Nomar was ruthless and wouldn’t hesitate to torture or killRocco to punish her if the bastard thought her relationship with Rocco was anything more than what he’d been to her—a target of her undercover operation.
She had to keep it that way to ensure Rocco’s safety.
Nomar could never know that Rocco had infiltrated every wall she’d erected and staked his claim on her heart. Made her want a life she’d never considered. One that felt like a fantasy now within her reach.
Jemma bolted up in the bed.
She wasn’t giving up on Rocco.
He was frustrated by her resistance to his help, but she would make him understand after she’d dealt with Nomar. When Nomar was eliminated, she would show Rocco how much he meant to her. Prove to him that the connection they felt for each other was worth exploring.
Jemma knew there were no guarantees, but for the first time in her life, she’d found a man who made her at least want to try.
Her cell phone buzzed on the bedside table, spinning in a slow circle from the force.
Grabbing the device, she unlocked it and stared at the notification.
Eddie’s burner phone was on. Based on the coordinates, he was somewhere in Samana Bay. On a boat, perhaps? It was a long drive from Dajabon to the other side of the Dominican Republic, but spying on Eddie was a better use of her time than sitting around the bungalow and missing Rocco.
Hours later, Jemma was perched on top of a lookout point, staring down at the super yacht floating near the entrance into the bay from the Atlantic Ocean. She lowered her binoculars, growing bored and impatient with the nonstop partying on deck. Eddie and a few guys she’d cross-referenced to criminal databases as gangmembers from San Juan were surrounded by half-naked women, drinking and dancing the afternoon away.
So far, she hadn’t seen any signs of Nomar.
But that could change.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
Jemma pulled it out, recognized the secured line from Proteus, and activated the Bluetooth for her earbud to answer.
“What’s up?” Jemma asked.
“Is Rocco with you?” Lenny asked, panic in his rushed words.
“No. Why?”
“We have a problem.”
“What kind of problem?” Jemma had learned early on in her days of leading Proteus not to panic when the unexpected happened because the unexpected would always happen. It was a regular occurrence.
The words rushed from Lenny’s mouth. “We got word that the Direccion National de Control de Drogas is at the Dajabon Clinic busting a drug shipment right now. Seems they got intel from an old friend of ours that drugs were being trafficked through there.”
“An old friend went to the DNCD? You can’t mean Eddie Baez …” She raised the binoculars and focused them on Eddie. He was laying on a circular seat on the boat deck while a woman gave him a lap dance.
“Yes, Eddie,” Lenny said. “Twenty million dollars of cocaine was found in a state-of-the-art MRI facility recently added to the clinic. They arrested everyone on site, and we can’t get details out of the DNCD. They have no clue we have a man on the inside?—”
“You can’t tell them. It would blow Rocco’s cover, and we’d have to exfil him. The op would be done,” Jemma said, mind racing.
Lenny faltered. “The op is already done.”
“What are you saying?” Jemma’s blood ran cold.
“The Deputy Agent in Charge terminated the op. She’s flying to Dajabon now to meet with the DNCD and do damage control.”
No. This couldn’t be happening. She was too close to getting justice for Aurelia. If she was forced to go back to Virginia, she might never get this close again.
“Rocco wasn’t at the clinic when the bust happened. The DNCD is looking for him as a person of interest. We can’t find him either. He’s not responding to calls. He hasn’t arrived at any of our Dominican Republic safe houses.”
“You think he could’ve been tipped off?” Jemma asked.
