Page 53 of Filthy Little Regrets (Princes of NYC #2)

“I’ll buy you a sub for lunch from your favorite shop,” I tell him, shutting the door on the rest of his reprimand.

Jesus Christ. It’s literally one block. He and Mace act like someone is going to snipe me, and even if they were, Tony being here wouldn’t stop them.

I hop onto the sidewalk and dash across the street, focusing on getting through the maze of cars without getting clipped, but before I reach the other side, the traffic starts to move.

“Oh shit,” a guy making a dash across with me says, running the rest of the way.

I follow suit, heels hitting the sidewalk for mere seconds before I’m yanked back and tossed into a vehicle. A screech is all I get out before the rolling door is slammed and I land on a bench seat. As the air whooshes out of my lungs, I grab for my can of pepper spray attached to my purse.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. On top of everything else, I get kidnapped?

The only good thing is, the traffic is still moving relatively slow due to the stoplights.

I’m not too far from Tony. Dammit. Now he’ll never let me out of his sight.

Gathering my courage, I clutch the can and breathe deep.

In close quarters, this pepper spray is going to hurt like a fucking bitch, but if I can hold my breath and see through it, there’s a chance I can escape.

“Relax, Cassia, you’re with friends.” Agent Smith’s condescending tone rocks into me, and panic turns to pure fucking rage.

Fire floods through my veins. I sit up straight, bat a strand of hair out of my eyes, and glare at the agent, her driver, and the guy who pulled me off the street. “Was that necessary?” I ask, cataloging my surroundings and the severity of the situation. I’m not in cuffs. That’s a good sign, right?

We’re in one of those fancy vans with near-black tinted windows, and the bench I’m on runs along the length of the van rather than across, facing two computer screens. Everyone here is in a suit. Fucking feds.

Agent Smith smirks. “What? You’re not having fun?”

“Not really,” I tell her, eyeing the guy in a starched business suit. He’s the very definition of stuffy. Clean- shaven, short hair with a side part smoothed back with gel, and an I’m better than you look about him. He probably shits when Agent Smith tells him to.

“Something funny?” he asks.

“Only your face.” I glance at Paige. “What do you want?”

The van jerks to a sudden stop, and she scowls at the driver, who holds up his hands in apology. Her attention skips to me. “You know, your mom should have taught you manners.” She pauses, then frowns. “Oh, that’s right.”

“God, you’re such a cunt,” I tell her, crossing my arms and grinding my jaw. Fuck her.

“Hmm. I’ve been called worse, but let’s talk about what you can do for me. Where are we at with Mace?”

“I’m working on it,” I lie.

Sighing, she reaches for the handcuffs at her hips. “I didn’t want to do this, but?—”

“ Motherfucker , Smith. We have a live one.” The driver stares in the side mirror, and Agent Smith turns to peer out her window right as Tony’s car cuts in front of the van.

As the driver slams on the brakes, I slap my hand onto the window to keep from being catapulted off the seat. Honks blare all around us.

Mace appears, scowling at her through the window before his gaze clashes with mine. My stomach flutters. Thank fucking god. Relief is short-lived, though. This isn’t how I planned on him finding out about the FBI. His eyes narrow as he raps his knuckles on Agent Smith’s window.

“How the fuck did he find us?” she mutters to the guy in the back with me before rolling her window down. “Maccon.”

“Care to explain what the fuck you’re doing with my wife?” His tone sends a shiver down my spine .

“We’re just catching up,” she says, grinning back at me. “Cassia and I are old friends. Isn’t that right, Cassia?”

I hate her. “They yanked me off the street.”

Mace tips his head. “Sounds a lot like unlawful detainment to me, Paige. What would the ADC say?”

Paige blows out a breath. “Pretty sure the boss wouldn’t mind.”

“Is that so?” Mace glances at his phone, then holds it to his ear.

“What are you doing, Astor?”

He holds up a finger and shushes her. “Put me through to Jack,” he says to whoever he called.

Paige lunges toward him, throwing her body halfway out the window to snatch his phone. She launches it into the traffic with a snarl. RIP to the phones in Mace’s life. Seriously. No one has respect for the cost of these devices nowadays.

Mace’s dark laugh may as well scream gotcha . Even the FBI has to follow the rules. “Cassia. Get out of the van.”

I shift forward, but the guy in the back pushes me into the seat.

Paige shakes her head. “You’re intruding on a federal case, Macc?—”

“Fuck your case!” Mace shouts.

Pedestrians on their way to work startle on the sidewalk, most giving the van and Mace a wide berth. A few pull out their phones, ready to record at a moment’s notice.

Agent Smith huffs. “Let her go.”

The guy holding me releases me and opens the van door, but before I can get out, Mace launches himself at the guy, dragging him out of the vehicle and tossing him onto the ground.

His stupid-ass tie flaps in the wind like a flaccid penis.

Mace’s fist collides with his face in rapid succession.

“Don’t.” Punch. “Touch.” Punch. “My.” Punch. “Wife.”

I grab my bag, and the contents that spilled out when I was tossed into the back, and scramble out, skirting around Mace as he pummels a federal agent.

“Astor,” Tony yells, grabbing him, struggling to haul him back. “He’s a fed, you idiot.”

Mace pauses, fist held up and eyes set on the guy whose head is lolling to the side from all the hits, and curses under his breath. He releases the man, turning to search for me, checking the van first and then spotting me on the sidewalk. His hand falls to his side. “Get in the car with Tony.”

I glance at the bodyguard. He’s still holding on to Mace, probably worried he’ll attack as soon as he lets him go.

“Now, Cassia,” Mace shouts.

Flinching at his tone, I purse my lips and move toward Tony. Reluctantly, he lets go of his boss and leads me to the car, casting worried glances over his shoulder.

“Don’t let him get arrested,” I tell Tony.

Tony shoots me a venomous look. “That’s rich, coming from you. Fucking talking to the FBI. You know I recognize that chick from Orion’s, right?”

My gaze falls to the ground. Shit. I guess I deserved that.

I chew on my cheek and get into the back of the car, turning in the seat to watch Mace’s heated exchange with Paige.

She points at me. My stomach drops as his gaze slides to me and his features darken.

Paige sends a mocking grin in my direction. I hate that fucking bitch.

They trade a few more words, and then Mace is storming toward the car. I bite my cheek, heart slamming against my rib cage with every step he takes. He opens the back door. I slide over and press myself into the other side of the car .

Mace gets in, eyeing me before nodding at Tony. “Take us home.”

Tony pulls into the traffic, which is moving a little better now, and Mace clenches his hands in his lap, jaw grinding. He won’t look at me, though. Pain lances through me, but I swallow it, well aware this is a price I have to pay for lying to him.