“The Rocco you know has seen and been through too much. You think it was easy for me to see what the DEA did to you in Jamaica? Everything you lost because of the agency and how they left youdangling when it was over.” Rocco shook his head. “Maybe blind loyalty to this cause isn’t worth it.”
“You don’t have to tell me how fucked up what I went through in Kingston was,” Everett said, pain evident in his voice. “But don’t use me for your disillusionment. I didn’t leave the DEA because I stopped believing in the agency or its mission. I left because I’m fucking broken right now. I’m of no use to anyone …”
“I don’t believe that.”
“And I don’t believe you would cross lines and turn your back on everything you believe in. Everything your father instilled in you,” Everett said. “You had a front-row seat, watching how drugs can decimate a family, yet you never used that as an excuse. Never took the easy way out. You became a doctor and returned to the community that took your father from you. You found ways to heal and protect them from drugs. The kind of passion that’s in your heart doesn’t fade away.”
“There are people within the San Juan office who could say the same things about you. But you walked away, didn’t you?”
“You’re not listening to me?—”
“No, you’re not listening to me. I may not have lost as much as you, but I’m definitely not the same man who walked into the DEA’s office with a proposal of how I could stay a doctor and help them with intel to dismantle the gangs selling drugs,” Rocco said, doing his best to convince Everett that he didn’t know him as well as they both knew he did. “I’m tired of fighting a war that can’t be won.”
“Now, I know you’re lying. You’ve always believed that turning things around was about touching one life at a time. If you could help one kid out of the drug life, it was a win,” Everett said, glaring at Rocco. “Tell me what the hell is going on.”
Rocco opened his mouth to speak, then stopped. Everett wouldn’t stop until he found out the truth, one way or another.With his old DEA friend snooping around, it could hinder the undercover operation. But if Everett knew the truth, then things would be different.
Lowering his voice, Rocco said, “None of what I’m about to tell you can be told to anyone. This is take it to your grave information. My life is on the line if it gets into the wrong hands.”
Everett glanced around to ensure no one was close enough to hear their conversation, then said, “You’re going undercover, aren’t you?”
“Yes, same setup as I’ve been doing in Puerto Rico.”
“That’s all I need to know.” Everett slid his hand across the table toward Rocco, then pulled it back, revealing a dark metal card.
Rocco turned it over. The outline of a stingray was etched on one side. “What’s this?”
“A backup plan in case you get screwed over like I did.” Everett stood, drained the rest of piña colada, then gripped Rocco’s shoulder and squeezed it. “Sometimes we can do more good working outside the confines of law enforcement groups.” He pointed to the card. “An open invitation to join the security consultants Ike is pulling together to help people.”
Rocco flipped the card in his hand.
Ike da Costa was a childhood friend of Everett and one of the heirs of the Hullabaloo Coffee empire. A billionaire and former Palmchat Islands Special Command Operator, Ike had abruptly left special ops and rejoined civilian life under a cloud of disillusionment.
Everett nodded. “Never expires.” He grabbed his drink and downed the rest of the frosty liquor. “I’m always here for you, Rocco. Don’t ever forget that.”
Rocco leaned back in his chair as Everett left the restaurant. But his attention was quickly diverted to the woman entering as she passed Everett.
Smoldering heat like lava flowed across his skin.
He couldn’t stop looking at her as she maneuvered her way to the bar. She was dressed in a sleeveless orange shirt that created a perfect contrast to her deep brown skin and a beige skirt that hugged her hips. His mind processed every part of her at lightning speed. She was tall and lithe, athletic and feminine, with an ample chest, curvy ass, and thick, luscious thighs.
But it was her beautiful face, framed by molten chocolate wavy locks with honeyed highlights falling loose beyond her shoulders, that had a strange sensation piercing his chest. Underneath the graceful arch of her delicately defined eyebrows, her eyes, pools of deep brown, were soft yet sharp, assessing her surroundings.
When she turned in his direction, her lips pressed in a natural pout that oozed with confidence and sensuality. His cock twitched at the thought of those lips wrapped around his length, taking him deep.
An image that should be far from his mind, considering that the woman was the Group Supervisor of the DEA’s Proteus Team, Jemma Winters. The woman who held his fate in her hands. She would determine if he would be the undercover operative infiltrating the Sombro Cartel or if he’d be replaced by one of her Proteus team members.
Rocco sucked in a deep breath.
He should leave her alone.
Wait the two days when he’d be officially introduced to Jemma and the Proteus team.
Too bad Rocco had no plans to do what he should.
Chapter 5
Leaning against the bar, Jemma Winters took a long sip of her piña colada and stared at the line of tourists stretching from the bar to the front entrance of Barrachina. The restaurant catered to every customer, filling its tables with those who wanted the tropical ambiance and providing a to-go line for those who wanted to say they’d tried the famous, official drink of Puerto Rico at the restaurant that created it.
