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Her captor adjusted his arm around her upper body to steady her before she could fall, catching her with his hand over her breast.

She fought the urge to yank his hand away, but the tiny closet was packed to the gills with swag—stolen merchandise she’d noticed earlier.

Stacks of boxes on either side of them jabbed into her arms. The way they were crammed between all the boxes, the slightest movement could have Rocco firing a round through the closet door.

Warmth from his hand permeated the suit to her breast. From head to toe, she was pressed against a towering body that seemed to be comprised of only two things: muscle and steel.

Not one inch of him was soft or flabby. To make matters worse, every breath she took shoved her breast more firmly into his hand.

The guy’s jaw flexed against the side of her head. He exhaled through his nose, cutting off the soft growl she heard, as much as felt, emanating from deep within his chest. Without meaning to, she gripped his muscled forearm. Even through the thick material it was obvious he was in amazing shape.

Warm breath blew across the top of her head, riffling her hair and sending goose bumps prickling along her neck and shoulders.

She inhaled a wisp of mint along with leather from his jacket and something else she hadn’t noticed before.

His clean, fresh scent, as if he’d just stepped out of the shower five minutes ago.

Well , if she had to hide for her life in a closet, practically skin to skin with a mysterious stranger, at least the guy smelled great and practiced good oral hygiene.

Water from the shower pounded against the adjacent bathroom wall. The shaft of light inches from her feet flickered, casting shadows on the floor as Rocco walked in front of the closet again. She tensed and leaned back, pressing into the man’s chest.

He stiffened, and his hand tightened even more over her breast. As if realizing what he’d done, he eased his hold on her. That wasn’t the only involuntary action going on inside the closet, as her nipple hardened beneath his touch. This could not be happening.

I’m getting turned on by a really buff guy while hiding in a closet from a mobster who won’t hesitate to shoot us both. Sadly , it was the hottest sexual encounter she’d had in a very long time.

She heard the shower curtain being drawn open, then closed. Followed by singing. Bad singing, totally off key. Puccini ? Some kind of Italian opera. Figures . She hated Italian opera.

Warm lips pressed against her ear. “ Get ready to haul ass. Front door when I give the command.”

“ Ya think?” she whispered in a sarcastic tone. “ For the record, I don’t take orders from a low-life mobster, and I don’t need you to state the obvious.”

“ What you need is irrelevant. You’re nothing but a thief.” Gone was the deep country music bass. In its place was a deadly warning.

“ And you’re what?”

“ Your worst nightmare.” His breath fanned her cheek. “ Wait for my signal or I’ll strangle you and hang your body on a hook in Rocco’s closet.”

For an instant, she believed he might actually do it, then he reached in front of her and cracked the door. His stubbled jaw grazed her cheek, and she got another whiff of his minty fresh breath. Gradually , he pushed the door open and propelled her from the closet with a solid shove. “ Go . Now .”

Not needing any more direction from Mr . Tall , Dark , and Bastard , she took off. Steamy , shampoo-scented air swirled from the half-open bathroom door along with Rocco’s horrible singing.

Gina raced into the hallway, running lightly on the balls of her rubber-soled boots. If she didn’t get away from her closet buddy pronto, who knew what he might do. She was a witness, maybe someone he couldn’t allow to live.

She glanced at the security system box on the wall by the front door. Two steady green lights. She silently thanked Rocco’s carelessness in not resetting the alarm. It would have taken her precious time to disarm it the way she had when she’d picked the lock and broken in.

Soft footsteps indicated her hard-nosed companion was close behind.

She eased open the door and sprinted for the stairwell exit at the end of the long hallway.

The empty black duffel smacked against her hip, an irritating reminder of her failure.

She and her friends had stolen thousands of life-saving dollars over the last two years, but tonight… Zilch .

At the end of the hallway, she threw her weight against the gray metal door to the stairwell and shoved it open. Dank , musty air surrounded her as she raced down the two flights to the first floor.

Every one of her footfalls echoed like thunder in the narrow stairwell. It was nothing compared to the reverberations of the much heavier footsteps following in her wake or the thumping of her heart hammering against her ribs.

This guy meant trouble. Whoever he was, evading him was just as vital to her mission as escaping from Rocco . It meant the difference between life and death. Hers .

The footsteps behind her grew louder, closer. A brief glance over her shoulder was all it took to see the large shadow half a flight above and bearing down fast.

Her feet hit the concrete landing of the ground floor, and she threw her weight against the heavy exit door. A blast of cold, late- November air slammed into her face and bit through her suit.

She leaped onto the front lawn and raced across the grass. The door she’d just flown out of hadn’t slammed shut behind her. That could mean only one thing.

He was gaining on her.

Gina pumped her legs until her calf and thigh muscles burned. At the corner of the complex, she hooked another left and bolted along the side of the building, heading down a dirt path.

She raced for the back alley that paralleled the complex.

Mullet Street . Gina knew the preplanned escape route by heart.

She’d run surveillance the week before and practiced an emergency extraction in her head a hundred times.

This was the first time a job had gone bad and she’d actually had to put one of those plans into action.

At 3:00 a.m., the street was deserted. With no streetlights, she could barely see what was in front of her. It didn’t matter. She knew what was behind her.

He was.

With every stride and every breath, freezing air burned her lungs. She touched the microphone on her throat. “ Kinsey ,” she gasped. “ I’m heading south on Mullet .” She veered right, practically plowing headfirst into a dumpster. “ Trouble . Someone was inside. He’s on my six. I need emex.”

The tiny receiver crackled in her ear. “ On my way.”

Heavy footsteps pounded behind her. For such a big man, he was faster than expected.

Headlights illuminated the empty road ahead.

Behind her, the rented Dodge Charger roared.

She couldn’t resist the urge to look over her shoulder.

A dark figure loomed not ten feet away. She cut sharply across the alley to be closer to the passenger door when Kinsey picked her up.

Her momentum was so great she crashed into the chain-link fence on the other side of the street.

The Charger tore down the alley, tires screeching as Kinsey braked next to where Gina clung to the fence. The back end of the car careened, and the acrid smell of burning rubber drifted to her nose.

She heard a muffled thump , then a resounding whack —the horrible sounds a car makes when it hits something. A body slid off the hood of the Charger and slumped to the ground.

Oh , crap.

Gina hunched over and planted her hands on her thighs. Sweat dripped down her forehead, and white puffy breaths billowed in front of her face.

The Charger’s doors flew open. Kinsey and Annabelle jumped out and bolted to the front of the car.

Margo rushed over to where Gina stood. Her teardrop-shaped eyes widened. “ Are you all right?” Wisps of cropped hair stuck out from her hood, outlining her face in a blond halo.

“ Fine ,” she huffed, still hunched over and gasping. Every inhalation of chilly air made her throat feel as if it had a bad case of freezer burn.

Annabelle’s curly red locks bobbed in the light breeze. “ I think you killed him,” she said in a quiet, worried voice. “ I told you to slow down.”

Kinsey knelt beside the man who lay on his side, one arm outstretched on the pavement, the other tucked beneath him.

She pulled off her glove and touched her fingers to either side of his neck, checking for a pulse and seemingly not finding one.

In the glow of the headlights, Kinsey’s fuchsia pink nail polish contrasted against his pale flesh.

Gina’s stomach muscles clenched again and again as she fought the urge to throw up. Please don’t be dead. Manslaughter hadn’t been in the ops plan.

Her hands trembled as she dragged herself to the front of the car.

As much as she wanted to scream, the last thing they needed was more noise and chaos to muddy things worse than they were already.

Who was she kidding? They’d far surpassed chaos and were well on their way to FUBAR . Fucked up beyond all repair.

“ Well ?” Annabelle prompted, a mixture of anger and outright fear on her cherubic face.

“ Don’t yell at me.” Kinsey swept her long box braids over her shoulder. “ We don’t want to wake the neighborhood.”

“ Wake the neighborhood?” Annabelle’s voice rose, a sure sign she was about to go ballistic. “ You’re our getaway driver. You’re supposed to be as good as Dale Earnhardt , Jr ., and you just ran over a guy.”

“ It was an accident.” Gina clenched her hands to stop them from shaking. “ Besides , it was either that or he’d have caught me.” She swiped the icy sweat from her brow with the palm of her hand. “ Did you find a pulse?”

“ He’s dead.” Annabelle waved her hand toward the slumped body. “ We’re all dead.”