Page 44 of Exacting Vengeance

Fifteen minutes later, they pulled up in front of her building. “Wait,” he said, shutting off the engine and getting out. Slowly, he turned, looking both ways down the street before opening the door for her. “Let’s go.”

As she slid from the seat, her skirt hiked up. She jerked down the hem but not before Kyle’s eyes dipped to take in the unencumbered view of her upper thighs.

He grabbed her briefcase, then slammed the door shut and guided her quickly up the steps to the entrance. She punched in the code on the outer door keypad, and they went inside. The entire walk up the stairs to her floor, he didn’t say another word. There was no need. She could feel the anger radiating off his big body in virtual, angry sound bites.

What did he have to be mad about?

Okay, so she’d gone back on their deal, but she’d saved his star witness from having a total meltdown that would surely have lost them the case against Boris Kolbayev. The jury hadn’t had time before the bomb threat to begin deliberating, but at least Aly had provided the clear and rational explanation as to why she’d changed her statement to the FBI. From the looks on their faces while they’d listened, they believed her.

Their footsteps echoed in the hallway. At the door to her apartment, she dug out her keys and unlocked it. When they were inside, she turned to see his golden eyes blazing with anger.

“What were you thinking coming into the courtroom?”

“That I had to help my client.” She crossed her arms, determined to stand up for her choices. “If I hadn’t, you would have lost your precious trial on the spot, and you know it. Isn’t that all that matters?”

“No, dammit. It’s not!” He smacked her briefcase on the table by the door, making the framed photo of her mother rattle. “Pack a bag,” he ordered.

“No. I’m tired of hiding. I’m not running again, and I shouldn’t have to. No one should have to live that way.”

“It’s better to run and live, than to stick around so Yuri can find you.” His jaw clenched, flexing the muscles in his lean cheeks. “That bomb scare had nothing to do with Alyona Kolbayev. This was about you. Yuri and his people tried to follow us. It’s only a matter of time. He wants you back.”

“I don’t care what he wants.” She clenched her hands at her sides, the only thing keeping her from losing her cool. “He won’t hurt me. This time, I’ll stand up to him.” Would she? Even as she’d said the words, she wasn’t a hundred percent certain she could actually do it when the time came. If the time came. “I was already dead when I was with Yuri. Now I’m finally alive, and I won’t give that up. Not for you, not for anyone.” She advanced on him, close enough to smell the same subtle cologne she remembered. “So, take that, Mr. FBI agent.”

His lips pressed together, and his nostrils flared. “You’re not prepared to handle the likes of Yuri Petrov again. You need to leave New York and never come back.”

“You can’t force me to go anywhere. This is my life and my choice. Aly stood up for herself. Now it’s my turn.” She lifted her chin, meeting the beautiful eyes she’d never forgotten. “Besides, why are you so angry with me? Because I broke our deal?”

He uttered a growl and tilted his head back momentarily. “Because I care about you.”

“Do you?” She cocked her head. “The only reason you talked to me at all back then, was to try and get information about Yuri’s work.” Then again, off the top of her head, she couldn’t recall a single conversation during which he’d asked her anything about him. All his questions had been of a personal nature and about her. Not that it changed anything. “You haven’t cared much in the last ten years that you ghosted me. I highly doubt you flipped a switch and suddenly care now. You admitted you’re a good undercover agent—the best, as I recall.”

“I’m not acting now.” Unexpectedly, the hard lines and angles of his face softened, and he clasped her upper arms. “I’ve always cared. That’s never changed.” His voice had become a husky whisper. “Victoria…

He moved closer, and the next thing she knew, his lips were on hers. Warm and soft, brushing back and forth gently, as if asking the question: did she want this?

She breathed in his cologne. Breathed it in until it was all around her, inside her lungs and wrapping around her heart. Hadn’t she always wanted this again, dreamed of it? She’d never forgotten that night ten years ago when he’d kissed her after the New Year’s Eve party. The taste and feel of his lips on hers were memories she’d never forgotten.

Warm and soft turned to hot and hard, as his mouth covered hers. The tip of his tongue ran along the seam of her lips, and she gasped, opening to him and sliding her hands up his chest to link behind his neck.

With a groan, he pulled her closer until she heard the blood pounding in her ears and could feel both their hearts racing. The hair at his nape was soft beneath her fingertips, a stark contrast to the steely muscles flexing and bunching.

Abruptly, he broke off the kiss, resting his forehead against hers and wrapping his arms around her back. Like her, he breathed heavily.

As their breathing returned to normal, neither of them spoke, and for a long, blissful moment, the silence was peaceful, a comforting stroke to her bereft heart. Until the moment confusion and worry settled in like a storm brewing on the horizon.

Kyle Gates was, and always would be, an FBI agent. This was a fact that would never change. To say getting closer to him was unwise, was an understatement. While she was done running from her past, the past would always be there, and she could never undo anything from that part of her life. There were parts he could never understand. Or forgive.

Her heart squeezed with sadness at what could never be.

She unlinked her hands, sliding them down his chest, then stepping back to put more distance between them. His eyes searched hers, so intensely she turned away and licked her lips, savoring the passion between them that could still ignite as quickly as a match. He could always see right through her, into her soul, something she couldn’t risk. As much as she wanted him, nothing could happen between them. Ever.

The expression on his face had morphed from one of anger to resignation. “Who knows where you live?” he asked. “Your friends? The people you work with?”

“The only people who know my physical address are Brad Evans and Tracee from my office.” Tracee was her only real friend, and even then, she’d kept her at a distance. It was a tactical tool Marissa had instilled in her to remain safe.

“Where do you get your mail and packages delivered?” His eyes narrowed, the interrogating agent in full force now.

“To a post office box a few blocks away. Sometimes I have large packages delivered to the church next door.”