Page 9 of Rebel Protector
What is it about this guy?
He was no different than the other hired muscle wandering around. Big, dangerous, and lethal. The kind of man who exuded that arrogant confidence only someone who knew how to kill—and had done it—could carry. And yet, she couldn’t shake the electric buzz that seemed to settle under her skin whenever he was near.
Get a grip,she told herself, snorting softly. It wasn’t like he was the first man around here with a gun. This was the Americas, after all.
No, it was something else. The way he carried himself—with a quiet pride, like he knew he was a professional. His eyes didn’t just scan the room—they observed. They had locked onto her the moment they met. And despite his rough exterior, she sensed a sharpness, an intelligence lurking beneath.
Maybe that’s why Markov was working with him. Her boss didn’t waste time on idiots. He liked precision and power, and maybe this guy had both.
Or maybe I’m imagining all of it,she thought, irritated. He was probably just another thug in the end, another mercenary with more brawn than brain. Just because he was built like a god and had eyes that reminded her of the jungle after the rain didn’t mean he wasn’t as hollow as the rest of them.
“Hello again,” came a low, gravelly voice from the doorway.
Becca startled, her heart leaping into her throat. She’d been expecting him, but his presence still hit her like a jolt from a live wire. She spun around, flashing her best professional smile. "Good morning, Mr. Dominguez. It’s good to see you again."
Their eyes locked, and for a second, she felt like she couldn’t breathe. His gaze was intense, too sharp, too penetrating.
"Mr. Markov will be with you shortly," she added, her voice coming out more breathless than she intended.
He grunted and sank onto the sofa opposite her desk, stretching his long legs out in front of him, his frame dominating the room. Even with the massive mahogany desk between them, she felt the weight of his presence like a gravitational pull. His backpack landed with a thud beside him, reminding her just how lethal this man was.
“I have something to attend to,” Ramirez said, and Dominguez gave a brief nod as the financier left the room.
Carlos, the sleazy head of security, took up his post by the door, his beady eyes watching everything. No matter how important Dominguez might be, trust was a rare commodity here.
“Can I get you anything?” The man practically radiated danger, and yet she couldn’t stop herself. "Tea, coffee, a cold drink?" Damn, her voice sounded much too eager.
"I'm good," he muttered, his gaze fixed on her like he was appraising something far more personal.
Becca’s pulse quickened. She gave him a tight smile and shifted in her seat, her fingers fumbling over her phone as she texted her boss to let him know Dominguez had arrived. She had to retype it twice—her fingers were shaky, damn it.
She was no stranger to powerful men, but there was something about Dominguez that got under her skin, made her feel exposed. His gaze wasn’t just focused—it was consuming,like he could see straight through her, peeling back layers she wasn’t ready to share.
A few agonizing minutes passed before her boss’s office door finally swung open.
Markov appeared, as polished as ever in his tailored suit. His eyes flicked to Dominguez, sizing him up. After a brief pause, he nodded toward the study.
Dominguez stood, casting one last, lingering glance at Becca, before following Markov inside.
Becca let out a long breath. The room felt oddly empty without him, but at least her heart rate had a chance to slow down. She absently brushed a hot strand of hair off her forehead and tried to focus on the legal documents she’d been working on—farming equipment, her boss’s “legit” business. Yeah, right.
It was no use. Her thoughts were elsewhere, swirling around the dangerous mercenary currently holed up with her boss. What the hell was his deal? Was he really just another hired gun? And why did it matter so much to her?
She sighed, giving up on the document for now. Once Dominguez was gone, maybe she’d be able to concentrate.
Twenty minutes later, her phone buzzed with a request for tea. Tea for two. Of course. Markov had found a kindred spirit in Dominguez. Both ex-soldiers, cut from the same lethal cloth.
She gathered the tray and entered the study, her movements practiced and smooth. The men paused their conversation as she walked in, but not before she caught the words “merchandise” and “distribution.”
Her lips tightened into a forced smile. She didn’t need to guess what kind of business they were talking about.
She set the tea down with precision, but before she could pour, Markov waved her off. "I’ll handle it, Becs."
Becca nodded, avoiding Dominguez’s intense gaze as she hurried from the room.
An hour later, the door swung open, and the two men emerged.
Carlos straightened, eyes sharp, and Becca watched as a silent nod passed between Markov and his guard.