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“ Perfectly .” For now. Once Jack’s investigation was over, she could drum up a plan to return and grab more cash.

“ Except , I’m starting to think we don’t need to involve my friends in this.

” More like didn’t want to involve them.

The more she thought about it, she and Jack could tackle this one alone, giving her friends that much more of a buffer from all this.

“ Countersurveillance . They’ll keep watch while we’re inside.” With his good hand, Jack gripped the wheel.

“ Why aren’t you using other FBI agents for countersurveillance? You don’t need a special tech team for that.”

His knuckles cracked. “ The fewer people who know about your involvement in this, the better off you are.”

“ Does anyone besides you know about us?”

A long moment of silence filled the SUV . “ No .”

“ Why not?” She couldn’t keep the suspicion from her voice. “ Don’t you have to do everything by the book? Reports ? Government red tape?”

“ Not this one.” His square jaw clenched. “ It’s better this way. Trust me.”

She almost choked on his last words. Trust me. There wasn’t a single chance of that happening. “ How do you know Psycho won’t be home tomorrow when I break in?”

“ Good intel.” He scanned both sides of the street, then checked his mirrors.

Gina drew her brows together, realizing she had no firsthand intel on the target, something she normally made a point of researching herself. “ What about Psycho’s wife? Any kids?”

“ Psycho’s estranged wife grabbed the kids and moved to Florida , making him even more psychotic.”

“ Ah .” She nodded. “ I should have known you’d know all this. FBI informants and all.”

“ Speaking of which, you never answered my question the other night. How do you know so much about the Falzones ?”

The interior of the huge SUV suddenly shrank to the size of a mailbox.

“ How do you know what targets to hit and when?” he pressed. “ You’ve either got a crystal ball or some kick-ass informants yourself. And how did you pick up enough breaking and entering skills to get into this business in the first place?”

Gina sucked in her lower lip. She had no intention of answering his questions. Time to derail this interrogation train. “ That wasn’t part of our deal.”

“ What wasn’t?”

“ You peppering me with questions.”

“ Let’s compromise. I already ran your criminal history, so I know you’ve never been arrested.” He paused, making her dread what was coming next. “ Is there anything else in your background I should know about?”

“ Like what?” Sweat began trickling down her back.

“ I don’t know.” His voice softened, making her wonder if this approach was some kind of sneaky FBI technique. “ You tell me .”

“ There’s nothing to tell.” If she gave him any reason to suspect there was something ugly in her past he’d only dig deeper.

“ What you see is what you get.” Plus a scooch more .

Like the little factoid that she was the daughter of Franco Falzone’s former bookie, Tony Perotti .

If Jack discovered that, he’d almost certainly throw her, Margo , Kinsey , and Annabelle in jail on the spot.

Guilt by association. Mob association. Never a good thing to be with the FBI dogging your every move.

More sweat trickled down her back, making her silk shirt stick to her skin.

There was only one antidote. She dug into her tote for her stash.

When her trembling fingers contacted the small baggie, she nearly groaned with relief.

A moment later, she had a chocolate-covered lychee in her mouth.

This time, she did groan, like a drug addict injecting herself with a quick fix.

With slightly steadier fingers, she unwrapped a second lychee and was about to pop it into her mouth when she caught sight of Jack with his back pressed against the driver side door. His face was pale, his mouth pinched. He looked ready to puke.

“ What’s wrong?” She shoved the second piece of chocolate into her mouth.

He cracked his window and every other window in the SUV . A gust of frigid air blew inside, ruffling his hair.

“ Hey , it’s freezing in here.” More cold air poured into the Expedition , and she pulled her coat closed around her body. “ Raise the windows. I’m cold. The least you can do is keep your employee happy.”

He ignored her request and sucked in long lungfuls of air. “ You’re not my employee.”

“ What am I then?”

“ A cooperator.” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed.

“ Hmm , let’s see.” She intentionally laced her voice with sarcasm. “ A cooperator, by definition, is someone who joins with another for a common purpose, but who acquiesces willingly .” She practically spit out the last word.

“ I didn’t force you.” His throat continued to work. “ I gave you a choice and you made it. Willingly .”

“ Whatever .” Man , she’d lost that debate a solid ten to zip. “ At least raise the windows so your cooperator doesn’t freeze to death.” She unwrapped another piece of chocolate.

“ No .”

“ Why not?” She twisted to face him, pulling her coat tighter.

She was freezing her butt off, but his terse responses were getting her steamed.

He eyed the bag of chocolates in her lap as if it were a bomb with a lit fuse.

“ This ?” She raised her brows. “ You don’t like the smell of chocolate?

” He shook his head. “ Who doesn’t like the smell of chocolate? ”

“ I don’t.”

“ You’re kidding.”

“ Do I look like I’m kidding?” He definitely didn’t. In fact, he looked green around the gills.

She popped the chocolate into her mouth, chewed quicker than she would have liked and swallowed. Jack exhaled, as if he’d been holding his breath. He turned to take another gulp of air at the open window.

“ What’s with you and chocolate?” Come to think of it, he did have a less than thrilled look on his face last night at her apartment when she’d thrown back a couple dark chocolate balls to take the edge off.

He sucked in more air before turning back to her. “ I’m allergic to it.”

She blinked. Huh ? Her stomach muscles began to quiver, and she pressed her lips together until she couldn’t contain it and burst out laughing. She laughed until tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. “ You’re kidding?”

“ Once again”—he curled his lip at the bag of chocolates—“do I look like I’m kidding?”

“ Oh my God .” She pressed a hand to her belly. “ I’m sorry. I never met anyone with a chocolate allergy.”

“ It’s rare.” Sweat beaded on his forehead. “ I’ve had it since I was a kid. It’s gotten worse with age.”

“ Rare ? It’s unheard of.” She wiped the tears now streaming down her temples, loving the irony of the situation.

Here she was crying with laughter and he was sweating bullets.

“ What happens if you accidentally eat chocolate? I mean,” she added with a hint of mischief, “what if one of your enemies gets wind of your rare allergy and slips some into your drink or your food?”

He pointed a long finger at her. “ Don’t get any ideas.”

“ I know, I know, or you’ll throw me in jail for assaulting a federal agent. No , really, what would happen if you ingested chocolate?”

He gave her another threatening look. “ My throat would close up.”

“ I’ll keep that in mind, Agent Gates .” She smirked and batted her eyelashes.

“ See that you do.” He dipped his chin to the baggie. “ And put that shi—stuff away.”

After one more snort of laughter, she obediently returned the stash to her bag. Jack waited until she complied, then another full minute more before raising the windows.

“ Street’s pretty quiet today.” With a click, he eased his seat back. “ Not much to see. We’ll head out in a few minutes, so take notes on anything else you need to.”

She watched the house, but she’d already seen everything she needed to. An American flag attached to the front of the house whipped helplessly in the wind. Guess even the mob could be patriotic.

Jack reached out and pushed a button on the dashboard. Italian opera filled the SUV , and she wrinkled her nose. She was thrown back to the horrible day of her father’s funeral. Someone had played Verdi the entire time.

She crossed her arms and glared at him. “ How can you like Italian opera when you spend your whole life throwing Italian citizens in jail.”

“ I don’t throw Italian citizens in jail.

I throw criminals in jail, many of whom happen to be of Italian descent.

” He cranked up the volume, making her wince.

“ My mother practically raised me and my brothers on opera. There’s a certain irony in that, but I find it soothing.

” He started to grin. “ From the look on your face, you obviously don’t care for opera. ”

“ Understatement ,” she mumbled. That and she hated when men grinned at her.

“ In fact,” he added, “you look like you’re about to be sick. Why do you hate Italian opera so much?”

Oh , no. Not gonna go there. “ I just do.” She uncrossed her arms and had to restrain from diving back into her stash.

“ Why ?” He made a sound that was close to an outright laugh but not quite there.

For the second time since they’d met, she caught him smiling at her. A real smile, with straight white teeth and everything. The shock of seeing it again in all its masculine beauty almost made her forget her irritation. Almost .

“ Don’t tell me you’re allergic to opera?” His smile broadened.

“ Now who’s asking too many questions?” Dammit . Just when she thought she’d found the great and almighty Special Agent Gates’s Achilles ’ heel, he’d spun things around and found hers .

Oh , he’s good, all right . She recrossed her arms and turned away from his way too handsome, way too disconcerting smile. But it was infectious, and she soon found herself smiling too. “ Touché ,” she admitted.

To her surprise, Jack burst out laughing—a rich, resonating sound. “ I have an idea,” he said.

“ Oh yeah?”

“ A truce.” He shut off the music, dousing the SUV in blessed silence. “ No opera in exchange for no chocolate.”