Page 57 of Perfect Vengeance

He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her resistant body tightly against his just before she launched at one of the most powerful mob bosses in the country. Good thing, since the two goons in black undertaker suits standing behind Franco moved closer, primed to intervene. If that happened… He’d destroy anyone who touched her.

Franco raised his gray brows, a genuine look of curiosity on his face. The man had aged considerably since the last time they’d crossed paths. Franco was about sixty and, while still trim, his once brown hair was now as silvery as the satin handkerchief sticking out of his breast pocket.

“Franco.” He gave a curt nod to the man who’d been his target for over a decade.

“Special Agent Gates.” Franco nodded in return, an old-fashioned, gentlemanly display between longtime enemies.

If the evidence presented itself, he wouldn’t hesitate to toss Franco in jail, yet there was an underlying air of respect between them. Each considered the other a worthy opponent, and both understood the first one to slip would go down. Hard.

“Who is this woman?” Carmen Falzone clutched her husband’s arm.

In the years he’d been on the FBI’s Strike Force Team, he’d never seen Carmen Falzone up close in the flesh, only in photos or from a distance. Wearing a full-length dark green dress, and with her hair piled on top of her head, she looked every bit the regal Mafia queen she was.

Gina struggled in his grip, trying to twist free. “Let me go,” she spat.

“What are you doing?” he whispered harshly, doubting anything he said would get through to her. Her body was vibrating with enough fury to fuel a fighter jet.

“Good question, Gates.” Tino sneered. Not even the expensive, double-breasted suit made that sonofabitch look or act any better than the lowlife piece of trash that he was. Franco was no saint, but at times Jack had a hard time believing Tino really was the fruit of his father’s loins. “Control your bitch, or I’ll call the police and have her charged with assault.”

Jack fisted his good hand so tightly several bones popped. There was nothing he wanted more at that moment than to smash Tino face first into the wall, then repeat the process multiple times on the floor. If he gave in to the urge, he’d be the one in jail, or at least on suspension for thirty days. Meanwhile, his investigation would go down the crapper.

“Assault? That’s a laugh.” Gina turned her attention back to Franco. “After all the people you’ve murdered? You bastard.”

“My dear,” Franco said, “I assure you I’ve murdered no one.”

Jack snorted. The list of murders Franco was suspected of having committed or ordered others to commit was longer than his arm. Was Gina’s accusation specific or in general? Given the heated way she’d flung it at Franco, Jack’s gut told him it was specific.

“This event is by invitation only,” she continued, “and you are most definitely not on the guest list.” A crowd had gathered around them. Miraculously, the orchestra played on. Margo, Kinsey, and Annabelle tucked themselves protectively at Gina’s other side, all wearing the same dumbfounded expressions.

“We’re all here for the same purpose, contributing to charity. I’d think that would more than make up for me crashing your party.” Franco pulled a check from his suit pocket and held it out to her.

She grabbed the check and ripped it in half, letting the pieces fall to the floor. “Your money’s no good here. You need to leave. All of you.” She glared at every one of the Falzones, including Tino’s wife. Not even the poor woman’s makeup could hide the dark purple shiner just below her left eye.

Jack tightened his hold around Gina’s waist. “Franco, I’d take the lady’s suggestion and leave while you can.” He still didn’t get what was going down here, but this kind of hatred went beyond outrage at seeing a criminal pretending to be a pillar of society. This was personal. He recognized that kind of anger in himself.

“Franco, perhaps we should leave.” Carmen tugged on her husband’s arm.

He patted her hand, then his bushy gray brows bunched. “Young lady, have we met before?”

Gina didn’t answer. Jack looked from Franco to Gina. There was sincerity in Franco’s words and expression, as if he really thought they’d met previously. The same way he’d felt when he first met her. Again, something in the deep recesses of his memory tried breaking free, something critical his gut told him he needed to remember.

“Listen to your wife,” Jack said evenly. “Leave now.” So much for shadowing the Falzones tonight.

Behind them, the crowd murmured something about a mob boss.

“What’s going on?” Margo shot Gina a look of concern. Kinsey and Annabelle’s expressions mirrored Margo’s.

“They’re trespassing,” she spat. “That’s what’s going on.”

“Trespassing, my ass.” Tino put his arm around Maria, who flinched. “The FBI trespasses all the time. Isn’t that right, Agent Gates?” A smug smile spread across his face. “Although, I’ve heard they prefer solitary walks in cornfields.”

“Tino!” Franco shot his son a look of warning.

“So young to die so soon.” Tino smirked. “Whoever sent that boy in to do a man’s job was an idiot.”

Franco’s eyes were murderous. “That’s enough.”

Jack’s blood boiled, and he gritted his teeth at the obvious reference to where they’d discovered Spencer’s body. He wanted to rip Tino’s head off. Then again, goading him into saying something stupid was precisely what he’d come here for. Everything Tino had said was public information the press had already reported. It wasn’t anything he could use in court, but it was a good start.