Chapter 41
This was not part of the plan.
Rocco trudged up the steps to the patio of his bungalow. He didn’t have to sniff his wrinkled clothes. He knew he reeked of the finest Bishops Reserve Rum. After getting details on El Sombro’s shipment from the meeting with the PC-5, Rocco flew back to St. Felipe to check on Ike.
He’d found the man standing in the middle of an impressive memorial constructed for his parents, who were presumed dead. And he looked broken. Staring into Ike’s face, he saw the same haunted look he’d seen in his own eyes after watching his dad’s murder. A guilt-stricken grief that lessened but never entirely goes away. When Ike suggested they return to the compound for drinks, he knew it was more than a request. Ike needed a lifeline.
Ike had opened the expensive bottle, and they’d swapped stories about their fathers. The good men they’d been and growing up wanting to make them proud. It was morning by the time he’d convinced the man to get some rest.
As he waited for a respectable hour to call Lachlan and ask for a flight back to the Dominican Republic, Rocco couldn’t sleep.
El Sombro had upped the stakes to a level Rocco had never imagined. Crossed lines Rocco didn’t think would be crossed, and it left him unsettled. Disillusioned. Disgusted.
Reaching for the front door, Rocco stumbled forward as it flung open.
Jemma rushed toward him, slamming into his chest as she wrapped her arms around him.
“I’m glad you’re back,” she whispered into his neck as she snuggled against him.
Rocco’s arms found a home around her, holding her tight. Being with Jemma calmed the turmoil in his mind. Gave him a path to putting things in perspective, even if that perspective differed from before.
Pulling back, Jemma’s eyes narrowed. “Did you stay overnight to party in St. Felipe?”
“No..”
“Explain why you smell like a distillery.” Her arms fell to her sides, but he didn’t stop holding her. She felt perfect in his arms, pressed against his body. Her confidence and strength were the only support he needed.
“Caught up with friends. No partying. But I do have news about El Sombro,” Rocco said, knowing Jemma would be livid if he withheld the details from her any longer. “Let’s go inside.”
She grabbed his hands and pulled him into the living room, shutting the door behind him. “Should we shower first?”
Confused, Rocco stared at her. She was absolutely stunning, dressed in a tank top and pajama shorts. Her hair was piled into a messy ponytail. That gorgeous face, devoid of all makeup, looked like pure perfection.
“Who are you, and what have you done with my Jemma?” Rocco asked. The Jemma he knew was business first and everything else later, yet she hadn’t jumped on getting the information for the op. She wanted to shower … which wasn’t a bad idea. Being under a steamy stream of water with her naked body close to his was precisely the kind of homecoming he deserved.
Jemma responded with a giggle. Her hand caressed his face, and he leaned into her touch. “The details will be the same in an hour or two. You look like you need TLC.”
“And that’s what you’re going to give me?”
She bit her bottom lip in the cutest way. “If you want me to. Or you can unwind and shower alone. I can tell the trip was hard on you. I can wait to hear the details. The most important thing is taking care of you first.”
Rocco was touched speechless. When he thought he couldn’t want this woman more, she went and did something downright irresistible. “Watch it, Supervisor Winters. Don’t want people to know you have an ooey, gooey, soft side.” He tickled her, and Jemma shrieked, slapping his hands away.
“Just Jemma has a soft side. Supervisor Winters is hard as a rock.”
“Both parts of you are amazing.”
“Oh, stop it,” Jemma said, then grinned. “Want to talk about it?”
Rocco hesitated.
He’d rather get naked and shower, but there was time to do that after he filled her in on the intel. Time wasn’t on their side. New plans would need to be devised.
“You should sit for this,” Rocco said.
Jemma raised an eyebrow as she stepped back and sat on the edge of the couch.
“I listened to a live feed of the meeting between Nico Lecrae and El Sombro.”
“Were you able to ID him? Do you know who El Sombro is?” Jemma asked, a spark in her eyes and eagerness in her voice.
“No. But what I heard is as valuable and … concerning,” Rocco said.
“I think I will sit,” Jemma said, beckoning him to follow.
Rocco filled Jemma in on the trip to see Everett’s friend, Bobby Zaniewski, and everything said on the call between El Sombro and the PC-5.
“Guns,” Jemma’s voice was monotone as she processed the bomb he’d dropped.
“Whatever connection Eddie has, it’s helping El Sombro get into arms trafficking,” Rocco said, a sourness settling into his stomach.
“Arms trafficking? This could have major ramifications, depending on whether he’s moving guns to equip his men or to put them in the hands of terrorists.”
“He floods the streets with drugs, preying on people in vulnerable states looking for a way to deal with life. Destroying people little by little every day isn’t good enough for this fucker,” Rocco said, his voice rising. “Now he might be putting guns in the hands of groups who want to wipe out whole cities. Destroy livelihoods. I can’t fathom how greed can make someone oblivious to how their actions are a blight on our world.”
“Makes you feel like some people aren’t redeemable. Aren’t forgivable,” Jemma said, caressing a hand on his arm.
“Doesn’t matter if you save a few lives at the bottom of the chain, convincing gang members to turn away from that life if the assholes at the top keep coming up with worse ways to destroy more lives. It’s a waste of time?—”
“Not entirely,” Jemma said. “You have done a lot of good during your career as a DEA agent, helping kids see that falling under the spell of a drug cartel isn’t their only option.”
Rocco scoffed. “You don’t believe that. You were the one who always believed in a ruthless and relentless pursuit of vengeance against these drug lords. I was the only fool who thought I could convince them they had a better choice than the cartels.”
“Why can’t we both be right? There isn’t one way to tackle the drug problem plaguing the world. We need to fight them as many ways as we can,” Jemma said, slipping an arm around him and pulling him close.
Rocco leaned his head on her shoulder. “There’s only one way to fight El Sombro and others like him. What do we need to do with this intel?”
“We’ll share it with the Department of Defense and the ATF so El Sombro is on their radar. That’s about all we can do since it’s not clear if the guns would be shipped with drugs, putting it under DEA scope,” Jemma said, resting her chin on him. She placed a soft kiss on his forehead. “If you get more information, we will feed it to them. But our focus must be on the drug shipment they’re planning to move through the clinic.”
“Like getting the day and time of the shipment out of Vance,” Rocco said, unable to hide his frustration. “He’s going out of his way to keep me in the dark on this, and I don’t know why.”
Jemma nodded. “You think Dante could help with that?”
“El Sombro pulled him from security on the drug shipment. Probably so he can provide security for the arms shipment. That means I need Eddie to fill me in. He hasn’t responded to my texts and calls so far.”
“Strange. Just continue to be supportive by not revealing the past history between the two of you. Hopefully, soon, he’ll see you as an ally and start to open up,” Jemma said. “And don’t rule Dante out. Just because he’s been redeployed to another shipment doesn’t mean he won’t know what’s happening.”
Rocco shifted as his cell phone buzzed in his pocket and opened the text messaging app.
UNKNOWN NUMBER
When the cat’s away, the mouse will play.
The next text contained a photo.
Rocco grew rigid as he stared at the screen.
Two more texts came through with more photos.
He swiped through each one, detaching himself from Jemma’s embrace.
“What is it?” Jemma asked.
“You tell me.” Rocco turned his phone toward her.