Chapter 62
“Not until they find Rocco,” Jemma said, clutching the blanket. She’d held onto it only because it was the last thing Rocco had given her, wrapping it around her as he’d carried her from the mansion and onto the SPSS. A reminder of the man she loved. The man who’d sacrificed everything to save her from Nomar Ortiz.
Everett crossed his arms and glared at her. “You know that’s not what he would’ve wanted. He’d want you to be taken care of. Let the EMTs check you out.”
“Stop fucking talking like he’s … gone. He can’t be gone,” Jemma snapped. She didn’t need Everett, the former DEA agent who she’d learned was one of Rocco’s closest friends, or any of the other men who’d been hovering around her from Stingray Security to tell her what she needed to do.
She stared at them as they formed a circle around her. Sebastian Luttrell functioned as the leader, although it was clear the role was one he didn’t appreciate. He also seemed to have a strong connection with the Palmchat Islands Coast Guard that caused them to take it easy on the men as they pulled four bullet-ridden dead enforcers from the waters.
Then there was Lachlan, who she remembered had navigated the SPSS as they escaped the island. Kane was the caretaker, keeping them supplied with food and water as the search droned on.
Jemma had pieced together a few fragmented details about Rocco’s connection to this clandestine, but well equipped, trained team of ex-operatives from various militaries and law enforcement agencies. Everett had given Rocco an open invitation to be part of the team. The others had accepted and rallied around Rocco because he’d come to their aid, using his medical expertise to save another member they seemed to revere. A man named Ike. Because of those two things, Rocco had been able to get their help, no questions asked, to rescue her.
How the Stingray Security team had access to top-quality SPSSs, intelligence and surveillance equipment and military grade weapons was something she’d get more details on later. A security team with this level of technology and skills was rare and suspicious.
All she cared about right now was being here when Rocco was found. Everything else could wait.
“Rocco is a survivor. I haven’t known him for very long, but I know that.” Kane handed her another bottle of water. “And I’m for damn sure that he didn’t fight off Ortiz and all his men to leave you alone without him. They’ll find him. But in the meantime, you need to let the doctors check you out.”
“Not until I know that Rocco is okay,” Jemma said each word with emphasis. She raised a hand toward the EMT descending upon her to motion for him to stop. “Get away from me.”
An involuntarily chill rattled through her body despite the stifling humidity of the afternoon. She’d been rooted to the same spot on the black sand beach of St. Felipe for almost twelve hours, watching the contingent of Palmchat Islands Coast Guard boats crisscrossing the Caribbean in search of survivors.
No one had to remind her what she needed or what Rocco would want for her.
The fentanyl cocktail fed to her over several hours by Ortiz’s men had wreaked havoc on her body. An internal battle waged within her to be treated immediately to counter the effects of the drugs with the urge to sneak off to get another hit. She’d welcome the warm numbness to take away the pain clawing at the edges of her mind. The torture of not knowing if Rocco would be found. If he had survived the fight with Nomar to come back to her where he belonged.
With each passing hour, her confidence and hope waned.
The longer he was out there, the higher the likelihood that the search would be converted from a search and rescue to a search and … recovery.
“Please … leave me alone,” Jemma said, then turned away from the men. She appreciated what they’d done for her and knew that Rocco must have trusted them. But she didn’t know them. She had no desire to be comforted by strangers while her heart ached to see Rocco again.
“You should do what she says and back off,” a familiar voice came from behind her.
Jemma turned and saw Fallon approaching from a distance. She leapt down from the back of the rescue trailer and ran into the open arms of her dear friend.
“I’m so glad to see you.”
“Only you would be pissed to have four of the hottest guys I’ve ever seen in my life hovering over you,” Fallon joked, then leaned back to look at the men of Stingray Security.
Jemma dismissed her statement with a wave. She wasn’t blind but none of them could hold a candle to Rocco in her eyes. He was the only man she wanted and he was lost at the moment.
Fallon asked, “Who are they?”
“Stingray Security, a group Rocco connected with to find me,” Jemma said. “I’m guessing from your question that they weren’t the ones who alerted the DEA that I’d been found.”
“No, you alerted us,” Fallon said. “From what we can piece together, the burner phone you’d gotten possession of to try to send us a message finally had a strong enough signal. We got all of your texts in the span of minutes and were able to triangulate the location of the phone to one of the Outer Islands of the Palmchat Islands.”
“So the entire Proteus team is here?”
Fallon nodded. “On our way there, we saw a speed boat taking off from the dock on the island. Half the team deployed to search the private island. The other half turned around to track the boat. We got him, Jemma.”
“Nomar? You found him?” Jemma asked, her heart leaping with the news. It was the first good news she’d gotten since Rocco and Nomar had tumbled off the hull of the SPSS in the middle of the night.
“He suffered two gunshot wounds, one to the chest and the other to the leg. He’s being treated at the maximum security hospital on Tiverton before we extradite him back to the Dominican Republic,” Fallon explained.
“Thank God!” Jemma said, although a big part of her had hoped he had died in those waters with his men.
“But I have better news.” Fallon smiled brighter. “We found Agent Rocco Forrester, too. The only person he wants to see is you.”