"Oh shit, this is so dangerous..." I murmured to myself as I tried to steady myself on top of the moving van.

Yup. Its definitely not a good idea to jump off a bridge and onto a moving vehicle. They never told you this in the movies, but landing on something moving and metallic really sent a painful jolt up your legs, no matter how graceful you landed. It just bloody hurt.

But of course landing was the easy part- it was staying on the rapidly turning and shifting van that was the real struggle.

Just as I was finally getting a good grip, the psycho-driver made a sharp turn to try and shake me off. It almost worked as I lost my grip and rolled across the top, doubling over the edge and taking a clear path towards the concrete. In the last minute I managed to grip on to the side of the van before I was thrown off completely. But I was barely hanging on.

"Sonofabitch!" I seethed, holding on for goddamn dear life. Once I got my hand on this guy, it was clobbering time.

Trying to avoid getting thrown off for the last time, I found footage on the side of the van and managed to hook myself on like freaking Spidey. Then carefully, I started working my way sideways towards the driver's seat to face the crazy driver.

His ugly mug appeared in the side mirror and grimaced at me, before he picked up a Glock 21 and stuck it out the window. The gun started firing, aiming at me.

Shouting profanities, I narrowly avoid getting my head popped open like a jackalantern on November 1st. I set off with my foot and manage to kick the gun out of his hand. It flew away and crashed against a windshield of another moving car behind us. I heard the screech of a car stopping.

Not giving myself time to look back, I edged my way all the way up to the door and met Mr Ghost-Rider face to face. Sneering at me, while still keeping one hand on the wheel, he tried to punch me in the face. I grabbed his hand and twisted it backwards while still managing to cling onto the car, if you can imagine the struggle of that.

Trying to avoid getting thrown off for the last time, I found footage on the side of the van and managed to hook myself on like freaking Spidey. Then carefully, I started working my way sideways towards the driver's seat to face the crazy driver.

His ugly mug appeared in the side mirror and grimaced at me, before he picked up a Glock 21 and stuck it out the window. The gun started firing, aiming at me.

Shouting profanities, I narrowly avoid getting my head popped open like a jackalantern on November 1st. I set off with my foot and manage to kick the gun out of his hand. It flew away and crashed against a windshield of another moving car behind us. I heard the screech of a car stopping.

Not giving myself time to look back, I edged my way all the way up to the door and met Mr Ghost-Rider face to face. Sneering at me, while still keeping one hand on the wheel, he tried to punch me in the face. I grabbed his hand and twisted it backwards while still managing to cling onto the car, if you can imagine the struggle of that.

"Pull over, you goddamn shithead!" I snarled at him, twisting his hand back even further. He cried in pain and made a violent turn on the wheel.

"Cagna!"

I didn't speak Italian, but I didn't need a dictionary to understand a curse.

"And cognac to you too, asshole," I growled. I ended this stupid ****'s attempt of fleeing the law by giving him sharp elbow straight to his face. The douche jerked backwards in his seat, only to bounce forward when he accidentally hit the brakes. His forehead slammed again the stirring wheel and conked him out.

The van then came to an abrupt stop and steered sideways when the wheel automatically turned. I grabbed on to the side of the door with a curse and waited as the van doubled over on its side and skated across the road. Cars crashed behind us and in front of us as we rammed into the curb of the highway. The van then finally came to a complete stop and left a trail of damage behind us.

I groaned painfully. That did not go as planned.

Cursing a little, I began to dismount the van and jumped onto the road. The van was lying on its right side, looking as beat as I felt. I could hear sirens behind me, finally catching up with us.

"Wilkens!" I heard my mission supervisor call. I saw him coming out and between the crashed cars in his suit, an army squad following behind him. "Wilkens, you OK?"

Sending him a flat stare, I worked my shoulder around which had taken most of the blow from getting whirled off the van. "Oh yeah, I'm great. I mean, I just wrecked the congested LIE and caught you your Italian spy, blew my back out in the process while you and your trained dogs took your sweet time getting here, but I'm wonderful."

Monroe, as his name was, came up to me, securing his gun back in his belt. "You know they say sarcasm is the lowest form of wit."

"Yeah? They also said that men are better soldiers, yet somehow I'm the one who just stopped a spy and you're the one in the perfectly unharmed $5000 suit."

"Do I have to remind you who's the agent in command here?" Monroe retorted, crossing his arms. "Your women skills only got you to secret agent, not supervising agent. What does that say about femininity?"

I clenched my fists and gritted my teeth. I couldn't believe the bureau still hired arrogant imbeciles like him. He belonged in the 1850's where men still thought they had a claim on women and had the legal right to put them in their place - but I didn't take that kind of shit from anybody. Especially from men like him.

"It tells me you're intimidated by a strong woman and that you might have compensatory issues," I shot back and walked past him while the CIA team took care of the whole 'van-situation'. Curious civilians were getting out of their cars and were whipping out their phones to snap pictures or maybe even to record a video of the scene. There was going to be some major paperwork later, I could tell.

"Watch your goddamn mouth, Rya," Monroe growled, catching my arm and squeezed it until he cut my blood supply off. "I'm not above hitting a woman."

I ripped my arm out of his in wild rage. Instead of walking off like I should, I whipped around and fired a fist right in his goddamn eye. "And I'm not above punching my goddamn supervisor. Cya, asshole."

Monroe yelled behind me, clutching his face. "Goddamn it, you bitch! I'm taking this up with Howard!"

I just flipped him off over my back. I wasn't scared of Howard, the big boss upstairs. I wasn't on his goodie-list, but he secretly loved me and my skills. I had nothing to worry about.

So walking off to the first CIA van, I jumped inside, groaning as I leaned back into the seat. My shoulder was seriously bruised. I closed my eyes as the driver looked into his rearview mirror, giving me a glance. "Home?"

Opening my eyes an inch, I looked at him and nodded. "Home."

Stepping through the front door to my apartment, I discarded my jacket and duffle bag by the door. I kicked off my shoes and walked into my living room. "Hi Bob, I'm home!"

My only companion and male friend I could trust in my life was waiting for me in the living room - swimming around in his fishbowl. Bob, my goldfish, looked as gold and happy as I'd left him this morning.

"Did you miss me?" I conversed as I walked into my open kitchen, stripping out of my shirt and pants, holding on to the gun I had stuffed into the back of jeans. It was my coming home ritual; Getting out of my smothered work clothes and getting into a hot bubble bath. "I missed you, too. How was your day? Mine sucked."

Like always, I could expect Bob to reply with silence. It was nice. I had never met anyone like him who listened so great. Yup. Bob was the only man in my life.

"What's for dinner today, hm?" I pondered, opening my freezer to look for a microwave meal, shivering when the cold hit my exposed body. "Looks like lasagna again. Sounds good?" I glanced over to see Bob swim into his little sea castle. "Yeah, I know, we had that yesterday, but I'm too tired to go shop. Mama had a long day today and needs a hot bath."

"Would mama like some help with that?"

Whipping around, simultaneously grabbing my gun I had momentarily left on my kitchen counter, I aimed it towards the sound of the deep male voice coming from my living room.

Stepping out of my bathroom, into the middle of my tiny living room, he looked enormous. At six-foot-at-least-five and wearing a navy-blue suit that clung around his masculine body like a second skin, he could have been a hired assassin. The slight Italian accent told me I could be very right. His dark hair was short, but still just long enough to run your fingers through. His angular jaw was defined by unshaven stubbles, stubbles that - if he hadn't been here to kill me - might have made me think he was sexy as hell. His high cheekbones, dark lashes and brooding chocolate eyes topped off his sex-appeal. The little smirk on his lips did it, too.

"Who the hell are you?" I growled, arming the gun.

His smirk grew bigger as he lifted his palms in the air, indicating surrender, the same time his eyes did a slow take down my nearly ***** body. "I'm someone who's here to intercept on behalf of the Agenzia Informazioni e Sicurezza Esterna of Italy, or AISE. I came to you, because you were the one who stopped our spy today. Am I correct?"

His deep voice and that accent should be illegal on the grounds of ****-me. I was a goddamn professional, but that struck me places it seriously shouldn't.

Moving uncomfortably in my spot, feeling exposed under his heated gaze, I gripped my gun tighter. "You didn't answer my question properly. Who are you? I want a name."

Chuckling deep and sexily, the Italian giant walked closer, seeming unconcerned with the gun pointing at him. He walked into my kitchen while openly taking in my body to the fullest. "My name is unimportant for now. I came here with one purpose, and one purpose only; to talk."

"Talk?" I scoffed. "Talk is something you do over the phone. A house visit means you're up to trouble, and I'm not buying your whole cool façade." I moved a little uncomfortably again when he came too close, invading my personal space. "How did you get in here anyway?"

"Maybe Bob let me in."

I jabbed the gun under his jaw to indicate I was not amused.

His smirk only grew more devilishly handsome. "I climbed the drainpipe and jammed your window open. Satisfied?"

"With you breaking into my apartment?

I'm thrilled. That means I have the right to kill you, even without my license."

"But that would be too traumatizing for Bob, wouldn't it?" He curled his hand around the barrel of my gun, dragging it away from his throat. After a moment, I let him. Probably a bad idea.

"You're making fun of me," I said. "I don't like it."

He smirked, leaning in over me. "I am only teasing you, Rya."

"That's Agent Wilkins to you," I quipped, keeping my voice firm. "I still need your name or I'll start calling you Spaghetti."

He raised a brow. "Spaghetti?"

In hindsight I probably could've come up with something better, but I was exhausted and the ache in my shoulder was becoming worse. I was beginning to think I pulled a muscle. "Yes, Spaghetti. So unless you want me to start eating you, give me your name. Then we can talk."

"How about..." He fingers brushed up against my side, dangerously close to my *****, causing all my defense mechanisms to trigger. "... we talk right now, and if you behave, I won't eat you."

I swallowed hard. Not because I was scared or because his giant frame gave me the least bit of anxiety. No, it was because of the way the words rolled off his tongue so casually, so gracefully, so lethally. His plump lips curved upwards in a little smirk when he noticed my small nervous-adjacent gesture. My face instantly grew hard.

"I'm not one to push around," I said and brought the gun back to his neck. "We do it my way or no way. Bob or not, I'll kill you if you pose a threat to me. Got it, Spaghetti?"

A moment passed where we simply looked at each other. Italiano there just glared down at me like he couldn't decide if I was shitting him or being dead serious. To further prove my point, I pressed the gun right up under his jaw again, enhancing his prominent jawline.

And then in a flash, Italiano moved, gripping my wrist and whirling me around. I never even saw him move, but I cursed loudly when he twisted my arm around and then locked it up against bad shoulder, testing my bone's flexibility. He then pried the gun from my hand and shoved me up against my sink, face forward, and then pressed himself up against my back. I felt my gun get jabbed into the side of my head, the muzzle touching my temple. I groaned in pain and hissed when he tightened the twist on my arm. Ah, dammit.

"Now, bella mia," His lips were right by my ear, his voice calm and husky. "I'm not going to hurt you - not if you keep quiet and listen to me. I came here to say something, so I'm going to say it."

I curled my lip back and jerking a little in his grip. "Let me go or I'll kick your Italian *** back to Napoli."

The sexiest chuckle seeped into my ear. "Selvaggia. Mhmm." He pressed his nose into my hair and drew an impossible reaction from my body; I shivered. His warm breath tickled my ear as he leaned closer and spoke; "Now, listen, dolcezza; I am here to tell you that there will be another break-in to your headquarters in two days. This time you won't catch the agent, and this time we will get what we have to make your peace with it."

"What makes you think I won't catch this agent, too?" I asked, trying to distance myself from the misplaced things that was happening in my body. I thought I felt something hard press against the lower part of my back, and it really wasn't a gun.

"Because this time we are putting our best agent on the job," He replied, lowering his voice to a whisper. "And trust me when I say you won't catch him."

"You realize I could put you in jail for threatening to steal from the CIA, right?" I said, gritting my teeth when he twisted my arm a little. If he wanted me to whimper, he could forget about it. "I know they say that orange is the new black, but I don't think boo-boo." you could pull off orange,

"Mia cara, you have no idea what I can do," He huskily whispered. I shuddered when I felt him nibble at my ear. "Not just to your precious CIA."

Goosebumps spread across my body. Good God, what the hell was wrong with me? I needed to grow a lady-pair.

Jerking my head away from him, I ignored the gun poking my temple and took a deep breath. "You're going down, Spaghetti. All of you. Go ahead and send your best agent. I'll be waiting for him."

"I was so hoping you would say that," He chuckled, sounding pleased. And then without further ado, he whipped me around, forced my chin his lips against mine. up and mashed

Pressing me up against the sink, I squealed in shock. His lips were dominant, passionate, almost violent against mine. Trying to fight him, I leaned even more backwards, but he just followed. He had my wrists locked in his hands and a leg pressed between my thighs. With not much room to move and no space in my head to think, all I did was stay there and try my best not to moan.

Because goddamn. Spaghetti could kiss like Mozart could compose; It was a freaking symphony. His tongue swept across my lips, pushing for entrance, but my pride denied him access. He might have me pinned tight against my sink with Bob watching us from my living room, but he couldn't take my willpower - even if he was doing one hell of a job of - trying.

Finally, after kissing me only partially against my will for another moment, he drew back, a sexy smile on his damned perfect lips. "We'll meet again, dolcezza."

Seething at him, I glared lethally into his eyes. "You have five seconds to let me go, before I fucking cut off your **** and feed it to Bob."

"In that case, it will be quite a mouthful for the poor guy."

"Three seconds."

He smirked. "Ciao."

And then, just because this day hadn't been bad enough, he flipped my gun over and knocked me over the head with it. Groaning and losing my balance, I doubled over on the floor and saw my sight dotting over with black spots. I thought I heard Italiano chuckle before he strode out of my apartment, disappearing out the door.

- And that was about as bad as Mondays could get.

...

WHO LIKES SPAGHETTI ?

"He was in my damn apartment." I snapped, punching my fist against Howard's expensive mahogany desk. "You call that being on top of things?"

"Why didn't you just take him down?" Monroe arrogantly asked. "You can bring down an entire highway with one car, but you can't take down one agent?"

I clenched my fists to prevent myself from hitting him again. He already had a black eye from yesterday where I punched him for being too mouthy. I wanted to give him a matching set.

"He was a freaking six foot six Neanderthal and he cornered me." I snarled. "I was off the clock, I wasn't expecting an Italian agent to ambush me in my home - which he shouldn't have been able to," I said turning to Howard again who was twirling his pen thoughtfully. "What the hell, Howie?"

"We had a security breach yesterday, Rya, you know that we put all our attention on that whenever it happens," Howard said, leaning back in his chair. "All agents were called in to assist, and it left some of our off-duty agents without backup for a few hours. We apologize for any inconveni—"

"Oh, that's bullshit." I said, crossing my arms. "Tell me why am I still working for you guys. Seriously, tell me. Yesterday was ridiculous!"

"Just quit then," Monroe helpfully

suggested. I scoffed. "Wouldn't you like that? If I did, there'd be nobody to slim your obese ego."

"Calm down now," Howard finally said and stood up when Monroe rolled his eyes. "Agent Wilkins, you are a cherished asset to our ranks and we do sincerely apologize for what happened yesterday. Investigations will be conducted after we found the breach in our security, trust in that, but you said that the agent told you they would make another attempt at breaking in? Did he tell you which firm he worked for?"

"Yeah, AISE. He said he knew they would succeed this time because they were putting their best guy on the job. That they would get away with it."

"And you say I have a big ego," Monroe snorted from the side.

Howard ignored him. "Well, let's make sure they don't, then. If they're putting their top agent on the case, then we should do the same." He buttoned his suit jacket and smoothed it down. "If we want to catch their best agent, we will use our own as well."

Monroe immediately straightened out and fixed his tie. "Sir, I'm honored-"

"-Agent Wilkins, please report down at the armory to get your guns checked out. When you encounter their agent, you have clearance to kill him," Howard stepped around his desk and walked up to me. "We need this case closed once and for all."

Monroe gaped when Howard stuck his hand out towards me. I reminded myself to rub it in Monroe's face later while I shook it. "Yes, Sir. I will. Thank you for the opportunity."

"Of course," Howard warmly smiled and then turned around. "Oh, and Agent Monroe, Stella said she needed help with documenting the damage done yesterday. Go down and lend her a hand, will you?"

I smirked at Monroe when he just glared like he couldn't believe he just got overlooked for a female agent. That big ego of his probably suffered a blow. "Uh... of course, Sir, but are you sure you don't want-"

"Now, please excuse me, I must go,' " Howard smiled, ignoring Monroe once again. "I am meeting my wife for brunch and her mother will be joining us. I can't stand that old crow."

I chuckled and patted his arm. "Compliment whatever she's wearing. She'll love that."

"Thank you for the advice," Howard clucked back. "I will see you both later. Best of luck."

I was gearing up. I clipped on my ammo belt and secured my gun holsters. I then checked my two Glocks, unclipped the mags and made sure they were fully loaded. Grabbing four more mags, I fastened them to my belt, before taking my 9mm pocket pistol and slipping it into my boot. I then tested my army knives, running my finger along the steel blade, before sheathing them into place on the clip around my thigh. Lastly, I took my 9mm Taurus and stuffed it down at the back of my pants and then grabbed my automatic machine gun and strapped it over my back.

- I was ready-eddy for Spaghetti.

"Testing earpiece, do you copy, Agent Wilkins "

"Roger that, voice is clear," I said, tying my hair into a tight ponytail while walking down the secured hallway which led to the data room. "Is everything up and running?"

"Affirmative. All teams are set and in place. Operation Hometurf is ready to go."

"Copy that."

I then crouched down behind the curve of a wall and closed my eyes. Now all we had to do was wait. I didn't care how long it took, it could take hours, days; I wouldn't fucking leave my spot until I had this goddamn **** under my boot, either dead or dying.

"Bring it on, fuckheads," I whispered, gnashing my teeth. I then opened my eyes and stared forward down the hall. The SWAT team was ready and lined up down the white hall, standing by on my command, all geared up in Kevlar and semi automatics. If this so-called 'best agent' of theirs even tried to come close to the data room, he'd get gunned down by fifteen men and that was assuming he even made it into the building. And if he did, and he by some miracle managed to make it past the fifteen armed men... well, then he'd have the pleasure of dealing with me.

"Regis, what's the status at Area 1?" I murmured into my mic.

"No movements. Area 1 secured."

"Dallas, status."

"Area 2 secured, no sign of entry."

"Cornell, what's your situation?"

White noise. I waited another second.

"Cornell, status report. What is your situation?"

No answer.

"Cornell!"

"Did you remember to feed Bob this morning?"

My eyes widened, just like my heart began galloping.

"Alert, alert, target is within premises, I repeat, target is within premises!" I alarmed into my mic, pulling both my Glocks from their holsters, placing my fingers on the bud. "Stand by on my command!"

"Copy that, teams are standing by."

Holy shit. It was him. It Spaghetti himself. He was their best guy.

I cursed myself. I should've predicted it. That was why he seemed way too smug - he had practically told me straight to my face he was coming to steal whatever it was they tried to steal from our data room yesterday. And on top of that, he had mentioned Bob to me.

"All units, come in. If you get a clear aim at the target, take him down," I spoke harshly into the mic. "The one that brings me this **** on a silver platter gets my full salary on this hit."

"Why don't you just come get me yourself, dolcezza?"

His voice was so amused. I curled my lip back and spoke venomously into my mic. "Laugh it up now, Spaghetti. You're not gonna be laughing when I kill you."

The deepest, most sexiest chuckle followed after a moment of white noise. "Come and get me, then."

A giant explosion rocked the walls in the hall and filled the air with thick white smoke before his sentence had even fully finished. I covered my nose and mouth, but the SWAT team lined up down the hall had taken most of the blast. The damn asshole had thrown a smoke bomb into the hallway.

Cursing, I repositioned myself as I heard footsteps and hustling, then guns flairing and cries of pain. The thick fog made it impossible for me to see what was going on. All I could hear was the SWAT team taking on Spaghetti. From the sounds of it, he was still somehow having the upper hand. Not good. Not good that he was as good as he bragged.

I now begun seeing shapes from within the dense smoke which was slowly evaporating. I spotted Spaghetti's tall frame breaking through it all. I could just tell he was wearing a gas mask, but I could still see it was him.

"Fucking cock," I seethed. Gripping my guns tighter, I waiting until I could get a clear shot.

Spaghetti was impressive, I couldn't deny that as much as I wanted to. The SWAT team was buzzing around him like mosquitos that wouldn't quit, but he was swatting them down like flies: He was swatting the SWAT team.

Gripping around the throat of one guy with his arm, he used him as a human shield as another one fired at him, emptying his clip. Spaghetti then wrung the shield's neck around, the uncomfortable break of bones echoing in my ears. Next thing I knew, he had drawn his own gun and was gunning down two others, each with a single, perfected shot to their heads. They dropped like flies.

Finally, the fog lifted enough for me to get a clear shot, and so aiming, I pulled my trigger. Spaghetti roared and whipped around when my bullet imbedded itself in his arm. He quickly pulled off his mask and let a smirk rise to his lips. "There you are.'

"Here I am," I chimed and pulled my triggers again. I fired at him and he instantly ducked, pounding his feet against the wall, before making a 360 flip in the air, landing on his knees, before doing a barrel roll. Show-off.

I refilled my guns with a swift move and clapped the mags against my thighs to secure them before firing again. Spaghetti took out another SWAT guy, breaking his arm around his back before thrusting his elbow into his shoulder, making it pop out of the socket. He then provided him with a bullet-shaped hole in his head as well.

Then there was just me and one other SWAT guy left. Based on the white noise I heard in my earpiece, nobody else was coming to my aid, either.

- Looked like I was going to have to take this jackass out myself. I felt myself smirk a little. I wanted it that way, anyway.

Spaghetti finished the last SWAT guy while I fired at him, landing a bullet in his shin as well. He hissed and growled at me, before throttling the SWAT guy's dead body into the ground. Then he was coming for me fast, a slight limp to his pace. I noticed he had a few wounds and cuts here and there, but other than that, he rocked his tight black kevlar outfit like a boss.

Throwing my now empty Glocks on the ground, I pulled my automatic and pressed the trigger. Spaghetti quickly moved, jumping up and around to avoid my rabid firing. Did the guy have reflexes like a goddamn ninja or was he just as fast as a cheetah? Both, apparently. His size didn't slow him down, that was for sure. I unloaded my entire clip on him, only managing to graze him twice, before he leaped for me, taking me down. I cried loudly when his weight pounded me down and pinned me to the floor. My gun in my pants jabbed into my spine.

"Good to see you again, dolcezza," Spaghetti smirked at me from above, closing in on my face. "Did you miss me?"

Sneering at him, I used the element of surprise and wrapped my legs around his waist before knocking my head powerfully into his skull. The move did its job well when he groaned and rolled back, giving me the opportunity to roll him off and pin him beneath me instead. Grabbing the blade from the clip on my thigh, I flipped the blade downwards and made a stab at him. Spaghetti quickly stopped my blow before impact and wired my wrist around, making me holler in pain and drop the blade.

"That wasn't very nice. Not very lady-like."

"Oh yeah? How about this then?" I punched him harshly across his jaw, whipping his head to the side. When I hit again, he caught my other fist and clenched his big paw around it.

"God, I love that in a woman." He chuckled and then forcefully rolled me over on my stomach and pinned my hands on the floor next to my face. "Violence."

Hissing and curling my lip back at him, I felt as he then yanked us to our feet, keeping me locked tightly on his grip. He was wrying my arm around on my back like he had done back in my apartment yesterday, and my arm was still aching from nearly getting thrown off a van. I bit back my pain. "Then why don't you let me go and allow me to give you what you love."

"I wish I could, but unfortunately I have some other business on my agenda today," He answered and leaned down to my ear. Hell, I could feel his goddamn cocky smirk. "But I'd like your company while I take care of it, so shall we?"

I gritted my teeth as he pushed me forward. He led us up to the data room's door, which was locked with a thumbprint reader.

"I need your signature, sweetheart."

"Yeah? Well my signature is a bullet to your ****, followed by a bullet through your yap."

"Mmm, coldhearted. I can't wait to taste your little bullet," His mouth grazed my ear as he grabbed my wrist and forced my thumb out. Despite my struggle, he managed to press it against the pad. The lamp lit up green and the door unlocked.

This was so not good.

Grinding my teeth as I tried to think of a new plan, Spaghetti walked us inside the data room where the motion sensor lights flipped on and revealed the giant super computer which stored all our most top secret files and data. Every secret known to our country was right there for him to take, provided he knew how to pass about fifty firewalls.

"Why are you doing this?" I snapped at him as he forced me forward, leading me up to a metal pillar that connected to the ceiling. I struggled to get free, but his iron grip just tightened and threatened to pop my shoulder out of its socket. I bit back more pain.

"Come now, that's such a cliché question," He mused. He then whirled me around and within seconds had a pair of army-grade cuffs linked around my wrists which he also cinched around the metal pillar. He locked me up against it.

I really was screwed. "Fine, I'll rephrase myself then; Are you sure you want to do this?"

"There are so many things I want to do right now, and non of them involve stealing confidential files." He said and fished out the gun from my pants and looked at it before disarming it. "A Taurus? Interesting choice. Do you have a 9mm in your boot as well, then?"

He smirked at me and brushed my chin with his thumb. I jerked my head away from him which only made his smirk grow. He then proceeded to crouch down to my boot and pull out my pocket pistol, emptying it for bullets.

"I was right. You're old-school. What else are you hiding?" He smirked.

When his hand brushed up against my inner thigh, I glared deadly down at him. "Felt enough now?"

"Not even close."

Jerking again, I cursed when he begun frisking me from my weapons, unsheathing all my blades from my thigh-clip and unfastening my ammo belt. His calloused hands then ran up my sides, inching up to my breasts.

"You think I'm hiding a gun between my boobs?" I sneered when he brushed over them, feeling them up real good. Too good. He was enjoying this. And I feared a twisted part of me was, too. Good God, I shouldn't be.

"I am most certain that you are." He grinned, dipping into my cleavage, purposely scorching me with his touch before fishing out my pink, miniature snapnose .38 police gun. "Cute. Are the bullets pink as well?"

"Asshole," I growled while he rolled the

bullets out of the barrel, letting them drop to the floor. "I'm going to kick your Italian *** into tender meat once I get out of these."

"So by your definition, my *** is currently firm?"

Goddamn it! He grinned sexily at me, but then took a step back and walked up the super computer

"You'll never get into it, you know," I confidently said. "That computer is guarded with more firewalls and encryptions than the amount of bullet shells that's carpeting the hall outside. You won't ever get into it."

"That's why I brought this guy." He told and took a seat in the lush chair in front of the computer and then pulled out a USB from his pocket, inserting it into the PC. After pressing a few keys, a window popped up on the computer screen which then started loading a black text. A virus. Probably one that was set to infiltrate it.

I cursed loudly and started yanking at the restrains, almost dislocating my own arms to get free. I ignored the amused smirk that twitched on Spaghetti's lips as he begun cracking the computer's firewalls. "You fucking shitpiece! I'm going to kill you once I get out of these!"

He just chuckled and pressed Enter, then let the computer work by itself. He then unzipped a small pocket on his protective vest and pulled out a small kit; A tweezer, a thick, black thread and a needle. "I think you already tried. Not many people can brag about having landed a bullet in me, mia cara.' "

"No shit. I'll be expecting my honorary medal in my P.O box within the next three days."

He shook his head with a smile as he pulled up his long sleeve, inspecting the bleeding bullet wound I had given him, just above his elbow. "How about I drop it off in person?"

"You mean breaking into my apartment again?"

"I miss Bob."

"Stop talking about Bob."

He chuckled silently before he picked up the tweezer. Next thing I knew, he was twisting it into his bullet wound, digging for the slug. He hissed and cursed, letting out a sound that was close to a groan of pain. I enjoyed almost a full minute of hearing that. Finally, he pulled the bullet out with an exhale and held it into the light. ".36-caliber?"

"38".

"Nice," He put the bullet down on the table and pulled out a cotton ball from his pocket, pressing it to the wound which was still leaking crimson. "You like your guns deadly."

"Same goes for you," I voiced while the computer was still running its virus, now pulling up files, sifting through them. Shit, he actually got through. "You killed a lot of good men today."

"They were pointing their guns at me."

"They had families."

"So do I," He replied, now threading the needle with the thick, black thread. "They chose this profession, they knew the risks."

"Who's coldhearted now?"

His lips twitched again. Then he began piercing the needle through his skin, grimacing a little. He pulled the thread through and repeated the process, sewing up the wound. "I follow my orders, mia cara. Just like you do.

Grinding my molars, I just watched him for a moment while he stitched up his bullet hole, biting the thread at last, before pressing the cotton bud to the now closed wound. He then rolled down his sleeve and turned to the computer again.

I finally lost my patience. "What is it that you guys want?"

"Something we believe has crucial information regarding our sweet nation.

Something we believe you originally stole from us."

"Well if we confiscated it, it obviously threatened our nation and was believed to be harmful," I countered, watching him concentrate on the computer. "Did you ever think we took it because you were the ones who started this feud?"

"I don't care who started what, dolcezza. I'm just following my commands and then some," He abruptly stood up from the chair and walked up to me. His dark brown eyes met mine and he leaned down, brushed a strand of my hair out of my face, a strand that had escaped my ponytail. "I liked the ***** you were wearing the other day. Do you always strip down when you get home or was that just for me?"

I scowled up at him and jerked my head away when he tried to brush my cheek. "I'm so going to enjoy killing you, Spaghetti. It's going to be slow, calm and painful."

He chuckled and ripped my ponytail apart, combing his fingers through my hair. "The name is Vincenzo, mia cara, and I prefer fast, wild and pleasurable."

Growling and thrashing as he pushed my chin up, he once again crashed his lips onto mine. Gripping roughly onto the roots of my hair, he kept my lips firmly pressed against his. The same sensation as the first time it happened went through me, and I struggled to maintain my cool. He was intoxicating, wild, raw. Everything I loved in the male specie.

Writhing, I suppressed a moan when he pressed his other hand to my lower back, forcing my hips forward. I felt his unmistakable erection rub against my pelvis, causing all kinds of misplaced things to happen in my panties. My body was on fire, scorched by his touch. My lips parted on their own accord and I cursed my brain for acting without my permission. He took that window of opportunity to ****** his tongue into my mouth and tear my world apart. There was no way back now.

I was helpless, but it was the best kind of helpless I'd ever known.

Moaning out a hot breath, I couldn't resist him any longer. I rawly kissed him back, meeting the thrusts of his tongue with my own. With no hands to touch him, I simply just angled my head up to get more of the toxic thrill he was poisoning my body with, allowing it to course through my body.

Smirking satisfied with my surrender, Vincenzo victoriously moved his hand lower to my ***. Cupping my buttocks, he squeezed it and I moaned. He then abruptly pulled away from me, grabbing my throat. "Vaffanculo. You are going to be a perfect conquest, Rya Wilkins. I can't wait to have you writhing beneath me."

All the toxins in my body now vanished and I realized suddenly what I had just fucking done; I had willingly kissed the guy back who had broken into the CIA and killed a bunch of good men, not to mention he was currently stealing confidential files from the USA. I had all but submitted to him just now, allowed myself to be manipulated by the enemy.

"You fucking SHIT!" I screamed, not knowing exactly if I was talking to him or myself. Thrashing wildly against his hold and my restraints, I glared lethally up at, thunder blazing in my eyes. "I'll fucking kill you! Take these goddamn cuffs off me and take me on like a fucking man! DO IT!"

But Vincenzo just smirked and shook his head, then walked up to the computer again which was now flashing something. Probably telling it was done doing whatever it was doing. "Bella mia, I can't wait to take you on. In fact you have no idea how hard it is to walk away from you right now, but as of five minutes ago..." He confessed and checked the digital clock on his wrist, "Sorry, six, your secondary standby SWAT team entered the area and is coming for me and..." He pulled the USB out of the computer and held it up. "...this. So unfortunately, I have to go."

Glaring at him, I watched as he stood up and then checked his guns before walking up to the door, making ready to exit. "So you're just going to leave me here then? Didn't peck you for a coward, Vincenzo," I spat out his name. Yes, I was antagonizing him, but what other choice did I have? I was chained to a pillar and he was about to walk out of here with state secrets. I I couldn't let that happen.

"We'll meet again, Rya," He promised me, smirking over his shoulder as he gripped the doorknob. "Tell Bob I said hi."

And like that, he ran off, and it didn't take long before I heard gunshots from further down the hall, the same we had come from. I thrashed against the army-grade cuffs again, but it was useless. He had gotten away.

Monroe was going to have a field day.

...

***Thoughts on Rya***?