Page 74 of Rebel Protector

The memories came flooding back—and with them, the guilt.

“Oh, Dom, I’m so sorry. I told him about you, about who you were. I couldn’t help it. They made me talk. They put my head in a bucket of water—I couldn’t breathe. I tried not to tell them, but then he hit me over and over again. I just wanted it to stop.”

Dom’s mouth set in a grim line. Oh no, he was mad at her.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to betray you.”

“Shh... it’s okay.” He grasped her hand. “They showed me a photograph of what that bastard had done to you, hoping it’d scare me into cooperating, but I saw red. I knew then I’d come back and beat the crap out of Carlos.”

“And did you?” she whispered, hoping he had. That lecherous brute deserved everything he got. She’d never forget the look of satisfaction on his face as he hit her.

He scoffed. “And then some.”

She squeezed his hand. “Thank you for rescuing me. I don’t know how you managed it, but I owe you my life.”

“It’s a long story,” he said. “But I’ve got some friends here who helped me, and they’re dying to meet you. Can I invite them in?”

Becca looked confused. “Friends? Who?”

Sensing her hesitation, Dom added, “They’re good guys. Trust me, you’re going to want to hear what they have to say.”

She nodded and lay back as three men and a woman entered the room. They all stood around her bed. The men were big and bulky like Dom, clearly fellow soldiers, though dressed casually in jeans and shirts.

The woman stood out. She was pale and slender but toned, like a runner. She stood confidently, legs apart, arms folded, watching Becca with open curiosity. Her long strawberry-blond hair was tied back in a ponytail, and her delicate features seemed to get more striking the longer you looked at her.

“Hi,” Becca said, suddenly nervous.

What could these people have to tell her that she didn’t already know? Her father was a crook, a gunrunner, a murderer, and probably a psychopath, so nothing they said could shock her.

Dom made the introductions. “This is Pat. He’s the one who orchestrated this whole undercover op and recruited me. Blade and Cole are part of his unit, and this is Thorn, who saved the man your father tried to have killed earlier this year.”

Becca managed a small smile. She still didn’t know why they were here, though.

Pat stood out as the leader, despite being at least ten, maybe even fifteen years older than the others. He had a powerful presence that demanded attention. Even though the other men were impressive, it was Pat who drew the eye.

He was a good-looking man, with short dark hair graying at the temples, broad shoulders, a rugged face that spoke of yearsof combat, and a steely, unsettling gaze that seemed to pierce right through you.

Dom sat back down on the edge of her bed, resting his hand on her leg under the covers. She liked feeling it there—it was reassuring, yet somehow disturbing and exciting all at once.

God, these pain meds must be messing with my head.

Even concussed and in a hospital bed, she was attracted to him.

“It’s good to meet you, Becca,” Pat said. “We wanted to let you know we apprehended your father.”

Her eyes shot to Dom for confirmation.

He nodded. “The delivery didn’t go as planned. The cartel arrived with a small army, and in the firefight that followed, Markov and the cartel negotiator escaped. I went after him, but when I saw he’d ordered Carlos to kill you, I let him go and raced back to the hacienda.”

“Luckily, Markov was injured,” Pat cut in. “So tracking him wasn’t hard.”

“Injured?”

“Yeah, I shot him.” Dom cleared his throat.

Becca nodded sadly. It was inevitable. “But you let him get away because of me.”

“Only temporarily,” Blade said. “We had the evidence we needed to arrest him, so when he tried to board a plane to Argentina, we nabbed him.”