A rap on the door grabbed their attention.
"That’ll be Cindy."
Hal went to the door and pulled it open. Frank wondered what cover story this Cindy had in case anyone saw her coming into FBI headquarters and recognized her. A dangerous place for an FBI agent pretending to be a mob member. She had to protect her real identity not only from Vendetti’s people, but from other FBI employees.
Frank took a sip from his coffee mug, glanced over and almost choked when he saw the sharply dressed woman step into the room. As his eyes made contact with hers, he felt his face flame into anger and his muscles tense into tight cords.
Angel!
Chapter 2
"What the hell are you doing here?" Frank barked as he leaped to his feet.
Angel looked at him, her big, brown eyes devoid of emotion. Ignoring his outburst, she acknowledged him with a simple, "Mr. O’Connor," and a tip of her head, but he noticed her back straighten as she walked stiffly across the room.
Hell, had she infiltrated the Bureau? Convinced Hal she would sell him Vendetti’s secrets? Did the woman understand the meaning of the word loyalty?
Frank’s gaze shot to Hal. "Do you know who this is?"
"Yes, this is Cindy Janson. She’s—"
Fury rose inside Frank. "Her name isn’t Cindy anything," he interrupted. "It’s—"
"Angela Tortina," Angel finished for him.
Incredulous at her brazen admission, Frank narrowed his eyes as he glared at her. What was her scheme and how would she try to twist this situation around to suit her now that he’d forced her into revealing her true identity?
"Mr. O’Connor and I met four years ago, when I was on the Cavaglione case," Angel explained. She darted a glance at Frank then back to Hal. "Is he supposed to be my new partner, Hal?"
"That’s right, Cindy."
Frank watched Hal meet the defiant tilt of her chin with a cool stare, his grey eyes clashing with her brown ones and she stifled any protest she might have made.
Partner? A sick feeling gurgled through his stomach as the situation clarified in his mind. Cindy. Angel. The two women were one and the same. That meant trouble. Frank knew Hal trusted this Cindy Janson without question.
Hal turned back to Frank. "Cindy is the best field agent we have, a fact that you can attest to yourself since you obviously accepted her cover without question. She’s been Angela Tortina for the past ten years and is accepted as one of the family. She’s even done time."
"So, it looks like there’s no problem after all." Dennis’ relief was apparent in his voice.
No. Frank remembered the cold look of indifference in her eyes as she’d calmly destroyed his dreams, his cover, and — as far as she knew at the time — his life. That same coolness veiled her eyes now.
She couldn’t be trusted. He’d lived with that fact for too long to stop believing it now. He turned to his superior.
"There’s no way I can work with this woman."
"Well, you’d better find a way," Hal declared, the edge of anger in his voice tempered by cool authority. "Your skills match what we need on this case and we don’t have time to find a replacement. Whatever your problem is, get over it. Fast."
"Or else…?" Frank demanded. Did this desk-bound administrator remember nothing about the trust required between partners?
"Frank," Dennis said, resting a hand on his shoulder. "You’re worked up because you thought she was someone she’s not. You just need to put things in perspective."
"Perhaps Mr. O’Connor needs some time to think about this," Angel offered. She stood across the table from him. "It must be difficult to find someone you believe to be a mob bimbo thrust on you as your partner."
Frank jerked his head to look at her straight on. "You can’t possibly want to work with me."
"No, I don’t. But I’m a professional, Mr. O’Connor. I’ll do whatever it takes to get the job done. Even if I find the situation…uncomfortable."
"Yes, I can believe that," he said, dropping his gaze then running it up her body, taking in the curves softly outlined in black. Even in a demure business suit, she oozed sensuality.
She hadn’t used that sinfully sexy body to win him over during their last encounter. She hadn’t needed to, he thought sourly. But he had no doubt she did when it suited her purpose.
She threw him a cool glance as she pulled out the chair in front of her and sat down. His eyes were drawn to the white satin blouse she wore, such a stark contrast to the black jacket, and a subtle reminder of the sweet innocence he’d associated with her so long ago. Before he’d come to know her true colour.
Angel felt Frank’s gaze assault her body and when he focused on her chest she forced herself not to pull at the lapels of her jacket to try and cover herself. Instead, her fingers automatically jumped to her earring and twisted the back around. As soon as she realized what she was doing, she dropped her hand back into her lap.
Good Lord, how would she manage working with Frank for the next few weeks, maybe even months? Never in a million years had she expected Frank to be the agent they imported from California. Oh, she’d known he lived in Los Angeles and worked for the FBI, but she hadn’t even considered such an outrageous possibility. Why hadn’t she made the connection last night? But then, why should she have? She’d had other things on her mind.
"Hal, have you thought about the cover Frank’ll use?"
The man speaking sat beside Frank. She didn’t know him, but from what Hal had told her, he must be Frank’s boss.
"We’ll have to discuss it." Hal glanced at Angel. "I don’t want you coming in here again — it’s too dangerous — so we’ll have Frank come by your place tonight to tell you what we decide."
"Hal…" Angel rose, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "I should point out that Mr. O’Connor — I mean, Frank — and I," she corrected herself, realizing how foolish she was going to sound, "had a…romantic relationship a few years ago."
She knew the men would automatically assume she and Frank had slept together, but she wasn’t about to set them straight on the details. With the life she led she’d come to accept long ago that she’d never meet a man she could respect and care about enough to fall in love with — and she could never make love with a man without those feelings. Though she had fallen in love with Frank, time and events had been against them and they’d never taken that step.
She raised her head and paced a few steps, noticing Frank’s reaction in her peripheral vision. His scowl deepened and his hands clenched into fists. She could sense the rage coiling through him.
"Cindy, that was a long time ago," Hal said. "Will it affect your working together?"
She stopped herself from glancing over at Frank, not wanting to face his anger while thinking of the love they’d lost. "Nothing will start up between us again if that’s what you mean." She’d make sure of that. She had too much at stake to allow Frank to endanger it again. "I just thought you should know."
"We can’t have anyone knowing Frank is FBI. Would anyone in the New York family remember him?"
"No. There’s no one here familiar with Cavaglione’s operation."
"So there’s really no one who would recognize him and connect him with the Bureau."
"No…but Hal, you know there’s always a chance —"
"Cindy, it’s a chance we’ll have to take. From what you’ve said the odds are low there’ll be any problems as a result of your previous relationship, so we’ll proceed as planned."
She hazarded a glance toward Frank. His mouth compressed into a thin line and sparks flared in his eyes. His hands clenched into tight balls and she decided he’d dearly love to wring her neck for passing on that bit of information.
She turned away from him and plucked at the magnetic paper clip sculpture on Hal’s desk. Hal had shaped it into a neat, symmetrical tower about five inches high. When she disturbed it, it collapsed in on itself, tumbling into a mass of shapes protruding at awkward angles. From order to
disorder in the blink of an eye. It mirrored her life. After seeing Frank last night and again today, she felt like collapsing herself, but unlike the flimsy clips held together by an intangible magnetic field, she had strength of will. And never had she needed it more.
She would get through this.
Hal glanced at his watch then stood up. "Dennis, we’ve got to attend to a few things before our afternoon meeting. Cindy, I’ll see you before you leave."
Angel swung around to see Hal and the other man, Dennis, heading out the door.
"But…" The last thing Angel wanted was to be left alone with Frank. Her emotions were still in chaos. Her gaze darted to Frank. He glared at her as though he’d like to strangle her. She leaned back against the desk for support.
They stared at each other in a silence strung tight by angry tension. Frank sat with his arms crossed over his broad chest, his ice blue eyes piercing her composure. She forced herself to continue breathing, one breath after another. Pull in, push out. Stay calm.
Morning stubble shadowed his angular jaw line, enhancing the hard set of his face. Strands of dark hair had fallen across his forehead and, despite everything, she longed to reach out and stroke them back.
When Frank finally spoke, it startled her.
"You seen Cavaglione lately?"
"Domenic’s still in prison," she said, relieved her voice sounded calm and unaffected by Frank’s hostile demeanour.
"And what about you?"
She glanced away from the hatred in his eyes, afraid her expression might reveal the pain she’d suffered. "I spent a year there." She gathered her courage and glanced back at his face. "Frank, about what happened —"
"What about it, Angel?" His tone was laced with bitterness.
"I know I hurt you… I know…"
He leaped up from his chair and leaned over her, danger emanating from his frigid blue gaze. "Hurt me? My God, woman. You turned me over to the mob. Worse, you endangered my partner. We could have both been killed."
"I knew you’d get out."
"You can never know something like that."
Her hope evaporated. Obviously, he wouldn’t give her a chance. Ruthlessly, she squashed the appalling disappointment that rose up in her. Smoothing her face of tension, she set her emotionless mask in place and turned to meet his gaze.
"Of course, there were risks—"
"Risks." He snorted.
"…but I knew the bust was going down that night and I made sure Hal’s team knew you were both there. I did everything I could to ensure your safety." She could tell by the unrelenting harshness of his expression that he didn’t believe her. "You did get out, Frank."
"Yeah. Luck."
"For God’s sake, Frank. I did what I had to do."
She flicked her hair behind her shoulder with a quick toss of her head. He still loomed over her so she ducked past him, desperately wanting to put some distance between them, to go somewhere she could release her pent up emotions.
"Did you have to make me believe you loved me? Did you have to let me fall in love with you?"
His words acted like a cold fist encircling her heart, squeezing, merciless, unrelenting. She turned back to face him.
"I didn’t mean for that to happen."
The light glittered off his eyes like sparks of electricity. She could tell his anger had boiled up a notch.
"Damn you! Why didn’t you steer clear of me? Were you worried I’d interfere with your case? Take credit? "
She turned away to hide the searing pain his words caused. "I didn’t know you were an agent when I met you, Frank."
He grabbed her arm and pulled her back around to face him. "Then why didn’t you tell me what you were once you found out? We could have worked together… We could have—"
"No, Frank! Don’t you understand? I couldn’t tell anyone about my cover. You only know now because we’ve been assigned to work together."
"You didn’t trust me."
The flat statement hinted at internal scars.
"I couldn’t trust anyone!" She paced away from him. "Why can’t you understand that? I’d spent six years working through the family, gaining a secure position, gaining their trust. I couldn’t just throw it away for…" Her eyelids pinched together as she realized what she’d said.
"For love? But you never really loved me, did you?"
His bitter words cut through her. She spun back to face him.
"Frank, I…"
He watched her expectantly.
She wanted to tell him how much she had cared for him — but she wouldn’t. Her job was everything to her and she couldn’t give it up for…anything. These were waters too deep and bitter to disturb. Let him hate her. It would be better for both of them in the long run. She had a personal debt to settle with the mob and not even love would get in the way.
"Nothing. I…I’m sorry, that’s all."
She knew her eyes showed too much as she stood staring up at him, but the range of emotions washing over his face mesmerized her. Pain was the strongest, followed by vulnerability. She felt tears welling up, tears she could barely suppress as she realized just how deeply she’d hurt him. He used his anger to protect himself, converting it to rage in a desperate attempt to keep her at a distance. But she could tell it wasn’t working.
If she could read so much from him, what could he read from her right now?
"I can’t forget you." He grabbed her shoulders and shook her slightly as he spoke. "I can’t forget what it was like to kiss you, to want you so badly I’d give up everything for you. I’ve been haunted by your face…your eyes…the feel of you in my arms." His gaze slashed across her face and he looked like a man tortured from within. "God, I still want you now."
Angel could see he hated himself for it. The conflicting emotions in his eyes told her of the internal battle he waged and, as he reached out with one trembling hand to stroke her cheek, Angel feared she wouldn’t like the outcome.
His arms swept around her, his lips coming down on hers in a bruising, punishing kiss, transferring only anger and a desire to hurt, with nothing of what should pass between a man and a woman in love. Even so, the warmth of his body against hers and the scent of him in her nostrils pulled at her passions like the moon pulled the tides, tumultuous and pounding. She’d never felt this way with any other man. Ever.
He raised his lips from hers, his gaze fixed on her face. She remembered a time when his eyes, shining with tenderness, had filled with love as he gazed at her. This piercing glare was as far from tender as fire from water.
"Come on, Frank. You don’t really believe you can punish someone with a kiss, do you?" She had to throw him off balance. She couldn’t let him know his kisses devastated her.
He leered at her. "I know it’s no punishment to you. You use love as a tool of the trade, don’t you?"
If he had struck her it wouldn’t have hurt as much. Despite his words, the dark desire flaring in his eyes told her he would take her lips again.
"Why are you doing this?" she appealed.
"I’ve wanted you ever since I first met you. Even hating you doesn’t make it go away."
She jerked out of his grasp and tried to push past him but he snared her again, pressing her up against the wall. The tension in the room shimmered with violent potential.
"Frank, don’t," she said in a strangled tone. "Don’t do this." She hated the pleading in her voice.
He ignored her as he swept his gaze down to her breasts. She could feel her nipples swell under the delicate fabric of her blouse. How can they do that? she wondered. How can my body respond to him when he’s behaving like this? When I know it’s so wrong?
And where had all her strength gone? She was not a weak person, yet she couldn’t seem to pull away from him. Part of it was guilt, she knew that. Frank had been hurt. By her. But it was more than that. Feelings long suppressed tore through her thin barrier of control. She wanted to be with him, to love him and be loved by him. All the reasons she couldn
’t let this happen slipped away.
"We were good together," he said, his voice husky. He pulled her close to him and brushed his lips across her temple. "Don’t you remember?"
Her blood rose in her veins and bubbled up into her face as though it would burn through the skin of her cheeks. How could he compare this angry possession to what they’d been to each other?
"No!" she cried.
Their gazes locked and burning anger flared between them. She saw the brief struggle in his eyes before his mouth captured hers again. His tongue darted out and forced her lips apart. Angel was disoriented by this sudden onslaught. Words she could handle, but this.… If he was anyone else he’d be flat on the floor by now. But this was Frank and — oh, Lord — how could he do this to her?
How could he believe what he did about her?
Her body, oblivious to her mental anguish, ordered her to surrender, to give herself over to the sweet longings she’d kept locked inside for so long. Her mind, somehow allowing reason to rule, ruthlessly pulled the reins back on her passion.
Yes, she wanted him, but he had no place in her life. Even if he did, clearly Frank would never forgive her for what she’d done.
His insistent tongue forced her mouth wide, plundering, devouring. A knock on the door startled them both.
Angel pulled back from Frank’s burning lips. He blinked down at her, looking like a man who’d just awakened from a dream, or rather, a nightmare. Shock crept across his features.
Frank swung away from her and strode across the room. He stood leaning against the window, his hands gripping the edge, his knuckles white. Angel could see his tortured expression reflected in the glass, his eyelids scrunched tightly together, his features frozen in a mask of anguish.
She heard the clicking sound of the door latch releasing as the knob turned. By the time Hal stepped in Frank was composed once again.
"Frank, you and I are meeting with Dennis in an hour. Why don’t you grab some lunch and meet us back here?"
Frank nodded then flicked a cool gaze in Angel’s direction. "I’ll see you later, Angel."
It sounded like a threat.
She glanced away toward the window, seeking the New York skyline but finding only obscuring mists of fog. The thump of the door signaled Frank’s departure.
Undercover Blues Page 2
