the rest of the pins, then glared up at him. “Or maybe you’re not yourself.”
His pupils flared ever so slightly, as if she’d hit the nail on the head. His beard-shadowed jaw hardened like granite right in front of her eyes. “I don’t want your new friend going ballistic because we’re not right behind him.”
She didn’t miss the hint of jealousy in his tone. Good. It was only fair that they were both miserable. “You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
Kat spun around and reached for the doorknob. She wanted to scream. She trusted Vince. Cared deeply for him. Why would he reject her? Something long buried stirred inside her, filled her with dread. The sensation startled her…scared her a little. She tightened her fingers on the knob, gave it a ruthless twist and jerked the door open.
She was out of here.
At first, recognition of the face staring down at her from the other side of the threshold didn’t register. Kat instinctively reached for her weapon, but realization, a little slow in coming, stopped her.
Phil.
It was only Phil.
She swore. “You scared the hell out of me.” She spat the words, her glower every bit as fierce as the dark one focused her way.
Phil looked from Kat to Vince. “We don’t have time for this.” He said the last with vehemence. “No more stops.” He glared down at Kat once more. “Let’s go.”
She pushed past him. “Men,” she muttered. “Can’t live with ’em, can’t shoot ’em.”
Not waiting for Vince, she slid her skirt up to the tops of her thighs and straddled the Harley. She could drive just as well as he could. If he didn’t like it, he could just ride to Port Charlotte with Phil. That brought a smile to her lips. The time together would do them good.
Victory poked a tiny hole in her misery, shored up her confidence. She knew how to play Vince. Whatever had happened, she could win him back.
Vince slung a leg over the seat and scooted in close behind her. It gave her immense pleasure to find that he was still incredibly hard. He’d wanted her, all right. Whatever had stopped him, it wasn’t physical.
Just for the hell of it she revved the Harley’s engine, long and loud. The next time they had sex, he would be the one doing the pleading, not her. She’d make it so damned hard on him, he’d be on his knees begging in no time at all.
She released the clutch and jetted toward the highway in a spray of gravel. The rest of Vince’s body went rigid, as well, only this time it had nothing to do with sex and everything to do with fear for his life.
Kat grinned in triumph. Men. They just didn’t like being controlled by women. Especially the Vincent Ferrelli types. She arched her spine, jutting her fanny right into the vee of his widespread thighs. The fingers clutching her waist tightened, dug into her flesh, sending a thrill through her.
Oh, yes. She was going to enjoy immensely putting him in his place. Whatever he’d been up to since they parted ways would come out. Kat was sure of it. All she had to do was bide her time and turn up the heat.
IT LOOKED as if the gang was all there when Vince and Kat arrived at the rental house in Port Charlotte. She hopped off the leather seat and smoothed down her skirt. To his extreme irritation, his heart skipped a beat or two as his gaze followed her naturally sensual movements. She was so damned beautiful.
But he wasn’t supposed to be dwelling on that particular aspect. He pushed the kickstand into place and swung off the bike. On second thought, he snatched the keys from the ignition just to make sure she didn’t take over again.
She shot him a distinctly satisfied look before sauntering up the drive. She twisted her hips as provocatively as possible every step of the way. Vince just shook his head. He’d royally ticked her off by resisting her sexual advances. If she only knew how hard that had been. He exhaled a heavy breath. Oh, well. She’d thank him in the end.
Assuming either one of them survived the mission. Judging by the lethal looks Philip Yu had given him, the two of them weren’t going to be buds.
Before following Kat, Vince took a moment to survey the place once more. Two stories, front and rear entrances only. Steel door on front, sliding-glass doors at the patio in back. The entire neighborhood appeared to be rental property, college-age tenants mostly. Parties had still been going on in a couple of the houses when he arrived that morning.
He’d set up observation on the house before dawn. Then he’d followed Kat and Yu when they’d left, though he hadn’t known their mission. He had to find out what was in that briefcase as soon as possible. Lucas probably knew by now. The CIA had likely already received word that an unauthorized transfer had gone down. Lucas would send word via Callahan at the first opportunity.
Meanwhile, Vince needed to see what he could ferret out. He shoved the keys into the pocket of his jeans and headed inside. Might as well face the music. The next few minutes would be crucial to the mission as well as his continued good health. He adjusted the weapon concealed at the small of his back. His backup piece was tucked safely into his ankle holster. He was as ready as he was going to get.
He glanced left then right as he made his way to the front door. Callahan would be around here someplace. She’d do what she could to watch his back. But, then, once he got inside he was on his own.
The front door stood ajar since his imminent arrival was expected—if not wanted. As he pushed the door the rest of the way inward he heard Kat’s voice.
“He’s in or I’m out. No negotiation.”
Laced with steel, her words were to the point, her tone about the temperature of a Baptist preacher’s brimstone. So, the battle had begun.
“I don’t like it.”
Another female voice. Vince mentally ran down the list of names Lucas had given him. Leva Vlasov. Twenty-five. A coldhearted rent-to-own type who was best described as a card-carrying member of Psychos-R-Us. Her family had emigrated from Russia when she was only two years old. High-school dropout, former junkie, but a kick-ass inventor. She loved explosives. Had designed a few of her own. If she wasn’t stopped, Vince could see her making the List. The FBI’s Most Wanted list.
“Like I care what you think,” Kat retorted arrogantly.
Damn, she was still fearless. He’d been afraid that had changed, but it hadn’t. Whether it was the implant or just the years in the Company, she’d bounced all the way back and then some. Or maybe, it was what you did to her, a little voice interjected. Helped to make her as ruthless as the very people she sought to bring down.
He gritted his teeth and forced his attention back to the scene playing out only a few yards away in the oversize living room. The blinds were drawn tight, leaving the room only dimly lit by a couple of lamps. Dark paneling and drab furnishings added another layer of shadows to the gloom. The brown leather briefcase was not in sight. A young, white male lounged in one of the overstuffed chairs. Will Adams, twenty-two, loud and obnoxious. A college reject and utter disappointment to his wealthy Massachusetts family. A genius with computers and more at home in the cyberworld than the real one, Will kept the team in petty cash à la his trust fund.
“I think you two bitches should just go outside and settle this the old-fashioned
