Page 24 of Perfect Vengeance

Shit.

She licked her lips. “You’re not giving me a choice.”

Now that he thought about it, her light olive complexion revealed what very well could be Mediterranean lineage. “I know.” He didn’t have a choice either. Not if he wanted to get that bug planted in time. “You’ve got a decision to make,” he added before her expressive face did more of a number on his conscience.

Gina sifted her fingers through her hair, making him wonder if it was really as soft and silky as it looked. The throw pillow fell to her lap, and he decided then and there, skintight catsuits should be outlawed in all fifty states. And in all US territories.

The grandfather clock seemed louder, sounding more and more like a machine gun with every swing of its pendulum. Heaving it out the window onto the East Side Drive and watching it smash into a million pieces seemed like a stellar idea.

Jack’s muscles ratcheted tighter, but now for an entirely different reason. It was the look of vulnerability on Gina’s face, the one tugging on every vein leading to his heart.

Man, he was going soft. He clenched his hands and a shaft of pain shot through his busted wrist.

Gina’s slim fingers sifted back and forth through the throw pillow’s fringe. Her eyes filled with a mixture of worry and suspicion as she stared at him across the coffee table.

Come on. Take the deal.

If she didn’t, they were both screwed.

She bit her lower lip again, a habit he’d learned in the last hour she did when there was a major battle going on inside her head. “You said all your FBI buddies were on other assignments. We’ll need help running countersurveillance, but I won’t involve my friends unless you promise that, no matter what happens, they go free when this is over. No charges filed on any of them. If something goes wrong and you need to blame it on someone, it will be me. Not them. Capiche?”

Wiseass. “Capiche.”

A few more seconds passed before she finally said with a degree of determination, “Assuming my friends aren’t inclined to wear orange jumpsuits any more than I am, when do you want us to do this?”

Relief flooded his body, and he dragged a hand down his face. “Wednesday night. Thursday will be our backup.”

“That’s not much time.” She stood, then tossed the pillow on the sofa and began pacing in front of the window. “With prep and surveillance, it might be doable. My friends and I need to check out the location and start putting a plan together.”

“Negative.” Laying down ground rules with her was a no-brainer. He was calling the shots. Not her.

“Negative?” She laughed, and a rosy hue tinted her cheeks. “Is that cop talk for ‘no’?”

“This deal comes with conditions. My conditions. The first one is that you and your friends don’t go anywhere near the location until I say so and never without me present.”

“Fine.” She also crossed her arms. “When do you want to go with us?”

“You really do have the biggest set of—” He blew out a loud breath. The woman loved to irritate him, something she was way too good at. “You can’t stand relinquishing control, can you?”

She pressed her hand to her chest. “Not when it’s my ass on the line.”

“Too bad.” He strode to the window and planted his hand on the glass pane above her head. “Welcome to the wonderful world of the FBI.”

Her lips compressed tightly. It was probably taking every ounce of her self-control not to whack him over the head with that glass lamp. He wanted to laugh at the speed with which she shifted gears. Totally vulnerable to completely kick-ass in a heartbeat. He liked her better this way. This side of her personality he could deal with.

“I can see you’re going to be a handful.” She already is.

She stiffened. “A handful of what?”

“Trouble.” Needing space, he backed away.

Her lips twisted into a sexy pout. Her eyes might not be shooting fiery bullets at him anymore, but the steady glow told him he had to keep his distance or risk having every hair on his head singed off.

“Fine. You win.” She headed back to the crystal bowl of chocolates. Seconds later, she had another chocolate ball unwrapped and stuffed into her mouth.

Despite the sickening effect chocolate had on his stomach, he couldn’t tear his eyes from her mouth as she savored the candy. Or the way her tongue worked the inside of her cheeks.

She made a soft sighing sound as she swallowed. “May I ask a question now, Mr. President?”