Chapter 21
CHAPTER 21
B ecca’s hands shook as she gripped the bathroom sink, staring into the mirror. The paleness of her face, the slight tremble in her lip—it didn’t do justice to the storm ripping through her chest.
She’d run before.
Hell, was no stranger at slipping away, vanishing into the folds of the world when things got too heated.
But this? This was different.
She wasn’t running from a relationship that had turned toxic or a situation she wanted to get out of, she was running from the man she loved.
Oh, Dom.
Her heart squeezed painfully at the thought of walking away, especially after the night they’d had. Could she do this?
His words snapped her back to reality.
Leave your laptop behind. Destroy your SIM card.
It was serious this time. No half-measures, no turning back. The authorities weren’t just sniffing around—they were coming.
If she stayed, it wouldn’t be long before she was staring at the grimy walls of a Panamanian jail cell. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping the panic would recede, taking deep breaths that barely steadied her nerves.
She turned on the shower, mentally running through the plan again. Pack, taking nothing that wouldn’t fit in her shoulder bag. Go to work as usual, acting normally. While she was there, she’d wipe her laptop and get rid of any hint of her presence. This afternoon, she’d come up with some excuse to head into town where she’d kill her cellphone and draw emergency cash.
Then get to the airport.
Simple, right?
Her thoughts turned to Chrissy, who’d been doing exactly the same thing when she was killed. An icy chill swept over her.
She had to be so careful. Chrissy was Ramirez’s wife, while she—Becca—was nobody to him. If he thought she was a liability…
Surely her father wouldn’t sanction?—?
It didn’t bear thinking about.
God, she wasn’t ready to leave. Not like this. Not with everything hanging in the balance. But what choice did she have? The clock was ticking, and the situation was closing in around her.
Then she remembered Fernando.
Shit, she had to warn him. The last thing she wanted was to drag him or the other staff into this mess. Her life was crumbling, but she wouldn’t let innocent people be caught in the crossfire. They didn’t deserve that.
She stepped under the water, hoping it would wash away the fear and the anxiety. The suds twisted down the drain, carrying the scent of Dom with them. She watched the bubbles disappear, and it hit her how final this was.
That last piece of him, gone.
Becca took a ragged breath. This was not the time to get emotional. Sentimentality was a luxury she couldn’t afford.
She could fall apart later, sob on the plane, or bury her head in a pillow once she was miles away. Right now, she had to hold it together.
She scrubbed her skin harder, determined to wash away the emotional grime as easily as the dirt.
This was happening, and she had to get herself together. Stepping out, she felt marginally more in control. She dried herself off, dressed in comfortable clothes and flat shoes, nothing that would draw attention. Outside, the sun was blazing down. It was going to be another scorching day. Already, the air was heavy with heat, the kind that pressed down on your shoulders, but that could be the anxiety.
She’d have to ask Carlos for a lift. That’s what made this so nerve-wracking. Would he know something was up? Would he sense something had changed in her?
Everything had to look totally normal. She couldn’t take anything with her. Blinking back tears, Becca walked around the room one last time, touching the things she knew she had to leave behind. Scarves, beads from the market, handmade dishes from that charming little village, her favorite shawl—the vibrant red and gold one she wrapped around herself on colder nights.
All of it had to stay. If she took anything, Carlos would know she was running.
Alek would come after her, she knew that.
When she wasn’t there to meet Carlos for her pickup, they’d launch a search party. The first place they’d look would be the airport. If she wasn’t quick, they’d find her before she even made it past security.
Becca stood in the center of the room, her heart aching at the thought of leaving her little collection of memories behind. But that was just it—memories were all they could be now. Tangible reminders of a life that no longer fit her, not when her very freedom was on the line.
“There’ll be time for more later,” she thought, but the words didn’t lessen the sting.
She grabbed her bag and passport, mentally checking off each item on her list. The most painful thing was the one she couldn’t physically pack. She’d wanted more from her father. Always had. But deep down, she knew he’d never be the man she needed him to be. Dom had helped her realize that. No matter how much she loved Alek, or how many times she hoped things would be different, he just was not capable. He’d pull her down with him if she let him.
As much as it hurt, she wasn’t going to be collateral damage in his mess.
Not this time.
It was time to let go. And that terrified her more than anything else.
Becca was at her desk promptly at nine a.m. She forced a smile when Alek strode into the office, his presence filling the room like a dark cloud.
“Morning,” she chirped, keeping her voice light.
“Becca, I need you to book me, Ramirez, and Dominguez on a flight to Bogotá this evening,” he said, not even glancing in her direction as he headed straight for his study. “And book the light aircraft to fly us to Cartagena first thing tomorrow morning.”
Her stomach flipped. So, Dom had actually convinced him. The handover of the merchandise to the cartel was happening. She swallowed, struggling to keep her voice even. “How long will you be staying?”
“Two days,” he replied curtly.
“Same hotel?”
He nodded, unlocking the door to his office and tucking the key into his jacket pocket. “And bring me my tea,” he added, disappearing inside.
Typical. No “good morning,” no “thank you.” Nothing. Just commands.
Becca bit the inside of her cheek, her exhaustion clawing at her. She’d barely slept, her mind whirling with plans and panic, but she had to stay focused.
Had to act normal.
She delivered his tea, then sat back at her desk to book their flights. As she typed in Dominguez’s name, her chest tightened. They were about to go in completely different directions—him to danger, and her to a slim chance of safety. She thought back to the previous night, the way he’d held her, his solid arms wrapped around her like a shield, but not even he could protect her from the storm that was fast approaching. The memory of his touch still lingered, but it was fading, just like everything else she had hoped for.
Casting off the sadness, she turned back to the screen. With the booking website still open, she pulled up a list of flights to the United States.
Plenty of options leaving today.
She chewed her lower lip. Should she book one now? It would be easy, just a few clicks. No, it was too risky. If anyone checked with the airline, they’d know. Better to buy the ticket in person, leaving no trace.
Starting at the top of her mental checklist, she wiped her internet search history, cleared the cookies, deleted her stored passwords. Her fingers moved quickly, erasing everything personal from her hard drive. She switched her username to something generic, though she knew the authorities could recover whatever they wanted with the right tools. Just in case, she wiped down the laptop, her pulse steadying slightly as her fingerprints disappeared from its surface.
With that done, she headed out to find Carlos. She hated having to ask permission to go into town, but it was the only way out. She also needed him to arrange transportation for Alek and the others to the airport.
“Sanchez will take you,” Carlos said without looking up from his paperwork. “I’m busy with the boss.”
Becca nodded. “Fine.” Even better. She wouldn’t have him leering all over her.
Her next stop was the kitchen, where Fernando was whisking eggs, his arm a blur of motion. When he saw her, he stopped.
“Hi, Becca. Is it time for the boss’s lunch already?”
“No.” She glanced around. “It’s not.”
He frowned, sensing something off. “What’s wrong?”
She dropped her voice. “Remember when you told me to let you know if trouble was coming?”
His eyes narrowed, concern deepening the lines on his face. “Si.”
“Well,” she hesitated, “it’s coming.”
Fernando’s face darkened. “Is it the police? Or…criminales?”
“The police.” She studied his reaction. Why would he jump to criminals first?
He nodded solemnly. “When?”
“Two days. Maybe less.”
He sighed, a weary sound. “I knew this day would come.”
“How did you know?” Curiosity momentarily outweighing her fear.
He shrugged. “Look around. This place is guarded like a fortress, but Panama isn’t that dangerous. Besides, people talk. The boss has a reputation. A very bad one.”
Becca swallowed hard. Of course, Fernando knew more than she’d realized. She squeezed his hand, feeling the roughness of his palm. “Be safe, Fernando. Tell the others.”
“Gracias, Senorita. You too.”
With a heavy heart, she turned and left the kitchen.
As she crossed the hallway, Alek came out of his office, frowning at the stain on his blazer. The door locked automatically behind him. “I’ve spilled tea on this. Can you have one of the staff take care of it before I leave tonight?”
“Of course,” Becca replied, taking the blazer. She knew he meant her . There was no one else. Fernando was busy with the kitchen, and the maid had her hands full with the bedrooms. She handed Alek his printed tickets. “You’re all checked in.”
“Good,” he muttered. “I’ve got to pack. I’ll have lunch in my quarters.”
“Okay,” Becca nodded, watching him walk away. She was about to hang the blazer over her chair when something hard in the pocket caught her attention. Her fingers brushed against metal. She pulled it out and froze.
The keys to his office.
Becca stared at them for a long moment. Dom’s words echoed in her brain. Look for evidence of the arms deal with the Colombians. Should she, or shouldn’t she? The damn key was burning a hole in her hand. Time seemed to stand still as she tried to decide what to do. This might be the one chance she had to search his study, undetected. If she could find the evidence Dom needed, it would help them charge Alek and that brute Ramirez and bring down their gunrunning organization. He deserved it. She no longer thought of Alek as her father. It was quite clear she meant nothing to him. She’d been blind. Naive. Hoping for a relationship he wasn’t capable of. With a final breath, she gave a firm nod. Now it was time to do the right thing. To be on the right side. Dom’s side.
Glancing around, she saw the coast was clear. Her hand trembled as she slid the key into the lock. The door clicked open, and she slipped inside, taking the keys with her.
She moved quickly, passing the bookcase and coffee table surrounded by four armchairs, and heading straight to his desk. She didn’t bother with his laptop. It would be locked, and she didn’t have time to crack passwords.
Her pulse raced as she opened the drawers. The first was neatly organized with pens and paper. Useless. The second made her pause—a gun, holstered, with spare bullets. She slammed it shut, her hands shaking.
In the third drawer, she found what she was looking for. A stack of documents. Becca’s breath caught. It was all there—gun types, quantities, destinations. This was the deal with the Colombians, no doubt about it. Automatic rifles, rocket-propelled grenades, things she didn’t even recognize.
She flipped to the last page, her heart hammering as her eyes scanned for a signature. But it wasn’t Alek’s. Or Ramirez’s. Just a scribble, a name she didn’t recognize.
Damn.
Still, it was something. She snapped pictures of the documents with her phone, then quickly returned everything to its place. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she padded back to the door, cracking it open just enough to peek out. The hallway was empty.
Just as she stepped out, a hard voice stopped her cold.
“What the hell are you doing?”