Page 7

Jack’s brothers, Kyle and Deke , were also top agents in the FBI . If his youngest brother, Lance , wasn’t doing some kind of black ops assignment for an agency he suspected didn’t really exist—officially, that was—there was no doubt in Jack’s mind that he’d have made a top-notch FBI agent too.

“ If I so much as get wind of you doing any field work before the doc clears you,” Morrison continued, “ I’ll take your badge, your gun, and give you thirty days on the beach for insubordination.”

Jack clenched his jaw. His boss was a good man and a fair supervisor, but right now it was all he could do not to smash his good fist through the wall. With his luck he’d hit a stud and end up wearing casts on both hands.

For the first time in his career, he felt useless, and it was driving him out of his mind.

“ I can’t sit on my ass for the next five weeks.

” He flipped open the manila folder to double-check the expiration dates on the court orders, hoping he was wrong and knowing he wasn’t.

“ The information we’ll get from these bugs is critical.

Word on the street is that the Commission is set to give the Falzones a fully recognized seat.

If Franco Falzone becomes head of a sanctioned Mafia family, there’ll be no stopping him.

Worse , when Franco gets taken out—and someday he will— Tino will take his place. ”

“ That’s all we need,” Smitty muttered. “ A sick psychopath running a mob family.”

“ Smitty’s right.” Jack tossed the folder back onto his desk. “ Franco’s a killer, but Tino likes to mutilate his victims.” Rumors of Tino’s “treasure jars” containing body parts he’d hacked off his victims were infamous.

Due to the nature of his death, Jim Spencer’s funeral had been closed-casket.

When his wife asked for the return of her husband’s wedding ring—a unique gold band with an emerald—to one day give to their son, it about killed him to tell her that her husband’s ring was missing.

Along with his finger. More evidence that Tino Falzone had rightly earned his nickname “the Beast ” because of his extreme cruelty and sadistic methods of torturing his victims.

“ You’ve got a broken wrist and a concussion,” Morrison said. “ You shouldn’t even be here. You should be home with your girlfriend.”

The last thing he needed was a reminder of yet another relationship he’d let disintegrate to dust. Susan’s parting shot had been to accuse him of constantly ignoring her in favor of sitting surveillance with Smitty at all hours of the night.

She’d been right. Since Jim had died, he’d been obsessed with nailing the Falzones .

He felt like crap about hurting her, but he had no time for personal attachments. He had a job to do.

“ Give me someone else for four days.” Or , somehow, he’d find another way.

“ You know the policy.” Morrison shook his head. “ Only an FBI -certified tech agent can install Title III court-ordered devices.”

“ I am certified.”

“ I know that.” Morrison recrossed his arms. “ You’re the only field agent in this office outside the tech teams who is, but you’re not medically fit.

What’s more, from what you’ve told me about Fiori’s house, you’d need the best locksmith agent we’ve got to break in there, and he’s on the west coast. And before you ask, your request to mobilize a team from Philly or Boston was denied.

Too short notice, and they’re tied up on other cases.

I know it sucks, but you’re outta luck.”

“ Mike , there’s too much at stake.” He stood, intending to stare down his supervisor.

Another bolt of pain shot from his wrist straight up his arm, and he hissed in a sharp breath.

“ If I can get enough evidence to indict Franco and Tino for murdering a federal agent, the Commission will never consider giving the Falzones an official seat. It would mean too much heat and unwanted publicity for all mob families.”

“ I’m well aware of the timetable, but I won’t let you back in the field until you’re cleared.

” Morrison’s voice held a note of anger and frustration, and for the first time Jack realized just how much of Spencer’s death the man had also shouldered.

“ I know Spencer isn’t the first one you’ve lost to the Falzones .

Yeah , I read those reports too. It was a long time ago.

That wasn’t your fault either. This is a dangerous business and people do die in it. ”

“ Mike —”

“ Give it up, Jack , and stop kicking yourself for things you can’t change. You’re desk-bound until I say otherwise.” He turned and strode out the door.

Jack lowered himself back onto his chair. “ Christ .” He closed his eyes, trying to shut out the images of old crime scene photos he could still recall with bloody clarity. Seemed like all his best did was get people killed. Part of him had started questioning his own judgment.

Smitty pointed at the bottle of aspirin on Jack’s desk. “ You didn’t take any of those painkillers, did you?”

“ Can’t . The minute I take one of them, I can’t even report to the office for desk duty, let alone drive a G -ride.” He’d go insane stuck at his condo without his government vehicle. More importantly, he needed a clear head to figure out how to get around Morrison’s orders.

“ You mean you won’t take anything.”

“ Same thing.” In the last ten minutes, his headache had worsened considerably, and he wondered how much aspirin he could take without overdosing.

“ I know what you’re planning.” Smitty narrowed his eyes. “ I’m going with you.”

“ No , you’re not.” Smitty had a wife and four kids to support. Going against orders could land Jack in seriously hot water, but he wouldn’t take his friend down with him. “ For the record, I’m not going anywhere.”

“ Don’t lie to me.” Smitty glanced over his shoulder as the sounds of the office coming to life filtered in. “ We’ve been friends and partners for way too long. You’re going back to Rocco’s , so don’t feed me a line of bull.”

Jack looked at the framed photo on his desk of him with his three younger brothers.

As the eldest, he’d spent his entire childhood protecting them.

They still looked up to him, but they shouldn’t.

He didn’t deserve it, and he didn’t deserve their respect.

Not after what had happened. With Jim Spencer and that bookie, he’d failed.

Like his brothers, Smitty was family. Jack would protect his partner’s job and the man’s life if they were the last things he did. “ You’re not coming.”

“ Sonofabitch .” Smitty pounded the chair’s arm, then stormed out the door.

Jack pressed the heel of his good hand to his forehead, rotating it over the tight muscles.

He didn’t need this. Not when he had more important things to do, like getting Kenny “ Meat ” Canzona to verify Rocco’s and Fiori’s locations for the next seventy-two hours.

Meat was one of his best informants over the years, and the guy owed him.

Six years ago, Meat’s four-year-old daughter was kidnapped by a pedophile.

Jack was instrumental in the girl’s safe return to her family.

While they kept it on the down low, Meat was indebted for life and fed Jack whatever information he could.

Recently , Meat gave him a tip regarding a witness to Jim’s murder.

One who might be willing to talk. So far, it was only a rumor.

Like the one he heard about an unknown faction that had been ripping off the Falzones for the last two years.

He’d assumed it was a rival family, or maybe the Sicilians .

After his encounter with that wiseass little witch and her NASCAR driving buddies, he wasn’t so sure.

He ignored the ringing of his phone and stared out the door, watching his fellow agents settle into their cubicles as he considered what had happened the other night.

That woman was a professional. The belt around her slim waist had been loaded with the tools of an experienced safecracker.

And how could he forget the ebony-handled stiletto strapped to her ankle?

Pretty , but deadly. Even with the muzzle of his gun shoved against her head, she’d still planned to ram a screwdriver into one of his body parts.

During his career, he’d busted every kind of lowlife the streets could puke up, but something about her didn’t fit. Except the way her lush curves had fit into his hand.

His lips twitched. In addition to having a set of brass ovaries, which he grudgingly admired, she certainly had curves. While they’d been jammed in the closet like sardines, he hadn’t been able to stop himself from running down a less than professional inventory of her assets.

From what he’d seen—and felt—he’d guess she was in her early thirties, five-five, a hundred and twenty pounds.

At first, he’d thought she was skinny. Until he’d gotten a good feel of her long, firm muscles beneath that sexy suit.

She had to work out regularly to achieve a body like that, although the full breast he’d cupped in his hand was definitely au naturel.

He knew because his ex-girlfriend’s weren’t.

When all that thick brown hair had sprung from beneath her hood he’d nearly choked.

And the way she smelled…no perfume, just a sweet, womanly scent.

Like vanilla and sugar. But her voice…nothing sweet about that.

Hard , biting, snapping at him with all the pent-up venom of a pit viper.

Yet at the same time, it was soft and husky.

While he didn’t give a rat’s ass that she was stealing from the Falzones , she was nothing more than a thief.

On top of which, she and her cohorts had not only obstructed a major investigation but assaulted a federal agent.

After he threw the Falzones in jail, he’d put enough money on the streets to turn something up on her, then he’d charge her for violating every federal statute in the book.

The cell phone on his belt vibrated. “ Meat , what’ve you got?” His informant rattled off the itineraries Jack had been waiting on. “ Outstanding .”

He might not have the resources to get into Psycho’s , but Rocco’s place he could manage. And Rocco would be out of town in Atlantic City . Tonight .