistake to add to the long list of mistakes you’ve made over the past few years. Tell me, when will you stop putting agent’s lives in danger?”
“If I’d known Proteus was in San Juan, I never would have proceeded, and that’s the truth,” Cedric insisted, his eyes searching for an understanding she wasn’t ready to give.
"If you’d followed the proper procedures before sending your guys to raid the warehouse, you would’ve been told to hold off.”
“I’m not the only one who didn’t follow proper procedures.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Jemma snapped.
“I lost one of my best agents because you and your team botched the undercover investigation into the Sombro Cartel. If I’d known it would get so screwed up, I never would’ve pressed you to use Rocco as the UC,” Cedric said. “You must have done a number on Rocco for him to flip and start working for El Sombro. He was one of the good ones, and now he’s gone.”
At the mention of Rocco’s name, Jemma’s skin flushed hot, and her heart skipped a beat. It had been three years since Rocco had gone undercover, and she’d returned to Virginia to oversee the portfolio of undercover operations managed by Proteus. Three years of reviewing details from the Sombro Cartel op and not allowing herself to put a name or a face to the generic term UC mentioned in Tank’s reports.
“The details of Proteus Operations are classified. When oneoperation ends, we move on to the next viable operation that will help us meet our goals,” Jemma said.
She couldn’t tell Cedric that the original intel Proteus had received from the San Juan DEA office had proven useless. A bunch of dead ends. Rocco had wasted two years as the gang doctor for the Sombro Cartel, making connections that went nowhere. Suspicions rose that there was a snitch within Cedric’s ranks. Someone thwarting their ability to get inside.
Jemma had resorted to drastic action. When Rocco joined the Proteus Operation, his departure from the San Juan DEA had been set up as a dirty agent who’d gone rogue and joined the cartel in the Dominican Republic. When the op stalled, Jemma doubled down on that storyline and convinced Cedric and the leaders of the San Juan office that the lie had become a reality. Officially, the Proteus operation to take down the Sombro Cartel had been dismantled because they lost control of the undercover operative.
Over the past year, Rocco gained trust within the organization, establishing a critical relationship with El Sombro’s right-hand man, Vance Neville, and head enforcer, Dante Ellington. He’d constructed a complete organization chart of the cartel with the identities of all the key members except the one they needed most, El Sombro. As the gang doctor, Rocco was still on the outside of the criminal activities, unable to gain sufficient evidence for an arrest. But they were getting closer.
Eyebrow raised, Cedric asked, “And is that next operation targeting activity in San Juan? Do you have a lead that El Sombro is operating in Puerto Rico?”
