“Then, as a friend, you know I have no choice. This is the hand I’ve been dealt. I have to make it work.”
From the look on Fallon’s face, she definitely wasn’t convinced. “Okay. Watch yourself. Don’t go catching feelings for this guy.”
“I do not catch feelings!” Jemma screamed as Fallon winked at her, then signed off.
Chapter 25
Rocco pushed the piles of paperwork across the desk and rubbed his weary eyes. The Dajabon clinic was quiet. The nurses had headed home an hour ago after the last patient. He’d locked up behind them, then retreated to his office. He usually enjoyed reviewing patient records and updating his notes. Tonight, he was unfocused and distracted because of Jemma.
He wanted to see her. Now. He had no idea where she was staying in Dajabon. As they went their separate ways that afternoon, he hadn’t asked, and she hadn’t offered the information. As his handler, she was in charge of setting the frequency of their communications. His job was to wait and keep collecting intel until the next meeting.
Frustrating, but nothing compared to being tortured by memories of kissing her and having her kiss him back with intense passion. He had to find a way to get her out of his head. Think of her only as his boss and handler, nothing more?—
A loud bang rattled the walls of the building.
The sound of a backdoor being forced open, slamming into the wall.
He’d heard it once before …
Rocco was jerked back in time to his father’s clinic. Dwarfed by his dad’s massive wooden desk and worn leather chair in the office, he’d felt special when his dad welcomed him to sit there to finish his math homework. The sound had gotten his father’s attention. Rocco looked up as his dad passed the open door, heading toward the back of the clinic. He should’ve stayed put, but curiosity got the better of him. Scrambling from the chair, he crept down the hallway, following his dad.
Inhaling a deep breath, Rocco let it out slowly. He wished he’d never followed his dad that day.
Pushing away from his desk, Rocco leaned over and opened the bottom drawer. It was empty except for a loaded SIG P227. Grabbing the gun, Rocco exited his office and walked down the dim hallway, past the rows of treatment rooms, toward the back of the clinic where the prescription drugs were locked and stored. An almost identical setup to his dad’s clinic.
His dad should’ve been more cautious all those years ago. Less righteous. Less confrontational. Maybe he’d still be alive if he’d called the cops instead of insisting on handling the thugs alone. Rocco paused, listening for any signs of movement as he had when he was eleven.
He’d hidden from his dad, around the corner from the storage room, to watch the encounter unfold. A man stood in the shadows, his words too low for Rocco to hear.
But he’d heard his dad’s response.
“This is a haven to treat people who are struggling with their addiction, not to feed into it,” his dad said, confident and annoyed. “Cocaine and heroin won’t be sold out the back of my clinic. No amount of money will change my mind. The answer is no.” His dad pointed to the back entrance. “You can leave the same way you came in.”
His dad turned his back on the man, and his gaze met Rocco’s. He remembered feeling a surge of pride that his father had stood up to the drug dealer … right before his father’s head exploded. Dark red blood and brain matter sprayed across the hallway, staining the walls.
He shook away the memories and pressed forward. His finger brushed against the trigger of the SIG. Turning the corner, Rocco saw a man huddled on the floor, gripping his side. His hand covered in blood, and breaths labored. The man groaned and leaned forward. A shaft of dim light crossed his face.
“Dante!” Rocco said, rushing to El Sombro’s head enforcer’s side.
“I got stabbed,” Dante said, grimacing. “It’s not deep. Stitch me up. And give me something strong for this fucking pain.”
Rocco looked at the open back door. “Is someone after you?”
Dante laughed, then winced. “And if they are, what are you going to do about it? You’re way more valuable as a doctor, not a fighter. Put that SIG away before you hurt somebody.”
Rocco slammed the door closed, then turned back to Dante. “How did this happen?”
“Better that you don’t know the details.” A sheepish look flashed on his face.
“You got stabbed by a woman, didn’t you?”
“I knew I’d regret sharing my love life with you,” Dante said, then grunted as he tried to stand. Rocco helped him, and they walked slowly to the first open treatment room.
“I thought things were going good for you with the new girl.”
“They were until she fucked it up and told me she loved me.” Dante took off his shirt to reveal a jagged wound. “From the very beginning, I warned her not to fall in love. Told her I wasn’t worth it, but she didn’t listen.”
“And you didn’t say it back.” Rocco put on gloves and examinedthe wound. It was deep and would definitely need stitches after he got it cleaned.
