“Deal,” Rocco said, then kissed her softly.
“Is it weird being a doctor and a DEA agent?” Jemma asked, unable to stop the questions from flowing. Now that she’d stopped hiding her feelings for Rocco, she wanted to know every single thing about him. His likes and dislikes. His idiosyncrasies. No detail was too large or small.
Rocco’s response was quick. “It feels right. I love being a doctor. I literally grew up at my dad’s clinic, helping him with small tasks. I always knew I’d follow in his footsteps and work in medicine. What I didn’t know was how I’d help fight the impact of drugs in the community like he did.” Rocco devoured the fruit in his hand, then moved on to the cantaloupe slices. “When I realized I had access to information the DEA could use, everything fell into place. My dad focused on rehabilitation and education to steer people from drugs. I’m focusing more on the source. But we’re both passionate about the same thing.”
“That’s amazing,” Jemma said. His story was so different fromhers but similar in other ways. She’d grown up in a family of police officers, sheriffs, and FBI agents. From a young age, she knew there were bad people in the world, and her family was dedicated to stopping them. Strangely, she never focused on the people whose lives benefitted from her work. She only thought about the next criminal that needed to be stopped.
“Is it weird for you to be a handler?”
“Yes,” Jemma said.
“Probably as weird as being the group supervisor of Proteus,” Rocco said, staring at her intently.
She tensed as Rocco peeled back the layers of her, exposing a truth that she didn’t think about much. “Yes.”
“I could tell. When we were at the compound, you were in your element. You thrive in undercover situations. You were amazing that night. I had no clue how you got that cell phone. One minute it was there, and the next it was gone.” Rocco finished the rest of his coffee and then glanced at her cup, filled with her signature vanilla latte with extra vanilla and whipped cream. “Got enough coffee for your cream?”
“I like my coffee like my men,” Jemma teased.
“Touche,” Rocco winked at her. “Why did you walk away from being an undercover agent?”
“It became too dangerous for me. My face was too well known from being undercover with the Ortiz Cartel, making it more likely that other cartel members could’ve recognized me,” Jemma said. “In the DEA, a black female undercover agent is rare. I’m fluent in Spanish and could pass for an Afro-Latina, but the cartels operate in a small world. I’d be remembered if I tried to go undercover again, so I had to find a different way to fight them.”
“Makes sense, although it kind of sucks.”
“Tell me about it,” Jemma said, then shrugged. “But it’s beenalmost two decades since I took Manny Ortiz down. Risks are low enough that none of them would have that long of a memory.”
“But you still need to be careful?” Rocco asked, concern laced in his tone.
Jemma nodded.
“I won’t let anyone hurt you.”
“I won’t let anyone hurt me, either,” Jemma said, a sobering thought coming to her mind. Not even you, Rocco. She had to guard her heart around this man. He was too easy to get used to.
Rocco glanced at his watch. “I should get going.”
“Have a great day at work,” Jemma said, slapping him on the butt as he walked out of the kitchen. “And try to get some details on the drug shipments.”
“Yes, boss,” Rocco said, then left the house.
As soon as he pulled out of the driveway, Jemma raced into the guest bedroom and grabbed her laptop. The only downside of her new situation with Rocco was that she didn’t have as much time to follow up on her investigation of Nomar. When they weren’t talking about the El Sombro operation, they were engaged in other carnal activities. Not that she minded, but she couldn’t lose sight of her dual motives for being here.
She’d almost had a heart attack when she and Rocco had spied Vance and Eddie at the clearing within the jungle with another man. She was lucky that Rocco didn’t recognize who it was—Nomar Ortiz. Rocco had been face to face with the man when he’d rescued her from Nomar at the club in La Placita.
Now that she knew Eddie was Nomar’s son, it was time to use Eduardito to help her find his father. Flipping the laptop open, she accessed the portal that monitored the tracking app she’d installed on Eddie’s phone. The last known location was a restaurant near Dajabon last night. So, Eddie returned to this side of the islandafter meeting with his father and Vance. But he hadn’t turned his phone on today.
Frustration clawed at her as she shut the laptop. Pacing the room, Jemma weighed her options and found none. Nomar was off the grid. Eddie was her only chance to find him. But what had happened to Eddie after the Ortiz Cartel bust? She didn’t know and hadn’t thought about Nomar’s son in years. Maybe researching that could give her a clue as to where he and his father could be now.
She was deep into her research for a few hours when an alarm went off on her laptop. She checked the portal app.
“Jackpot,” Jemma muttered under her breath. Eddie’s phone was on, and he was at a restaurant near a park frequented by locals.
Twenty minutes later, Jemma was at the park with a picnic basket, blanket, and a book, donning sunglasses. She pretended to enjoy the afternoon tropical weather as she looked for any sign of Eddie at the restaurant. The portal indicated he hadn’t moved from the location, so he must be coming out soon.
And when he did, she’d follow him.
Jemma grabbed a sandwich and put in her earbuds to listen to the latest album from Caribbean hip-hop princess Coco. She’d gotten through the entire album twice and devoured her entire basket of food before Eddie emerged from the restaurant. A tall Latina beauty who looked like she’d walked straight off the runways of Paris was on his arm. She lowered her sunglasses to get a better view.
