Page 38 of Perfect Vengeance

That still didn’t stop the guilt from spreading through his system like venom. When he’d told Gina no one else gets hurt on his watch, he’d meant it. If anyone else died because of his actions, he honestly didn’t know if he could handle it.

Taking a deep inhale, he pressed the buzzer on her door. It opened a few seconds later, and he was met by a tall, willowy African princess lookalike wearing a pink warm-up suit and who made short order of checking him out like he was a piece of meat. Her amber eyes dipped down, then up. She smiled, revealing a perfect set of white teeth. Model teeth. Like the rest of her.

“You must be Jack. Come on in.” She hooked her hand around his elbow and guided him inside as if they were lifelong pals. The door shut behind them, giving him the distinct feeling he’d just sealed his fate. “I’m Kinsey Prescott. Gina’s busy in the kitchen, but don’t worry. We’ll take care of you until she’s ready.”

Take care of me?

The woman sure smelled good, like some fancy flower. Though he preferred Gina’s more subtle vanilla-sugar scent.

Two other women, also sporting sweat suits, rose from the sofa. Beneath the gym garb they probably wore the same skintight black getup he’d seen Gina wear the other night. It was like working with Emma Peel and Charlie’s Angels all rolled into one. If any of these women called him Bosley—even once—he’d cuff them just to make a point.

“Margo Kim, Annabelle Rudolph, this is Gina’s FBI agent.” Kinsey threw him another seductive smile. “Jack Gates.”

The woman with short, curly red hair pursed her lips and crossed her arms, plumping her bosom beneath her blue warm-up jacket. She looked ready to claw his face off. Margo, the trim blond in the brown suit, nodded, watching him silently.

They stared at him as if he were the devil incarnate. And that annoying grandfather clock in the foyer kept ticking away, grating his nerves raw. More, now than ever, he wanted to toss the thing out the window.

Kinsey tapped one finger lightly on his cast. “I should probably apologize for that.” She gently tugged on his arm, drawing him deeper into the living room. “I’m the one who ran you over.” She batted her long, dark eyelashes, wearing a contrite but still flirtatious expression. “I swear I didn’t see you, and as I’m sure Gina explained, we had no idea who you were. We assumed you were a mobster trying to kill her. Surely you can see our side of the story.”

“Surely.” He cocked a brow. Tell that to his busted wrist and his cracked skull.

“Now that we’ve got that settled…” Kinsey’s face lit with a smile. “Have a seat and we can get down to business.” She urged him to sit on the love seat and plunked herself down on the sofa next to the pouting redhead.

“Speaking of business.” Jack searched the living room. “What’s Gina doing in the kitchen that’s so important?”

“She’s”—Kinsey glanced over her shoulder—“prepping. Yes, she’s prepping.”

“Prepping?” he asked.

“She’s a little nervous.” Margo’s voice was even, cultured. “Given the circumstances, surely you can understand that.”

“Surely,” Jack repeated. That seemed to be the word of the day. “What’s she really doing?”

The redhead pursed her lips tighter. Margo glanced toward the kitchen.

While pressing her thumb and forefinger together, Kinsey explained, “Gina has a teensy, weensy little fetish. It’s a chocolate thing. When she gets uptight she⁠—”

“Oh, that.” Jack relaxed. For a second, he half expected Gina to ditch and run. But that didn’t really jibe with her spitfire personality. A little high-strung maybe, but he’d never peg her for a coward. Just the opposite. The woman had more guts than was safe for one person to have.

“You know about Gina’s chocolate thing?” Annabelle’s large green eyes reminded Jack of pale limes.

“Yeah.” He crossed his arms, mimicking Annabelle’s surly demeanor. “I know about it.”

“Hah!” Kinsey slapped her knee. “You were right, Anna. The FBI really does know everything.”

He could only wish the FBI knew everything. Like when the Commission was set to vote on conferring Franco Falzone with Godfather status. That meeting would be a target-rich environment for every federal law enforcement agency on the east coast.

The redhead rolled her eyes. “How can you find humor at a time like this?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Kinsey draped an arm over Annabelle’s shoulders. “Maybe because life’s too short to always look at the downside of things.”

Annabelle slanted Kinsey an annoyed look. The brunette giggled, but he detected an undertone of sadness. Guess money really couldn’t buy everything. Like happiness.

“So, Jack,” Margo interjected. “Gina briefed us on the plan, and we studied the schematics. We agree, the second-story balcony is the optimal access point, and Gina can easily pick the balcony sliding door lock and handle the rudimentary security system. Is there anything else we should know about?”

He pegged Margo as the rational, levelheaded one of the team. Kinsey, the sassy, good-natured rich girl who liked to party. And Annabelle, the pessimistic worry wart.

“Yeah,” Annabelle piped in on cue. “Like whether you’ll stick to your word and let us go after you plant that insect.”