Hidden Rocco (Hidden Alphas Book 5)

by Victoria Pinder

“Okay, so he was arrested and you want the legal team to find out what exactly? His conviction?”

  His entire life, but her secretary didn’t need to know that. Her legal team best get to work. “I want to know everything they think about his case. And I need this resolved as soon as possible.”

  Hopefully her instincts were still intact because something seemed off. The rap sheet on Rocco had one crime and it didn’t make sense.

  She probably had more cash than the bank tucked around this hotel, but he’d been wary of the designer jeans she’d given him. He didn’t seem motivated by money, except for when it came to his mother.

  Julie typed fast. “Okay. Anything else?”

  Hmm. Yes. How to get Rocco to trust her, and tell her the truth? She nodded and dropped one hand to her side. “Yes. I need a black dress for a cocktail party.”

  Julie asked, “You’re going out?”

  No need to answer as no, she wasn’t. But she was planning a date and she hadn’t packed for more than the basics for her and her son. She opened the bedroom door and headed down the hall. “I need you to send a gray shirt and pants with a blue tie in the same size man’s clothes I ordered earlier.”

  Julie continued to take notes as she said, “Well, this sounds nicer than anything criminal.”

  She pressed the button for the service elevator as that was closest to the library and ignored that comment. Once she’d been a good business woman who made all the right choices. She’d made billions of dollars and that part of her brain was sure. Rocco was a decent person. “Last thing… Julie, please send a strawberry whipped cream cake.”

  “On its way.”

  Good. The elevator arrived and she needed to wipe out the panic part of her brain and trust her judgment again. She’d once been smart.

  Rocco’s brothers had been hired assassins. He’d said his brothers were bad guys who set him up. Now she understood. She stepped inside and told her secretary, “Talk to you later.”

  Mica ended the call, pressed L for the first floor, and pocketed her phone.

  She’d made the right decision. She even hummed as she stepped out and headed back to the library.

  Rocco still had her son and must be near the end of a chapter.

  His calm voice reverberated through her when she stepped into the room. He put the book down and she saw her sleeping son on his chest. “Everything okay, Mica?”

  A huge smile grew on her face and she practically jumped in the seat beside him as she said, “You called me by my name!”

  His cheeks went red. “It’s not a big deal.”

  She pointed to the playpen that was already set up to put Jacob in.

  Once Rocco set her baby down, she took his hand and a spark raced through her. “Walk with me.”

  His brow furrowed but he followed and asked, “Where are we going?”

  She motioned with her head. “I want you to show me the bird’s nest you moved.”

  He sped up and stayed beside her. “Of course.”

  With his hand on hers, she was sure she was right. In business she was considered sharp and for once she hoped she was in her personal life.

  Outside, the air was neither hot nor cold. The snow would melt away soon. “How did you even see those birds?”

  “I listened.” He faced the tree and closed his eyes.

  She did the same and heard the beat of her own heart. At first that’s all she heard, along with her thoughts, and then she heard a chirp.

  Then the chirp became so clear. She opened her eyes and stared at his profile. Rocco’s clean-shaven face, solemn eyes that seemed to burn into her soul were right underneath those eyelids.

  She was right. She had to be, so she batted her eyes and wished she was the begging type. “Rocco…”

  “Yes?” He glanced down at her.

  Confrontation cleared the air. She lifted her chin and met his brown hues. “Last year Roger and Harry Hellsworth tried to kill me.”

  He rocked back and his face went white. “How many people try to kill you?”

  Rocco's body went tight and hard--she'd shaken him.

  Until now he’d always been gentle, even the night he'd broken in to avoid the storm. She hugged her waist, unsure how to explain so she said, “Well, Roger actually killed Ali, so I don’t hate him. Though it was Ali who first employed Roger.”

  He ran his hands through his short hair and squeezed the back of his head. “I had no idea.”

  Roger and Harry and Rocco didn’t have any facial features in common. Roger had been scarred and scary, Harry huge and brawny, as they’d stormed around her brother’s castle to murder them. There was no way the man in front of her was like… she’d been stupid once but smart most of the time. So she reached out and placed her hand on his chest. “When I saw you with Jacob earlier… are you related to Roger?”

  The look in his brown eyes gave her the sense he was on the point of breaking--she'd never met a man more controlled. “Yeah, Roger and Harry were my older brothers, but I’m not them.”

  She patted his shoulder. “I believe you.”

  His eyes narrowed but didn’t close. He studied her face. She didn’t flinch from his perusal. Finally he asked in a raw voice, “Why? Most people who see Roger and Harry assume I’m the same.”

  A small laugh escaped her lips and she went up on her tiptoes to be taller, though she still only reached his chin. “After almost being killed a few times, I feel like I have a handle on seeing evil and you’re not it.”

  Rocco didn’t pull away but he turned his head down toward her and said, “I should probably go.”

  “Don’t you dare--I need you to stay.” She tugged on his t-shirt.

  He peered into her eyes as if searching for any more bombshells, and she paused. She hadn’t told him her intention to dig out everything about his case, but this was a start. Knowledge was power and that had been ingrained into her psyche as a business negotiation skill. Her lips parted and he captured them.

  His kiss made her believe in him.

  Chapter 8

  The multistate manhunt for the escaped prisoners continues…

  Rocco stopped adding vegetables into the food processor and turned the radio announcement off, not wanting to hear anymore.

  He feared the police would close in on him as soon as either the bus driver, the ticket seller or the Uber driver, who’d he’d met the night of his escape recognized his mugshot.

  If he stayed here much longer, Mica might get in trouble for aiding and abetting a criminal, even if she hadn’t known. The law officers he’d met since leaving the military hadn’t cared about the truth.

  But if Mica was in danger as she claimed, he’d help her as she’d helped him.

  His mother’s memory haunted him too and his shoulders slumped.

  If his brother hadn’t pointed his finger at Rocco years ago for armed robbery, then he’d be holding down a job and be near his mother’s side right now. Rocco might have been around to hear Roger and Harry’s plan to kill Mica, and stop them, rather than rot in prison.

  The life he'd intended for himself flashed before his eyes. He’d have a one-story house with two bedrooms, a postal job delivering the mail, and go grocery shopping for his mother every week. He’d had a plan that all blew up in smoke when he’d gone to Vegas for a vacation and ended up accused of a bank robbery.

  He touched his mouth, the memory of Mica’s soft lips burned on his soul.

  His priorities were his mother’s health and Mica and Jacob’s protection. His own dreams had been destroyed long ago to where he didn’t matter--all he could do was leave the world better a place.

  A knock behind him called his attention and he jumped.

  He didn’t have much time to help anyone.

  By leaving, he'd keep Mica’s name out of the news if he was caught working here for her. A knock from behind him caught his attention and a second later, she patted him on the shoulder and said, “Don’t listen to the news. I don’t want to know more t
han the weather.”

  And that innocence was her only protection. He let out a long breath and turned the food processor on to finish his sauce, and replied to her comment. “It’s fifty out today, and getting warmer.”

  She shrugged and handed him the next carrot for the soup he planned for later. “And tomorrow, a blizzard is predicted. Colorado is extreme in the weather changes.”

  He turned off the food processor. If it snowed, he was stuck. “Where’s Jacob?”

  “Sleeping in the library. I figured we could have lunch by the fire.”

  At least until the storm ended. Hopefully it was the last one of the season.

  She gave him another carrot. “Spring doesn’t come easy in Colorado it seems.” Someone knocked at the door. He turned off the food processor as he imagined it was the police, coming to arrest him and return him to jail, but she said, “Can you listen for Jacob again, Rocco? It should be my packages.”

  Right. She'd said she'd ordered things. He swallowed and saluted her as he said, “Yes, ma… Mica.”

  “Good.” She winked and went to answer the knock, and he peeked through the open kitchen door to make sure it wasn’t the police. Mica opened the door and he saw a man in a brown delivery uniform hand over several packages.

  Clearly Mica had ordered herself more clothes as the name Armani was on the box. He straightened to return to his sauce but heard Jacob’s cries across the hall. He headed into the library and saw that her son was playing on the floor as she stayed near the door. “Jacob will want to know what happens next.”

  “Next?” He moved the boxes next to the door.

  She turned her head and for one moment Mica seemed innocent and sweet, like a girl in a comedy movie. “In the book. You only read him chapter one. There are one hundred and thirty-five more.”

  His face heated as he said, “We don’t have to…”

  She smiled at him. “If you do five a day we might be done in a month.”

  Rocco's time was numbered. There was no way he’d have that opportunity. “You plan on keeping me around?”

  She pressed her hand on his arm like they were friends as she asked, “Do you have other plans?”

  His throat constricted. If only he had this life to lead. Mica’s kisses left him aching.

  He massaged his scalp and reminded himself that what he wanted wasn’t important. “My mother…”

  “What about her?” She gently squeezed the muscle she touched.

  There was no way he could act on that spark, but he let out a sigh and met her pretty brown eyes that had kindness reflecting back at him. He wished he could hold her. “I need to find a way to convince her to get cancer treatments before it’s too late.”

  Her lips pursed and her eyes widened. “She’s not treating?”

  Because he'd gone to jail and his brothers were dead. Roger was the last, but what had stopped his mother was Rocco’s incarceration. He’d been the youngest, but the one who’d protected his mom. He’d always been her big hope and he’d failed her. He glanced at his new sneakers that Mica had given him as he said, “She was disappointed in life. She needs to know that good still exists in the world.”

  Her eyes glistened like she’d cry for him as she asked, “You were on your way to see her?”

  Adrenaline and awareness grew through him. He nodded and said, “When we’re both free.”

  She lifted her chin, took a breath and said, “Then I’ll fly you there myself.”

  “You don’t have to.” She was already doing a lot. He didn’t have ID and at airports there would be security.

  Her eyes grew wider and she flipped her ponytail. “It’s been a while since I've flown. I love piloting my plane and helicopter, but with being weak… I’ve been nervous that I’ll need my meds and be alone when the muscle paralysis hits.”

  So this was a literal offer and not just a pity ticket. She was way too amazing. “Alone?”

  She nodded. “I don’t have anyone flying next to me.”

  Jacob made a sound as he reached up for a star on his play mat. Both of them glanced at the baby, and his huge smile.

  Rocco put his hands in his jeans pocket. He couldn’t accept her offer. She’d be charged with something for sure if she was caught helping a felon, but it was better not to argue with her. He wasn’t that surprised that she knew how to fly—she was amazing. “How long does it take to get your license?”

  “It depends,” she shrugged, “you have to acquire flight hours in school. I preferred to learn how to be a pilot than attend dance classes.” She again tapped his shoulder like they were friends when if he was the man he intended to be, he’d do more than just stand there. “It’s like driving a car really… if you’re willing to sit next to me and make sure I’m okay, then we can go wherever you want.”

  For now, he backed out of her reach, toward the kitchen. “We can talk about that later. I’ll get our lunch ready, and then Jacob can hear the next chapter.”

  He turned to go, but she stepped in his way, making the air smell like floral perfume. “One more thing?”

  Anything she asked he’d probably do. He knew it as he swallowed the sweet scent around her. “Yes?”

  She picked up the box that said Armani and handed it to him. “This is for you. To wear to dinner tonight.”

  He stared at the white box and then at her. This was too much. His body stilled as he shook his head. “I’m not a doll. You don’t have to dress me.”

  “It’s a date.” She traced her arm but straightened her spine. “I don’t get to go out, so we will make our own entertainment.”

  Rocco kept his mouth shut about the designer clothes and hugged the box to his side. Armani didn’t make prison uniforms. The doorbell rang, interrupting their conversation.

  He blinked and imagined that the police were here, right now, to arrest him. Ali’s men and people like his brothers didn’t ring announce their presence. “Are you expecting more packages?”

  “Yeah. It’s probably the cake so you don’t have to bake.”

  “I like baking.” He ignored the thump in his veins that reminded him he was on borrowed time.

  She had no idea what life in prison was like and that he didn’t get to make his own dinner, let alone dessert.

  Mica tilted her head. “I saw how you enjoyed our simple cake. So I ordered my favorite for us to share.”

  And it was probably mouth-wateringly delicious, just as she was. He bowed his head. She had more than he’d ever have. Of course she'd order her favorites. Tonight might be a fun date for her but at the moment it was like he was enjoying his last meal.

  One night with Mica was worth risking everything for.

  “Is there anything special you want to eat?”

  She beamed like she commanded sun to shine in the daytime as she said, “No, you can surprise me. I’ve surprised you plenty." Giving him her cell phone she said, "If you need to call your mom… use my phone. I never set up the landline as that seemed unnecessary till opening. I don’t care if you call out of state or country.”

  “Thanks, Mica.” He wasn’t sure what else to do. No one would suspect Mica's phone number in relation to Rocco, even if the police traced every call.

  He pocketed the phone, but she headed him off to the door and took the cake from the delivery man while he stayed watching Jacob, and her backside as she accepted her cake.

  Unless…they tracked Mica down, and found him at the chalet, and then she might be in trouble. He picked up Jacob and returned to the kitchen.

  Food first. But if he didn’t call his mother, then his entire reason for escaping prison meant nothing.

  With Jacob on his hip, he used one hand and added the already prepared beef, potatoes, carrots, peas, onion, garlic, tomatoes, thyme, turmeric, parsley, and bay leaves to the slow cooker and turned on the beef stew.

  This would be better than the slop they called stew in prison.

  He cleaned the dishes and meal prep was done. Mica put the cake in the refr
igerator, took Jacob from him, and silently pointed toward her phone in his pocket.

  It was time.

  Mica left and he opened the window so he’d breathe fresh air while he spoke—his going to jail had been so hard on his mother.

  It wasn’t enough.

  The phone in his pocket heated his thigh. He had to talk to his mom. He would keep the call short. He meandered out of the kitchen to the courtyard, glanced up at the birds and dialed her home phone.

  Hopefully she hadn’t changed her number, but he wasn’t sure until she answered and he heard her voice as she said, “Hello?”

  Tears formed in his eyes. “Mom.”

  “You’re okay?” Her caring tone was the same she’d used when checking his forehead for a temperature.

  He closed his eyes, wishing he could hold her and bring her to a hospital, and not be on the run. “I can’t let you die because of me.”

  She became even more serious. “It wasn’t you. We both know Roger-”

  “He’s gone. He can’t hurt you anymore.” He remembered how his brother had towered over them when he’d been a teenager and Rocco only ten.

  Roger had been rough until Rocco returned from boot camp.

  His mother cried. “He was my oldest boy. But I should have stopped him from hurting you.”

  The day he'd knocked both Roger and Harry down, when they used to tag-team him, was one of the highlights of his life. Now they were both dead and his mom needed to live.

  She had to be well. “When I’m able, I’m coming to you. I need you to be there when I get there.”

  She sighed and started, “I- I’ve seen the news. Rocco you shouldn’t have done this because of me.”

  “Get your cancer treatment.” She had reasons to live. More reasons than he did. She had options to do whatever she wanted. “I need you there when I’m truly free.”

  She sniffed and then said, “I can’t afford it anyhow. And what happened to you is my fault.”

  Money. The Hellsworths never had much, but if he stayed employed at the chalet, maybe Mica might pay for his mother's care, and he could work for her under the radar until the debt was paid.

  She was his best hope but he'd have to be clear that it was a job--he wouldn't accept a handout. He wiped his face and said, “No. No, it wasn’t. It was all Roger.”