by Kay Marie
If Jo had blinked, she would’ve missed the way Thad’s lips curled or the storm clouds that gathered in his gray eyes, there and gone in a flash, covered with practiced control. But she saw. And what she saw made her stomach drop.
Annoyance.
Frustration.
But most of all—recognition.
He knew who her tail was. Somehow, he knew.
“Who, Thad? Who is it?”
He broke his own rule and looked directly at her. “Forget it, Jo.”
Not Jo Jo.
But Jo.
Her chest burned. “Thad, who—”
“Just leave it,” he interrupted, turning back to the open field, tearing his gaze away.
“But—”
“Not now, Jo Jo, not here.” He lifted a tanned hand to his face and ran it through his hair, sending his dark brown waves into perfect disarray. “I told you back on the island that there was more going on than you knew, and you could’ve asked me then, but you didn’t. And now it’s done. We can’t talk about it here, on the job. After. I promise, after New York is done, I’ll tell you whatever you want to know. Okay?”
For the first time, Jo wasn’t sure she believed Thad’s promise.
And the very idea sent her world off-kilter.
She swallowed and forced a slow breath down her throat, trying not to notice how her fingers trembled against her thighs. “Okay.”
“So what’s the deal with Parker?” He practically growled the question, overprotective to the core.
“I’m not sure,” Jo answered slowly. To be honest, she was still trying to work that out herself. Greeting her with coffee and muffins. Removing his comm. Not wearing a wire. Opening up. Playing by her rules. It didn’t follow the Agent Parker she thought she’d come to understand. Yet she liked this new version better. The buttons-undone, hollering-at-the-top-of-his-lungs-in-the-middle-of-a-kiddie-ride Nate. Not Mr. Stiff. Not anymore. “He showed up at my hotel this morning, said he was trying to understand me. He was alone. No mic. No team. I thought spending the morning together might be mutually beneficial.”
Thad pursed his lips. “I see…”
The disapproving tone made her eyes roll of their own accord. “I can handle it.”
“Can you?”
Jo licked her lips and lifted her face, gluing her gaze to the field splayed out before her. A group of men played soccer. A few girls sunbathed on towels. A coed crowd of performers practiced handstands and various acrobatics. A young couple with a stroller sat huddled beneath an umbrella. A larger family rested with a picnic, mother and father looking on as three kids rolled around in the grass.
Normal.
Carefree and normal.
A memory fluttered to the forefront of her thoughts, persistent even as she tried to force it away. Nate staring down at her, his eyes as deep as the ocean, swirling with unspoken dreams, a wave rising and rising. In that split second before the inevitable crash, before he’d lurched his gaze away and broken the contact, Jo had seen something, something that terrified her because of how much she wanted it. The typical life. The normal life. Her own dreams reflected back, crisp and clear. A Victorian house framed by a white picket fence. A freshly mowed lawn edged with colorful tulips. A front porch with two rocking chairs and a little table between them, just big enough for two coffees and a plate of fresh chocolate chip cookies. The smell of butter and brown sugar still wafting from the kitchen. A little girl licking her fingers as she sat on the lawn beside a little boy still in his sweaty baseball uniform. And a voice by her side, sounding suspiciously like Nate’s, droning on and on about the unfair call an umpire made, how rules were rules for a reason, how he was so proud of the way their son had handled himself, like a little man. But there was a secret little smile across her lips, because she may or may not have taken one of the cupcakes she’d brought for the kids from her bakery and smashed it against the hood of the umpire’s car unbeknownst to her husband.
In that split second, Jo had seen all of that.
Just like she was seeing it now.
And then she blinked, and in that broken bit of darkness, she remembered she could never have that dream, that life. Her future was one of constantly looking over her shoulder, always covering her tracks, running and running and never feeling safe because of all the bad things she’d done. Sometimes she wondered if it would be easier to just get caught. Serve her time. And then be free.
But she would never do that to Thad.
To her father.
Not after everything they’d both done for her.
“I can handle it,” she repeated, sliding her eyes toward her partner for a brief moment.
Thad didn’t look convinced. “He’s using you.”
“Obviously,” Jo commented offhandedly, even as a flare of denial ignited beneath her skin. “But to what end?”
Thad folded his hands behind his head and leaned back, returning his eyes to the field. Jo didn’t miss the way his gaze paused on a street artist set up by the other side of the park, canvas half coated in paint. Once upon a time, Thad used to talk to her about his dreams. He’d been studying art history in college with a minor in fine arts, and whenever he was home, he’d go on endless tangents about the people he was studying, the work he was creating, his passion obvious. For a long time, he spoke of owning his own studio and selling his own art, trying to make a career out of it. But when his father passed, he dropped out of college and came home. After that, he didn’t speak about his dreams anymore. Only work. Only the job. And until now, she hadn’t paused to wonder why, hadn’t stopped to question if maybe sometimes, Thad dreamed of freedom too.
He sighed before she could ask and arched his face toward the sun, moistening his lips. “They sent an undercover agent to me once, a few years back. I never told you, wasn’t necessary. But she was beautiful. Five-ten. Blonde. Legs for days. A killer smile. The type that made you want to spill your secrets just to keep her around a little while longer. But I knew exactly who she was and what she was trying to do. And I knew it wasn’t worth it.”
Jo swallowed, clearing her throat and her wayward thoughts, but her voice still came out a little raspier than usual. “Nate’s not undercover. I know exactly who he is.”
“That concerns me more,” Thad whispered, at-ease body completely at odds with the stress in his voice. “Because there’s only one reason I can see that a Fed would so overtly court a criminal. To try to turn her. To lay the groundwork for some kind of deal.”
Jo closed her eyes as a wince tightened every inch of her body. Of course. Why didn’t I think of that before? “I’d never tell him anything about you or Dad. You know that.”
“Just be careful.”
The fact that he hadn’t immediately agreed sent her pulse into hyperspeed. What made Thad think he couldn’t trust her to keep quiet? Something she’d done…or whatever he was doing behind her back?
“You can’t honestly think I would betray you,” she tried again.
“I don’t.” Thad sighed, the strain in his voice obvious, doing nothing to quiet her thudding heartbeat. “But there are other people involved, and they— If they— If you—” He broke off, then unclasped his hands and ran them down his face as though to wipe whatever image was filling his mind away, to erase it completely. “Just be careful. We’re so close to the end.”
“These people…” Jo said slowly, trying to quell the questions bursting like little explosions in the back of her mind. Who are they? What do they want? Why are we working with them? Why haven’t I heard about them? What has everyone so freaking concerned? “What if I made them think it was the other way around? That I was using Nate?”
Thad sat up a little taller, a grin pulling at his lips. The sight of that dimple in his cheek puckering to life did more to calm her nerves than any of his words ever could. “Using him how?”
The suggestive tone of his voice was undeniable. Jo lifted a brow, fully aware she would be unable to stop her current self-righteou
s mood from spilling into her tone. “For information.”
“No judgment.” Thad’s lips widened into a full smile this time, beaming. “We all have needs, Jo Jo.”
Right now, you need a good kick in the ass, Thaddy Bear. She folded her arms indignantly across her chest. “I am an expert hacker, as you well know. If I can get onto Nate’s cell phone or his computer, I can easily get access to his files. See what he has on us. See if it’s anything real or if they’re still grasping at straws.”
“Interesting.”
Her brows shot up. “Oh, now I get an ‘interesting.’”
“With ideas like that…” He lifted his hand to his chin and tapped his pointer finger against his lips as the thought began to percolate. Jo wasn’t sure if she liked his reaction or hated it, but all of a sudden, she felt a bit ill. “So how would you play it? Seduce Parker? Get back to his room? Plant the bug when he’s not looking?”
Jo shrugged even as her insides flipped, doing somersaults in her stomach. “That would be one way.”
Thad nodded. A wicked little gleam sparked to life in his eyes, one that would have been undeniably sexy if she didn’t already know it meant he was scheming—scheming about something she was sure she wouldn’t like. But if history was any indication, she’d tag along anyway. Jo wasn’t sure how to do anything else.
“I like it,” he softly announced, sitting straight. Their meeting was nearing an end. “I like it, Jo Jo. If your dad is going to retire after this, it’d be nice to know what sort of safety net we’re all working with and how careful we really have to be moving forward. The gala is tomorrow night, so you’ve got one afternoon to work on Parker—and one night too, if you’re careful. See what you can get out of him, and I’ll handle everything else on my end.”
Jo tried not to focus on the way he’d said, if her father was going to retire, as though it was a question instead of a definite. But she kept her mouth shut.
“I’ll leave first,” Thad murmured. “You wait ten minutes, okay?”
“Bye, Thaddy Bear,” she whispered.
“Bye, Jo Jo.”
He stood and sauntered away, liquid smooth, a body made for stealth. But all Jo noticed was the direction he walked in—toward the man who’d been following her. They wouldn’t speak, not so openly, but Jo still reached into her bag to take her compact back out. Sure enough, Thad and the mystery tail made eye contact. And a few seconds later, both of them were gone, heading in the same direction, probably to have a meeting much like the one she’d had here.
Questions.
So many questions.
They battled each other for dominance, punching and kicking and fighting their way to the top of her thoughts.
Who?
What?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Jo fell back against the bench and stretched her body out as a sigh rolled all the way through her, a long slow breath that made her muscles turn weak with exhaustion.
Enough.
She’d had enough of her real life for one day.
So she pulled out her phone and dove into her internet life instead, the only place she could be the person she so badly wanted to be, instead of the person that she was.
@TheBakingBandit: Best baked good in New York to clear a sullen mood…GO!
@TheGourmetGoddess: Crack Pie or Cereal Milk soft serve from Milk Bar. There are a few locations in the city. Run, don’t walk!
@Sprinkle-Ella: Oh no, what’s wrong? What level are we working with here? Cheesecake-won’t-freaking-set bad? Or do we have another black wedding cake situation on our hands?
@TheGourmetGoddess: Enough with the freaking cake. Black can be really elegant, you know.
@Sprinkle-Ella: Sure, says the girl from New York.
@TheGourmetGoddess: For your information, I grew up in Connecticut. The land of paisley and pastels.
@Sprinkle-Ella: So how’d you end up with such a dark soul?
Jo lifted her forearm over her eyes and shook her head, mood already lifting. In one quick move, she propelled herself to her feet, keeping her attention on her phone as she typed in the name of the bakery McKenzie had suggested. There was one about a twenty-minute walk south—perfect. And though she knew the Feds could easily track her phone when it was on, she didn’t care. She needed the distraction. She needed her friends. And without a kitchen handy, she needed to escape in the only other way she’d ever known how—the Web.
- 16 -
Nate
“Nathaniel, is that you?”
A guilty burn instantly scratched down his spine at the overly shocked and excited tone of her voice. “Hi, Mom. It’s me.”
He leaned back on the bench, closing his eyes to let the still-soft morning sun sink into his skin a little bit. He was in a park around the corner from Jo’s hotel, waiting for word from his boss for the go-ahead with the immunity deal. Leo and the rest of their team were tailing Ryder for the day, since the slippery weasel had managed to dodge the beta team three days in a row. And with the gala Jo mentioned happening tonight as well as the auction they were monitoring, they couldn’t afford to lose him again.
“Oh, Nathaniel!” The clang of pots and pans came staticky through the receiver. “Just give me a minute. I was in the middle of doing the dishes…”
A click let him know his mother had put the phone on the counter and was probably rushing to take soapy rubber gloves off her hands—yellow if they were the same ones she’d had last time he’d been home. Which had been…eight months ago? Nine maybe?
Jeez. I really do need to check in more often.
“Caroline!” a shout came through the line, distant enough for him to know she still hadn’t picked up the phone. “Caroline! Your brother is on the phone!”
“Mom?” Nate tried to grab her attention. “Mom, I don’t have too much time.”
No answer. The phone was still on the counter undoubtedly.
“Caroline!” And then a mutter… “Where is that girl?”
“Mom?” Nate tried again.
“Oh, I’m back,” she replied cheerily. “Just trying to find your sister. This house is too big for me now, all by myself.”
“You’re not—” But he stopped himself. Because Caroline was only there temporarily, and Nate had been the first to leave and rarely came back. He had no room to speak. “She’s probably in the shower. It’s okay, I’ll catch her next time. I was just calling to say hi, nothing important.”
“You’re always important to me, sweetie.”
The edge of his lip pulled into a smile. That was such a typical mom response. “So how are things with Caroline? When you can find her, I mean. Is she learning the interior design ropes?”
“Oh, you know Caroline…” His mother trailed off with a sigh. She was incapable of saying anything mean about anyone. But she didn’t have to. He knew Caroline all right. “She has a real talent for picking out and pairing colors and patterns. She could do great things if she just applied herself a little bit more.”
Same as always.
This wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation or the first time he’d played the part of parent more than sibling. In high school, it had been about her grades and her sports teams. In college, about her ambition. Now in real life, it was about her job. His sister had a good heart, like their mom, but when it came down to it, she was a flake. But she was young. He still had hope she’d grow out of it when she found something she was passionate about.
“I’ll talk to her,” Nate said, voice resigned.
“Thank you.”
“How’s Chris?” He shifted the conversation, going through the checklist. “How old is Gracie now?”
“Two in July, can you believe it? And Eve is four months pregnant, feeling great. They stopped by two weeks ago for Mother’s Day.”
“Did you get the flowers?” Nate sat up. He couldn’t always be there, but he always tried to remember.
“Oh, I did, Nathaniel. They
were lovely. I must have forgotten to write in all the commotion. Caroline brought a new boyfriend to dinner, and she didn’t remember to tell me he was allergic to, oh, what was it again? Oh, strawberries! And I made a pie, and he thought it was cherry, and, well, we had to take him to the hospital and Gracie was crying and…”
Nate snorted. Now that, he was almost sad he’d missed. “Typical Caroline.”
“Chris is doing great though,” his mom rolled right on, pretending not to hear his comment. “He just sold two more houses this past month and bought another one to rehab. I’m so proud of him.”
“Me too, Mom, me too.”
If only you saw him in college, puking into the toilet bowl after his frat initiation. Nate shook his head. His brother had come a very long way.
“So, how are you?” his mother asked. He hated how tentative she sounded. “Where are you now?”
“I can’t say.”
“What are you working on?”
“I, uh, again, can’t say.”
She let out a little laugh. “I feel like I’ve gone back in time and am talking to your father.”
He could perfectly envision her sitting at the kitchen counter, shaking her head as she played with the frayed ends of her worn-out lemon-pattern apron—the one his father had picked out when they went on that second honeymoon to Italy, the year he was supposed to retire then told her when they got home that he couldn’t. Twelve months later, he was gone.
“But work is going well?”
“Work is great.”
“When can you come home? Just for a visit? We all miss you.”
“I miss you guys too,” he said, the automatic reply rolling from his lips. But then he perked up, sitting a little straighter. “Mom, the investigation I’ve been working on for a while, we might have finally caught a break. I might be able to stop by soon.”