It takes a specialized task force to bring down the most notorious criminals, FBI agents with the guts to go for the glory, and the smarts to know what rules to break—for justice and for love . . .
Avery Coppola is a woman on the run—not from the law, but from the lawless. Her ex-husband, mafia boss Dante Coppola, never forgets or forgives, especially since Avery stole incriminating files from him. For now, she’s found sanctuary in the North Country of New Hampshire, working as a waitress to support herself and her ten-year-old sister. But not only are Dante’s men on her trail, so is the FBI . . .
Special Agent Vincent Modena is at the end of his rope. After a year-long attempt to infiltrate the Coppola organization, his only chance to ensnare the crime lord now lies with the ex-wife. After locating her, Vincent makes contact, unafraid to use his good looks to capture Avery’s attention. But she turns the tables on him with an intoxicating combination of innocent beauty . . . and the mind-blowing skills of a stone-cold killer.
On the run from Dante’s hit men, Avery takes Vincent on a wild ride of danger and deceit, hiding a secret that could destroy Vincent’s trust in her—and in himself . . .
Visit us at www.kensingtonbooks.com
Books by Kris Rafferty
Caught By You
Published by Kensington Publishing Corporation
Caught By You
Kris Rafferty
LYRICAL PRESS
Kensington Publishing Corp.
www.kensingtonbooks.com
Copyright
Lyrical Press books are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp. 119 West 40th Street New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2018 by Kris Rafferty
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
All Kensington titles, imprints, and distributed lines are available at special quantity discounts for bulk purchases for sales promotion, premiums, fund-raising, and educational or institutional use.
To the extent that the image or images on the cover of this book depict a person or persons, such person or persons are merely models, and are not intended to portray any character or characters featured in the book.
Special book excerpts or customized printings can also be created to fit specific needs. For details, write or phone the office of the Kensington Special Sales Manager:
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Attn. Special Sales Department. Phone: 1-800-221-2647.
Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
LYRICAL PRESS Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
Lyrical Press and the L logo are trademarks of Kensington Publishing Corp.
First Electronic Edition: March 2018
eISBN-13: 978-1-5161-0813-8
eISBN-10: 1-5161-0813-2
First Print Edition: March 2018
ISBN-13: 1978-1-5161-0816-9
ISBN-10: -5161-0816-7
Printed in the United States of America
Dedication
To Michael. You know what you did.
Chapter 1
“Deming? Are you insane?” Special Agent Vincent Modena was in the back of the FBI’s surveillance van, kneeling knee to knee with Special Agent Cynthia Deming, the task force’s profiler. It wasn’t Deming who was the problem; it was the five-pound flounder she held by the gills. It was staring at him, and smelled hideous.
“Your cover is a week-long fishing trip. You’re too clean.” Deming narrowed her blue eyes, and then slapped the fish against Vincent’s chest.
“Stop!” He grabbed her wrist, processing the moment. Rich, blond, gorgeous Cynthia Deming, in a black Dolce & Gabbana suit and heels, was on her knees swinging a fish. Nope. He was living it and still didn’t believe his eyes. Meanwhile, the flounder hung limp in the air between them. “I’m supposed to keep Avery Coppola in the diner, Deming. Hit me with that again, and the smell will chase her out.” She broke his grip, seemingly teetering between agreeing and having another go at him with the fish.
Special Agent Jack Benton, FBI task force team leader, jumped from the van’s passenger seat into the back. “What the hell?” He grimaced, glaring at the profiler and Vincent, as if Vincent had anything to do with the fish. He didn’t.
“Exactly,” Vincent said. “What the hell, Deming?”
“What’s with the fish?” Benton’s black hair hung in his face, obscuring the intensity in his blue-eyed gaze. His year-long deep embed with Dante Coppola’s syndicate crashed and burned yesterday, requiring the task force to extract him. His split lip hinted at the bruises and abrasions hidden beneath his conservative black suit and tie, but it was the banked rage that made his team nervous. Benton hadn’t taken time off to shake his role of gunrunner, and some deep embeds needed more recovery time than others, but he’d escaped with a lead, so Benton wasn’t going anywhere. The lead was, Coppola hired contract killers to find and kill his ex-wife and her little sister. Rumor had it, when she’d divorced him three years ago, the ex-wife left with incriminating files. Now, Coppola knew where the ex-wife was, and so did Benton. It appeared as if the task force lucked out and got here first.
“The fish is necessary for authenticity,” Deming said. “Modena’s too…” She waved a hand at him. “Handsome.”
“Hey, Benton.” Vincent held Deming gaze and then winked. “Deming thinks I’m handsome.”
She shook her head, barely paying attention to Vincent. “Maybe clean is a better word. After a week of backcountry camping, he wouldn’t be this clean.” She used the back of her wrist to nudge a blond lock off her cheek. “No one sleeps outside for a week, lives off fresh catch of the day, and doesn’t suffer from puffy face and bad hair. Avery’s clever and distrustful. She’s had to be to escape detection for three years with a sister in tow. With contract killers on her scent, she’ll smell a rat if Modena doesn’t commit to his backstory.”
“She’ll smell something.” Special Agent Harris Gilroy was the task force’s official driver. Blond hair cropped to his head, brown eyes, mid-thirties, he looked like an Irish bare-knuckle fighter, crooked nose and all.
“His backpack is enough of a prop,” Benton said. “Get rid of the fish, Deming.”
“Fine.” She tossed it into a Styrofoam cooler, and then stripped off her latex gloves, throwing them inside, too. She seemed on edge. Yesterday’s violent extraction of Benton had notably rattled her, rattled them all, as did the dead bodies the team left behind. And when Deming was rattled, she distracted herself with details—like Vincent’s backstory and a fish—so Vincent tried not to take the fish assault personally.
“Our warrant is to surveil Avery Coppola’s apartment,” Benton said. “Unfortunately, I couldn’t convince the judge that rumored files containing alleged evidence is grounds for a search warrant, so we watch and wait for Coppola’s men to make their move. If the files are in her apartment, she either surrenders them, or we need probable cause to take them. If Coppola’s men find her, maybe make a move on her at the apartment, we’ve got them and our probable cause, so cross your fingers. Modena, you keep an eye on her at the diner while we set up the cameras outside of her apartment. I want any potential attack on video. Let a judge and jury see who these monsters are, and if we’re forced to bust into her apartment to save her, and happen to find