Chapter 11

11

Rogue

R ogue’s entire body hurt from forcing himself so still when all he’d wanted was to pound his fist into Emiliano’s face. Again and again and again. He felt fucking murderous and he didn’t kid himself what he was feeling murderous about.

Emiliano had come back from his visit with bloodstains on his clothes. It didn’t take a genius to understand things hadn’t gone well for the grower he’d gone to visit. But Rogue wasn’t about to feel sorry for a cocaine grower. Beatriz, on the other hand—the contained fear in her expression when Emiliano had touched her. As if this had happened before. As if she’d known this would happen again.

And that was only the tip of the iceberg. The man was starving his niece. When Rogue had first seen her, he’d assumed her fragile, almost waif-like appearance was normal for her. Now he knew better. The young woman was hungry.

Now, he was making a gift of her to Oscar Aguilar, a man she clearly despised. Rogue didn’t remember ever being so furious before. He knew he wasn’t being smart. A smart man would be careful and keep his distance. Beatriz Cruz was the daughter of one drug lord and the niece of another one. If her loyalties were tested, who was to say what would happen but the overwhelming sadness in her eyes and her fear when she looked at Oscar Aguilar—it was more than Rogue could bear.

He didn’t bother getting into bed. He knew he wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight, and he had to be awake at three a.m. so he could contact his team. He checked behind the bookshelf, where he’d stashed the small antenna, that together with his phone, would connect him to the satellite at the right time. It was still there.

He already knew what Dark and Thorne would say when he told them about the two drug lords who’d joined Cruz. They’d ask him to get out pronto and let the DEA take care of it when they arrived.

But the DEA wouldn’t be here for another twenty-four hours. And if Rogue got out now, the three drug lords would get antsy. Antsy enough to leave? Fuck, yes. That’s what you would do in their place. If they freaked out now, it would destroy the entire operation.

Then there was Beatriz; he didn’t want to leave her here alone with these monsters. Fuck it.

He had to speak to his team and trust them to understand why he had to stay one more day. He’d get out just before the DEA got here.

He picked up the cigarettes he’d taken from Emiliano’s office— his cigarettes. It was automatic for him to walk out onto the balcony. Back in Zurich, none of his teammates smoked, and he wasn’t about to force his dirty habit on them. He wondered if he’d ever have the strength to quit smoking. But the thought of quitting made him think of all the things he’d been addicted to in the past, and that was something he didn’t want to think about, so he put the thought away, back into Pandora’s box.

There was no breeze, so the cigarette lit up as soon as he brought the flame from the lighter close. He took a drag of the cigarette, enjoying the way the burning end smoldered in the darkness.

“Are you planning on staying hidden?” he asked softly, without turning to look at the door to the room next door.

The door opened and Beatriz came outside, looking wary. She’d changed into a long, white nightgown. Though it was made of cotton too thick for him to be able to make out much, something about the way it flowed down her slim body made him hard. He forced his eyes up to her face. The last thing she needed was for him to be ogling her. But damn, it was hard not to look.

“How did you know I was here?” she asked.

Because I've been watching you for days. Because you smell like orange blossoms. Because, somehow, I can feel when you’re close.

Rogue almost laughed out loud. “You wouldn’t like my answer,” he said. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to say thank you for … the food.”

“You’re welcome.” Rogue took another drag of his cigarette, projecting a calm he was far from feeling.

“I didn’t take you for a smoker,” she said.

He didn’t bother replying to that. He never imagined himself as a smoker, either. When he’d joined the Australian Army Corps of Engineers, he’d been a health freak, his body a well-oiled machine. He wouldn’t have considered putting cigarette smoke into his body. And then he’d ended up doing much worse to it—had the scars on his arms to prove it.

“Is that all, Beatriz?”

“Bea,” she said, quietly. “I prefer Bea.”

Bea.

“Do you know what Beatriz means?” she asked, her words coming out in a rush now. “It means voyager. But I’m the opposite of a voyager. I’ve never been anywhere.”

Rogue’s throat grew tight, making it hard to swallow. But he couldn’t make this his problem. “I like Bea better,” he finally said.

The name suited her. It was less formal than Beatriz—warmer and brighter, somehow.

“Does your uncle know you’re here?” He already knew the answer to that. Chances are, Emiliano would kill him if he saw them together.

“I need your help.”

“My help …”

“Whatever it is you’re doing for my uncle,” She raised her hand to stop him from saying anything. “I don’t want to know what it is. But when you leave, I need you to bring me with you.”

Rogue’s mouth just about fell open in surprise. Her expression turned uncertain, as if she couldn’t believe she’d said the words. Or as if she expected him to laugh at her. But Rogue didn’t laugh. There was nothing funny about this.

“Why would I do that?” he asked, taking a small step forward, purposefully towering over her. She had to realize what a bad idea this was.

“If you bring me with you, I won’t tell my uncle about whatever it is you’re hiding behind that bookshelf.”

It was Rogue’s turn to tense, but he forced himself to keep his expression steady. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he ground out.

Bea’s small hands curled into fists. “Yes you do.”

“Are you threatening me, Beatriz?” Rogue asked, taking a step forward towards her, purposefully using the name she’d said she didn’t like. “You don’t want to do that.”

Bea tensed but stood her ground. Her small breasts jutted out as she pulled in a sharp breath—just before her body deflated on her next breath. “Please. I just want to make a deal with you.”

He could see how much it cost her to say the words. Rogue wanted nothing more than to take her hand in his. To tell her that everything was going to be okay, that he would take care of her. But he didn’t do that.

“I already made a deal—with your uncle,” he said, keeping his body very still.

“I have money,” she said. “Money my father left me. Money my uncle doesn’t know about.”

Something hard sat in the pit of Rogue’s stomach. Of course she has money. Drug money.

“Your uncle’s already agreed to pay me a lot of money, sweetheart,” Rogue drawled.

Bea looked uncertain for a moment but forced herself to keep going. Like a poker player, going all in.

“I will give you everything I’ve got.”

“Really? Everything you’ve got?” Rogue smirked. “You won't keep a bit for yourself?”

Her look changed to one of horror. “No. I don’t want any of it. I just … I can’t stay here.”

Rogue’s mind was going a mile a minute. She wanted out now , of all times, and came to him , of all people, for help.

Rogue thought he’d done a good job getting Cruz to trust him, but he wasn’t stupid either. Cruz hadn’t gotten to where he was by trusting people. Maybe this had been Cruz’s plan all along, and he’d been waiting for just the right occasion to trip Rogue up. Rogue hated to think that she would have gone along with this, but he’d seen the level of control Cruz exerted over her. It wasn’t altogether impossible.

And Rogue couldn’t risk the mission.

Bea’s body shook like a leaf. Rogue looked down and regretted it immediately. He wasn’t going to forget the sight of those puckered nipples.

He took off his jacket and pulled it over her shoulders.

“You’re shaking,” he said. And distracting me.

“Please,” she repeated.

“What’s going on? You need more entertainment than this life affords you?”

Bea looked down. For an instant, she looked ashamed—and guilty as hell. Tears filled her eyes, causing Rogue physical pain. Fuck, but he hated to see her cry.

The tears never fell. Bea blinked them away, clenching her small hands into fists so tightly, Rogue knew her nails would be digging into her palms.

“I understand what you must think of me. But if I stay here, I won’t survive.”

A weight the size of Ayers Rock settled in the pit of Rogue’s stomach. “You think your life is in danger?”

She didn’t reply but seemed to huddle deeper inside his jacket. “Please. Nobody will know you helped me,” she begged.

Rogue examined her. If she was lying, she was amazing—a world-class actress. No , he finally decided. She’s not lying. She’s really that na?ve. She thinks she can run away, and that her uncle would let her go.

He shook his head. This was crazy. He was putting the whole op at risk just by listening to her.

Still, another part of him realized this might be the chance he’d been looking for. Hell, after what he’d seen the last few days, he didn’t think he could live with himself if he left her here. And this might kill two birds with one stone. He could stay until just before the DEA was set to strike, then bring her with him when he left. She could start a new life. Away from here. Somewhere safe. Rogue wanted to make that happen for her.

He wanted a lot more if he were honest with himself. He wanted to take her clothes off and see what her nipples looked like in the moonlight. He wanted to touch her, to watch her come apart under his touch.

But even more, he wanted to know she was safe—that she wasn’t afraid. If she was telling the truth, there was still a chance he could get her to safety without compromising the entire operation. If she was lying, if this had been engineered by Emiliano to test where Rogue’s loyalties lay, then his answer would damn him. As simple as that.

Are you willing to bet everything—to bet your life—on the hope that she’s telling the truth?

The answer came to him quickly enough.

Yes.

But there were still questions he needed answers to. He took a quick drag from the cigarette and flicked the ash from the tip. “Why now? Why me?”

She hesitated for an instant, then the words came out in a rush. “Because I know Oscar Aguilar, and I’d rather die than be with him.”

Jesus. Rogue swallowed. His hand lifted of its own accord, close enough now that he could almost skim her cheek. Is her skin be as soft as it looks?

He wanted to touch her. Hell, he wanted so much more. He wanted to take her in his arms. To pull her close and reassure her that no man would ever touch her when she didn’t want him to. Instead, he pulled his hand back.

If she was afraid of Aguilar, if some man had hurt her in the past—and the thought made him see red—the last thing she needed was Rogue pawing at her.

He ground his molars together. How much could he say without breaking character? Fuck it. “I can take care of Oscar Aguilar for you.”

Her quiet laugh was brittle. “ Take care of Aguilar? You have no idea who he is, do you?” Rogue shrugged. He wouldn’t lose a night’s sleep over it if he had to take care of the man. She pressed her lips together until they lost what little color they’d had. In the soft moonlight, her skin looked almost translucent.

Her voice, when she spoke, was so soft, he almost missed her next words. “You don’t understand. He’s as powerful as my uncle, if not more. Whatever Aguilar wants, he gets. The only way to break free, is to be gone before he realizes it.”

Rogue shook with the effort of staying still. He kept his eyes on her face, because he’d be damned if he’d make her more scared. Finally, he dipped his chin. “Be ready. I’ll let you know when,” he said, hoping he wasn’t signing his death sentence.