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Chapter One

A soft click shattered the silence.

Gina punched off the tiny penlight, plunging the room into darkness. She froze, crouching before the floor safe inside the closet and praying her ears were playing tricks on her. Instinct told her those prayers were about to go unanswered.

The crush of shoes on carpet. Breathing , not just hers. Then , a click .

“ Don’t move a muscle.” The deep, masculine voice sliced through the early morning stillness, eliminating any doubts Gina may have had about what she’d heard—a gun’s hammer being drawn back. It was like no other sound in the world. One she’d never forgotten…

And never would.

“ Do exactly as I say,” the voice growled, “or this will be the last safe you ever lay hands on.”

Her heart raced, the beat pounding in her ears. Somehow , the intel on Rocco Lambrusco’s whereabouts was wrong. Dead wrong, and now the mobster had caught her inside his apartment, breaking into his safe.

I am dead meat.

“ Get off the floor.” The way he spat out the words told her he was pissed. Really pissed. “ Now !”

And she was in deep, deep shit.

The metal ridges of the old safe’s combination dial bit into her fingertips as she gripped it tighter.

“ Are you deaf or just stupid?” Unbridled fury didn’t begin to describe the undertone of Rocco’s question. “ If you don’t get moving, I’ll ram my boot straight up your ass.”

“ Okay , okay.” Her throat was so tight she could barely choke out the words. Her voice had sounded raspy, more like a man’s than a woman’s.

In a heartbeat, she ran down the list of possible weapons on her utility belt.

Lockpick set.

Screwdriver .

Pepper spray.

Better yet, the stiletto strapped around her ankle. With luck, she could slide the knife out, bury it in Rocco’s gut, and be out the door with the cash before he knew what hit him.

Quietly , she clipped the penlight to her belt.

Her arm brushed the strap of the empty black duffel bag slung across her chest. She slid her hand down the inside of her thigh to her calf until her fingers grazed the stiletto’s ebony handle.

One more second and she’d have it. Then drive it into Rocco’s beefy belly.

“ Quit stalling and get off the floor.”

Her gut clenched tighter than she thought possible. Any wrong move and he’d kill her. Two bullets to the back of the head—the same way Franco Falzone murdered her father.

“ Keep your back to me, and don’t even think of going for that blade on your ankle.”

She dropped her hand from the knife. How could he see anything? The bastard must have the eyesight of a panther.

So much for Plan A .

A bead of sweat trickled down her temple. Her breaths quickened, along with the crazy pounding in her chest. As she got to her feet, she eased her hand toward her utility belt until her fingers contacted the hard plastic handle of the screwdriver. Another inch and she’d jam that into Rocco’s belly.

“ Stop ,” he bit out. “ Make another play for one of the toys on your belt and your life ends here.”

With a sinking feeling, she let her hand fall from the screwdriver.

There goes Plan B .

She hadn’t heard Rocco move, not even a rustle of clothing, but his voice had come from a different direction this time. He was circling her as if she were prey about to be mauled to death. Why didn’t he clip her and be done with it? Maybe he didn’t want to bloody his plush pile carpeting.

No way was she giving up. Not only was she so not ready to die, but there were too many desperate women counting on the money in that safe.

Still facing the open closet, she fisted her hands, then froze as the muzzle of a gun pressed against the back of her head.

The tip of the metal barrel bit straight through the thin fabric of her hood.

Taking a deep breath, she lashed out, knocking the barrel of the gun away from her head. Rocco cursed. Gina jabbed first, one fist, then the other, hitting nothing but air. She struck out with a right cross. One of her knuckles grazed his jaw.

Left jab. A miss but close. Her right hook finally connected with something solid—his wrist. She peppered him with blow after blow.

Jab , cross, hook, uppercut. Each time, he parried, blocking her shots with expert precision.

The man had skills. If she didn’t take him down soon, she’d tire and he’d overpower her.

Backing off, she whipped her leg up and around, executing a flawless roundhouse kick. The duffel hindered her movement, but her foot still made contact.

He grunted. “ Sonofa — ” A large hand spun her, shoving her against the wall.

She flung her hands in front of her. Too late. Her forehead smacked into the drywall, sending pain splintering through her head.

“ Next time, do what I tell you when I tell you.” He loomed over her, keeping his hand rammed between her shoulder blades, pinning her to the wall.

She squirmed beneath his hand, but he only mashed her face tighter against the wall. If he’d wanted to pump her full of lead, or at least activate her dental plan, he would have done it by now. Teeth -bashing had always been a mob favorite.

Through the haze of pain jabbing her forehead, it occurred to her that Rocco really was looming over her. But he shouldn’t be.

At five foot four, the plump little mobster was an inch shorter than she was. Gina knew that from surveilling him steadily off and on for the last four weeks. She’d never heard the man speak, but it had to be him. This was his apartment, after all. Who else would it be?

Yet the man towering over her had to be a good foot taller than she was. Come to think of it, his voice didn’t have that unmistakable accent all New Jersey mobsters were known for. This voice was deep and rich, reminding her of a country music singer. A very pissed-off country music singer.

Of all the things to take notice of with a gun jammed against your thick, stupid skull.

“ I’m not in a good mood tonight, and your bullshit isn’t helping.” His hand dropped from her back. “ Turn around. Slowly .”

Gina obeyed his order and turned. Click . A bright light blinded her, and she squinted. Figures he had one of those fancy cop flashlights. Tiny white stars danced in her vision. She couldn’t see a thing other than the guy was huge with broad shoulders and a chest as wide as a gorilla.

Something touched the back of her head. The hood of her skintight catsuit was yanked off and fell onto her back.

“ Ouch .” She flinched and massaged her stinging scalp where he’d pulled out several strands of her hair.

“ You’ve gotta be kidding.” He let loose with a string of colorful words, some of which she’d never heard before. “ A woman.”

“ Last time I checked.” The words had flown from her mouth before she could stop them.

“ Listen , wiseass.” His hand clamped around her arm, and he hauled her upward, forcing her to stand on her toes.

The flashlight was so near her face, the light so harsh, she had to squeeze her eyes shut before her retinas fried.

“ You weren’t invited to this party, so you’re damn sure gonna tell me who you are. ”

“ Dream on, caveman.” His viselike grip on her upper arm tightened. Strong fingers bit into her flesh. She gasped, and he eased his hold, as if he hadn’t realized he’d been hurting her.

“ Once more,” he said, pulling her closer but surprisingly more gently this time, “tell me who you’re working for.”

“ You first,” she snapped with more volume than intended, considering he was the one holding the gun.

She gulped hard, and the microphone Velcroed around her neck bobbed up and down.

That microphone was a dead giveaway she had communication with someone else.

Revealing her name wasn’t an option, and she’d die before giving up her accomplices.

If anyone discovered she and her friends were stealing from the Falzone Crime Family , they’d either be whacked or get tossed in jail, where the long arm of Franco Falzone would eventually reach out and knife them in the back.

Literally . And the helpless women Gina and her friends had been donating money to for the last two years would also be imprisoned.

A different sort of prison, one filled with savage beatings and emotional hell for the rest of their lives.

“ Lady , you have no idea what you’ve walked into or how much you’ve royally screwed things.”

“ I screwed things?” She tried opening her eyes to glimpse his face, but the light from the flashlight was too intense. “ Forgive me if I don’t apologize, but your presence here doesn’t exactly help me out either.”

He snorted. “ Helping you isn’t at the top of my list. Now for the last time, who?—”

The sound of the apartment’s front door opening filtered into the bedroom.

“ Shit ,” he whispered, then released her arm so abruptly she nearly collapsed on the floor.

It had to be Rocco . The real Rocco .

The flashlight clicked off. She still couldn’t see anything but flashes and pops of white and yellow. She was as helpless as a bat in daylight.

A long, powerful arm shot around her chest and shoulders, dragging her backward into the closet. She closed her fingers around her captor’s forearm and began struggling. “ Let . Me . Go .”

“ Knock it off, or we’re both dead.” He leaned forward and pulled the closet door closed, barely making a sound. “ And keep that big mouth of yours shut.”

Whoever this guy was, he didn’t want to get caught any more than she did. Again , begging the question… Who was he? Was he also trying to rob Rocco and was ticked she’d gotten there first?

She blinked several times. The fireworks dancing before her eyes had finally disappeared. A shaft of light shot through the crack between the bottom of the closet door and the carpet.

Rocco was in the bedroom.

She tried putting more distance between the tips of her boots and the door. As she moved, the duffel bag’s strap caught on the corner of a box, throwing her off balance until she nearly stumbled over the same safe she’d been attempting to break into.