Hot Pursuit (To Catch a Thief Book 1)

by Kay Marie

  I’m dying, he whispered.

  And her stomach dropped to the floor, through it, to a bottomless place she hadn’t visited since her mother passed all those years before. Because he was sick. And alone behind bars. A place where she couldn’t hold him, couldn’t save him, couldn’t comfort or protect him.

  And she’d put him there.

  His own daughter.

  His own blood.

  Jo closed her eyes tight and shook her head, trying to dispel the image, forcing the picture of Thad in a similar position to stop invading her thoughts yet again that night.

  The nightmare.

  Then the dream.

  Then the nightmare.

  Then the dream.

  Over and over and over they’d circulated. From Nate to Thad to her father. So many futures in her hands—the ones she wanted and the ones she couldn’t face.

  She tore her eyes open, gaze sliding to the clock again.

  2:50.

  If she didn’t leave soon, she’d be late.

  What is it, Jo?

  What are you going to do?

  2:51.

  Sacrifice your father and your best friend for the life you always dreamed of? Stay here, in Nate’s arms, and wake up a free woman and a traitor? Or leave, find Thad, go home, and try your best to forget Nate’s touch, his words? Save your father and your best friend, and sacrifice yourself?

  2:52.

  Make a decision.

  2:53.

  Now!

  Jo rolled over, leaving no time to second-guess, and eased gently out of Nate’s grasp as he sighed behind her. When she stood from the bed, she glanced down just long enough to see his hand shuffle over the sheets, as though searching for her warm body, for her touch. Jo ripped her gaze away and hobbled in the dark, searching for her bra and underwear hidden in the shadows along the ground. Then for her dress, a mound of fabric along the floor. Another glance at Nate. He was fast asleep, eyes closed, face perfectly relaxed, lips slightly parted. Jo pulled her gown inside out and quietly extricated the thin leggings and long-sleeve shirt sewn into the lining of the material, darting her gaze to the sleeping Fed with every subtle rip. He didn’t move. She balled the dress up, prepared to throw it away as soon as she got outside—there were too many memories soaked into the silk for her to want to lay eyes on it again—and then tugged on her clothes. Her purse was discarded near the door. Jo rushed to grab it and slid the clutch open, revealing the small tablet and handful of electronics she’d stuffed inside. She pulled a flash drive free.

  Where is it?

  Where would it be?

  Jo glanced around the dark hotel room, nothing but the glowing lights of New York to guide her. She went for the most predictable place first—the closet. A small personal safe was hidden inside, requiring a six-digit code. Clicking her tongue, Jo thought of her background check on Nate, all the dates she’d memorized just in case. Most people used predictable passwords—even federal agents weren’t above that vice. A lot of hacking was just knowing what might be hiding in plain sight. She tried his birthday first. No go. Then his mother’s. Fail. Then it hit her, obvious. She typed in his father’s birthday. The safe slid open, revealing a small laptop hidden inside.

  Jo knelt in the dark, crossing her legs as she balanced the device on her lap. His agency sign-in required a little more expertise, so she reached into her bag, grabbing a different device, this one a password runner that would shift through the millions of possibilities for her in a matter of minutes—a code she’d specially designed.

  Voila, she was in.

  Jo strained her neck, peering around the corner, back toward the bed, the sleeping body, and the glaring red light of that damn clock.

  3:01.

  Shit!

  She had to meet Thad in half an hour. The walk uptown alone would take that long. There was no time to sit and read the files, to find the information Nate had teased, to understand exactly what Thad and her father were truly up to, how involved in the Russian mafia they were. But maybe she’d known that all along. Maybe that was why it had taken so long to drag herself out of bed. Just another excuse to delay the inevitable.

  Jo slid her flash drive into the laptop.

  Later. Later, when there’s time, I’ll read it all.

  I won’t turn a blind eye.

  I won’t ignore.

  And then I’ll make a decision. When I have all the facts.

  Right now, she needed to help her family. Because that image of her father dying alone in a jail cell was too raw, too ripe. She wasn’t ready to turn it into a reality, not yet, not even for Nate.

  Jo sifted through the FBI research, all the data, illegally dragging and dropping everything she found into her drive. Before the information downloaded, a window popped up, requiring fingerprint approval of the exchange. Jo winced, but stood and walked over to the bed. Ever so carefully, she slid the trackpad beneath Nate’s open palm, studying his face for any sign of alertness as the print was confirmed. And then just as carefully, she retreated, pulling her drive free, slipping the laptop back into the hotel safe, and shutting the closet door.

  Jo knelt, grabbing her dress and her purse, and then paused.

  Everything within her screamed to press a soft kiss to his forehead, to say goodbye when she still had the chance, but it was too risky. Even for her. Especially for her. One glance into those baby-blue eyes and she’d drop it all and crawl back into bed, into the safety of his arms, wrapped up in the dreams he spun. Nate couldn’t wake. Because she couldn’t bear it.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered into the night, somehow hoping that in his sleep he would hear, he would understand. “I thought I could, but I can’t. I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  Then she turned and slipped out the door.

  Gone.

  - 24 -

  Nate

  Goddammit, Jo. Nate waited for the door to click closed before he threw the covers off and launched from the bed.

  Goddammit.

  Goddammit.

  Goddammit!

  He knew she would do that.

  He knew.

  And yet, a small part of him hoped she wouldn’t. That she’d chosen him, the way he’d chosen her. But that was too much to ask, too much to dream. And in the end, maybe Nate had been prepared for the alternative all along. Why else had he changed the password to his hotel safe earlier that day, to something so easy to guess it was almost embarrassing? And why else had he rearranged his files so they were effortless to access and simple to find? Why else had he overridden most of the FBI safeguards on his laptop, leaving only the fingerprint verification in place?

  Because he’d known.

  All day. All week, even.

  He’d known the night would somehow lead here.

  To them being together.

  To Jo tearing them apart.

  He’d counted on it.

  Nate rubbed the sleep from his eyes and fumbled around the room in the dark, grabbing a shirt from the closet, pants from the drawer, his badge from the tux, and his gun from the ground. Then he turned on his phone and waited for the inevitable rush of vibrations as all the text messages he was sure he’d missed came through. He opened the ones from his partner first.

  Parker, your comm went dark. All good?

  Parker. Boss is pissed. Do you copy?

  Told you I’d cover for you. Didn’t expect it to be for so long.

  Where the hell are you?

  What happened?

  Are you with Jo? Are you hurt?

  If you two are…

  Never mind.

  I’m going to kill you, Parker.

  Ryder just left the museum, nothing happened. We’ve changed shifts with the overnight team. Call me when you come back online.

  He paced around the room, reading the messages for a few minutes, shifting between grunting incoherently and squeezing his fist until it began to tremble. Then Nate dropped onto the edge of the bed, lifted his fingers to the ridge of his nose,
and squeezed as the full implications of his evening rendezvous crashed over him. How was he going to explain this to the boss? To the bureau? Hell, to his team? He wasn’t a very good liar, but there was no way he could tell them the truth. He’d be fired. Shamed. He’d known she was trouble from the very start—and he’d walked right into the trap.

  Goddammit, Jo.

  With a sigh, Nate lifted his head, gaze darting to the clock in the corner. 3:15. He’d wasted enough time already, so he did the only thing he could think of and called his partner.

  “Alvarez here.” A sleepy mumble came through the line.

  “Leo, it’s me.”

  “Shit, Parker,” his partner exclaimed, coming alive in a single second. “What the hell happened to you? And what the hell time is it?” There was a slight pause. “Three o’clock in the fu—”

  “I know,” Nate cut him off, wincing. “I know, and I’m sorry. But something is going down. I’m sure of it.”

  He could perfectly envision the suspicious way Leo’s eyes were narrowing, especially as he slowly asked his next question. “How exactly do you know something’s happening, Parker?”

  “That’s not important. What’s—”

  “Holy shit! You did, didn’t you?” Leo whooped into the phone. Nate couldn’t tell if he was pissed or pleased. Probably a little bit of both. “I didn’t think you had it in you, Parker, but you did. You and Jo. You did. While I was on a fucking stakeout, trapped in the car for five hours with can’t-get-a-word-in-edgewise Ben.”

  “Leo.”

  “So how was it?”

  “Leo.”

  “Because I covered your ass, Parker. I had to spin a whole tale to the boss about how the Russians had been following you guys, how you probably had to go dark to get away from them, how you might have gone into hiding.”

  “Thank you, Leo.”

  “I think he actually sent a team out after you, to run some recon, see if there was any word of your whereabouts.”

  Nate dropped his forehead into his palm and squeezed the phone tight in his other hand. How the hell am I going to get out of this mess? But that wasn’t important. Not right now. “Leo, listen. Jo just left. She thought I was asleep, but I was watching. She had a set of clothes hidden in the lining of her dress, black leggings, and a black long-sleeve shirt. She changed, and she left. And she has to be meeting Ryder. Are the overnight teams still on watch?”

  “Yeah,” Leo answered, voice stern and focused, back on the job as quickly as that. “We have people parked outside the auction house and the museum, keeping an eye out for any sign of movement through the windows, any sign of wrongdoing. If they see anything, they’re ready to move in.”

  Nate frowned, feeling a deep wrinkle form in his forehead as his brows pushed together. “What about the townhouse?”

  “The gala ended, nothing happened. All the items from the silent auction were removed. We figured there was no need to keep watch. It was a decoy.”

  God, that’s exactly what Ryder was hoping we’d do. That must be why they waited so long to act. “No, Leo. No. The townhouse, that’s where they’re going.”

  “What? Why?”

  Nate lifted his shoulder, holding the phone against his ear as he pulled on his shoes, cutting a glance to the clock again. He was wasting time. Jo had left fifteen minutes ago. Was he delaying on purpose? Was he giving her a head start? Was there a reason his throat was tightening on the words trying to force their way up, the ones that might see her in handcuffs before the night was through?

  “A Degas,” he finally blurted.

  “A what now?”

  “Degas! A Degas!” What the hell was that guy’s first name? Nate shook his head. “The painter. The artist.”

  “The ballerina guy?”

  “Yes!” Nate yelled triumphantly. “Degas. There was a Degas in the townhouse. Right up Robert Carter’s alley.”

  “Shit,” Leo muttered under his breath. “How did we miss that?”

  “Maybe it was a family heirloom or something, passed down through a will. They must’ve just brought it in from another location because it wasn’t there during recon. Either way, we didn’t dig as deeply as we should’ve. Because that’s what Jo and Ryder are after. I’m sure of it.”

  “Okay. Okay. I’ll wake everyone up. I’ll call the guys on watch. I’ll—”

  The line went dead.

  Not off, just completely silent.

  An unnerving sort of quiet.

  And then Leo whispered, “What are we going to tell everyone?”

  Nate stood and rubbed his palm over his face. He knew exactly what Leo meant. And he was forever grateful for his partner’s loyalty. His trust. “I’m not going to ask you to lie for me, Leo.”

  “Parker—”

  “Leo—”

  “Parker—”

  “Leo—” A knock on his hotel door cut him off. “Someone’s here. Hold on.”

  He crossed the room in an instant and took a deep breath, hope a painful thing in his chest as he hovered on the edge, one step from falling. It wasn’t her. She was long gone. She left. It wasn’t. But…

  Nate opened the door.

  Leo stood with his arms crossed, a hard look in his eyes. Before Nate had time to process the painful pang in his chest, his partner stormed into the room and shut the door behind them. “You left the townhouse with Jo. She yanked your comm out and tried to make a run for it. You followed her, but you couldn’t tell anyone because your phone was in your room and your comm was dead. You didn’t want to lose the trail, so you staked out her hotel, working off a hunch about the Degas, and when you saw her leave, you came back here and woke me up. That’s what we tell everyone. And I don’t want to hear another word about it.”

  Nate’s shoulders slumped as he let out a breath he’d been holding. “I can’t ask you—”

  “You’re not asking,” Leo interrupted as he flicked on the lights and took a fresh comm set out of his pocket. “You broke one rule in your entire life, Parker. And I’m not losing my partner because of it.”

  Nate slipped the earpiece into place but paused before running the mic through his sleeve. “I broke a pretty big rule, Leo.”

  His partner dipped his chin and tossed Nate a pointed stare. “Who wouldn’t break that rule for a night with Jolene Carter?” And then he arched a brow, the move inherently laced with humor. “Now, come on. We don’t have any more time to waste.”

  Nate sighed.

  A night with Jolene Carter.

  Was that all it was?

  All it would ever be?

  The very idea made his heart skip a beat. Not in the good way. In the way that felt as if a hand had shoved beneath his skin and a fist had wrapped around his insides, squeezing so tight, so rigid, there was no room to move. His chest burned, throbbing so painfully he couldn’t breathe.

  Leo put his hands against Nate’s back and gave him a hard shove toward the exit. “I only have one request, Parker.”

  He risked a glance over his shoulder as he opened the door. “What’s that?”

  “I’ll call the guys in the field.” They stepped into the hall and Leo motioned toward the room ten feet down, pointing with his thumb. “You have to wake up the rest of the team.”

  - 25 -

  Jo

  Speed was the greatest advantage a thief could have—get in and get out before anyone had a chance to notice. Jo was forever grateful for that singular fact as she rounded the corner to find Thad standing in the shadows, arms crossed, eyes a raging storm as they found hers.

  “Where the hell have you been?”

  Jo stepped smoothly past him. “I’m five minutes late, relax.”

  “Jo—” But he cut himself off with a growl.

  Because, like she’d said, speed. The Feds weren’t here—yet. And they had to get this done before they were.

  “Did you deal with the cameras?” Jo asked, getting right to business.

  Thad shot her a look, like how dare she que
stion him. “Of course.”

  The step had been simple enough. Jo had hacked into the city database and grabbed screenshots of the overnight images on each of the street cams within a two-block radius of the townhouse. Thad sized and printed the images, then attached them to the lenses. As long as no police officer happened to be watching during that split second when the photo was slipped into place, which really, was incredibly unlikely considering the cams were mostly used to retroactively search for evidence since there were hundreds, heck, thousands of them, they’d be in the clear. The digital timer would keep counting, and it wouldn’t be until morning that someone noticed the street still looked like it did at night—dark and empty—instead of swarming with people in bright daylight. Simple, but effective.

  Thad handed her a black ski mask. She tied her hair into a ponytail and slipped the cotton over her head to cover her face. She hated breathing in these damn things. They made her entire chin and neck sweaty and itchy, but they were necessary, just in case anyone happened to burst in before they were done. What she hated most of all, though, was the fact that as soon as she pulled the hood over her head, she truly felt like a criminal. And there was no way around that.

  “How’d it go with Parker?” Thad asked, voice slightly muffled as he pulled his mask on. “Did you get anything?”

  “No, sorry.” Jo looked to the ground as she answered. If he saw into her eyes, he’d know she wasn’t telling the truth. The flash drive burned a hole in her metaphorical pocket, but she didn’t want Thad to know she had it. To know how close she was to uncovering the truth. “How long ago did the Feds leave?”

  “About an hour and a half,” Thad murmured. “I didn’t come out of hiding until I saw them pull away. But that doesn’t mean they won’t be back.”

  Jo nodded, trying her best to act casually. He stared at her a moment longer, then stepped out of the shadows and crossed the street, moving swiftly toward the front door of the townhome. She followed his lead. It was late and quiet and dark, at least by New York standards. For all the money and social status, the Upper East Side was one of the easiest places in the entire city to rob. The streets were more residential than commercial. People went to sleep at a reasonable hour. The only big hindrance was the high-tech security systems, but that was why Jo was there. When they reached the front door, Thad pulled a small needle from his pocket, but it was her moment to shine.