Page 26 of Rebel Protector
Becca sat up straighter. “What things, Chrissy?”
“I’m not as dumb as I look. If he knew what I’d done…” Her laugh was bitter, broken.
Becca’s pulse picked up. What the hell had she done?
“Listen, Chrissy, let’s meet up and?—”
“Like that’s gonna help.”
Becca sighed. “Okay. But I’m here if you need to talk.”
“How can youstandit?” Chrissy wailed. “How can you work for him? You’re just as trapped as I am, Becca. He’s got you right where he wants you. Just like Ramirez has me.”
The line went dead.
Becca let the phone drop onto the couch, rubbing her hands over her face. Chrissy was more than drunk; she was a wreck. Who could blame her? Her husband was cheating, her marriage was crumbling, and she could lose her kids.
Poor Chrissy.
Becca shook her head. There wasn’t much she could do for her except be a shoulder to cry on. Ramirez was a prick. After Markov, she hadn’t met anyone more ruthless, ambitious, or self-serving. Chrissy must’ve known what she was getting into when she married him. The real surprise was that they’d lasted this long. Their girls were teenagers already.
But who was she to judge? Maybe Chrissy, like her, was just drawn to the wrong kind of man.
She headed for the shower, hoping to wash off the heavy weight of the phone call. But even when she stepped out, her skin flushed pink and shiny, she didn’t feel any cleaner.
Chrissy’s situation hit closer than she’d expected. That’s what happens when you tie your life to someone else’s. When you hand over your freedom. You’re stuck with them, for better or worse. Sure, Chrissy could leave, but at what cost? Lose her kids? Or stay in a loveless marriage with a man she despised?
Becca shivered despite the warm night air. Was that what was in store for her? A life tied to someone who saw her as property?
Her thoughts drifted to Dom. His lips. His hands on her, gripping her, lifting her. She let out a long breath.
That kiss—hell, that whole moment—had to be the first andlasttime. She deserved more than a fling with a gun-running merc. Even if he was an insanely good kisser.
One more year. She could make it that long. And then she’d leave. Markov would understand—hell, he’d probably expect it. She’d hand in her notice and get the hell out of there.
Somewhere new. Somewhere she could start fresh.
Somewhere she could finally befree.
CHAPTER 9
Things were moving fast—toofast.
Markov had gotten confirmation from the Colombians, and the full-scale shipment was greenlit. Half the money up-front, the rest on delivery. It was happening. The deal was locked in, and soon, one of the deadliest cartels in Colombia would be swimming in enough firepower to take on half the country.
Ghost had already been handed his cut—just enough to cover "operating expenses"—which he’d passed on to his distributors. He was playing along, setting everything up like he was supposed to, but the truth gnawed at him. After this deal, he’d be complicit in arming a cartel that made most drug lords look like amateurs.
The upside? He was close—so close—to getting Markov to reveal his cache of weapons. If he could pinpoint the location, the authorities could step in, seize whatever was left, or burn it to the ground. It wouldn’t stop the shipment, but it’d slow Markov down, cripple him.
That’s why he was here now, waiting outside Markov’s office, trying not to look like he was about to head out on a mission that could get him killed. He’d be gone for days, accompanying theshipment to the border, making sure everything went smooth. The Colombians didn’t tolerate mistakes, and if there was one thing Markov was afraid of, it was the cartels. They made his strong-arm tactics look like a charity mission.
Then Becca walked in.
They hadn’t spoken since that kiss.
That. Kiss.
And holy hell, it still hit him like a truck.