Chapter 17
CHAPTER 17
B ecca lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about the man who had brought her to the brink of something raw and intense just twenty-four hours ago.
Where was he now?
Probably deep in the jungle, hauling her father’s illegal merchandise through rebel-infested terrain, surrounded by criminals, danger lurking in every shadow.
She missed him. His scent, the roughness of his touch, the heat of his body pressed against hers. Hell, she missed everything about him.
Her heart sank. She’d fallen for him—it hit her like a punch to the gut. Hard. Unavoidable. Even though he was supposed to be the enemy.
Or was he?
It had been easier when she thought he was just a badass mercenary, wrapped up in the same muddy waters she was. At least then, they’d been on the same side. The rules were simple—survival, profit, no questions asked.
Now everything was upside down. Dom wasn’t just another hired gun. He was the guy gunning for her father. The good guy, doing what he thought was right, setting up her old man just like he’d set up Suarez.
But she couldn’t hate him for it. He wasn’t wrong. Not about her father, at least.
So where did that leave her?
She turned over, punching her pillow in frustration, trying to force herself into some semblance of comfort. Her father was one of the most dangerous men in Central America—everyone knew that. And by staying silent, she was complicit. She wasn’t running the guns, or laundering the money, but wasn’t turning a blind eye just as bad?
God, what was she doing?
The heat in her room became unbearable. She kicked the sheets off and stumbled to the window, pushing it open. Outside, the rain was soft, pattering against the dense jungle, a muted sound that echoed the turmoil inside her. It wasn’t like rain on city streets—no harsh splatter on concrete, no cars splashing through puddles. It was gentler, more natural, almost soothing. Except she couldn’t relax.
She leaned out, inhaling deeply. The air smelled different out here too—clean, like freshly cut grass and damp earth. She wondered if it was raining where Dom was. Was he huddled under a shelter, waiting it out? Or did he not even care? Rain was probably just another thing to endure for a man like him.
Was he thinking of her?
Shaking her head, she climbed back into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. Closing her eyes, she remembered how alive she’d felt in his arms. She tried to recapture the feeling of safety, of rightness, from that night. For a few precious moments, she could almost believe it. Almost forget about the lies and the looming storm of betrayal.
But it didn’t last. Soon she was tossing and turning again, her thoughts swirling with questions she had no answers to. The sun was poking its head over the horizon when her body finally succumbed to sleep.
The next morning, Becca sat at her desk, bleary-eyed and unfocused, entering the receipts from housekeeping into the accounting software. It was a routine she did monthly, more out of habit than necessity. There wasn’t really a budget to stick to, but it gave her something to show Alek at the end of the month. More importantly, it kept her mind from spiraling into the chaos she couldn’t control.
She froze at the sound of tires crunching over gravel, her heart skipping a beat. She’d done this a dozen times today—rushed to the window at every car that pulled up, hoping. But this time, she got lucky.
It was him .
Her pulse quickened as she watched Dom climb out of a khaki Jeep, dirty from the road but somehow more imposing for it. The vehicle was perfect for rough terrain, but what surprised her most was that he was driving—alone.
Before she could process that, Carlos stormed into the quad, flanked by two burly guards, weapons drawn. Rapid-fire Spanish erupted between them, Carlos gesturing wildly as if Dom’s very presence here unaccompanied was an affront.
“What the fuck is he doing here by himself?” Alek’s voice boomed as he stormed out of his study, the door flying open with a bang.
Becca straightened, choosing her words carefully. “The guy used to be a U.S. Marine. He probably knew the location of the hacienda this whole time.”
Used to be.
I’m still undercover.
Alek glowered, pacing to the window. “He’s showing off,” he muttered. “Coming here unannounced just to prove he can. The bastard’s trying to make a point.”
Becca frowned as Dom strode toward the main house, Carlos still ranting after him. His face was set in a grim line, dirt smeared across his jaw, his eyes burning with something darker. “I don’t think it’s just that. He looks… pissed.”
Her father squinted, but Dom was already out of sight, Carlos still gesturing uselessly after him.
“We’re about to find out,” Alek muttered, irritation lining his features as he crossed his arms, waiting.
Becca’s heart did a full somersault as Dom marched into the office. He was caked in mud, his clothes filthy and he smelled of damp foliage, but despite his disheveled state, it was great to see him. She had to bite her tongue not to ask if he was okay.
Alek beat her to it. “What the hell happened to you? You look like you just crawled out of the damn jungle.”
“I did.” Dom’s voice was a low growl, cutting to the point as he jerked his head toward Alek’s office. “We need to talk. Now.”
Becca stepped aside, feeling a strange pang of disappointment as Dom brushed past her without even a glance. He hadn’t even acknowledged her. The distance stung more than she cared to admit. It was as if whatever they’d shared didn’t matter now that they were on opposite sides.
But they weren’t really on opposite sides, were they? He wanted Alek locked up, and she… she wasn’t exactly opposing him. She just wasn’t helping. It felt like sitting on a fence, watching a war play out, unsure which way to fall.
She sighed, dropping heavily into her desk chair. The numbers on the screen blurred, and after a few minutes of staring, she gave up entirely, her gaze drifting toward Alek’s office. The door was thick, soundproofed, but she caught fragments of the conversation—“ambush” and “patrols.”
Jeez. That didn’t sound good.
She got up and tiptoed closer to the door. Had the shipment been compromised? Ambushed by border patrol? And if so, how had Dom made it out? The questions bubbled up inside her, but she knew the answers weren’t coming anytime soon.
“What’s going on?” Ramirez’s sudden voice behind her made her jump. “I heard Dominguez arrived without escort. Carlos is furious. Why are you standing outside Alek’s door?”
“I was about to ask if they wanted tea.” She tried to sound casual, though the sharpness of Ramirez’s stare unnerved her. There was something calculating in his expression, something that reminded her too much of the way he might have looked when giving the order to have his wife killed.
She knocked on the door, her heart thumping.
“What?” Alek’s irritated voice rang out.
“Ramirez is here. Should I send him in?”
Alek nodded curtly.
She opened the door, letting Ramirez pass, then hesitated. “Do you need anything?” she asked, already knowing the answer.
As expected, she received a blunt, “No.”
Becca closed the door and backed away. Maybe it was better not to know what was being discussed in there. After all, she was only here to reconnect with her father, not to get involved in his criminal activities. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.
Restless, she headed down to the kitchen to make herself a coffee. She wasn’t about to hang around the office like a lovesick puppy waiting for a glimpse of Dom. She still had some dignity left.
Outside, the kitchen door was propped open. Fernando, the chef, stood in the doorway, cigarette in hand. He glanced at her as she stepped out. “I heard shouting when Se?or Dominguez arrived,” he said, his voice low. “Carlos is very, very angry.” He chuckled, blowing out a long stream of smoke.
Becca forced a smile. There weren’t many men who could piss off Carlos and get away with it, but Dom was one of them. That didn’t mean Carlos wouldn’t make him pay for it later. Men like that held grudges. Dom would have to watch his back.
“Is there trouble coming, Miss Becca?” Fernando’s voice was suddenly serious, the lightness gone. His dark eyes held a weight that made her stomach clench.
“Why would you ask that?” She turned to face him, surprised by the anxiety in his expression.
He shrugged, flicking the ash off his cigarette. “I got a bad feeling. You tell us if trouble’s coming, okay?”
She swallowed hard. By us , he meant the staff—the gardener, the maid, Fernando himself. The ones who had nothing to do with the darker side of her father’s business. The innocent ones. Somehow, she felt comforted by being lumped in with them. It reminded her she had a choice.
“I will,” she promised, hoping she could keep her word.
“Becca, can we talk?”
Crap.
Becca jerked at the sound of Dom’s voice, spilling coffee onto her wrist. Fernando’s eyebrows lifted, but he quietly stubbed out his cigarette and headed inside, shooting her a curious look as he went.
Dom was taking a risk, talking to her out here where anyone could see them. Where Fernando had seen them.
“What are you doing out here?” she hissed. “You shouldn’t be seen talking to me.”
“I need to talk to you.” His voice was low but urgent.
She glanced around before nodding, leading him further to the side of the house where the trash bins were stacked. If someone came by, at least they’d be out of view.
“What is it? What happened? Are you okay?” Her eyes roamed over him—disheveled, covered in grime, and clearly exhausted.
“Becca, we were ambushed. Someone leaked our smuggling route to the Panamanian authorities. There was a patrol waiting for us near the Colombian border.”
Her eyes widened. “Oh, shit. Are you okay?” She scanned him for injuries, but he seemed intact.
“I’m fine. But it was a close call.”
“Who do you think it was?” She braced herself for his answer, dread building in her chest.
His silence spoke volumes. His eyes flicked to hers.
“It wasn’t me!” she snapped, a flare of anger mixing with her fear. “You think I’d betray my own father!”
His jaw clenched. “I didn’t say you did. But I had to ask.”
She crossed her arms, glaring. “Why would I do that? I don’t even know the details of your damn smuggling operation.”
Dom sighed, rubbing a hand across his face. “I didn’t think it was you. I just wanted to hear you say it.”
Her anger faded, replaced by a knot of anxiety. “What are you going to do now?”
“I need to figure out who tipped them off. Sabotaging the route is one thing, but risking lives? That’s a whole different level of betrayal.”
She scoffed, her heart racing. “You think we’re enemies now, don’t you?”
“I don’t know what we are.” His voice was hard, but there was something beneath it—something raw.
Becca bit her lip, feeling the weight of his words. They were on a collision course, the both of them. And yet, standing here, she couldn’t hate him. Not when all she wanted to do was reach out and hold him.
“I’m not against you, Dom,” she whispered. “But I won’t betray my father, either.”
He stared at her for a moment, eyes unreadable. “You’re already involved, whether you like it or not.”
Her breath caught. This was getting dangerous, fast.
“I’m scared,” she admitted softly, more to herself than him.
“You should be.” His voice was grim. “And that’s why I’m telling you—get out. Leave this place while you still can.”
Her heart twisted at his words. “I ran away once before. I can’t do it again.”
Dom’s gaze softened. “This isn’t running away, Becca. This is survival. And trust me, a Panamanian jail is no place for someone like you.”
Tears pricked at her eyes. “I can’t just leave. There’s more to my father than you know.”
Dom’s brow furrowed, his eyes narrowing. “What do you mean?”
Becca swallowed hard, the weight of her secret pressing down on her. “There are things about Alek... things you should know before you do anything.”