Chapter 9
“He fucking killed the course.” Tank smirked and handed the clipboard to Jemma.
Templeton “Tank” Coyle IV was the person she trusted most on the Proteus Team. Her right-hand man, he did whatever was needed to lead the dozens of staff supporting their operations.
“I’ll admit, after reading his file, I wasn’t sure he could handle the physicality of our ops,” Tank continued, excitement painted across his face. “You know, he spends more time practicing medicine than on the streets fighting thugs. He more than proved me wrong.”
Jemma had her reasons for believing Rocco might stumble during the assessment, namely his calm, pie-in-the-sky, empathetic views on how the key to winning the war on drugs was compassion and rehabilitation. A noble perspective she disagreed with wholeheartedly.
But if Tank was this impressed with Rocco, things didn’t bode well for her … at all.
Swiping the sweat beading along her hairline, Jemma glanced down the street at the men hastily packing the equipment with impressive efficiency under Tank’s watch. None of them had come through unscathed, their tactical gear splattered with blue paint, evidence of Rocco’s skills and prowess.
The assessment had begun before dawn. Rocco had been given a backpack, a cell phone, and two guns loaded with paintball pellets. He’d been blindfolded and deserted deep in the heart of the El Yunque National Forest with simple instructions: using the items provided, decipher the intel from the cell phone, obtain the asset, and make it to the safe house without getting caught or taking fatal damage. He would be evaluated on whether he completed the mission and how much damage he suffered to do it. Many agents finished the course but were covered almost from head to toe in red paint, indicating they would not have arrived alive if the assessment had been real. Only the best could complete it without taking too many paintball hits.
Jemma scanned the results.
A flutter of excitement raced along her skin.
Damn.
Tank was right.
“No agent has ever made it through the forest untouched. Our guys never saw him. Check out that time,” Tank continued. “The guy is a fucking stud.”
“And absolutely the guy we need to infiltrate El Sombro,” Lenny Small said, joining Jemma and Tank near the wooden fence on the side of the safe house. Lenny was the brainiac of their team, involved in complex strategy and contingency planning.
“He was top decile in the aptitude tests as well. Turns out Cedric wasn’t wrong about him.”
Jemma motioned for the results of Rocco’s tests, which he’d been given after the exhausting physical assessment.
That was two votes for Rocco.
“We still need to wait for Fallon to perform the psych assessment,” Jemma reminded the two men, who seemed eager to hand over the assignment to Rocco immediately. Dr. Fallon Abrams headed up the psychological evaluations for Proteus. She assessed the potential UC’s mental state and the likelihood of success under the grueling pressures of living a lie for months, if not years, on end.
“I don’t usually say this, but I don’t give a fuck what’s in his psych report. Whatever it is, Lenny and I can work around it. This is our guy, Jemma,” Tank said, then pointed to the rest of the Proteus team. “You ask any of those guys out there. Every single one of them will agree with me.”
Jemma pushed her sunglasses onto her head and glared at the two men. “Dozens of agents have come to us with great results and instincts for this work. His numbers are impressive but not out of the range that we’ve seen many times before. But that doesn’t mean Rocco can withstand the psychological pressure to go undercover long-term.”
Lenny said, “With all due respect, Jemma, the guy has been undercover his entire career with the DEA. He has the experience and has proven he can do this.”
“He grew up on this island. Was raised in that neighborhood. All he’s done is be himself, a doctor healing the community in his clinic. He only has to keep one secret from the gang members he treats daily. This is his home. He’s comfortable here,” Jemma said, a twinge of guilt piercing her, not sure why she was coming down so hard on Rocco.
She’d be thrilled that an agent had performed this well any other time. But any other time, she wouldn’t find herself insatiably attracted to the agent, unable to resist being near him.
Why in the hell did she stay up all night talking to him? It was wrong, but she didn’t do a damn thing to stop herself from indulging. Raw, sexual tension had radiated between them all night as they segued between topics, finding themselves on opposite sides and engaging in riveting debates. She’d been titillated by the competing physical attraction for him brewing inside her and the pull of the intellectual stimulation of their conversations. She wasn’t sure which turned her on more.
The hours had passed like seconds, neither of them realizing how long they’d been out, walking the empty streets of Old San Juan, until the sun peeked from the horizon.
Rocco had stopped in the middle of the blue cobblestoned street and stared at the sunrise. “Have we been out all night?”
Jemma laughed, then pushed him forward. “Obviously.”
“Do we have to say goodbye now?” Rocco asked, his smoldering eyes dancing as he looked at her.
She’d hesitated. Every part of her wanted to say no, then drag him back to her hotel and spend the day indulging with him in the most carnal way. But better sense had prevailed. “Yes, we do.”
“Will I see you on Monday?”
“Maybe.” Jemma shrugged. “You’ll be dealing more with my team than me.”
“Can I drive you to your hotel?”
“No need. I’m staying in a hotel not too far from here. I can walk,” Jemma said.
“I’ll walk with you,” Rocco insisted.
No way in hell she could let that happen. “It was a pleasure getting to know you, Just Rocco.”
He gave her a smile of understanding that damn near made her heart explode.
“You too, Just Jemma.”
With those final words, she turned and walked away from him before she made a big mistake.
Now, all of that was coming back to haunt her.
Could she objectively evaluate Rocco when the first thing she’d done when she got back to the hotel was fantasize about him as she pleasured herself with her vibrator?
Jemma exhaled loudly. “I’m not saying that the two of you are wrong. But we need Fallon to weigh in on Rocco’s unique situation.”
If all three agreed, Jemma wouldn’t stand in the way, even if she’d be responsible for watching over the handsome agent.
“You bring up excellent points, as usual,” Tank said, sobering from her perspective. “Fallon will be here in thirty minutes. Once she finishes her report, we can regroup and make the final decision.”
Jemma nodded, then glanced around. She could read the tea leaves. The likelihood that Rocco wouldn’t be part of the operation to take down El Sombro was shrinking by the minute. That meant she needed to have a conversation about what transpired between them. What had started as a challenge and banter between two agents had ended feeling like an intimate … date.
She needed to make it clear to Rocco that she wouldn’t hang out with him like that again.
And more importantly, they needed to keep that encounter a secret. The last thing she needed was for the Proteus Team or the Proteus Deputy Agent in Charge to learn about it. They might read too much into the encounter and come too close to the truth.
“Where’s Agent Forrester now?” Jemma asked, hoping her tone was professional and distant.
Lenny pointed toward the house. “Inside, prepping for the psych analysis.”
“I’m going to check on him before Fallon gets here,” Jemma said, then left the two men.
Walking across the cracked sidewalk, overgrown with weeds sprouting from the concrete, she reached the door and turned the knob. The door opened, and she paused. Hesitation clawed at her.
Maybe seeing Rocco wasn’t a good idea.
Maybe avoiding him like the plague and ebola combined was a better approach.
Pros and cons rattled in her mind at rapid speed.
No, she had to do this.
There couldn’t be a hint of familiarity between them when they were around the rest of the Proteus Team. It would trigger questions Jemma was not going to answer. She had to lay the ground rules for Rocco, so she wouldn’t be in an uncomfortable or inappropriate situation later.
Jemma stepped inside the house and glanced around. A living area stretched in front of her, and beyond it was a kitchen. To the right, there were two doors. One was open, revealing the edges of bedroom furniture in the dark shadows. The other was closed. The thundering splatter of water pelting against tiles rose from the other side.
Rocco was in the shower.
A vision of what she imagined his muscular body would look like naked under a stream of water invaded her mind. Warmth pooled between her thighs, and she groaned. Squeezing her eyes shut, Jemma tried to force the thoughts away.
“Jemma …” Rocco’s voice boomed in the small space. “Are you okay?”