Page 21 of Perfect Vengeance

“I know how women’s shelters work.” He tilted back his head and took a deep breath.

“That money”—she nodded to the duffel—“is for a woman and her three children to get set up on the west coast. As soon as she’s released from the hospital, that is. Her husband beat the crap out of her and almost got to the children.”

The shock had long since faded from Gates’s face, replaced by a blank look.

“I know you’re going to arrest me no matter what I say,” she continued, “but believe me when I say we never stole anything for personal gain. We gave it all to the shelter.” Still no reaction. “And if that’s not a good reason to steal from a bunch of murdering, thieving mobsters, I don’t know what is.” The blank look on Gates’s face seemed frozen in place. Another moment of frustrating silence passed. “Aren’t you going to say something?”

“Why are you doing this?” he asked. “What do you get out of it? There has to be some kind of reward for you.”

“There is no reward.” She gritted her teeth. “Except the satisfaction of doing something good for someone, of helping people who can’t help themselves.” And, at the same time, hurting the dickheads who deserve it.

Gates stared intently, as if gauging her truthfulness. Gina knew she must look and sound credible, because most of her tirade was true. Except for the little part she’d withheld about her own personal revenge against Franco Falzone being the icing on the cake.

“Maybe you’ve been a federal agent for so long you aren’t capable of believing anyone. Maybe it’s left you so jaded you can’t possibly understand there are people in this world who take their reward by giving to others.”

He began stroking his stubbled, square jaw with his good hand, then he started to pace the length of her foyer.

“Listen to me,” she cried, stepping in his path and nearly getting run down as he strode into the living room to the large window overlooking the East River. “You’ve obviously never suffered any personal loss in your life or you wouldn’t be such an emotional iceberg. Can’t you have compassion for other people’s pain and suffering?”

Slowly, he turned to face her, and for a second she could swear there was genuine hurt in his eyes. In the time it took to blink once, the look was gone, the chiseled lines of his profile tightening as he turned to stare out the window.

This is so not good. She could see his reflection. He was thinking again. Glowering, even.

Taking a chance, she grabbed his arm. “What about your job? You help others, don’t you? What you do gets bad people of the streets, criminals who hurt others, shoot them, whack them, whatever. Can’t you understand?”

When he looked down at her, one thing was clear. The man hadn’t heard a word she’d said. It was over. Her impassioned speech had fallen on deaf ears. His heart had to be made of one hundred percent, grade-A ice.

She released his arm and stared out the window right alongside him. This might very well be the last time she enjoyed the twinkling red, green, and white lights of the many bridges spanning the river. As a free woman, that was. There was a similar view from the opposite bank of the river. Where the women’s prison stood.

“I’ll never tell you who my friends are,” she whispered. “You might as well arrest me and be done with it.”

“I have no intention of arresting you.”

She snapped her head up to see a strange gleam in his eyes. “You don’t?”

“No.” The corners of his mouth lifted. “I have a better idea.”

Her muscles tightened. Whatever was stewing inside his head was trouble, and the look he was giving her made her feel like prey again—like an animal that knows it’s trapped and at the mercy of a predator. An FBI predator.

“Only one thing will keep you and your friends out of jail.”

Gina swallowed. “What?”

This time he made no attempt to hide his sly grin. “Work for me.”

Chapter Six

“You want me to what?” Gina’s incredible big brown eyes grew impossibly bigger.

“You heard me. I want you to work for me. As an FBI cooperator.”

Jack’s proposal was met with near dead silence. The only sound in the room besides the annoying grandfather clock ticking away, was the low whir from the apartment’s heating system as it cranked warm air from the vents.

Her voice cracked as she backed away. “I can’t think of a single reason I’d want to cooperate with the FBI.”

He cocked a brow. “If that’s what you think, you need a major reality check. Before you kiss off my proposal you need to hear me out.”

“That whack to your skull must have knocked your brains loose.” She began shaking her head. “There’s nothing you have to say I’m interested in, and there’s nothing I could possibly offer the FBI.”