by Kay Marie
@Sprinkle-Ella: I just got commissioned to bake a black wedding cake…black! My lethal instincts have increased since the last time we spoke.
@TheBakingBandit: Black?! Sounds fun!
@Sprinkle-Ella: You would say that… It’s tragic.
@TheBakingBandit: It’s unique! A challenge!
@TheGourmetGoddess: If you need a recipe for a great ebony fondant, let me know. I have two go-to formulas, one using cocoa powder for a chocolate flavor, and one for vanilla that uses a perfect ratio of different dyes to get a deep, rich color.
@Sprinkle-Ella: Please send! The struggle is real. My boss said I needed to step out of my comfort zone. But I ask you, what is wrong with sugar flowers, lace piping, fondant ribbons, and a gold accent here and there? Nothing! Nothing!!
@TheGourmetGoddess: Relax, killer. Don’t bust a tiara…
Jo snorted at McKenzie’s comment and popped the last bite of macaroon through her lips, sighing with satisfaction as the nutty almond and sweet coconut flavors exploded in her mouth, perfectly accented by the hints of lavender in the jelly. Her food tour of Greenwich Village had not disappointed. She was high on the sugar, her stomach ached from being too full, and every calorie had been absolutely worth it. With all four of the bakeries she’d wanted to visit crossed off her list, it was time to get to work. She was supposed to meet Thad in forty-five minutes, which left just enough time to lose her tail and catch a subway uptown.
Jo turned to glance over her shoulder.
Agents Parker and Alvarez were parked three cars back at the other end of the street. She waved. Nathaniel dropped the binoculars, and even from this distance, Jo thought she noticed a frown across his alluring lips. At first, she’d been toying with him for the fun of it, for the entertainment and the challenge. But Jo had to admit, she almost respected his steadfast loyalty to the rules. There was something admirable in it. Something undeniably charming, almost sexy, in the way he refused to give in to her taunts, to her game. Something—
Jo shook her head and turned back around. Something I shouldn’t be feeling or thinking about. Not now. Not ever.
She took a deep breath and grabbed her bag, then stood, reluctant to leave the peaceful spot where she’d been sitting for the past twenty minutes—a chair outside of a small coffee shop, situated directly in the warm sun, right next to a little park. Nothing went better with macaroons than a fresh latte. This was New York City at its best.
Now I’ve got to be me, at my worst.
Jo stepped back through the glass door to the café, making for the bathroom. Once inside, she let her bag slip to the floor and crouched, searching through her things for the small set of precision screwdrivers she kept with her at all times—meant for making jewelry, but they worked perfectly for picking locks, or in this case, popping her cell phone casing open. Jo kept the device for purely personal reasons—social media for her baking blog, chatting with her friends. But she wasn’t a fool. She knew the FBI could track her location—heck, could probably see everything she was doing, maybe even record her voice through the microphone if she wasn’t careful. So before meeting Thad, it had to be off. Not just turned off, but battery-out off. Completely dead and undetectable. A turn of the screwdriver, a pop, a twist, a quick unplug, and she was good to go.
Jo walked out of the bathroom, keeping an eye on the man in the corner who’d been working on his laptop—an undercover agent, she suspected, judging by the way his hoodie was pulled up to cover his ears and the casual glances he’d been sending her way.
They made eye contact briefly.
Yup. Definitely undercover. And probably just alerted that my cell phone went offline. Jo didn’t stand down. She held his gaze, waiting for him to look away, and then smirked. Well, boys. Let the games begin.
Jo cut through the back hallway, past the kitchen, not caring as a voice called that she wasn’t supposed to be back there, that it was for staff only. She’d looked the building plans up a few days ago and picked this bakery as her last one specifically because it had a back door that opened to a small side street, close to the West Fourth subway station, which had enough platforms and enough staircases to lose the Feds.
Jo slipped through the door and into the street, then shifted into an all-out sprint. Turning one corner. Then another. The streets were smaller down here than they were in midtown where the city was mostly in a grid, which gave her the advantage. Within two minutes, she was running down the subway steps, taking them two at a time. The Feds followed her, she was sure. She hadn’t lost them yet, but she just needed to stay one step ahead, and she’d be fine.
After paying for the ride, she followed two more sets of steps down until she reached the bottom level of tracks, and then slipped around to the back side of a staircase, pressing herself against the concrete wall, which was wide enough to hide four of her.
Because it was New York, no one stared as she pulled a black wig from her bag and slipped it carefully over her bun, pressing any straying auburn strands under the edge. Then she pulled a brown dress over her head, tugged the cotton sleeves all the way down to her wrists, and spread the black hair over her shoulders to hide any bits of blue from sight. Large black-rimmed glasses with rose-tinted lenses went over her eyes. And then she opened a compact and held it around the bend, looking into the reflection to see if any bodies came running down the steps after her.
Two men in street clothes barreled through the crowd. Jo shut her mirror and dropped it back into her bag, the only thing she hadn’t camouflaged. But it was beige, hardly enough to stand out, and she kept it by her knees just in case.
Two minutes went by, during which Jo stepped far enough away from the concrete steps to not be so obviously hiding behind them, but close enough to still have cover. The agents split. One ran right by her as she kept her chin ducked, pretending to play with the dead phone in her hands. A train finally came. The agent within sight stepped on, bringing a smile to her lips as Jo joined the line of people exiting the train, molding to the crowd and following the pack back up the stairs where she’d come. Jo cut her way across the station to a different platform and got there right as an uptown train came to a stop.
Easy-peasy.
No more Feds.
Twenty minutes later, she found Thad sitting on a bench in Central Park wearing a blond wig and a tailored gray suit, with a sandwich foil open on his lap—the image of an unconcerned businessman taking his lunch break. If not for the telltale dimples digging into his cheeks, she might not have noticed him right away.
“You got away no problem?” he asked as she sat down on the other end of the bench.
Jo smiled. “Obviously. You?”
“No problem.” He took a bite and paused to chew, keeping his eyes on the field spread out before them, searching for anyone who might be glancing their way. “They had undercover agents parked outside the museum, the auction house, and the townhome. I took a long walk, letting them see me go by each one, not stopping long enough to take note of anything of importance. Then I lost my tail, got in disguise, and circled back to the target. There are two traffic cameras that might have the front door of the house within view, and another where we’re planning the getaway, not to mention the private security we already know about.”
Jo shrugged. “Easy enough to deal with.”
“My thought too,” he said with a nod and took another bite. “There were trucks parked outside, starting to set up for the gala. I pretended one of the movers bumped into me and started an argument on the street, behind the side of the truck where the street cams couldn’t see. In the commotion, I slipped the router you wanted me to plant onto the underside of one of the tables.”
“Good.”
The device wasn’t a router, per se. That was just the easiest way she’d been able to explain it to Thad and her father. In reality, it sent out a signal only her computer could detect, allowing her to easily hack her way through the firewalls by turning her foreign device into one recognized as interna
l by the system. Highly illegal. But what else was new? When she got back to her hotel, she’d have access to the house’s internet, which should let her go into the security system without detection. From there, she could do pretty much whatever she wanted.
“That agent still on your ass?” Thad murmured, recapturing her attention. Jo grinned. She’d told him about her antics with Agent Parker, and suffice it to say, Thad had not been amused.
“I bet he wishes he were under it,” she commented smoothly.
Thad almost choked on his sandwich. “Jo Jo.”
“It’s harmless.”
“It’s dangerous.”
“It’s entertaining.”
“It’s reckless.”
Jo couldn’t help it. She broke the rules and turned to stare into his stormy eyes. “Oh please, you can’t be serious, giving me a lecture. You’ve got a girl in every city of this country just waiting for your call. Just try to tell me you slept alone last night. I dare you.”
The corner of his lip began to rise, but he forced it to stop. “That’s different. They’re not cops.”
“And nothing is going to happen,” Jo bit back. “My flirting is keeping him distracted. It’s not only fun, it’s advantageous. I might as well use all the tools in my arsenal.”
“That’s all…?” Thad dipped his chin as he probed her expression.
Jo shifted her head forward again. “That’s all.”
“The gala is three days away. You do your part, and I’ll do the rest. Meet back tomorrow, same time, second rendezvous point.”
“Done,” Jo agreed.
Without another glance, Thad stood and crumpled the empty sandwich wrap in his hand before tossing it into the trash. Then he paused with his back still turned, but his head angled casually toward her.
“Forgot to ask—how was the cronut?”
Jo released a dejected puff of air. “Ungodly delicious.”
A soft peal of laughter escaped his lips before he walked away, shoulders shaking ever so slightly as he disappeared into the crowd. The less time they spent with each other, the better, which was why they’d discussed the plan so elaborately before. But that didn’t make her feel any less alone.
Jo waited another half an hour or so before she got up from the bench and hailed a cab. The driver deposited her back at her hotel, where an agent waited in plain clothes in the lobby. She nodded to the woman as she walked by and made her way to the elevator, preparing for a long, lonely night of typing ahead.
- 10 -
Nate
“I think she’s going in, sir,” Nate muttered into the mic at his wrist. He kept the camera at his eyes and zoomed in as Jo Carter climbed the grand front steps to the Metropolitan Museum of Art. They’d followed her to two more bakeries that morning—Nate for the life of him didn’t understand how a woman who ate like her looked like her as well, but that was beside the point. He was still furious about losing her the day before, a failure that was only accentuated by the fact that as soon as she’d returned to her hotel room, she’d found all five of the bugs they’d had a team plant while she was gone. He’d heard them go out, one by one by one, leaving dead silence. Meaning, he had nothing. Abso-freaking nothing. “Should we send someone in? This is about the same time she lost us yesterday.”
“Yeah. Beta team already lost Ryder, about an hour ago. There’s definitely a meet going down, and I want eyes on this time.” Their boss came on the line. Nate met Leo’s gaze. They sighed together. Clearly, he wasn’t happy with the performance thus far. “I want you to go in, Parker.”
Nate choked on his breath. “Excuse me, sir?”
“You heard me, Parker. She seems to like you. Even invited you to join her yesterday. Why don’t we give the woman what she wants?”
“She was trying to get a rise out of me, sir,” Nate countered. “Nothing more.”
He could practically hear his boss shrug through the comms. “Even so, she might talk to you, if you ask the right questions. You might be able to distract her enough to cause her to slip up. Just put on some charm, Parker.”
Nate curled his upper lip. “With all due respect, sir, if you want charm, we should send in my partner.”
“Hey now,” Leo cut in, speaking directly to Nate and not into his mic. “Don’t drag me into this.”
Nate shot a glare in his direction while the radio buzzed with static.
“Let’s go, Parker.”
“But, sir—”
“Parker.”
“Sir, I—”
“Now, Parker. That’s an order.”
Nate squeezed his eyes shut and curled his hands into fists, letting his frustration funnel through his clenched muscles, making his arms tremble. “Yes, sir.”
“Good luck, lover boy,” Leo chimed as Nate reluctantly shoved his door open and eased from the car. “I’ll grab you a hot dog from the vendor down the street.”
At that, Nate did turn. “Don’t even think about it, Leo.”
“You’ve got to get over this aversion to street food—”
“Not in this lifetime,” he grumbled and shut the door behind him, cutting off Leo’s retort.
Nate darted around the traffic as the light switched to red and then cut through the crowd gathered outside the museum, eating lunch on the famed steps. Taking the stairs two at a time, he rushed for the front entrance, skipping the line and heading directly to the security guards just inside the front door. A flash of his badge was all it took for them to let him through the metal detectors and into the museum. The grand atrium was lined with columns, topped by sweeping arches that soared across the giant two-story foyer. Clumps of people stood by the information counter in the center of the room and at the ticket booths on either end. A whole line swept along the far wall, people waiting to deposit bags and coats in the check, and that was where a spot of auburn caught his eye.
“Excuse me, excuse me,” he murmured politely, cutting through the crowd, not using his badge this time but the pretense of familiarity. “Excuse me, yes, I’m with that woman up there. Thank you.”
On and on, until the sound of his voice finally filtered into her ear. Jo turned slowly. Her red lips puckered, caught between a smile and a self-satisfied smirk. She put her hand to her chest and raised her gaze to the ceiling for a moment, shaking her head ever so slightly.
“Be still my beating heart. Nathaniel Parker, here to see me,” she cooed.
“Ask and you shall receive,” he murmured, doing his best to be charming.
Ugh, charming.
He hated that word. He’d rather be real. Authentic. Truthful in the fact that Jolene Carter and everything she stood for disgusted him.
She raised a dubious brow, almost as though she could read the thought running through his brain, and leaned into his chest. Stretching onto her tippy-toes, she brought their faces close together, far too close, and pressed her lips against his ear. Voice low and laced with innuendo, she whispered, “What exactly will I receive?”
Nate clenched his muscles and held his body stiff as a board, keeping his stance wide and his arms by his sides, not giving in to the taunt. His spine was straight. His every nerve was on high alert, prepared for two very different kinds of assault—and he wasn’t quite sure which one he preferred in that moment.
Jo released a throaty chuckle as she patted her palm against his chest. “Loosen up, Agent Parker, or you’ll give the game away.”
“Next,” an attendant announced.
Jo sighed reluctantly and dropped her arm. Nate released a long breath, watching as she stepped up to the counter and plopped her large tote bag onto the surface. After a few seconds of rummaging, she tugged a smaller shoulder bag free and slipped it over her head. The attendant took her things and handed her a ticket. Nate strained his neck trying to read the number, but when she turned back around, Jo saw. She arched a wry brow and deftly flipped the paper in her fingers, presenting him with the black block letters.
“Ticket number one hundred
and eighty-two,” Jo murmured and then reached for his hand. Easily finding his mic, she brought it to her lips. “In case you were wondering. Though I think you’ll be disappointed with what you find inside.”
Nate shook her off with a frown as his gaze dropped to the smaller bag securely strapped to her body, resting snug against her hip. Not big enough for a computer—the computer. The one that if he could just for a minute get his hands on, would have all the evidence he’d ever need to get Robert Carter put in jail for life. Agents had spent an hour searching her small hotel room for it yesterday, and again this morning, to no avail. But though she was bold, he hardly believed she had the audacity to leave a laptop full of illegal activity at the coat check.
“I couldn’t make it too easy for you, Parker,” she murmured, eyes sparkling with silent mirth, silent challenge. “What would be the fun in that?”
What, indeed… he thought, holding her gaze, trying to read the secrets swirling in those smoky jade eyes, bright yet opaque and inscrutable. And then he sighed. Charming. Charming. Try to be charming.
“So, what brings you to the museum today,” he asked, changing the subject and lightening his tone, shifting to something more conversational.
Jo blinked into his face.
Once.
Twice.
And then her entire body convulsed with laughter. She doubled over, clutching her stomach around the middle as her torso shook, then raised her hands to her lips to catch the bubbling noise.
“What?” he questioned, honestly confused.
Jo stared at him, still trembling, mouth covered by her fingers.
“What?” His tone was a little sterner this time, a little more defensive.
“What brings me…?” She barely got the words out before her voice filtered off into breathy glee. She shook her head, auburn hair falling over her cheeks, and then took a deep sigh. “Art, Agent Parker. Art brings me to the museum today. What about you? Just out for a stroll and decided you wanted to take in some ancient artifacts, maybe a Roman sculpture or two?”