Stolen Goods (To Catch a Thief Book 2)

by Kay Marie

  The word was entirely insufficient, and yet, she couldn’t think of anything else to say. Because, well… “Wow.”

  And that was enough.

  For the first time in her life, Addy’s mind was blank. There were no dreams weaving or visions spinning. This, right now, was better than anything her mind could’ve imagined. She and Thad stood side by side with interlaced pinky fingers. They stared at the endless valleys and peaks, the endless gradations in color, the endless stretch, and just were. Two people at the edge of the world.

  “Should we move on to the next lookout?” Thad’s voice pulled her back to those two feet planted firmly on solid ground. “It’s getting a little crowded.”

  The wary lilt to his voice caught her attention more than his words. It was the only reason she reluctantly pulled her gaze away to study him. Thad wasn’t looking at the view. He turned his head to subtly stare at the group of people walking toward them, freshly disembarking from a tour bus. The muscles along the side of his jaw clenched. His biceps felt rigid against the side of her arm. She realized, in that moment, exactly how much of a sacrifice he’d made in bringing her here, in making this seemingly simple wish come true.

  How had she never considered the risk?

  For three days, it had been just the two of them in a car. Stops for gas were short and tense. Meals were drive-thru, never sit down. Addy had grown used to the quiet.

  But the Grand Canyon was loud.

  Not in the literal sense. Sounds were swallowed up by the massive expanse, lost to the wind and the deep ravines and the vast, open sky. And that was all she’d been thinking about the entire way here. She’d forgotten entirely about the people, the many tourists like them flocking to see the view. The many watchful eyes. Of course, they were watching the canyons—but it would only take one, one in a hundred, one in a thousand, to recognize Thad, or her, and everything would be over.

  He must have known. That was why he’d donned a disguise. Why he’d made her lie down while they drove through the main welcome area. Why he’d been contemplative most of the way here. A seasoned vet would’ve thought of all this before arriving. But to Addy, the sudden shot of nerves was real.

  “Yeah, let’s get back to the car.”

  She spun on her heels, ticking her head back and forth, fighting the sense that there were eyes on her back, a creepy-crawling feeling that scratched at her spine.

  “Relax,” Thad leaned down and whispered. He snaked their arms together, interweaving their fingers, then squeezed. “Just enjoy yourself. I’ll worry about the rest.”

  As they drove to six more lookouts, she tried to simply have fun. Though she trusted him to keep them safe, it was hard. Every time he decided to stay behind in the car or told her to ignore him or left the viewing area early, the fear pricked, reminding her this wasn’t just a road trip and they weren’t just two people. They were fugitives. Well, at least one of them was. And right now, the whole country was looking for them.

  “Are you coming?” Addy asked, biting back her words the second she saw the mass of people standing at the rim of the crater, straining for a spot to see.

  “I’ll wait in the car,” Thad said, no sign of displeasure in his voice, only support. “You go. Must be a good spot.”

  Addy exited with a sigh.

  I’m such an idiot. This whole time, she’d still been stuck in a dream. Pretending. Always pretending. And yet, she wasn’t ready for it to be over—whatever it was. Especially not like this, worried and hyperaware and so far from Thad.

  She glanced over her shoulder.

  He waved encouragingly from the car, shooing her onward.

  No. This wasn’t how I imagined it at all. She stepped up to the rail, bumping shoulders with someone next to her. Maybe it was the fresh air blowing into her face or the enormous natural wonder stretched out before her, making her feel small, but a sudden clarity filled her mind. I can fix it.

  She blinked, gripping the metal, missing the feel of Thad’s pinky finger entwined with hers, a gesture so small, yet powerful enough to fill her with yearning.

  I can fix this.

  The idea was simple.

  Have a problem? Do something to change it.

  But self-sufficiency had never been Addy’s strong suit. Her motto was more, have a problem? Wait for someone to come by who might solve it for you. And how had that worked out? She was twenty-five. Alone. Living in the shadow of her dreams. Staring out at those awe-inspiring canyons, Addy saw her entire life splayed out before her—each layer of sedimentary rock a new road not taken, a new thought overturned. She realized something she’d never realized before, not in all those hours in the kitchen dreaming up meet-cutes as she mixed batter, imagining foreign adventures as she rolled fondant, pondering names for her own bakery as she piped buttercream swirls. All those princesses she loved so much had never waited for their princes to find them. They sought out adventure. They fought for their dreams. Cinderella got her butt to that ball. Ariel found a way to grow legs. Jasmine snuck out of her palace in the middle of the night. Hell, Belle faced a freaking beast. If they could do all of that, surely Addy could find some way to turn this day around, to stifle the fear and regain the anticipation—the wonder and beauty and awe of that first glance, before reality had come crashing through.

  She straightened her spine and scanned the lookout, resolve more potent than it had ever been before. Her gaze stopped on the park ranger twenty feet away. An idea sparked. She didn’t think, didn’t stop, she just did, remembering all the little things she’d learned from Thad.

  Don’t act nervous. If I act nervous, he’ll get nervous.

  People are more likely to believe stories they come up with on their own.

  Don’t deny the obvious, confront it.

  Strike while the iron is hot.

  Confidence breeds success.

  “Hi,” she said, gaining the ranger’s attention. Her voice didn’t waver even as the heat in her chest spiked, and she stared directly in his eyes—doing the one thing Thad told her not to, but in this moment, it felt right. Felt expected, like doing anything else would be odd. “I was wondering if you could help me with something?”

  “Sure, miss,” he said, nodding. Then his eyes narrowed. He studied her face, brows pushing together, head tilting slightly to the side. “You look like—”

  “Zooey Deschanel?” Addy interrupted, rolling her eyes dramatically. “I get that a lot. But like, a smaller, slightly rounder version.”

  “What can I help you with?” He shifted his weight and leaned a little closer, still uncertain. “Are you okay?”

  The concern in his tone was obvious. Addy ignored it, bringing a wide smile to her lips. “Of course. My husband and I, ugh, we’re such idiots. We forgot to get a camping spot, and I saw that they were all full, so we’re not sure where to sleep. I was wondering if you had any ideas? We have a tent and all the right gear, just nowhere to go.”

  “Oh.” He blinked, and immediately the suspicion vanished from his face. This was a problem he’d heard a million times before. An easy fix. A solution he could roll off the tongue with hardly a thought. “Well, yeah, the campsites fill up quick. A lot of people don’t realize how far in advance you have to reserve them, and how fast the first-come, first-served spots fill up. What I usually recommend, if you have the proper gear, is to go outside the national park. A lot of people don’t realize that camping at Kaibab, the national forest you drove through to get to the park, is free. You don’t need a permit the way you do here. You can set up camp pretty much anywhere.” He paused to look at her sundress, clearly not ideal hiking attire. “Though, for those with limited experience, we recommend sticking close to the trails and designated areas. For safety, of course.”

  “Of course,” Addy agreed, nodding along enthusiastically. “And would any of those areas have a view? I just…” She paused to gaze longingly at the canyons, letting a little bit of truth come out. Didn’t the best lies always have a little bit of
realness to them? “I’ve been waiting my whole life to come to the Grand Canyon, and the idea of sleeping with a view…” She sighed, shaking her head, then turned back to the ranger. “Well, that’s the dream, isn’t it?”

  - 19 -

  Thad

  “Where are we going?” Thad drawled.

  He hated surprises. Loathed them. In his line of work, surprises were bad—to be avoided at all costs. The name of the game was to plan for every alternative, to envision every possibility, to never be taken off guard. Yet, when Addison had walked back to the car with a shit-eating grin across her lips, telling Thad she had one, he stupidly agreed to go along with it. She’d seemed so proud, and so peppy, he didn’t want to burst her bubble. Now, they were deep in the woods, driving a road to God only knew where, as the sun made a rapid descent toward the ground.

  “We’re almost there. It should be right around the— Oh! There it is!” She pointed enthusiastically out the windshield, but all he saw was an old metal tower that looked about one windstorm away from toppling over.

  “There what is?” He pulled over by the side of the dirt road, in what appeared to be a makeshift parking lot, though there wasn’t another car or soul around.

  “The surprise!” Her joy was infectious, like glitter spilled across a wood floor, sinking through every crack and making the dark shadows shine. “A place where we can enjoy the view, together, without worrying about the crowds. The ranger said it’s much sturdier than it looks.”

  “You sure about that?” He arched a brow.

  Addison looked up at the metal structure and swallowed. “Of course.”

  Thad stared at her.

  She stared right back.

  “Oh, come on.” Addison finally broke. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid. It’s only about an hour until sunset—if we want to go, we have to go now.”

  “Fine, fine,” Thad said.

  Addison vaulted from the car and took off across the grass, leaving Thad little choice but to follow. They passed a guardhouse that appeared to be empty, walked under an old trail marker, and started to climb. And climb. And climb. The metal steps were steep, almost like ladders, with grates that gave glimpses of the ground far, far below. The tower lacked walls, so the wind whipped against their skin, cool yet welcome. Addison used one hand to clutch at her skirt and the other to hold on for dear life.

  “I’m not looking, I promise,” Thad teased, though he had inadvertently gotten a glimpse of pink lace panties the last time he’d glanced up. The sight almost sent him reeling over the edge as it burned into his mind. He’d kept his gaze down after that, studying his feet and the steps, meaning he had no idea how far they’d climbed or how far left they had to go. Not until he heard Addison groan.

  “Oh no!”

  “What?” Thad asked, keeping his eyes on the ground a hundred feet below, pausing halfway up the current stretch of steps.

  “The little cabin up top is closed. There’s no way in.”

  He shrugged. “That’s okay.”

  “No, it’s not,” she complained, using a tone he wasn’t used to, something dejected and dismayed, as though a hundred little dreams were hanging on this moment, and now they were all crashing down to the tree line below.

  “Addison,” Thad said, cautiously lifting his gaze. He froze when it landed on the horizon. “Addison, look.”

  “What?” she muttered.

  Thad quickly climbed to the platform where she stood. They didn’t need to break into the cabin at the top of the watchtower. Where they were—it was enough. It was more than enough. Thad gently placed his palms on her shoulders and spun her around, smiling at her sharp intake of breath. They were in their own world, floating above the trees, with miles and miles of forest splayed out before them, stretching as far as the eyes could see. The canyon glistened in the distance like a river of molten amber. The rays of the setting sun turned the rock to flame, igniting the horizon, so dazzling and brilliant against the darkening blue it was impossible to look away.

  “Oh, Thad,” Addison murmured and turned in his arms. “It’s—”

  As soon as her gaze landed on his face, a smile widened her lips and she clamped down to keep from bursting with laughter. Her eyes twinkled with mirth as she reached up, tugged the wig from his head, and tossed it over the edge. They both watched it flutter in the wind as it dropped all the way down, then landed in the dirt with a little explosion of dust.

  “I can’t take you seriously with that thing on. Or, well, this,” she muttered, tugging on the collar he’d forgotten was still popped. “Or these.” Addison pulled the glasses from his eyes, easing them slowly over the ridge of his nose, until they were staring at each other, nowhere to hide, no material in between. She lifted her palm to his face and brushed her thumb over the stubble covering his jaw. The tips of her fingers teased, barely grazing the back of his neck. “I just want to be here with you.”

  Why? he wanted to ask, but the word wouldn’t come. It sat in his throat, heavy and thick, stuck through with doubt and fear and all the other things he kept buried inside.

  Instead, he looked away, looked back to the sky. “Let’s sit.”

  Thad stepped back, bringing much-needed distance between them, as he sank to the metal grate beneath their feet. The platform was small, so he scooted all the way back and leaned against the ladder to the top, stretching his legs out before him. His feet poked a little past the edge. Addison took the open spot beside him, curling her knees into her chest as she leaned into his side and placed her head on his shoulder. Together, they watched the sun lower. Indigo shadows curled up from the depths of the canyons while the top layers burned a fiery orange, brighter and brighter as the world gradually darkened. The trees swayed gently, creating a soothing hum of rustling pines, broken by the occasional bird call or gentle whistle of the wind. The ground may as well have been miles away. Reality too. All Thad felt was the warm head on his shoulder and the steady beat of the pulse beneath his skin, a more soothing, peaceful feeling than any he could remember.

  “How would you paint this?” Addison asked.

  “I don’t know,” he answered honestly. He’d been wondering the same thing—studying the bends in the lights and the gradations of color, trying to discern how best to capture this moment in a way that would transfer. “I could paint it like a Monet,” he thought aloud. “Small dappled strokes of contrasting paint colors, to show the depths of the shadows, the vibrancy of the light. It would capture the serenity and the calm, the easing of the day into something a little more magical.”

  He tilted his head to the side, shifting his view. “Or I could paint it like a Van Gogh, stark swirls of color, fusing the landscape with a vivid sense of life, of energy, of emotion. The sway of the trees, the gusts of wind swooping through the canyon, the shimmer of the rocks—each part would have a life of its own, vibrant and complex, but it would lack the serenity.”

  He narrowed his eyes, searching for the elusive answer once more. “Maybe I’d paint it like Thomas Cole, a sweeping landscape, full of intricate detail, pairing the incredible scale with a sort of romanticism only found in nature.”

  Her head shifted on his shoulder.

  Thad felt the burn of her eyes along the edge of his jaw, the corner of his lips, a physical caress as she studied the lines of his face. “And what if it was something original?”

  “Huh?”

  He’d said he wasn’t going to look down, but he couldn’t stop himself, as though a magnetic pull had tugged on his ear, shifting his face toward hers. Addison stared up at him, those big eyes even bluer than usual, reflecting the sky that surrounded them.

  “What if you didn’t paint it like a Monet, or a Thomas Cole, or an anyone else? What if you painted it like a you?”

  The question was so seemingly simple, but it hit him like an arrow straight to the heart, cutting deep, slicing an open path to a place he’d never been before. Her gaze was so crisp, so clear, he could see his own face bright in the ce
nters of her pupils, not dark and full of shadows, the way he expected, but a face like any other. Because she saw him. Not the criminal. Not the con. Not the person he pretended to be. But Thad. Just Thad.

  Addison had brought him here to be with him, without the crowds, without the disguises, without the lies. So they could be together, just two people on top of the world. Sitting there with her head resting on his shoulder, she wasn’t waiting for Thad to be a better man, or wishing he were a different man, or working to fix a broken man. She wanted him to be exactly who he was. And for the first time in his life, for a split second, he felt as if maybe he was enough.

  Thad moved.

  The connection between his body and his mind came undone. As his thoughts whispered, Stop, this isn’t a good idea, she’s Jo’s best friend, you’re leaving tomorrow, his hand rose and his torso shifted. His palm brushed the soft skin of her cheek as his fingers found her hair and gripped the back of her head, arching it up. Addison’s lips parted. She sank into his touch as her gaze danced, darting side to side, watching him. He leaned down, sinking closer and closer, not breaking eye contact. Like a slow-motion crash, they both waited for the other to be smart, to stop, to turn away. Then their mouths touched, the barest graze, and boom! The world exploded. Time rushed forward. Addison threw her arms around his shoulders. He pulled her against his chest. They were too lost in each other to notice the debris cascading around them—broken pieces whispering of ramifications and risks and realities that had no place in this dream they’d been catapulted into.

  “Thad.” The word came out like a joyous sigh against his lips. He wanted to memorize that sound, to bottle it up to save for later, for after, and he wanted to swallow it, to let that warm tingle linger across his lips and sink into his chest, and stay.

  He chose the latter.

  With a groan, he reached his other arm around Addison’s waist and dug his fingers into her hip, lifting and spinning her body so she straddled his thighs. Addison laced her fingers through his hair, tilting his face up to meet her new height, pressing her breasts flush against his chest, erasing the space between them. Thad’s muscles tightened, pulling her closer. She squeezed her legs and searched for the hem of his shirt, rocking against his hips as her nails raked down his back. Before he realized what was happening, she pulled the fabric over his head and found his mouth again, hungry and demanding. Thad had no idea how he’d awoken this she-wolf inside of his Southern belle, but he didn’t pause to think. The wildness stoked the beast inside of him, building a fire beneath his skin, an inferno he didn’t want to stop.