Stolen Goods (To Catch a Thief Book 2)

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Stolen Goods (To Catch a Thief Book 2) Page 8

by Kay Marie


  Jo paused, letting her words sink in.

  Thad rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, not sure what to say, how to explain. He’d never forget the day his world turned upside down—the day his future shattered like broken glass, leaving only fractured pieces of him behind. Thad had been a senior in college, a few weeks from graduation with a fancy degree in the fine arts, ready to take on the world. The pain of his father’s passing had bolstered his creativity—life had become canvases and paint and losing himself in the process. But the work was good, really good, good enough his teacher had agreed to show it to a friend who owned a gallery downtown. One buyer could be the start of everything—of all his dreams coming to fruition. Looking back, he should’ve known it was too good to be true. After a particularly long day in the studio, he’d opened the door to his dorm and stopped cold, senses tingling. Someone was there, hiding in the folds of darkness. Before Thad could react, a hand grabbed his shirt and pulled him against a hard chest, then the icy barrel of a gun pressed to his forehead.

  Don’t make a sound, came a guttural voice from the shadows.

  He’d been a different person back then—a boy, not a man. Up until that day, life-or-death situations had been stories his father and Robert shared across the dinner table, memories of the good old days. He and Jo had listened, rolling their eyes, making faces that spoke volumes. They learned how to con and how to thieve, how to pick locks and sneak across a room in perfect silence, how to hide in plain sight or spot the ideal getaway, but it had been a game. It had never been real, not until that moment, with a gun to his head and true criminals looking at him with murder in their eyes. Thad froze, too afraid to breathe as the man slowly closed the door, turned on the light, and proceeded to ruin his life.

  Apparently, his father had never given up the life of crime, the way he’d told Thad, Robert, and Jo he had. They had millions in the bank, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. Not even his own son was enough to replace the high of a good heist. So when Robert decided to slow down, Thad’s father went behind his partner’s back and started working with the Russian mafia instead. He got in deep, too deep to get out. When he tried to run, they killed him—messed with the brakes in his car, causing the crash that left him brain dead. Thad listened, heart pounding, as these men explained with no remorse, no emotion, that they would do the same to Jo if he didn’t finish what his father had started. The image of her in a hospital bed, fingers limp, chest rising and falling solely because of the ventilator tube snaked into her lungs, was impossible to process. Thad dropped out of school that night. He caught the first plane to the Bahamas. When he got there, one shared glance with Robert was all it took. They would do this thing, together, to keep Jo safe. Nothing else mattered.

  I guess my mother was right, Thad thought, remembering her parting words from so many years ago, etched onto his heart. My father left me a legacy of death and destruction. He built the bars that caged me in. And I turned out no better.

  He blinked.

  Slowly, the musty room and the soft breathing in his ear came back into focus. Only a few seconds had passed, but the world was different. Because Jo knew everything—all the horrible things he’d been a part of, the evil men he’d helped—and she would never look at him the same way again.

  “I’m not sorry, Jo,” he said slowly, turning his back to Addison, as though somehow that might stop her from hearing. “Things were never supposed to go this far. You were never supposed to be involved, and I’m sorry for that, I’m sorry for dragging you in and I’m sorry for lying and I hate what happened to Robert, you know I do, but I’m not sorry for what I did. I’d do it again to keep you safe. And I know your father would say the same, if he could.”

  Jo hesitated for a moment. She swallowed and then paused, but he knew what was coming. He could perfectly imagine the scowl passing over her always emotive face. “You’re an idiot.”

  He snorted into the receiver. Classic Jo, straight to the point. But he was grateful for the response—grateful for the way it told him, so casually, that nothing had changed.

  “You were both idiots,” Jo continued, undeterred. “What you were doing with the Russians, why you got involved, why you made that ridiculous arrangement. I can’t believe you were both so stupid, so naïve, so…so…so—”

  “Downright noble?”

  She growled over the line. “I could throttle you right now.”

  “I know,” he teased gently, rolling his shoulders. This was easier, better—the banter, the play. This was them, Thad and Jo, partners despite it all. “That’s why I made the call from four states away instead of sneaking into your cushy new apartment to deliver the news in person.”

  “What news?” she asked. “And how do you know about my apartment?”

  “The paparazzi might be pains in the ass, but they’re good for one thing,” he drawled, sparing a moment to glance at Addison again. She was sitting on the bed, palms patiently folded in her lap, mouth pursed as she tried to follow the conversation, even as her head was turned slightly to the side as though to hide her eavesdropping. He couldn’t blame her. If Thad were in her shoes, he’d be grasping at every hint of information. “Or have you not been watching the evening news?”

  Jo sighed. “I try my best to avoid the TV.”

  “According to whatever radio station I was listening to, you and a Federal Agent Nate Parker are secretly engaged and plan to elope once the trials are over. When’s the big day? Can I send a gift?”

  “Oh, Thad, I know you don’t believe that crap,” Jo snapped. The little bit of patience she possessed had clearly worn thin. “What are you not telling me?”

  Hmm…where to begin?

  He decided to start on the path of least resistance. “I accidentally kidnapped your friend.”

  “You what?”

  “Here me out,” he interjected before she could shriek into the phone again. “I knew the Feds and Russians would be watching you, waiting for me to initiate contact, so I thought the best way to stay under the radar would be to establish communication through a third party.”

  “Naturally,” she muttered in agreement.

  “I had to flee New York, so I couldn’t try to get to your other friend who lives in Manhattan. What’s her name?”

  “McKenzie,” Jo and Addison said at the same time.

  Thad tossed Addison an amused glance. She shrugged back, a delightful challenge in her gaze, no longer pretending indifference now that the conversation was clearly about her. “Right, so I came south instead to find Addison, but there was a little hiccup—”

  “What’d you do?” Jo cut in.

  Thad rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t my fault. I swear.”

  “Thad.”

  “Jo.”

  “Thad.”

  “Jo, really. I lost the Russians back in New York. I’m absolutely positive they weren’t following me.”

  “Thaddeus Ryder, if you don’t spit it out right now, I swear I’ll—”

  “Okay, okay,” he grumbled and cast another glance at Addison, who seemed to have perked up a bit upon hearing Jo’s reproachful tone coming through the other end of the receiver. Her spine was a little straighter. Her chin was arched a little higher. Thad dropped his shoulders, resigned. “I went into her shop to try to steal her cell phone for a few minutes, but somehow the Russians were there, guns blazing. I managed to get both of us away, but the only way I could think to keep your friend safe was to take her with me. So, I did. She screamed, then she cried, and now we’re stationed in a cheap motel until I figure out my next move.”

  A heavy, prolonged sigh came through the line. “Is that all?”

  Thad winced. “Unless the Russians had backup I didn’t see, there’s at least one dead body we left behind in that cake shop. So…I’m guessing the story will be picked up by the major news outlets sometime in, oh, let’s say the next ten hours.”

  “What?” Addison finally found her voice, barely a squeak.

&
nbsp; Thad tossed her an apologetic look. “Better than the alternative.”

  “Being home safe and sound in my bed?”

  “No,” Thad answered, already hating himself for the words about to come through his lips. But she was too sweet already—she wouldn’t survive more sugarcoating. “Being dead.”

  Addison gulped.

  “Was that really necessary?” Jo snapped over the line.

  “Yes,” Thad said, even as his chest pinched tight. He looked away from the woman sitting quietly on the bed, shoulders hunched in, face down, bottom lip pulled between her teeth with uncertainty. “Because I don’t think the Russians were following me. I think they were watching her. And a hundred bucks says they have men on your friend McKenzie too. Men who might be prompted into action now that I’ve slipped through their fingers again.”

  “Shit, Thad. Shit!”

  “I know. I didn’t mean—”

  “You never do,” she interrupted, voice whipping him like a lash against the skin, burning.

  She was right. He didn’t mean for chaos to follow him, but follow him it did, and he was tired of taking everyone he loved down with him. “Jo Jo…”

  “I need to tell Nate,” she continued, not acknowledging the subtle plea in his words. “He’ll know what to do. He’ll—”

  “You can’t, Jo.” His heart flared as panic zipped down his spine. Panic and a little something else too, something suspiciously like doubt, because for the first time he didn’t know what Jo would do, whose side she’d take. For the first time in his life, he wasn’t completely sure he could trust her. “No Feds. Not yet. Not until—”

  He cut himself off, wincing.

  Static stretched between them. Static and silence.

  Until Jo finally spoke, in a voice so dark he hardly recognized it. “Not until what, Thad?”

  This isn’t how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to apologize, and Jo was supposed to forgive him, and they were supposed to share a tearful goodbye and promise to somehow see each other soon. God, nothing is going according to plan today. Nothing!

  Thad shuffled his jaw back and forth for a moment, not sure how much to say. But in the end, he wanted to be truthful, because he’d been so dishonest already. “Not until I get south of the border.”

  “You’re running.”

  “What other choice do I have?”

  “You could confess.” Her tone was hopeful, optimistic, more trusting than Thad deserved. “The Feds gave me a deal. I’m sure Nate could help work something out for you, even if it’s just for me. They’re desperate for an eyewitness to put on the stand during trial, and you’re the only chance they’ve got. You could come forward. You could turn yourself in. You could end this, Thad. You could—”

  “Rot in a jail cell the rest of my life?” He wasn’t under any illusions of grandeur. The only reason Jo’s Fed had been able to get her a deal was because she’d been in the dark—about the Russians, about the mob crimes, about all of it except the art theft. Thad wasn’t so innocent. He’d known what he’d been doing. He’d done it willingly. There was no judge or prosecutor in the country who would let him walk away unscathed.

  “It wouldn’t have to be like that…” But it would. They both knew it would. Not even Jo, with her cheery disposition and know-it-all attitude, could hide the doubt in her tone.

  “I just need a couple of days.”

  “And then what, Thad? You’ll live the rest of your life alone, somewhere far away where I’ll never get to see you again, always looking over your shoulder, waiting for the jig to be up? What sort of a life is that?”

  “The one I’m resigned to.”

  She sighed—an exasperated sound he’d heard many times before. “Look, I get it, Thad. I was running too, running from the secrets I knew you and Dad were hiding, secrets I never wanted to uncover. But then I stopped. I turned around. I faced the truth, and my life is so much better now. Yours could be too. Yeah, you might have to do some time. But those awful men you were working with would be behind bars too, and you would have put them there. Don’t you see the justice in that? I’m sure Nate could help get you a reduced sentence, and once it was over, you’d be free. No cloud hanging over your shoulder. No fear. You’d be free to turn your life around. To paint. To do whatever you want. To be the person you were meant to be, the person I know you are.”

  Thad squeezed his eyes tight, fighting the beautiful dream swirling to life in his thoughts—of the future he always wanted, the future he could have had if his choices had been different. But the dream was just that—a mirage, a fruitless hope that would never be real. He hadn’t told Jo what truly terrified him about the idea of turning himself in. There was no telling the lengths the Russians would go to in order to shut him up. There was no telling what they’d do, who they’d go after, and who’d get caught in the crosshairs. Thad had no intention of finding out the answer.

  “Think about it, Thaddy,” Jo pressed softly.

  He ran his hand through his hair, turning away from Addison, from Jo, from the world. He didn’t belong there, with them, in the light. He wanted to crawl away, to hide in the shadows, where he wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone anymore. “Jo.”

  “Fine, Thad,” Jo cut in, voice losing its gentleness and gaining a sharp edge. Now this was a Jo he recognized—prepared to fight, refusing to back down, playing dirty the way they both knew how. “Don’t think about yourself or your life. Lord knows you never have before. Think about the people you’ll be leaving behind. The Russians knew about Addison and McKenzie—do you really think they don’t know about Emma too? Aren’t watching her right now? Aren’t waiting for the right time to make their move and force you out of hiding?”

  Thad sucked in a sharp breath.

  Of course he’d thought about Emma. He’d never stopped thinking about Emma. What to tell her. What to say. How to explain. Which was why he’d planned to swing by Arizona on his way south of the border, a long-overdue visit. But he’d never stopped to wonder if someone else would get there first.

  Fuck!

  Of course the Russians knew about Emma. The Feds too, probably. They’d have to be idiots not to. But it was okay. She’d be safe. He’d figure out a way to keep her safe.

  “Jo—”

  “You know I’m right,” she charged, never one to relent when victory was within sight. “The only way to keep her safe is to put these guys away for good, is to end this. And you’re the only person who can do that, Thad.”

  “I’ll find a way to keep Emma safe, another way,” he argued, though the words sounded weak even to him. But turning himself in wasn’t the answer. “I’ll— I’ll figure something out.”

  “There’s no other way, Thad.”

  “There is.” There’s got to be. He just hadn’t seen it yet. But if there was an escape route, he’d find it. He’d never found a corner he couldn’t squeeze out of before, and he’d be damned if he was going to start now. “Just give me a few days, please, before you go to the Feds. That’s all I ask.”

  Jo sighed, a resigned sound. “Fine. But promise me you’ll keep Addy safe in the meantime? That you won’t let her out of your sight?”

  “I promise.” He’d promise her anything for a little bit of precious time to figure out a plan. “I promise.”

  “I’ll tell Nate my computer got hacked, that the Russians were reading my chat. He’ll send someone after McKenzie, but that’ll mean the Feds will be notified about Addy a lot sooner than you’d been hoping. The reporters will probably get to the story a lot faster too.”

  “That’s fine.” He waved away the concern. “We’ve already gone underground.”

  “I figured as much.” A motor-like sound rumbled in his ears—Jo blowing a strained puff of air through her clearly pursed lips. “Put Addy on the phone. But Thad?”

  “What?” He half sighed the word.

  “This isn’t over.” An ominous promise pierced those words. “Not by a long shot.”

  Biting his
tongue to keep from firing back, he turned toward Addison and offered her the phone.

  - 10 -

  Addison

  Addy’s mind whirled with all the information she’d overheard—jail time, and the Feds, and Russian mobsters. But her focus was maddeningly pinned on one word and one word alone. Who the heck is Emma?

  “Jo wants to talk to you,” Thad murmured as he extended the phone in her direction.

  Addy jolted, the sound of his voice pulling her from her thoughts, and jumped for the phone, snatching it from his hands.

  “Jo?” she asked, tone unnaturally high and laced with panic. She never cursed. Never. But if there was ever a time to start, this was it. “Jo? What the hell is going on?”

  “Addy!” Jo exclaimed, sounding exactly the way Addy always imagined she would. Cheerful and confident, energetic and infectious, but most of all, loud. Not in an annoying way. In an enthusiastic way, as though her whole body were a bubbling volcano of thoughts and emotions, and every time she opened her mouth, they came bursting out, full of life. The sound put a smile on Addy’s face, because this was Jo. The Jo she’d always pictured in her head. The Jo she recognized. “Oh my God, Addy, I can’t believe— Thad is such a— This is— Are you all right?”

  Addy opened her mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Was she all right? I’m in a cheap motel with the most wanted man in America. One of my closest friends is a completely different person than I thought. Members of the Russian mafia have apparently been following me for God knows how long and tried to kill me last night. Or kidnap me. Or…I don’t know. Something. No. I’m pretty sure I’m not all right… She swallowed. “I’m…alive?”

  “Ugh, God, I’m such an ass. Of course you’re not all right! But you will be. I promise. Thad will take good care of you. He’s not as much of an idiot as he seems, and he’s nothing like the man the news is trying to portray. He’s protective and caring. And, well, he knows I’ll hunt him down and murder him if anything happens to you, so there’s that too.”

 

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