Oh fuck.
“The look on your face might as well be a confirmation. I don’t believe you are a Locke, but I do believe you will come work for me.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Sitting on a park bench in London with his head hanging between his knees, Rocco crossed his arms over his head and wanted to puke. Twenty-four straight hours of searching and no sign of Caterina. No sign of El Mateperros. Titan had searched-and-destroyed El Mateperros’s country house after finding nothing at the hotel or Cat’s studio apartment. The ACG hotspot had been empty except for minions, and despite Titan’s best efforts, the minion-fucks didn’t have anything intelligent to share. The bench creaked. He looked up enough to identify Jared then hung his head back down.
Rocco had never failed. Ever. This was the most important job he’d ever had, and he couldn’t have done a worse job.
“Keep your head in the game, Roc. Parker will figure out a location. Give him a little time.”
Rocco shook his head. “You have no idea what the sick fuck did to her. Now he has her. Alone.”
“She’s tough. She’s a master manipulator and trained to dole out pain. She can out talk, outwit, and out think anyone.”
“Including me.”
Jared’s head shook. “I doubt that.”
“I never saw this coming. She just walked out. Exactly what she wanted when she wanted.”
“Nah.” Jared shook his head again. “If she wanted to work you over, she would have, then said goodbye and used the front door. You would’ve waved and said, ‘see ya.’ Wasn’t the case.”
“Might well—”
“Shut down the pity party ’cause we don’t have time for that bullshit.” Jared’s phone rang, and he looked at it. “Parker.”
Rocco’s head hung down, but he still looked over. “So answer it.”
“I will if you get your head out of your ass.”
“Christ, Jared. Done. Head out of ass. Answer the phone.”
“Your head’s messed up about a girl, and you need to right it. Now. Or this ain’t gonna fly.”
“Right it? Nothing to right. She walked out. What does that say to you? Because, to me, it says fuck you very much.”
Jared leaned back. “Happily ever after doesn’t come with a red bow. Doesn’t mean perfectly ever after. It means shit sucks sometimes, and you muddle through it. Especially with that girl. She’s tough, but she’s a product of her life. Help her change that, help her accomplish what she needs to, then you’re set. Love. Happily ever after. Whatever bullshit comes with that.”
Rocco watched him, letting his words resonate, then shook his head. “Not her style.”
“Give her a chance.”
“Tried.” He’d tried so hard.
“I would bet Sugar’s sweet ass that you tried to fix Caterina’s problems for her. Women like Caterina…” Boss Man shook his head. “It takes a bigger set of balls to say ‘what the hell do you need me to do to? How can I help you?’”
Help her? Hell, Rocco hadn’t tried to help, like actually help her. He had tried to take care of it by calling in his boys. That was real help. In his mind anyway.
Jared continued. “’Cause you gotta know Caterina’s just like Sugar in a few ways. One of those is an independent streak as wide as this damn ocean we just crossed. When they need help, they need help. Not a fix.”
“Not a fix.” A fix was what he’d wanted. It seemed simple enough. Titan fixed shit. He was an expert shit-fixer. Easy.
“Fix their problem for them, and they’ll fuck it up worse than before just to prove they could do it on their own. And they will fix it on their own, probably better than you did in the first place, but life’s a lot better if you just give the lady what she needs the first time.” Jared cracked his knuckles. “A little help.”
Rocco sat back and rubbed his temples.
Jared cracked his knuckles again. “So that’s lessons in love by me, volume one. You want the rest of that, you can buy the book.”
His phone rang again.
Rocco stood up. “Answer your phone.”
“Not so fast.” Jared stood.
What the hell? Rocco glared, annoyed and confused. “What?”
“We gotta talk.”
This again?
This was the talk from Jared, and the timing sucked. “Look, I know what you’re going to say, so let’s have this ass-reaming later.”
The phone kept ringing. Jared shook his head. “We’re having it now.”
“Answer your phone, Boss Man.” Lips flat, he pressed them tighter, trying to keep his cool and failing in a humungo way.
“Not until I know what’s going on, and if you’re with the team moving forward.”
Rocco puffed out his chest. His elbows angled, arms pulling from his sides. A fighter’s stance. “You’d better believe my ass is with the team. Say that again, and we’ll have problems.”
“Roc, man, we have problems now. And hell if I’m going to let you get yourself killed trying to save your woman because you’re too stupid to stand down.” He took a breath. “Funny thing about Titan: we don’t run from shit, and I’ve seen enough of it. Hell, I’ve experienced it myself. We don’t run from a fight, and we don’t run from the right woman. Those are the breaks for taking it like a man. The right one comes along and we man up. No pussyfooting around. No ‘I’m too cool, I won’t be tied down, it won’t happen to me.’ None of that.”
Rocco tilted his head. “Roman. Beth.”
Jared shook his head. “Roman’s not in love. Yet. That asshole’s gonna hit it hard though. One day. Wait and see. But I’m talking about you.”
He shrugged, trying to play it down. Trying to hide his clenched fists and teeth. “So talk.”
“What’s the deal? Are you sick? Having flashbacks? What is it, and how often is it still happening?”
Anxiety crushed his chest. “I’m not sick.”
“Fine. Whatever you want to call it. How are you affected?”
He paced the length of the bench. “We need to get to Caterina.”
“And I need an assessment of my team leader.”
“Goddamn it, Jared. Fuck. I’m fine. My girl’s in trouble. That’s my problem. You mind if we move all this to some other time? Fuck, man.”
“Status update or you’re done.”
He ground his fist into his hair, knotting it up until the roots burned. “I’m going more crazy now than ever before. It hits me out of nowhere. I trip balls. I don’t see it coming. I’m just fucked. But nothing compares to right now.” Rocco choked down a breath. He was more angry and more sure of his moves than ever before. Getting in Jared’s face until mere inches separated them, he growled. “Bench me, and I’ll still find her. Take me with you, and I won’t have to shove my fist in your goddamn face.”
Jared got right back in his face. “Are you going to be a liability?”
“The fuck if I know, but you aren’t going without me.” His head felt ready to pop, his muscles tensing, his voice bellowing with all the anxiety trapped in his chest.
Stop. Regroup.
He took a deep breath. “Now answer that phone.”
Boss Man remained squared off. The phone rang nonstop. Finally, he nodded, stepped back, and touched the screen, pressing it to his ear. “Speak.”
Rocco took a deep breath. Sweat tickled the back of his neck. His blood pounded, and he could taste the need to fight, to stake a claim to Cat and make sure that woman knew exactly how he felt.
Talking on the phone, Jared gave a few nods and a groan that did zilch to make Rocco feel better. After a few eternities, the call ended and Boss Man looked ill at ease. “We’re going wheels up. Pull the team, and let’s go.”
They needed to fly somewhere? How had this spiraled from her wandering off to them needing a Titan jet to go help? “Where is she?”
Shifting in his boots, Jared hesitated. “Parker’s best guess: Africa.”
“Best freakin’ guess? Africa?”
> “You doubting our boy?”
For the first time, maybe. He wanted coordinates, her heat signature pinpointed on a map or an outline of her safe and sound and ready for pick up. “Africa’s a big fucking place—”
“Somalia.”
Rocco’s jaw dropped, and his heart stuttered. Of all the places in the world, could it be any worse than that devil’s armpit of a place? No. No it could not. American history in Somalia was painful. Bloody. And God love the Special Forces that had gone in, come out—or didn’t—and the hell they’d been through along the way. Somali’s record of operations-gone-wrong wouldn’t be far from anyone’s mind.
Rocco focused on his left hand. On his ring finger. The Locke job was over, but the ring was still there. It was simple. White gold. Maybe platinum. It wasn’t something he’d have picked out to wear, but damn if he would take it off. Not now. Maybe not…
He shook his head. Scrubbed his face.
A silly metal band made him feel closer to her as if it symbolized everything they had gone through so far. The thing didn’t have a start or an end. It just ran in perpetuity, very similar to his commitment to her and this job and taking out El Mateperros.
Rocco nodded to himself. “Somalia it is. Let’s roll.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Fifty yards off the Somalia coast, Rocco dove through another crashing black wave. The Indian Ocean seemed content to drown him, but he ignored the churning water and threats of riptides and powered toward the shore. Nothing would take him down. Nothing would slow his stride. Certainly not Mother Freakin’ Nature.
His team was on course and on time. Tonight, he was back with Titan, and it felt good to get back into gear and ready for war, especially with Delta lurking in the wings. Titan would find Cat, and he’d help with whatever she needed.
El Mateperros had to know they were gunning for him. Why else take off to Somalia? Bad things happened there. It stank of trouble, lawlessness, death, and destruction. But Titan was prepared. Between the two teams, they had naval back-up and air support. They’d pull Cat out after she eliminated El Mateperros. Simple. And that was the plan as they surfaced at one of the most deadly locations on earth.
Parker’s words played through his head. “Statistically speaking, there’s nowhere else in the world she could be, also nowhere more dangerous.” Parker knew stats and numbers as well as he knew a good kill shot and evac plan. His warning didn’t go unheeded.
If the extraction went south, both teams were ready to avoid a Black Hawk Down situation. They’d get out and get out fast. But they all wanted blood, and all involved wanted El Mateperros. Rocco was done for if they didn’t bring Cat home. His feet found the sandy ocean bottom, and he ducked up the beach bank a dozen yards away from land.
Water dripped off him as he cradled his weapon to his chest, waiting for the cue in his ear piece. It pinged.
“My team, you’re a go.” The neck microphone picked up his whisper and he charged forward as a wave pulled then broke over his back.
Cash and Winters flanked his right, and Roman and Jared had his left. They rose from the murky depth, the dark bathed in night vision green. Perfect approach. No moon overhead. Roman and Jared fanned out, and minutes ticked by while Rocco crawled into position with Cash and Winters. Cash was on sniper duty, and Roman would feed him intel until they hit a planned radio silence. Rocco and Winters scurried through the brush, eyeing a small hut and taking their offensive positions.
A hundred yards back in the air, Delta team waited. The waiting killed him. Where were Jared and Roman? Where was the call? Why was this taking so long?
“Delta. You’re a go.” Jared’s order triggered the nearby team’s expulsion from the water. They did it without a sound, but Rocco knew it had happened with surgical precision and the viciousness of rabid Rotties. Four men on the ground and two men in the sky moved perfectly in sync.
The Delta go-ahead was also Winters’s trigger. He had set up two blast zones, one on each side of a hut believed to house Caterina. There were several other buildings nearby, but Titan only wanted El Mateperros. Casualties were to be kept to a minimum, and blasts were to be used as distractions. Draw ‘em out, so they could get their mark and his girl.
The minute mark passed. Rocco checked his watch. Three, two, one… and… Above, two helos dropped in, lighting the building as if dawn had broken. Winters’s blasts went off in… three, two, one.
Bam. Bam.
Light. Smoke. Fire. ACG forces scrambled, taking the defensive and protecting their building like they protected their fort and king.
Rocco’s breathing slowed down as he watched them perch on the roof. Burrow at four corners. The certainty of that Cat was nearby calmed him as he caressed that familiar curve of his trigger. The whirring of the choppers blew debris, dulling shouted ACG commands. Villagers screamed, and lights went out in nearby houses as if that would stop danger if it were coming for them.
The enemy might’ve expected something but not this type of arrival. Rocco and Winters pushed forward. Behind them, Delta’s four-man machine provided cover, while Cash and Roman were sighting and shooting in tandem while Jared provided logistical orders. The operation was a thing of tactical beauty.
Tango free, their enemies scattered on the ground. Rocco breached the door. Winters rolled around the corner. First room. Clean. Second. Same. Third and—
Shackled, lying on the ground, hands pinned above her head to a cinder block wall was the love of his life beaten and bloody with her eyes shut against all the hell he’d brought with him. His lungs had stopped. Heart stalled. Throat clamped. Winters shouted over the roar outside that Rocco needed to get his bitch ass in gear. He hit his knees, tore off a glove, and reached for her neck. A pulse… It was all he wanted.
Blood-crusted lashes fluttered. Cracked lips parted. Caterina’s unfocused eyes narrowed. “Galán.”
“Galán?” he asked even though that moment wasn’t the time for a question and answer session. He’d heard the word before.
“You’re mine. My beau. My Handsome,” she whispered, ignoring Winters working on her shackled hands.
Handsome. She’d loved him as long as he had her, since the very beginning, when he didn’t even know what he didn’t know. “I fuckin’ love you, Kitten.”
A sparkle in her swollen eyes and an uptick to her broken smile was all he needed. She groaned. “I’m hurt.”
He looked up. “Almost done?”
Winters nodded. “Trying. Another second.”
Caterina coughed. “I didn’t kill him. Yet.”
By the looks of it, she had tried. He swallowed away the words dying to come out of his mouth. I’ll do it. I’ll rid the earth. He’s mine. I want his blood. “Still can, Kitten. Just hang on.”
She coughed, maybe trying to swallow. “Big Ben.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“He tried to make me work for him.” She coughed again, and blood kissed her scabbed and scratched lips. “I couldn’t. Wouldn’t. But then I thought—” Cough. “If could find out. When. How. You’d come get me—” Cough. “And I could tell you.”
Her hands dropped. Winters stood. “Let’s roll.”
Rocco wrapped his arm behind her, and she cried out in such agony his eyes burned.
“Broken ribs.”
Rocco’s blood boiled. This helping bullshit was over. El Mateperros would die at his hands. “Alright, Kitten. I’m taking you home.”
“Big Ben. He has someone else. Not in weeks. Saturday.”
“Saturday?” Winters looked at him.
“What day is it?” Her eyes furrowed. “I couldn’t stop him. It’s happening—” Cough. “What—” Cough. “Day is it?”
His stomach bottomed out. They’d been off the grid for about five hours. “Saturday.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Winters and Rocco helped Caterina to her feet in her jail cell hut. The room spun fast, fast, fast… and began to slow… slow… and stop. She swal
lowed, parched, a metallic taste in her mouth and the stench of dried blood staining each inhaled breath. She hadn’t taken out El Mateperros, and now she hadn’t stopped the London attack. Complete failure.
“Was there an attack?” Caterina asked, but she couldn’t hear her own voice. It sounded muddled and echo-ish.
Neither of them answered her. They didn’t know, or they didn’t want to say? Her stomach sank again, cramping with the possibility of a terrorist attack that could have been prevented. She closed her eyes, thinking about all the missed opportunities to save lives. First her family, now Londoners. The guilt was suffocating.
“I don’t know.” One of them answered, but there was a distorted rush of blood in her ears masking voices that should’ve rung distinct and familiar.
Finally, she opened her eyes. They were just as sick over the possibility as she was.
Every move hurt. No doubt she had a couple broken ribs and a few bruises that went down to the bone. There wasn’t internal bleeding. Enough time had passed that she would have been dead if there was, so at least that was ruled out.
“Can you walk?” Winters asked.
Now wasn’t the time to play heroine. “Not really.”
Winters reached for her, but Rocco enveloped her in a hug, an arm hooking behind her legs and the other holding her back. Somehow, he did it without moving her too much, then handled her like she weighed a tissue’s weight. The hold hurt far less than she’d expected.
Outside there were blasts and bombs. A helo, maybe two, hovered and lit the night like it was a day at the beach. Beyond the faux safety of this shack, Somalian war lords were in the throes of battle. None knew who Titan was or why they were there, but this neighborhood specialized in terror, blood, and the trade of all things in between, every man running and gunning to safeguard his illegal lifestyle.
Tucked in Rocco’s arms, the chaos barely registered. She was safer than she had been in days, even with the ping of bullets and rattles from explosives. Rocco equaled relief. Soon she could sleep, eat, drink—
Savage Secrets (Titan #6) Page 20
