Chapter 29
“You keep looking at me like that, and we won’t make it to the party,” Rocco warned, staring down at Jemma as she deftly moved the ends of the tie into a neat bow.
It had been five days since he’d seen her.
Was it possible that she could be more beautiful than he remembered? Jemma was ravishing in a strapless gown of cascading floral embroidery with shimmering turquoise and silver blooms. Her long tresses were pulled into a side ponytail, the golden highlighted ends flat against her chest.
Jemma smoothed out the nonexistent wrinkles of his impeccable cream suit. Underneath, he wore a turquoise shirt, which added a touch of cool charm and coordinated perfectly with her dress.
“What can I say?” Her exhale was filled with defeat. “You look damn good in a suit.”
“I look better without one,” Rocco teased, but it fell flat.
Jemma looked away, but he reached for her, hoping to break down the wall she was erecting between them. He was done with her fucking walls and the rules they were bound to. No one had to know the truth about their feelings for each other. He sure as hell wasn’t going to tell her superiors at Proteus, and she didn’t need to either. Maybe it was wrong, but he needed her now that things were heating up on the op. And not as his handler and group supervisor. He needed the Jemma who challenged, enticed, and … supported him. Like she had this week while he was stuck at the clinic overseeing the construction. Each day, she texted to encourage him that everything would be worth it. She didn’t need to do that. Tank sure as hell wouldn’t have. But Jemma sensed what he needed and freely gave it to him.
How the hell was he supposed to go back to what they had before? He wouldn’t.
“I’m going to talk, and you listen,” Rocco said, giving up on any chance Jemma would share her true feelings with him. She wasn’t one to talk about her emotions, as though doing so made her weak. He’d learned long ago that expressing yourself was one of the greatest signs of strength.
“We need to get to the party. You shouldn’t be late,” Jemma said.
“We won’t be. I don’t have that much to say.”
“You don’t?”
“You sound disappointed.”
Jemma shook her head. “Get it over with.”
“We are not a real couple,” Rocco said, choosing his words carefully.
“You think I don’t know that?” She tried to pull away, but he held on.
“But we will be,” Rocco said before she could protest. “What we are doing is wrong in the eyes of the agency, but it’s right for us. You’re fighting too hard to stop what’s happening and losing the battle every minute.”
Jemma stiffened. “Rocco, we cannot do this.”
“We’re already doing this. How much did you miss me when I wasn’t here this week?”
“Too damn much, okay. Happy? I feel the same stupid connection to you that you’re always rambling about. This is inappropriate!” Jemma twisted from his grasp.
Damn, was he drawn to her fiery passion and stubbornness. But he would take the small victories as they came. Jemma admitting her feelings for him was definitely one of them. He wasn’t going to push her. Not yet.
“No, it’s not inappropriate. It’s a private matter between two consenting adults. It’s our business. Not the DEA’s. No one needs to know what we are to each other until we figure it out ourselves.”
“If you think we’ll be intimate again, you’re mistaken. That was a one-time thing. It’s not happening again,” Jemma insisted, but the words lacked her usual confidence.
“If you say so,” Rocco said. They both knew she was lying, but now was not the time to get into it. Jemma was right. They needed to get to the celebration at El Sombro’s compound. “Ready to go.”
Jemma took a deep breath, then nodded.
He followed her out of the bungalow to the car. As he drove to the compound in Sierra de Bahoruco, Jemma gave him an update on what she found out while he was at the clinic.
“Everything was a dead end. The burner was new, and we couldn’t trace where it had been purchased. CaribCrest Construction doesn’t exist. We found no articles of incorporation for it in any country and no records of its name on construction permits,” Jemma said, frustration creeping into her tone. “We have no way of identifying who is involved with the company. Worse, if there’s any conversation recording, the only person implicated is you. Vance made damn sure of that.”
“Figured as much,” Rocco said, not surprised, just like the dead end with Eddie, who hadn’t responded to his texts. “I took some photos of a few guys with a different burner. We can get the cyber team to run them through a database for a match.”
“Good thinking,” Jemma said. “What do you think we’re walking into tonight?”
“Not sure, but we should be prepared for anything,” Rocco said.
But they weren’t prepared.
Ushered into a luxurious ballroom with unobstructed views of the Caribbean Sea, Rocco and Jemma stopped as Dante hurled a table over, sending place settings, candles, and a glass vase filled with flowers crashing to the floor.
Eddie Baez leaped backward to avoid being hit, then erupted into maniacal laughter that didn’t match the edge in his stare, laced with an anger-fueled danger.
Vance stood nearby, seemingly unconcerned with the melee playing out in front of him, a scantily clad woman draped on each arm. Two other women cowered in the corner, holding each other and exchanging worried looks. There were no other guests, which surprised him.
“Stay here,” Rocco said to Jemma, then jogged across the marble floor toward the two men. Dante’s face was hard as stone. The telltale signs of a natural-born killer in his element, ready to take another life with no regrets.
“What the hell is going on here?” Rocco asked.
“Eddie boy has got a fucked up notion in his head that I take orders from him,” Dante said, seething. “I’m going to show him how wrong he is.”
Rocco looked at Eddie, whose smile stretched wider. “I’m relaying a message from El Sombro. If you want to defy his order, be my guest.” He shrugged.
“Messenger boys aren’t El Sombro’s style. If he wants me to do something, then he tells me himself. Until then, you’re nothing but a punk wannabe drug dealer trying to swim in the sea with the sharks. You’ll be eaten alive in no time,” Dante said, stalking over to face off against Eddie.
“El Sombro isn’t here?” Rocco maneuvered himself between the two men. The answer was obvious. The leader of the cartel was conspicuously absent once again.
“He sends his regrets,” Vance said, appearing bored with the fight. “Rocco, don’t bother getting riled up about these two. They’ve been itching to fight from the moment they met. We should let them.”
“I’m not in the mood to spend the night patching them up after they try to kill each other,” Rocco said, trying a different approach. He needed to find out why Dante was so pissed at Eddie. But getting them to talk cartel business in front of the ladies was a long shot.
“That ain’t happening,” Eddie said, then glared at Dante. “I don’t give a fuck what you’re used to in the past. Things are different now. I expect my guys to get the route details from you by morning. If not, you’ll find out the consequences for disrespecting me.”
Dante’s fist flew fast as lightning, smashing Eddie in the face. Blood sprayed from Eddie’s nose as he toppled backward in shock. He hit the floor with a loud thud and an anguished cry as his head bounced off the hard marble. Dante was relentless in his attack, kicking Eddie in the ribcage repeatedly. Rocco tried to step in and hold Dante back, but the man was strong, flinging him away.
“You want respect, bitch?” Dante thundered. “You have to earn respect!”
Eddie twisted and writhed on the floor with each kick. His jacket, splattered with blood, flew open, and a cell phone skittered to the floor. Rocco honed in on the device, then caught a glimpse of Jemma in his periphery. With the proper distraction, she might be able to get the phone without anyone noticing.
Rocco rushed forward, wrapping his arms around Dante tightly, shielding the phone from Vance’s view. “Come on, man, he’s not worth it,” Rocco said.
“Rocco!” Jemma screamed, rushing toward him. “No, don’t. You could get hurt!”
As she darted across the ballroom, Vance said, “Jemma, darling, come over here with the rest of the ladies. Don’t get involved.”
Rocco wrestled Dante away from Eddie. “Jemma, stay back, please. Don’t come any closer,” Rocco said, echoing Vance’s warning. “I’ll be okay. I promise.”
Jemma stopped, then stumbled backward. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, wait for me in the foyer. We can go as soon as I get these guys under control.”
Jemma nodded slowly, then backed out of the ballroom.
Rocco glanced down to the spot where Eddie’s cell phone had been.
It was gone.