Page 17 of Perfect Vengeance

What was it about this guy that punched all her buttons? She didn’t have to think hard to drum up the answer to that question. Being an FBI agent was reason enough.

One corner of Gates’s mouth lifted, not quite reaching what she would ever call a smile. Adding to her annoyance was the undeniable fact that he looked as cool and in total control as one of those arrogant feds on TV. Figures.

“For someone about to go to jail, you’re pretty cocky.” Carefully, he stowed her stiletto in the rear pocket of his jeans. Those hard eyes locked onto hers, reminding her of smoky quartz crystals she’d seen in a mineral exhibit. “Hiding anything else under that sweat suit?”

“No.” She willed herself not to look at the black duffel bag near Gates’s feet.

Please, please don’t look at the duffel. As long as he didn’t look in the bag, there was still a chance Margo could get the cash to Marilyn. Margo would have to be Gina’s “one call” when she got to jail.

“Take it off,” Gates ordered.

She narrowed her eyes. “Take what off?”

“The sweat suit. Forgive me if I don’t take your word for it that you’re not hiding a machete under there.”

“Oh, no.” She began shaking her head. “I’m not taking anything off.”

“Either you take it off, or I will.”

This cannot be happening. It was and she had no choice. Besides, they’d search her in jail anyway.

Exhaling a quick breath, she tipped her head to the ceiling and rolled her eyes. She pulled down the zipper on her sweat suit jacket and slipped it off her shoulders. As she flung it against the wall behind her, Gates’s eyes dipped to her breasts.

“Now the pants.”

Gina gritted her teeth, then stepped out of her sweatpants and dropped them to the floor. Aside from her face, hands, and neck, the skintight black suit covered nearly every inch of her body, but beneath Gates’s head-to-toe perusal she felt completely naked.

The muscles in his square jaw flexed. His next movement was so quick she didn’t have time to react.

He grabbed her arm, spinning her and shoving her against the wall between the foyer and the living room. Jeez, the man had this move down to an art form, and his strength was off the charts.

In no time, he had her feet spread apart and her hands splayed on the plaster above her head. With one hand pressed securely against her back, he reached around and with quick, efficient movements patted her down. Starting with her breasts.

“Hey!” She tried pushing from the wall, but he pushed back, gently but firmly, immobilizing her again.

“Stand still or you’ll only drag this out longer.” The hard ridge of his cast dug into her back where he held her in place. His other hand was everywhere, roaming her breasts and belly, then her waist, crotch, and legs. “You might look like a cover model for Burglars R Us,” Gates said, “but I won’t underestimate you a second time.”

The material of her suit was so thin she felt every touch, every squeeze, and every skim of his hand over her body clear to her bones. To the cellular level, even.

Humiliation at being groped again by this muscle-bound Neanderthal turned to anger, and she balled her hands against the wall. It was all she could do not to kick backward and permanently sterilize one of the FBI’s finest.

He must have sensed her thoughts, because the next thing he said was, “Don’t even think it. Your attorney’s going to have his or her hands full as it is.” The last part of her body he patted down was her ass. He cupped first one cheek then the other, squeezing lightly. “My professional recommendation is not to add more assault charges to the list.”

She growled under her breath.

“Don’t take this personally,” he said as he completed his pat down. “I search all my prisoners before cuffing them.”

She whipped around and slammed into a wall of muscle. More specifically, Gates’s hard, pectorally perfect chest. He gripped her upper arms until she regained her balance. She pushed at him, spreading her fingers wide, but he held fast. God, but the man really did have the most incredible body. All those rippling, flexing muscles.

He gave her that half-assed smile again. “Now who’s copping a feel?”

“Oooh,” she gritted out and shoved again at his chest.

“Knock yourself out, honey.”

“Let me go,” she snapped.

He did. Abruptly.