Page 3 of Perfect Vengeance

A long, powerful arm shot around her chest and shoulders, dragging her backward into the closet. She closed her fingers around her captor’s forearm and began struggling. “Let. Me. Go.”

“Knock it off, or we’re both dead.” He leaned forward and pulled the closet door closed, barely making a sound. “And keep that big mouth of yours shut.”

Whoever this guy was, he didn’t want to get caught any more than she did. Again, begging the question… Who was he? Was he also trying to rob Rocco and was ticked she’d gotten there first?

She blinked several times. The fireworks dancing before her eyes had finally disappeared. A shaft of light shot through the crack between the bottom of the closet door and the carpet.

Rocco was in the bedroom.

She tried putting more distance between the tips of her boots and the door. As she moved, the duffel bag’s strap caught on the corner of a box, throwing her off balance until she nearly stumbled over the same safe she’d been attempting to break into.

Her captor adjusted his arm around her upper body to steady her before she could fall, catching her with his hand over her breast.

She fought the urge to yank his hand away, but the tiny closet was packed to the gills with swag—stolen merchandise she’d noticed earlier. Stacks of boxes on either side of them jabbed into her arms. The way they were crammed between all the boxes, the slightest movement could have Rocco firing a round through the closet door.

Warmth from his hand permeated the suit to her breast. From head to toe, she was pressed against a towering body that seemed to be comprised of only two things: muscle and steel. Not one inch of him was soft or flabby. To make matters worse, every breath she took shoved her breast more firmly into his hand.

The guy’s jaw flexed against the side of her head. He exhaled through his nose, cutting off the soft growl she heard, as much as felt, emanating from deep within his chest. Without meaning to, she gripped his muscled forearm. Even through the thick material it was obvious he was in amazing shape.

Warm breath blew across the top of her head, riffling her hair and sending goose bumps prickling along her neck and shoulders. She inhaled a wisp of mint along with leather from his jacket and something else she hadn’t noticed before. His clean, fresh scent, as if he’d just stepped out of the shower five minutes ago. Well, if she had to hide for her life in a closet, practically skin to skin with a mysterious stranger, at least the guy smelled great and practiced good oral hygiene.

Water from the shower pounded against the adjacent bathroom wall. The shaft of light inches from her feet flickered, casting shadows on the floor as Rocco walked in front of the closet again. She tensed and leaned back, pressing into the man’s chest.

He stiffened, and his hand tightened even more over her breast. As if realizing what he’d done, he eased his hold on her. That wasn’t the only involuntary action going on inside the closet, as her nipple hardened beneath his touch. This could not be happening.

I’m getting turned on by a really buff guy while hiding in a closet from a mobster who won’t hesitate to shoot us both. Sadly, it was the hottest sexual encounter she’d had in a very long time.

She heard the shower curtain being drawn open, then closed. Followed by singing. Bad singing, totally off key. Puccini? Some kind of Italian opera. Figures. She hated Italian opera.

Warm lips pressed against her ear. “Get ready to haul ass. Front door when I give the command.”

“Ya think?” she whispered in a sarcastic tone. “For the record, I don’t take orders from a low-life mobster, and I don’t need you to state the obvious.”

“What you need is irrelevant. You’re nothing but a thief.” Gone was the deep country music bass. In its place was a deadly warning.

“And you’re what?”

“Your worst nightmare.” His breath fanned her cheek. “Wait for my signal or I’ll strangle you and hang your body on a hook in Rocco’s closet.”

For an instant, she believed he might actually do it, then he reached in front of her and cracked the door. His stubbled jaw grazed her cheek, and she got another whiff of his minty fresh breath. Gradually, he pushed the door open and propelled her from the closet with a solid shove. “Go. Now.”

Not needing any more direction from Mr. Tall, Dark, and Bastard, she took off. Steamy, shampoo-scented air swirled from the half-open bathroom door along with Rocco’s horrible singing.

Gina raced into the hallway, running lightly on the balls of her rubber-soled boots. If she didn’t get away from her closet buddy pronto, who knew what he might do. She was a witness, maybe someone he couldn’t allow to live.

She glanced at the security system box on the wall by the front door. Two steady green lights. She silently thanked Rocco’s carelessness in not resetting the alarm. It would have taken her precious time to disarm it the way she had when she’d picked the lock and broken in.

Soft footsteps indicated her hard-nosed companion was close behind. She eased open the door and sprinted for the stairwell exit at the end of the long hallway. The empty black duffel smacked against her hip, an irritating reminder of her failure. She and her friends had stolen thousands of life-saving dollars over the last two years, but tonight… Zilch.

At the end of the hallway, she threw her weight against the gray metal door to the stairwell and shoved it open. Dank, musty air surrounded her as she raced down the two flights to the first floor.

Every one of her footfalls echoed like thunder in the narrow stairwell. It was nothing compared to the reverberations of the much heavier footsteps following in her wake or the thumping of her heart hammering against her ribs.

This guy meant trouble. Whoever he was, evading him was just as vital to her mission as escaping from Rocco. It meant the difference between life and death. Hers.

The footsteps behind her grew louder, closer. A brief glance over her shoulder was all it took to see the large shadow half a flight above and bearing down fast.

Her feet hit the concrete landing of the ground floor, and she threw her weight against the heavy exit door. A blast of cold, late-November air slammed into her face and bit through her suit.