by Kay Marie
“Your mother…” Nate trailed off, sympathy flashing in his eyes as the truth hit. His mouth parted slightly, yet no words came out.
Yes, her father was a donor. Yes, they’d given money ever since her mother had passed away. Yes, she’d been invited to the event. And yes, the only reason she was here was because it was the perfect cover for the true purpose of the night. Not that she’d tell Nate that. Even thinking it brought a wave of nausea out of hiding, self-induced disgust. The last thing she wanted was for him to see the ugly side to her. Jo liked the way Nate looked at her, as though she were an answer to his every problem—not the problem itself.
She lifted her glass to her lips, letting another gush of champagne wipe the discomfort knotting her insides away, letting the fizzing liquid spin her dizzy. Jo tilted her head back and downed it, then discarded the empty glass on a tray as a waiter walked by. Nate put his half-finished one beside hers.
“Jo—”
She pressed a finger to his lips, cutting him off. “I’m not really in the mood to talk, Nate.”
And she wasn’t.
Not when everything spilling from her lips was lie after lie after lie. Or even worse, the truth. Every word brought them closer together and farther apart. Her mind and her heart were at war, two opposite forces tugging and tugging against each other, fighting for dominance.
Jo was there for the Degas.
She could never tell Nate that.
She’d already done a sweep of the entire townhouse, walking the building, making sure the blueprints she’d studied had been accurate, making sure every door and every window was exactly where she’d thought it would be.
She could never tell him that either.
She’d taken a moment to powder her nose in the restroom, using the small tablet hidden in her purse to hack into the security system and plant the final two remaining bugs in place, giving her full access to every electronic in the house—every camera, every door sensor, every motion detector.
Another thing Nate could never know.
But she’d also put a check for twenty thousand dollars in the donation box downstairs, signed anonymous, in honor of her mother. And bid outrageously high on the luxury European vacation available in the silent auction. And found the item she and her father had sent for the event, a lovely three-strand pearl necklace he’d bought for her mother but had never been able to give her. Their twentieth anniversary had been two weeks after she’d passed. There was other jewelry of her mother’s Jo would never dream of parting with, but that one piece had always been too painful to wear. The least she could do was give it to a good cause.
But Jo would never tell Nate any of that, even though she could. Because she didn’t want him to look at her like the hero she knew she wasn’t. His eyes already shone too bright, so full of hope she had to look away.
He slipped his fingers through hers.
“Then how about a dance instead?”
The music had hardly registered before, but now that Nate mentioned it, she became acutely aware of the sound. Soft orchestral strains filled the room, slow and romantic. A few couples had stepped from the outskirts to gently sway hand in hand.
“Nate,” Jo said, voice thick.
They were entering dangerous territory.
Tenuous ground.
And though she’d told Thad her plan was to seduce Agent Parker to steal information, here, now, with his palm pressed against the small of her back as he led her onto the dance floor, Jo wasn’t sure she was prepared to deal with the ramifications of that plan. Not when she knew deep down that her heart was in the game, though it without a doubt shouldn’t have been.
Nate swept her around to face him, confident and controlled as he held her body close and lifted her right hand. His chin pressed against her temple so they were chest to chest, hardly any space in between. Not asking permission, he stepped. She followed, letting him lead, her body swaying in tune with his, so naturally—too naturally. The fingers resting on the small of her back began to trace the contours of her spine, up and down, then in small circles, sending a tingle up her back and across her skin. Did he know what he was doing? Was he even aware? Jo was too aware. Too sensitive to his touch. Beneath the surface, an electric charge gathered, spiking with heat as tingles shot across her nerves like little bolts of lightning, a storm only Nate Parker seemed capable of creating.
She started to panic.
Jo had to keep things neutral.
Safe.
At a distance.
Plans be damned. At this point, it was pure self-preservation.
“Where’d a Fed learn how to dance?” she asked, using humor as her shield.
Nate wasn’t buying it. He pressed his nose into her hair. The warm brush of his breath against her neck sent her nerves into a tizzy as sparks caught fire, one after another after another, spreading down the nape of her neck and across her shoulder. “You look beautiful tonight.”
Jo breathed in, trying to get air to her struggling lungs.
Keep it light.
Keep it surface.
“You don’t look half-bad yourself,” she teased.
He nuzzled closer so they were cheek to cheek. “Did you think about what I said?”
What?
She resisted the urge to physically shake her head.
Where the hell did that come from?
Jo jerked back, just far enough to stare into his eyes, to meet his subtle challenge head-on. “You want to do this here? Now?”
“I’m not doing anything, Jo.” Nate shrugged, far too casual to mean it. The left edge of his lip quirked. “I’m just asking a simple question. Did you think about it?”
Yes.
“No.”
“You ran a background check on me, right? Before New York?”
She narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing him, but nodded anyway, playing along.
“Did you ever wonder why a special agent in the organized crime unit was investigating an art thief and his daughter?”
Yes.
“No.”
He continued as though he didn’t hear her response. “The man following us yesterday was a member of the American branch of the Russian mafia. Did you know that?”
No!
“No…”
“Extremely dangerous. Probably the most violent active organized crime unit in the United States today. Involved in narcotics trafficking, arms deals, loan-sharking, murder-for-hire, and don’t forget, the occasional forgery. Though, they have other people to help them with that.”
Jo shook her head in denial. He tightened his grip on her hand and dug his fingers into her back as though anticipating her instinct to run.
“I don’t believe you.”
But she did.
Her gut clenched painfully tight. Because deep down, she did. Bit by bit, things clicked into place. Puzzle pieces and questions she’d pushed to the back of her mind slowly slipped out of hiding, fitting together to form a picture she didn’t want to see, didn’t want to know, yet couldn’t prevent from forming. The meetings her father and Thad disappeared to. The hours they spent together, in planning sessions she wasn’t allowed to join. The people who followed her. The paintings that went missing. The money that came in. Most of all, the deep shame that sometimes glimmered in the backs of Thad’s stormy eyes, in the backs of her father’s green ones, dark and overwhelming.
What do you know, Nate?
What haven’t they told me?
What am I part of?
“You’re a smart girl, Jo. In fact, I find your intelligence incredibly sexy. So I didn’t understand at first why you’d allow yourself to be so willfully ignorant.” He paused, letting his words sink in, letting her doubts simmer. Jo swallowed, stepping where he stepped, letting him lead, because she was hanging on his next words, mentally paralyzed. “And then, once I got to know you, understand you, everything became clear. Love.”
“Love?” Jo’s voice was breathy as she repeated the word.
&
nbsp; “Love can make you blind,” Nate murmured, then leaned close, pressing his lips against her ear. “Or if you let it, love can finally make you see.”
“Nate—”
He cut her protest off by pushing against her waist, sending her spiraling into a circle as the music hit a crescendo. Their fingers clasped tight as he twirled her across the dance floor. His touch was the only thing that kept her from floating away. And a second later, she was back, pressed against his chest, looking up into those understanding eyes, those pleading eyes.
“Don’t you want to see, Jo?” He held her hand and released her hip again, so she spun and spun and spun, body a mirror of the turmoil circling inside her brain.
She did want to see.
She did.
But she couldn’t.
Because it would make everything fall apart.
Her family.
Her life.
The balance she’d so carefully maintained.
Jo landed back in Nate’s arms.
She dropped her gaze to his chest, focusing on the little wire hanging from his ear, remembering the mic that had to be hidden by his wrist. Because he was a Fed. The enemy. But when he leaned down, the smell of woodsy soap and something entirely him filled her nose, and it became more difficult to draw that line. With his fingers brushing softly over her spine and his other hand rubbing her palm and his warm breath tickling her neck, everything blurred. Right. Wrong. Loyalty. Love.
“I have files,” he quietly pressed. “I have photographs. I have pages upon pages of information. Coincidences that are far too frequent and counterfeits with your father’s signature flair. All I need is proof. Concrete proof that will hold up in court.”
Her heart pounded so hard she feared it would break free of her chest.
Drumming and drumming and drumming.
His words swirled, a tornado plowing through her thoughts.
Files. Photographs. Information.
Coincidences. Counterfeits.
Files.
Files.
Files.
Jo looked up into his eyes.
He stared back.
Screw caution.
The thought sliced like a knife, cutting through her indecision.
Screw my heart.
Screw my fear.
I need to know.
I need those files.
I need to know.
A new plan stirred—not for Thad, not for her father, not for Nate, but for her. For the first time, for her. Because she needed the truth. She needed whatever information the Feds had. She needed to open her eyes. And when she did, maybe then her choice would become clear. At least, she hoped and prayed it would.
Jo licked her lips, took a deep breath, and stepped over that invisible line etched in the sand. “What can you offer me, Nate? What are your terms?”
- 20 -
Nate
A switch flipped in the depths of her emerald eyes. One moment she was fighting, denying, her thoughts a raging storm clouding her gaze. And the next, those irises were clear. Open and seeing. And yet, a little doubt whispered in the back of his mind that this couldn’t be real, that it couldn’t have possibly been so easy, that this was just another game Jo was trying to play. He’d been prepared for a fight, for resilience, not for this bare, vulnerable honesty now spreading between them.
“Immunity,” he said quickly, grip tightening, as though to catch her and keep her in his arms before she had a chance to fly away. “I can offer you immunity.”
Her eyes widened with surprise. “Full immunity?”
“Full immunity,” he repeated, holding her gaze captive. “You can have the future you want, Jo. All your dreams, they’re within reach. You want a bakery? You can have one. You can have ten. You can live the rest of your life without having to look over your shoulder, without having to wonder if anyone is on your tail, if anyone is watching. You can be free. All I need is your signature on a piece of paper.”
“And my cooperation.” She licked her plush red lips and swallowed, dropping her focus to the floor. The hand on his shoulder tightened, as though she was holding on to him for support, for comfort. Her chest swelled as she drew in a long, deep breath and looked back up. “What would I have to do?”
Nate’s pulse raced.
I’m so close.
We’re so close.
I can’t believe it.
After so long. After so many dead ends.
He tried not to let his excitement, his victory, leak into his tone, not when he knew that for Jo, the pieces were falling apart, not finally coming together. “We need access to the vault.”
She squeezed her eyes tight but nodded.
“And we need you to wear a wire,” he added softly. “We need your father on tape talking about his dealings with the Russians.”
Her eyes shot open. “No.”
“It’s the only way,” Nate murmured, dropping his chin to study her expression. It was carefully controlled, yet there was panic subtly written in the way her bottom lip trembled, the way her jaw clenched.
Nate stopped dancing.
He dropped his hold on her body and brought both of his hands to her face, then brushed his thumbs over her cheekbones, crossing a line, but in that moment, he didn’t care about professionalism. He cared about Jo. So he tilted her chin up, soothing her with his touch, as he tried to do the same with his words.
“I’ll guide you through it, Jo, every step of the way. I can’t promise it will be easy, but I can promise it’s the right thing to do. Five minutes, maybe ten, and you’ll be free.”
She covered his wrists with her palms, not pulling him away, but holding on tight. “He’s my father.”
“He made his choices,” Nate countered. “You deserve the chance to make your own.”
“What will happen to him?” Her voice was small. Fragile. Something Nate had never associated with Jolene Carter before. He hated the hurt he knew he was causing, but there was no other way.
“That depends on him, Jo, not on you. We’re after much bigger fish than your father. If he cooperates, we could get him an easier sentence, a more comfortable cell, maybe a chance at probation.” Nate didn’t give the alternative option, but she heard it through his silence. He jumped in before he lost her completely. “But no matter what, we can keep him safe, Jo. Safe from the people he’s working with—people who wouldn’t hesitate to kill him.”
She took a stilted breath. “And what about Thad?”
It took everything in his power not to wrinkle his nose with disgust. Ryder. Nate had no idea what she saw in the man aside from a criminal. “He’ll have the same options.”
“Jail?” The word was little more than a whisper.
Nate’s brows pushed together, but he nodded nonetheless. She deserved honesty. After living in so many lies, she deserved honesty from at least him.
Jo curled her fingers through his, so they held hands against her cheeks. Her eyes were wide with an innocence he didn’t quite understand how she’d managed to preserve, shining with a trust he wasn’t sure how he’d earned. And yet, the feelings were there, simmering between them. Loyalty. And another word he wasn’t sure if he was ready to face, or even knew how to.
“And you’ll be there, Nate?”
“Every step of the way.” He squeezed her fingers, showing her with everything he had how much he meant his words. “Whatever you need, Jo.”
She pulled her lower lip into her mouth, making his chest pinch and his blood boil as it slowly relaxed back into its normal, plump position. “And what about after?”
With his focus on her lips and the heat stirring beneath his skin, the words failed to fully register. “After?”
“After, Nate, will you—”
“Parker, do you have any updates?”
Leo’s voice coming through the comm made Nate jolt upright. His hands dropped from her cheeks, and his feet shuffled back, bringing much-needed space between them. Jo’s gaze immediately jumped t
o the wire disappearing beneath his collar.
He lifted his wrist to his mouth. “Not now, Leo.”
The words came out as more of a snarl than he intended.
“Ryder just exited the auction. He’s headed toward the museum a few blocks away. Do you have eyes on Jolene Carter?”
“I—” Nate cut himself off. Jo stared. At his mic. At his comm. At him. Accusation and something too close to hurt bright and shiny in her eyes. “I have Jo in sight.”
She took a step back, tilting her head to the side as though asking him to give her a reason to stop. He couldn’t.
“I have to go, Leo.”
“Did she take the bait? Are you getting anywhere with her?”
“I have to go.”
But it was too late.
Jo moved farther and farther away. By the time he dropped his wrist back to his side, she’d turned and was halfway across the ballroom, walking fast. People watched, stared. He’d been too wrapped up in Jo to notice they’d become the entertainment. He didn’t care.
“Jo!”
She didn’t stop. She walked straight through the open French doors, into the hallway, and down the stairs, taking the steps as fast as her hip-hugging dress would allow her.
“Jo! Wait!”
When he reached the bottom step, she was already disappearing around a bend. He ran after, murmuring apologies as he bumped into people, flying through the house, concerned with nothing more than keeping that red hair within sight. She slipped into a room, out of another, maneuvering through the crowd and the house as though she lived there, as though she knew every turn, every door, had the entire place memorized. She probably did. Which left Nate more convinced than ever that the Degas was exactly what Robert Carter was after, sending his daughter to do his dirty work. The man was disgusting. Vile. He deserved to be in jail. He deserved whatever he got.
A cool blast of air hit Nate’s cheek.
He scanned the room.
There!
Open patio doors.
Nate raced through, skidding into the private courtyard as he spun, trying to find her through the tall shrubs and the crowd that had wandered outside.
Jo. Jo. Jo.
He spotted her at the far end of the courtyard, half hidden in shadow. Where was she going? What was the plan? A second later, he understood, as she opened a door hidden behind a curtain of ivy. Some of the old townhouses on the Upper East Side had service entrances out the back, usually into a communal alleyway. Nate raced for the exit and forced it open as he sprinted into the night. Her dress was dark enough to blend into the evening shadows, but her sun-kissed skin was illuminated by moonlight, the smooth planes of her back a beacon to his eyes.