Chapter 58
The woman’s head hung at an unnatural angle. Her dark hair blowing in the wind. The lifeless dark brown eyes arrested Rocco as he stared at her pretty face.
“Wonder what she did to get killed,” Everett asked, lowering his binoculars. Hiding behind a grove of tropical bushes, he crouched next to Rocco as they staked out the house.
Rocco didn’t respond. He didn’t feel one ounce of guilt for not caring who the woman was or what she’d done to suffer Nomar’s wrath. The only thing that mattered was that the woman wasn’t Jemma.
Two guards carried the woman down a pebbled pathway toward a cove where a super yacht was docked next to a couple of smaller dinghies. A broad, muscular man dressed in a dark suit followed close behind.
“Is that Ortiz?” Everett asked.
“Yeah, that’s the bastard. We could take him out now,” Rocco said, raising his gun and pushing it through the leaves to get a better angle.
Everett pressed a hand on his shoulder. “Not at this distance. Neither one of us is that good of a shot.”
Rocco didn’t deny that assessment.
“Plus,” Everett said, glancing up to the roof. “He’s got cover.”
For the first time since Tatiana led them through the maze of the garden that abutted the mansion, Rocco noticed the sharpshooter on top of the roof.
“Gives us a chance to enter the house from the other side without being seen,” Rocco said, pulling his gun back and rising.
“Let’s go,” Everett said.
Rocco led the way, jumping through a narrow opening between hibiscus bushes and racing up the rocky hillside. Once he reached the top, the terrain morphed into smooth stones that surrounded a pool gleaming under the moonlight like a mirror, reflecting the night sky. Keeping low, he raced along the edge of the pool, then took a pathway leading to a wide sweeping verandah boasting a one-hundred-eighty degree view of the ocean below the hill. At night, the scene was spectacular with waves crashing against the rocks below.
Peering through the first set of French doors, a foyer loomed, luxurious and empty. A curved stone staircase led to the second floor. Most likely, Nomar had Jemma locked up in one of the bedrooms there.
Everett stood on the opposite side of the French doors, gun raised and ready to enter. “Looks clear.”
Nodding, Rocco turned the knob on the door slowly and silently opened it. Gun trained ahead of him, he entered the cool air-conditioned space and crossed the foyer, then ducked up the stairs, taking them two at a time.
At the top was a long hallway, each side containing a series of closed doors with a set of double doors at the end.
“Split up?” Everett asked. “I know it’s not the best option but it’s only a matter of time before Nomar and those two guards make their way back to the house. We need to be quick.”
“You’re right,” Rocco whispered back. He didn’t like the idea of Everett finding Jemma before he did but it didn’t matter. What was most important was getting Jemma out of there.
Since he was standing on the left side of the hallway, Rocco turned that way while Everett went toward the right. Reaching the first door, Rocco turned the handle and pushed it open. A massive library adorned with books from the floor to ceiling and a set of sofas arranged in a semi-circle in the middle. He ducked inside to ensure there wasn’t a hidden nook where Jemma was being held, then exited the space. There were only two more doors before he reached the double doors at the end of the hall. The next was an empty bedroom. He opened the last door and a familiar scent of cocoa butter washed over him.
Jemma had been in this room. He stepped inside, eyes drawn to a blood stain on the wall. His muscles constricted and tensed as he looked around the space. The closet was filled with clothes that were her size. While it didn’t prove that this was the room where Nomar had imprisoned Jemma, Rocco knew in his heart she’d spent most of her time in here.
Exiting the room, he glanced back down the hallway. Everett made a hand motion indicating he’d found nothing so far and had two more rooms to check on that end.
Rocco wondered if they were too late. Had Nomar already taken Jemma away? What if she was no longer in the mansion and they’d lost the chance to rescue her?
He pushed the thoughts away as he approached the last set of doors. Halting his steps, he noticed the door was ajar.
The muffled voices of two men floated from inside.
“If you want to keep breathing, you shouldn’t lay a hand on her,” one man said. “Nomar will slit your throat if you fuck around with his woman before he does.”
Rocco moved closer at an angle, giving him a view inside the room. He couldn’t see Jemma but he had no doubt she was inside. Her presence was tangible, like a magnet drawing him closer.
One guard, facing the door, had his arms crossed over his chest. No sign of a weapon in his possession or nearby. The other man had his back to Rocco. He couldn’t tell if the guy was holding a weapon or not.
“How would he know?” the other man challenged. His arm stretched toward a part of the room Rocco couldn’t see from the opening. “Look at that body. She’s fucking sexy as hell.”
A haze of anger rumbled within him, propelling Rocco into action. Slipping inside the door, Rocco pounced on the other man, the knife in his left hand, and executed a swipe of the blade across the man’s neck with surgical precision. With the gun in his right hand, he fired two shots into the first man’s chest.
Rocco moved further into the room.
A sense of dread flooded over him as the silhouette of a woman, slumped on a king-sized bed, came into view. A sharp pang of fear pierced him as he stood rooted to the spot. He couldn’t see her face but he’d had his body wrapped around hers too many times to not recognize who it was.
“Jemma?” His voice cracked the heavy silence, a mix of relief and mounting concern as he rushed to her side. He knelt on the bed next to her, brushing a hand against her skin. She was cold and clammy, a stark contrast to the warmth he was used to emanating from her. A tremor ran through her body but she didn’t stir.
“Open your eyes. It’s me, Rocco. I found you,” he said, tapping her face softly. “Come on, Jemma …”
His mind raced, wondering what the fuck they’d done to her.
Her breathing was too shallow and too slow, a rhythm that set his heart racing. He’d seen this many times before working in the clinic in San Juan. The invisible chains of fentanyl that took the mind and body hostage. He turned her arms over and saw the tell-tale marks of tracks from needles plunged into her arms.
“Fuck …” Rocco whispered. “You’re okay, Jemma. I promise you, you’re going to get through this. I’m going to help undo everything they did to you.” He paused. From the guard’s conversation, he could only pray that their assessment of the situation was accurate—that neither them nor Nomar had laid a hand on Jemma. She hadn’t been sexually assaulted while held against her will.
That was small comfort as he stared at her.
The woman he loved more than his own life.
The tough, strong, vibrant, fierce woman who owned his heart was a ghost, reduced to a state of vulnerability she couldn’t claw back from.
The urge to protect her and destroy every single fucker who’d had a part in her being this way surged with a ferocity that startled him. The war that had raged between Jemma and Nomar was one he knew he would end. Nomar would never get another chance to hurt Jemma. He would make damn sure of that.
“I heard gunshots. You okay?” Everett’s voice wafted in through the open door.
“They drugged her,” Rocco whispered as he stroked Jemma’s face. He was acutely aware of every inch of her. The softness of her hair as he brushed it back from her ashen face, the delicate curve of her cheek. The way her skin was like ice under his fingertips.
“Sedative?” Everett asked.
He wished. Rocco turned to look at his friend. Everett dragged the other guard away from the doorway, clearing a path for their exit.
“Fentanyl based on her body’s reaction. The only good thing is Nomar doesn’t want her dead. It’s the only reason why the hits they gave her weren’t fatal,” Rocco said.
“I’ll get on the comms to the guys. We need an extraction plan. Nomar and his other two guards will be done dumping that woman’s body soon and we need to be long gone,” Everett said, then spoke in hushed tones to Sebastian.
Rocco turned his attention back to Jemma. He grabbed a blanket from the bottom of the bed and adjusted her position to wrap it around her body. His movements were careful. She looked so fragile and delicate. He didn’t want to do anything that caused her pain, even if the fentanyl was dulling her abilities to feel anything.
As he maneuvered her into a position to lift her, Rocco noticed her breath hitched and she flinched from his touch. The move damn near broke his heart. “It’s me, Rocco. You’re safe now.”
She stirred, a slight, almost imperceptible movement that sent waves of hope through him. Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing pupils so dilated they swallowed the color from her once vibrant brown eyes. A testament to the fentanyl coursing through her veins. She frowned, a mask of confusion crossing her face. Her gaze was directed toward him, but he sensed she couldn’t make out his features in the fog created by the drugs.
“Rocco.” She announced his name in a slurred whisper as if she didn’t recognize it anymore.
He pressed his forehead against hers, willing her to push past the cloud of drugs in her body and realize who he was. Recognize that she was free from Nomar and safe with him.
“Yes, it’s me, Jemma. I’m here.” Rocco waited for her to respond. He pulled back as her eyelids drooped and then closed again. The drugs were too much, muddling her mind and keeping her from him. For now.
“We’re in here,” Everett said, more urgency in his voice.
Rocco glanced over his shoulder to see Sebastian, Lachlan and Kane enter the room.
“We have a clear path back to the grotto,” Sebastian said. “Perimeter guards are subdued and Nomar left with the dead woman and the others in a speedboat. That should give us enough time to get off the island and for Bobby to turn the infrared and motion sensors back on.”
“We don’t know where they went or how soon they’ll get back, so we need to get a move on,” Lachlan said.
Rocco slipped lifted Jemma into his arms. Her arms and head dangled at an unnatural angle that made her look lifeless. A sight that almost killed him.
Kane appeared at his side, reaching for her arms to drape them around Rocco’s neck and press her head against Rocco’s chest. A gesture he appreciated more than the man could ever know.
Rocco leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on Jemma’s head, then led the way out of the bedroom, holding Jemma tightly within his arms.