“Yes,” D muttered. “And I’ll get him out.”
When Liam cleared his throat pointedly, D almost strangled the man.
“We’ll get him out,” he corrected irritably. “Me and Macgregor.” He glared at Ash. “And you . . . you’re going to walk out the door, put Sofia on a plane, and take her home.”
“No,” Sofia protested, sounding as frustrated as he felt. “Damn it, Derek. We need to talk first.”
“I don’t have time to talk. I’m in the middle of a rescue mission to save a man you happen to know, a man you claim to like. So for the love of God, just go. It’s too dangerous for you to be here.”
“But it’s not dangerous for you?” she shot back.
“I’m always in danger, and I can handle myself.”
“And I can’t?”
Was she actually arguing with him right now? Jesus Christ. He’d never felt so aggravated in his life.
“How are you connected to these people?” Liam jerked his head toward Angelina. “How do you know her and her father?”
He pressed his lips together. Inhaled through his nose. “I’m not discussing this in front of the doc.”
Now Sofia was the one laughing, even more hysterically than he had. She rubbed her temples as she shook with laughter, buried her face in her hands for a moment, then dropped her arms and stared at D.
“I’m in a shit-box apartment in Cancún at the moment, standing five feet from the woman you abducted. Sorry, the sex trafficker you abducted.” She shook her head in disbelief. “So if you’re afraid of upsetting my delicate sensibilities, don’t be. And if you think you’re shielding me from your big, bad self, then you should know that ship sailed a long time ago. I know you’re not a saint, Derek. I’ve always known that.”
She was right—he’d never pretended to be a saint—but that didn’t mean he felt comfortable telling her about his past. Telling any of them, for that matter. But they were all glaring at him, their gazes burning with accusation, as if he’d fucking wanted Sullivan to get captured.
“You need to tell me exactly what’s going on,” Sofia ordered. “I want to know what I’ve just become an unwitting accomplice to so I can decide whether to kill you, call a lawyer, or both.”
And this, this was why he preferred to work alone. Because he didn’t like answering to anyone but himself. Because everyone around him was a stubborn motherfucker who didn’t know when to let things lie.
Unfortunately, he suspected that staying silent right now would only create more headaches than if he simply told them the truth.
“Her name is Angelina Mendez,” he said reluctantly. “Her father is Raoul Mendez.”
Surprisingly, of the three people in the room with him, the only one who recognized Mendez’s name was the nonoperative of the bunch.
“Isn’t he a gangster?” Sofia asked, wrinkling her forehead.
“I told you, he’s a human trafficker. He dabbles in cocaine smuggling as well, but sex is his bread and butter.” D rubbed the stubble dotting his jaw. He hadn’t shaved since he’d left Costa Rica, and his face was starting to itch. “He specializes in the tourist trade. His people abduct female tourists, usually teenagers or college girls. Girls without families, the kind of girls that nobody notices when they turn up missing. Then he ships them off to Asia, where they’re sent to whorehouses or private buyers.”
Sofia’s face paled. “How do you know this man?”
“I had dealings with him in the past.”
“You worked for him?” she said in horror.
“No. I worked covert ops and went undercover in his organization.”
“For Delta?” Liam said sharply.
D shook his head. “For someone else.” He didn’t elaborate, because talking about the Smith Group was a can of worms he refused to open.
Liam, of course, didn’t let it go. “Who?”
“Doesn’t matter who. It was black ops, completely off the books.” He quickly went on. “Mexico was my assigned region. The agency I worked for set up a cover for me the day I signed on, and I used that cover for three years—Jason Hernandez, drug distributor. I dealt mostly with the cartels, but you can’t be a criminal in Mexico without running into Raoul Mendez at least once or twice. So I knew him—not well, but enough that the agency assigned me to him after he pissed off the wrong people.”
“Pissed them off how?” Ash asked.
“By kidnapping the wrong fucking tourist.” D offered a scornful look. “After that debacle, he set up a thorough vetting process to make sure the tourists he was grabbing weren’t going to be missed.”
Liam nodded. “So who did Mendez grab?”
“His people unknowingly kidnapped a US senator’s daughter when she was in Cabo on spring break. Once Mendez realized who she was, he shipped her off, but it was too late—the girl’s father was already raising hell, demanding that something be done. There was no evidence connecting Mendez to the kidnapping, so the government had to go through black channels.”
“They sent you in to find the girl?” Sofia spoke up.
The sound of her voice brought a strange clench to his stomach. Damn it, he hated that she was here listening to all this.
What he hated even more was that he couldn’t stop remembering the night he’d screwed her.
Usually after he had sex with a woman, he didn’t think twice about it. Didn’t look back, didn’t want more. But Sofia’s mere presence was making his dick throb. He couldn’t even blame it on adrenaline. He was hard because of her. Because every time he looked at her, he remembered how tight she’d been, how willing, the way she’d moaned when he’d slammed into her.
“Derek?” she prompted.
He bristled, annoyed to discover he’d spaced out. That he’d literally gone silent as he’d fantasized about being inside Sofia Amaro again.
“They wanted you to find the girl?”
D cleared his throat. “That was one of the objectives, yes. My cover was already in place. Mendez knew me and we’d already established a small level of trust. So I set up a meeting and told him I needed work, and he paired me up with his son. Gael.” D’s gut twisted at the memory. “I found out early on that the girl had been sent to Hong Kong. The next step was figuring out who the buyer was, but those details weren’t available to me yet. I had to prove myself first, so I worked a few jobs with Gael to show my loyalty.”
Sofia gasped. “You kidnapped tourists for that man?”
“I had a part to play,” D said curtly. “I gave the Feds intel about every girl we dealt with, but it wasn’t my job to save them. My job was to find the senator’s daughter and kill Mendez.”
“Did you find the girl?” she said warily.
D shook his head.
“And you didn’t kill Mendez, either,” Liam mused. “You failed at both objectives. Why?”
“The op went south,” he admitted. “After I killed Gael.”
“The son?” Ash asked in confusion. “Why did you kill him?”
“Doesn’t matter. It happened, and my handler was unhappy with it. So was Mendez.” D stifled a laugh. Unhappy? Understatement of the fucking year. “So I had to pull a disappearing act. I went underground, set up a new identity, and eventually joined up with Morgan. But Mendez has been looking for me ever since, and he must’ve figured out I was going by the name Derek Pratt now. His people took Sullivan because Sully made the mistake of using my name.” D released a tired breath. “Any other questions?”
A frown puckered Liam’s brow. “Tell me about Mendez. You worked for him. What’s his MO? Torture?”
“He’s got a torture chamber, yeah. Calls it the workshop. If he thinks a beating or a lost limb will make the prisoner talk, then he’ll use the workshop.”
Sofia was even paler now.
“But he’s a master at reading people,” D went on. “He can usually tell if a prisoner is able to withstand traditional torture—”
“Traditional?” Sofia blurted.
“So in the event of tha
t, he resorts to more creative methods. Sully was trained not to reveal anything under torture. I bet Mendez figured that out pretty fast.”
Liam’s voice could have frozen an ocean. “Creative methods. What does he consider creative?”
“Everything,” D answered reluctantly. “He experiments with different drug cocktails. Psychological games. Sensory deprivation. All sorts of shit.”
Liam looked sick for a moment. Then his gaze sharpened, resting on Angelina. “Does she matter to Mendez?”
D nodded. “The only people he gives a shit about—other than himself—are his children. And one of them is already dead.”
“Because of you,” Liam said darkly.
“Because of me,” he agreed. “And trust me, if I threaten to kill his daughter too? Mendez will do whatever it takes to get her back. So like I said, it should be an easy trade.”
“Then make the fuckin’ trade,” Liam snapped.
“That was the plan. And it was moving along splendidly until you assholes decided to show up and slow me down.” He scowled at Liam. “If you insist on sticking around, fine, then your job is to watch our hostage and keep her sedated.” He shifted the scowl to Ash. “And your job is to get the fuck out of here, and take Sofia with you.”
At the sound of her name, Sofia’s head snapped up, her stricken gaze focusing on D. She was looking at him as if she’d never seen him before in her life, and he wanted to laugh again. She’d been more than willing to screw him when she’d thought he was a mysterious mercenary with a big cock, but one peek behind the curtain and she was recoiling in horror.
All these people . . . his teammates, Noelle, Sofia—they thought they knew him, but they didn’t. They didn’t know shit.
He bit back a curse. “There. You got your answers,” he told her. “Now can you please let Ash take you back to the airfield?”
Sofia’s features grew pained, and D frowned when he noticed the greenish tinge to her cheeks. She was also swallowing repeatedly—he could see her throat bobbing, working hard with each gulp.
“I . . .” Her eyes suddenly widened, and she clapped a hand over her mouth. “I’m going to be sick.”
Chapter 10
Sofia barely made it to the bathroom in time. She didn’t even close the door, just dove in front of the toilet and threw up the meager amount of crackers she’d eaten on the plane, all the while cursing her stupid body. Why couldn’t she be one of those lucky women who didn’t suffer from morning sickness? Or at the very least, actually have morning sickness, instead of all-hours-of-the-day-and-night sickness.
The only upside was that the nausea didn’t last long. She always felt better right after she threw up, and the queasiness was all but gone as she flushed the toilet and went to the sink to rinse her mouth.
She was drying her face when D appeared in the doorway. She hadn’t even heard his footsteps in the hall—suddenly he was there, his dark eyes fixed on her face, his powerful arms crossed over his chest.
God, she shouldn’t have come. She’d thought it was important to tell him in person, but showing up here and finding an unconscious woman in the apartment? Listening to him describe how he’d worked for a human trafficker and kidnapped tourists? Because “it wasn’t his job to save them”?
Who was this man?
She legitimately had no answer for that, because Derek Pratt wasn’t even Derek Pratt. It was simply an identity he’d created after he’d stopped being Jason Hernandez. And who the hell knew who he’d been before that.
It bothered her that she didn’t know his real name. No, it scared her. It fucking terrified her that she knew nothing about the man who’d fathered her baby.
“You good?” he said roughly.
Those were the same two words he’d voiced after they’d had sex in her kitchen, and the memory made her feel queasy again.
She managed a weak nod. “I’m fine.”
D walked over to the sink and grabbed a hand towel. He ran it under the cold water for several seconds, then held it out. “Here. You looked flushed. Maybe this’ll cool you down.”
Sofia might have been touched by the gesture if there’d been any sort of tenderness behind it. But his tone was impersonal, his eyes grim. He didn’t come closer, didn’t wipe her forehead for her or tuck her hair behind her ear. That’s what Chris, the doctor she’d been dating last year, would have done, and not just because he was a medical professional, but because he’d cared about her. Sure, their romance had fizzled, but during their time together, Chris had been sweet and gentle and kind. He’d been good to her. Good for her.
But there was nothing sweet, gentle, or kind about this man. Derek Pratt—or whatever his name was—was hard and cold and dangerous. And he was not good for her.
Sofia fought to control the panic skittering inside her. She dabbed her hot cheeks with the towel, avoiding D’s gaze.
“You need to go,” he told her.
“I know,” she said dully.
Silence fell over the bathroom.
“Look, I . . .” He shifted his feet, visibly awkward. “I know you didn’t like what you heard back there, but I’m not going to apologize for what I did in the past. Undercover work sometimes requires certain actions to be taken, whether you like them or not. And don’t feel sorry for Angelina. Believe me, she’s done worse things than I ever have. And she also happens to be Sullivan’s ticket to freedom.”
“I don’t care about her, Derek,” Sofia answered tightly. “I understand, okay? Trading her to Mendez is the only way to get your teammate back.”
His eyes narrowed. “Five minutes ago, that plan literally made you sick.”
“That’s not why I got sick.” She exhaled in a rush, deciding to get her secret out in one go. “I got sick because I’m pregnant.”
When genuine shock washed over D’s features, Sofia found herself fighting back laughter. It figured. The man was an emotionless robot 99.9 percent of the time, and this was what roused a reaction from him.
“It’s yours,” she added, when he still hadn’t said a word.
That got her a curt nod.
It was her turn to shift awkwardly, because she truly had no clue what was going through his head right now. If he even believed her.
“Before we had sex, I hadn’t slept with anyone for more than a year,” she confessed. “And I haven’t been with anyone else since you.”
Another nod.
She gulped. “If you don’t believe me, we can get a test done.”
“I believe you.”
His raspy answer startled her. “You’re just going to take my word for it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?” she couldn’t help but ask.
“Because your word is enough.”
He ran a hand over his close-cropped hair, and the slight tilt of his head drew her attention to the tattoo around his neck. That damned snake seemed to move, undulate, with each breath he took, giving him a deadly vibe that set her nerves on edge.
“Is that why you came all this way—to tell me in person?” His tone was impossible to decipher.
“Yes,” she said miserably.
He studied her face. “Are you keeping it?”
This time her voice was clear, ringing with conviction. “Yes.”
Except maybe the answer to that question should be no. Maybe terminating the pregnancy was the smarter option. If she kept the baby, that meant she’d be tying herself to this man for the rest of her life. This incredibly dangerous man, who led an incredibly dangerous life.
But even knowing that, and even though it scared her, the idea of not keeping the baby was unacceptable.
“I’m keeping him,” she said firmly, more to herself than to D.
He blinked. “Isn’t it too early to know the sex?”
“Yes, but . . .” She shrugged. “I don’t know. I kind of hope it’s a boy, and I don’t like saying it, so I’m saying him.”
Another pang of nausea tickled her insides, but she didn’t feel l
ike throwing up again. This imposing man standing in front of her was making her nervous. He’d gone quiet again, his expression utterly impenetrable.
Would it kill him to give her something? A sliver of emotion? Anger, reluctance, joy, disgust— anything was better than nothing.
Sofia breathed through the queasiness. “Did I ever tell you about my family?”
D gave a slight shake of the head.
“Well, I didn’t have one. My mother OD’d when I was three. My father went to prison for armed robbery and manslaughter while she was pregnant, and was killed two years into his sentence by another inmate. I lived with my grandparents in New Mexico until I was ten, but they were deported when Immigration found out they were illegals.”
She slowly sank onto the closed toilet lid and rubbed her tired eyes. “They were shipped back to Mexico, but I was an American citizen because both my parents were. My grandparents thought I’d have a better life in the States, get a better education, so they left me behind with friends of theirs, a nice couple who took good care of me.”
Bitterness rose in her throat. “When I was thirteen, my grandparents died within months of each other, and their friends kicked me out the second the money stopped coming in. After that, I stayed with a friend from school, but then her family moved, so I had to move too. I stayed with another friend, and then another and another. I pretty much moved from house to house, taking handouts, until I was old enough to live alone.”
Her hand involuntarily drifted to her stomach, and D’s gaze followed it. Another glimmer of emotion peeked through his shuttered mask—uneasiness.
“I want a family,” Sofia said softly. “That’s what I’ve always wanted. And that’s why I’m keeping this baby.”
D said nothing.
It was like talking to a brick wall. She really hoped this wasn’t an omen of what it would be like when . . . When what? When they raised a child together? He hadn’t given her any indication that he even wanted to be in the baby’s life.
“We need to figure stuff out. I need to know how involved you want to be in his life.”
He looked startled. “You want me to be?”
Did she? She had no fucking idea. But she wasn’t the kind of woman who would keep a father from his child. D’s life was dangerous, yes, but they could work around it. Abby Sinclair’s baby was already living on that compound. If the place wasn’t safe for a child, then Abby and Kane wouldn’t continue living there. That ought to reassure her, right?