Rocco scoffed. “That’s not the only one. Keep swiping.”
“I don’t need to.”
“I said keep swiping!” Rocco thundered.
Jemma inhaled deeply, then swiped through each of the dozenor so photos. Each depicted her and Nomar together in positions that could only be interpreted as a couple in love.
“Those pictures are not what they look like.” She grimaced.
“They aren’t?” Rocco drew closer to her, his dark brown eyes turning flat and cold. “So, this isn’t the fucker who tried to plunge a syringe in your neck at that club in La Placita?”
Jemma flinched. “You don’t need to worry about him.”
“Worry about him? Are you fucking joking? I’m worried about you, Jemma. Who is he?” Rocco demanded.
“No one that you should be concerned about. You need to focus on the undercover mission,” Jemma spoke slowly and calmly. She didn’t know how things would turn out between her and Nomar. Who would ultimately win the war that waged between them. But she wouldn’t let Rocco get hurt because of her. She couldn’t live with herself if anything happened to him because of Nomar’s vendetta.
She continued, “The only thing you need to do is work on getting intel to shore up what we know about the drug trafficking shipment so we can stop El Sombro and put him in prison. Then all of this will be over.”
“But will it be over with you and the fucking guy in these photos?” Rocco asked, ignoring her. “Jemma, the same bastard who was going to pump you with drugs has found you in Dajabon. Do you think I can let that go?”
“I won’t let him get close enough to hurt me again.” Jemma scratched absently at her hair, struggling to withstand the torrent of emotions flickering across Rocco’s face. He was so pissed at her, but underneath his anger, she saw something that scared the hell out of her. The best thing to do was to keep him focused on the undercover operation. “Rocco, we can’t lose sight of what’s important here—taking down El Sombro.”
“What’s important is that I don’t come home to find you beaten and overdosing because I wasn’t around to help you this time,” Rocco insisted. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her closer. “Tell me what’s going on so we can deal with this together.”
Jemma pressed her fingers against her throbbing temples. She was losing her grip on the situation. Tracking Nomar Ortiz should’ve been an official mission for Proteus, but it wasn’t because the vendetta was personal.
When Nomar ambushed her in La Placita, she saw an opportunity to get rid of him for good. She couldn’t let Rocco interfere with her plans.
“There’s nothing to deal with. It was a fluke encounter. He apologized for his behavior back in Puerto Rico and kissed me in some misguided hope that I was still interested in him,” Jemma said, hoping Rocco believed her lies. “I made it clear that I absolutely was not. Then he left. Whoever took those photos wanted you to believe something that wasn’t true.”
Rocco dropped his hands and stood. Disappointment and defeat clouded his handsome features. He stared at her for a long moment, then said, “I don’t believe you.”
“Rocco, come on, this doesn’t change anything between us,” Jemma pleaded.
“Everything has fucking changed for me,” Rocco retorted. “From the second I met you, everything changed. From the moment I was inside of you, everything fucking changed. Can’t you see that? Can’t you see how much you mean to me?”
“I feel the same way.”
“Do you?” Rocco shook his head. “If you felt the same way about me, you’d trust me with whatever you’re dealing with. You’d tell me who this asshole is and why you snuck off to meet him behind my back.”
“I did not sneak off to meet him. I didn’t know he’d be there!” Jemma said. “Nothing romantic is going on with me and him.”
“I know that. I trust your feelings for me,” Rocco said. “But I also know that this man tried to kill you. I don’t believe it’s a coincidence that you were together in Dajabon. I need you to trust me enough to tell me what’s happening.”
“And I need you to trust me enough when I tell you I’m handling it,” Jemma screamed back at him. “I don’t want you involved in this, Rocco. This is my battle to fight. Not yours.”
“So there is a battle between you and this guy.”
“Damn it, Rocco! Let this go.”
“I want your battles to be my battles,” Rocco said. “You don’t have to fight anyone alone. Not anymore.”
“Rocco …” Jemma rested her hands on his face. “This started way before I knew you. It’s something I need to handle … on my own. And I will.”
“Let me help you.” His words were a whispered plea.
“I can’t.” Her hands trembled as she brushed the hair from her face. “I don’t need or want some man to swoop in and try to save the day. I can handle this on my own. Back off, okay.”
