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Chapter Twenty-One

Jack woke to light streaming through the windows. Gina’s head rested on his chest, her arm draped over his rib cage and thick waves of her chestnut hair tickling his abs.

As he sifted his fingers through the strands, that now-familiar sense of peace surrounded him.

Along with a life-changing realization. His brothers were right.

He shouldn’t let her go. More importantly, he didn’t want to let her go.

Somehow amid the darkness, danger, and chaos that his life had become, he’d found something special. A perfect rose in a garden of thorns.

Gina stirred and lifted her head. Sleepy eyes met his. “ Hi ,” she said, and when she smiled, his heart tumbled over and over. He was falling in love. With the most complicated woman he’d ever met.

“ Hi , yourself.” He dropped a kiss on her forehead. Waking up like this, with her naked body using his as a pillow… Yeah , I can totally wrap my head around this .

“ Are you hungry?” She glanced at a small digital clock on the nightstand. “ It’s only seven. I can scramble some eggs.”

He was hungry. Not for eggs. He rolled her onto her back, gazing down at her for a long moment without saying anything.

An impish grin lifted her lips. “ Why are you looking at me like you want to dissect my brain?”

“ Is that the way I look?” He’d always been careful to keep emotions from his face. He suspected he’d never be capable of hiding anything from her again—a dangerous position to be in.

“ Yeah , it is.” She snaked her hands to his back, then lower, squeezing his butt cheeks.

Blood surged to his cock and balls, and he shuddered. Her hands on his body first thing in the morning was better than coffee, scrambled eggs, a Denny’s Grand Slam breakfast, or anything else he could think of.

He wondered if she felt the same way. No way could he have misread all the emotions pinging between them last night. It hadn’t just been passion hot enough to singe the paint off the walls. They had something.

“ Well ?” She began massaging his ass and pulling his groin tighter against her hip. “ Are you going to tell me?”

He kissed her, cupping one supple breast and rolling the taut nipple between his fingers.

The urge to tell her that he loved her pounded inside his head.

It was too soon, and the timing sucked. His workweek was about to go off-the-charts insane.

With the Commission meeting this Saturday and an ops plan involving over a hundred law enforcement officers from three states, he’d be pulling all-nighters until then and dealing with the fallout for weeks afterward. Big cases, big headaches.

“ Mmm ,” she moaned into his mouth, arching her breast into his hand. “ That feels really, really nice.”

“ It sure does.” It was about to feel even nicer. His dick was as stiff as a telephone pole. He touched his fingers to her already-wet folds and positioned himself at her entrance.

Something vibrated. His phone. With everything going on, he couldn’t risk ignoring a single call. Not even when he had a beautiful woman beneath him and he was about to explode.

He groaned and reached for his cell. The number on the screen wasn’t familiar to him. Robo -call? Not this early in the morning. Using his thumb, he swiped to take the call. “ Gates .”

“ Special Agent Gates ?” an unfamiliar voice said.

“ Who’s asking?” The only people who had his number were FBI personnel and those he knew and trusted, which was a very small circle.

A pause. Sounds of motor vehicles and jet engines came through the phone. “ My name is Danny Viggiani . I hear you’re looking for me.”

Jack’s heart thumped faster. This was the witness he’d never expected to hear from—the one who might have witnessed Jim Spencer’s murder. He’d given Meat permission to give Viggiani his phone number if the guy ever surfaced and was willing to talk. Neither of which he actually expected to happen.

He rolled off Gina and sat on the edge of the bed. She rose up on one elbow, watching him with concern.

Another roar through the phone told him the guy was at an airport. “ Where are you?”

“ JFK , but not for long. I can’t afford to stay out in the open. As soon as Tino gets word I’m back in the US , he’ll come looking for me.”

That jibed with Jack’s information. On Tino’s orders, Viggiani had been directed to Sicily and to stay there until the heat over Jim’s murder died down. Apparently , Tino didn’t trust his own men not to dime him out. With good reason.

“ What was Jim Spencer wearing when he died?” He had to be sure this guy wasn’t lying.

He wouldn’t be the first Mafia witness to perjure himself in exchange for a pass on other crimes.

Like aiding and abetting the cold-blooded murder of a federal agent by dumping the body in a field.

Jack’s information was that Viggiani and Psycho Fiori not only witnessed the murder but followed Tino’s orders to make Jim’s body disappear.

“ Black pants and a blue polo shirt.”

He gripped the phone tighter. Very few people knew what Jim had been wearing that day, and his clothes had never been returned to his wife. No photos were ever released, nor would they be. The file was still classified.

Adrenaline pumped harder through Jack’s veins. His gut told him Viggiani was telling the truth, but he had to be sure. “ What else can you tell me about the body?”

“ Tino cut off the guy’s finger, wedding ring and all. Had a green stone in the ring. The sick bastard keeps it in the safe at his shore house. I’ve seen it there myself.”

Bingo . Viggiani just confirmed what Gina had seen.

The guy was legitimate. His testimony and a search warrant at Tino’s shore house would get him the PC he needed to arrest Tino for murdering a federal agent.

He had to act fast before Tino emptied out the safe.

He also had to grab this witness before he disappeared in the wind. Or Tino killed him.

Viggiani’s return to the states without sanction would be a red flag that he was about to throw Tino under the bus. According to Meat , Tino trusted Psycho Fiori with his life but wasn’t certain about Viggiani’s loyalties.

“ Stay at the airport,” Jack ordered, reaching for his pants. “ Go back inside the terminal, get to a restaurant, and stay put. I’ll call you when I get there.” He ended the call, shoving his legs into his pants and searching for his socks.

Gina sat up, clutching the sheet to her breasts. “ Is everything all right?”

“ Better than all right.” Everything was kick-ass. By the end of the day, Tino Falzone would be behind bars.

He tugged his shirt over his head, then sat on the bed again to phone Smitty before calling SAC Morrison . In addition to the op on Saturday , he needed Smitty’s help scooping up Viggiani and finding a safe place to stash the guy.

She touched his arm as he cued up Smitty’s number. No sooner did he drop a quick kiss on her lips than his partner answered.

“ You on your way in?” Smitty asked. “ I’ve got bad news and some seriously interesting news. Which do you want first?”

Jack stiffened. “ Give me the bad news first.”

“ Your clownfish— John Wayne —died yesterday.”

Some of the adrenaline bled from his veins. Ten years was a long time for a clownfish to live in captivity, but he’d miss the little guy.

“ Where is he?” Jack asked.

“ I wrapped him up and put him in the freezer. In case you want to give him a proper burial. ASAC Standish wanted me to flush him down the toilet, but I convinced him not to.”

“ Thanks , man.” If Standish so much as touched John Wayne , he’d ram his head down the toilet.

His chest felt tight. For chrissake, it’s just a fish. He’d known it was coming, but now Annie Oakley was alone. When things died down, he’d have to get her a new companion.

“ What’s the seriously interesting news?” He cradled the phone between his chin and shoulder, tugging on his socks.

“ Remember that in-depth background check you ordered on Gina Perot because her records only went back twelve years?”

He’d been about to pull on his last sock but froze. He glanced at Gina , who still watched him silently. “ Yeah ?”

“ If you aren’t sitting down, you might want to.”

Whatever Smitty was about to tell him, he doubted sitting would help. He stood and began pacing the bedroom. As if sensing his need for privacy, Gina rose and went into the bathroom.

“ She still has no criminal record,” Smitty continued. “ The thing is, twelve years ago, Gina Perot had her name legally changed. Her real name is Angelina Perotti . Her father was…”

Jack stopped pacing and froze. “ Tony Perotti ,” he whispered at the same time Smitty said the name. The bookie Franco Falzone murdered when he was caught wearing a wire— Jack’s wire.

A sick feeling welled up from the pit of his stomach. No . Oh , hell, no. He sank onto a chair. This couldn’t be happening.

On more than one occasion, he’d thought Gina looked familiar. That night at the fundraiser, even Franco Falzone had thought the same thing. Now he knew why.

I sent her father to his death .

That sick feeling began burning a hole in his gut.

An image of a young girl, barely eighteen years old, came to him.

Angelina Perotti , holding her mother’s hand, tears streaming down their faces as her father’s coffin was lowered into the ground.

Her face had matured since then, her gangly teenage body filled out with graceful curves.

“ You there?” came Smitty’s voice.

“ Yeah ,” he choked out, too stunned to say anything more.

With the utterance of one name, his entire world was spinning completely out of control, and there wasn’t a thing he could do to stop it.

But he had responsibilities that couldn’t wait.

“ We have to get to JFK . I’ll pick you up outside 26 Fed in forty minutes. ”