Page 36 of Rebel Protector
Her stomach dropped. "My help?"
"Yeah. I know it’s a lot to ask, but if you can get into his study and look for evidence of the arms deal with the Colombians, we might have something. Documents, emails, anything that ties him to the deal."
Becca shook her head before he’d even finished. "I handle his legitimate business. I don’t have access to any of that stuff. Besides, Alek wouldn’t be stupid enough to leave incriminating evidence lying around in his office or on his laptop."
"You're probably right, but I’m out of options, Becca. The deal’s happening in a few days, and I’ve got nothing. If Markov isn’t at the handover himself—and he won’t be—there’s no proof he was involved."
"What about Ramirez?" she asked, her mind jumping to the one man she would gladly see locked away forever. She was convinced he'd had his wife killed.
"Ramirez’s name is all over this. We can arrest him and put him away for a hundred years based on what we already have, but he’s small fry compared to Markov."
Becca turned and stepped out onto the patio. The night was still and warm, but it did nothing to soothe her growing unease. In the distance, the waves crashed rhythmically against the shore. "I'm sorry, Dom. I wish I could help you, but I can’t."
She heard him follow her outside. His arms wrapped around her from behind, pulling her into his chest. "I’m sorry. Forget I asked. It’s too dangerous." He kissed the back of her neck, his lips soft against her skin. "I just spent the night warning you not to investigate your friend’s death, and here I am asking you to spy on your boss."
She could feel his heart beating steadily against her back.
"It’s not that," she said quietly, stepping out of his embrace. This time, she couldn’t let him hold her together.
"What is it, then?"
Becca turned to face him, her voice barely a whisper. "I can’t help you dig up dirt on Alek—because he’s my father."
CHAPTER 14
“What the?—?”
Ghost staggered backward, trying to process what she'd just said.
“Alek Markov is your father?”
Becca nodded, her expression pained, misery etched into every line of her face. “I’d love to help you, I really would, but how can I betray my own father?”
Ghost’s brain stuttered. It wasn’t often he was left speechless, but standing there, staring at her, his thoughts collided like a freight train.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered into the thick silence. “I should’ve told you before, but no one knows. Not even Ramirez. I hadn’t seen Alek for ten years, not until he showed up at the embassy and… convinced me to work for him. It was an olive branch, you know? A way to reconnect after being estranged. I thought maybe… maybe he deserved a second chance.”
He exhaled hard, the air rushing from his lungs like he’d been punched in the gut. It all started to make sense now—the way Markov watched her, how she deferred to him, called him Alek instead of the cold detachment she had with everyone else. She was his blood.
And he hadn’t seen it.
Fuck.
He’d compromised himself. Two years of undercover work, blown to shit in a single night because he couldn’t keep it in his pants.
Because ofher.
The heat between them, that wild, mind-shattering sex… it had fucked with his brain. This was more than lust, more than the mission. She’d burrowed under his skin, made him reckless.
Pat would kill him. He’d blown his cover for what? A moment of connection? Of need? What the hell was he thinking?
He started pacing the patio, frustration churning inside him. His mind raced with a dozen thoughts, each more damning than the last. How could he fix this? How could he possibly salvage what he’d destroyed?
Becca watched him warily, like a deer staring down a lion that had just tasted blood. “I won’t tell,” she whispered, her voice thin and trembling. Fear flickered in her eyes, a spark of uncertainty that gutted him.
Damn it. He hated himself for putting it there.
“It’s not that,” he lied, his voice gruff. “I just can’t believe I didn’t see it sooner.” Some undercover agent he was.