Chapter 18
THREE YEARS LATER
Jemma peered out the window, taking in the palm trees swaying gently in the ocean breeze against the dark night sky. The idyllic setting was a stark contrast to the turmoil swirling within her.
The call about Tank Coyle’s injury had stopped her heart. Now, it raced with adrenaline, fury, and concern. How had he suffered a gunshot wound in San Juan? She’d been given scant details on the circumstances of his shooting, where he’d been shot, or the seriousness of his condition. The Deputy Agent-in-Charge of Proteus had already been briefed. She’d arranged for a private plane to transport Jemma from Virginia to Puerto Rico to assess the situation.
“Supervisor Winters …”
Jemma turned as Cedric Pedersen stood by the door of the conference room. She’d made it clear that Pedersen was to be found and brought to her immediately for a briefing.
“What the hell happened, Cedric?” Jemma leaned against the modern, black conference room chair and glared at the Assistant Special Agent in Charge.
Cedric blew out a breath and then closed the door behind him. He crossed the room and stood on the opposite side of the metal table. “It was a delicate situation that required swift action. There wasn’t time to go through formal protocols.”
“There wasn’t time?” Jemma scoffed. “The protocols are in place for a reason. This is another mistake to add to the long list of mistakes you’ve made over the past few years. Tell me, when will you stop putting agent’s lives in danger?”
“If I’d known Proteus was in San Juan, I never would have proceeded, and that’s the truth,” Cedric insisted, his eyes searching for an understanding she wasn’t ready to give.
”If you’d followed the proper procedures before sending your guys to raid the warehouse, you would’ve been told to hold off.”
“I’m not the only one who didn’t follow proper procedures.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?” Jemma snapped.
“I lost one of my best agents because you and your team botched the undercover investigation into the Sombro Cartel. If I’d known it would get so screwed up, I never would’ve pressed you to use Rocco as the UC,” Cedric said. “You must have done a number on Rocco for him to flip and start working for El Sombro. He was one of the good ones, and now he’s gone.”
At the mention of Rocco’s name, Jemma’s skin flushed hot, and her heart skipped a beat. It had been three years since Rocco had gone undercover, and she’d returned to Virginia to oversee the portfolio of undercover operations managed by Proteus. Three years of reviewing details from the Sombro Cartel op and not allowing herself to put a name or a face to the generic term UC mentioned in Tank’s reports.
“The details of Proteus Operations are classified. When one operation ends, we move on to the next viable operation that will help us meet our goals,” Jemma said.
She couldn’t tell Cedric that the original intel Proteus had received from the San Juan DEA office had proven useless. A bunch of dead ends. Rocco had wasted two years as the gang doctor for the Sombro Cartel, making connections that went nowhere. Suspicions rose that there was a snitch within Cedric’s ranks. Someone thwarting their ability to get inside.
Jemma had resorted to drastic action. When Rocco joined the Proteus Operation, his departure from the San Juan DEA had been set up as a dirty agent who’d gone rogue and joined the cartel in the Dominican Republic. When the op stalled, Jemma doubled down on that storyline and convinced Cedric and the leaders of the San Juan office that the lie had become a reality. Officially, the Proteus operation to take down the Sombro Cartel had been dismantled because they lost control of the undercover operative.
Over the past year, Rocco gained trust within the organization, establishing a critical relationship with El Sombro’s right-hand man, Vance Neville, and head enforcer, Dante Ellington. He’d constructed a complete organization chart of the cartel with the identities of all the key members except the one they needed most, El Sombro. As the gang doctor, Rocco was still on the outside of the criminal activities, unable to gain sufficient evidence for an arrest. But they were getting closer.
Eyebrow raised, Cedric asked, “And is that next operation targeting activity in San Juan? Do you have a lead that El Sombro is operating in Puerto Rico?”
Jemma looked away. El Sombro wasn’t operating in Puerto Rico, but there was a chance Nomar Ortiz had never left his home country after all. Sifting through the information from Rocco had revealed grainy videos of enforcers being trained by a shadowy figure in the heart of the El Yunque National Forest. The hitmen were taken through a myriad of rigorous combat drills, guerrilla warfare tactics, and advanced weaponry maneuvers to prepare them to protect the Sombro Cartel. The techniques used were the calling card of Nomar, who’d struck fear across the drug trade almost two decades ago. Many of the enforcers within the cartel were also equipped with modified weapons that bore the engraved decal, “The NO Way.” Nomar had utilized similar modified guns as head of enforcement for the Ortiz Cartel. While confirming that the NO stood for Nomar Ortiz was impossible, Jemma believed it did. She was too close to discovering Nomar’s location to let anything derail their secret mission.
“Or have you shifted focus to someone else?” Cedric demanded. “A local player in the San Juan drug game who’s become a bigger threat?”
“I told you, Proteus operations are classified.”.
Tank had flown to San Juan to look into Eddie Baez, a former confidential informant of the San Juan office who’d abruptly cut ties with them around three years ago. Lenny had obtained chatter from the dark web that Eddie might be trying to establish a connection with the Sombro Cartel. Word on the street was he was dissatisfied with his role in the local drug gangs in San Juan and was looking for a path to more power.
“So the Proteus agent was here on an active mission,” Cedric said, his anger fading to curiosity.
”I’m not discussing the details of our operations with you.”
“Why not? If your guy was at the warehouse, I know you were after the same man we were looking into—Eddie Baez. He’s been making moves. This was our first chance to get evidence to bring him in. Damn shame we got tangled up with your team and let him get away.”
“You got tangled up with my team because you only thought about yourself. Trying to find a quick way to rebuild your fucked up reputation. But your actions had the opposite effect. You crossed Proteus, and that won’t get dismissed as easily as your botched operation in Jamaica,” Jemma said. “Try learning from your mistakes. Any and all raids need to be submitted to the database to ensure they don’t interfere with other operations in the region. Do us all a favor, and don’t cut corners next time!”
Cedric avoided her gaze as he slumped against the conference room table.
Jemma walked toward the door. “What hospital was my agent sent to?”
“San Cristobal Medical.”
Twenty minutes later, Jemma found herself navigating the maze-like halls of the hospital, following behind a chatty, petite nurse as she approached Tank’s room. Jemma thanked the woman, then knocked lightly on the door.
“About time you got here,” Tank called out.
Jemma slipped through the door and closed it behind her. Tank was a hulk of a man, barely contained within the hospital bed, shoving red Jell-O into his mouth. A line of empty containers littered his bedside table.
“I’m fairly certain Jell-O isn’t an approved meal for a gunshot wound,” Jemma said.
“No, but I can sweet talk the nurses into giving me what I want.” Tank gave her a wink. His face grew grave as she sat on a stool beside his bed. “What are we going to do about Rocco?”
Jemma glanced away. She wasn’t sure he would like her answer. Hell, she didn’t know if she liked her answer. But it was the only way to salvage the operation and her mission to find Nomar.
“Replacing a handler in the middle of a mission is high risk in normal circumstances. This operation is far from normal. Our protocols indicate the best option is to exfiltrate him and kill the op,” Jemma began.
“You can’t do that,” Tank thundered, then grimaced with pain and reached for his hip. He bit back a curse, then said, “Rocco was going to walk away from this op. The situation with his dad and the insinuations on his character almost ruined any chance we had of getting him to come on board.”
“But you changed his mind,” Jemma said. The contents of the brown envelope had changed hers about Rocco. Knowing there was possibly a seed of vengeance behind his noble reasons for fighting the drug trade had been the tipping point. She still didn’t know what Rocco knew about his father’s murder, but she saw a glimpse of the same drive she had within him. To seek justice for a life taken too soon. How could she not give him a chance to exorcise his demons when she was using the same op to exorcise hers?
“I pushed him to go undercover, and then he stuck around for two years chasing our tails until we got a breakthrough. Things are going too good. I can’t be why he gets pulled from finishing the job,” Tank said, then took a deep breath.
“I couldn’t agree more.”
“Really?” Tank raised an eyebrow.
“But there’s still the problem of how we get a new handler trained up to take your place and get Rocco to trust that person,” Jemma said, excitement fluttering across her skin.
“I think I have a solution to that problem.”
Now, it was her turn to be shocked. Tank could derail her plans if he had a better option to take over as handler. Still, she had to hear who he thought could step in. He’d probably already run his choice by Lenny and Fallon before approaching the subject with her. Jemma asked, “So, who do you think should be Rocco’s new handler?”
“I’m looking at her.”