Hot Pursuit (To Catch a Thief Book 1)

by Kay Marie

  But she didn’t say any of that. She held his gaze, somewhat somber and subdued, even as the slightest smile wobbled on her lips. “I’ll take what I can get, Nate, as long as I’m with you.”

  The blades began to churn, roaring loudly, picking up speed as the pilots settled in their seats and prepared for takeoff. Paramedics slipped foam buds into their ears, muffling the sound. The world shifted to an oddly peaceful sort of silence as the chopper lifted and the air cleared of smoke, and there was nothing but blue sky all around them.

  Nate and Jo looked at each other.

  They didn’t need to speak.

  Not with words.

  Jo laced her fingers through his and held on firm. Nate did the same. And it was enough. More than enough, as they silently promised each other forever.

  - 31 -

  Jo

  ~ Two Weeks Later ~

  Jo kicked her flip-flops off and took a step forward, moving from the sidewalk to the beach. She wriggled her toes in the sand. Amazing how no matter where she went, it felt the same. Sometimes smooth. Sometimes rocky. But always comforting, always cathartic. The sound of softly lapping water filtered into her ears, a soothing rhythm. A faded pink sliver cut across the horizon, the last remnants of dusk as night fell. The moon glittered on the flowing black surface, lighting her path in the dark. Jo clasped the urn to her chest, not sure if she was ready to let go.

  “Are you okay?” Nate murmured from behind. The deep, solid sound of his voice was reassuring, her anchor to the shore, her new rock, steadfast and constant.

  Jo glanced over her shoulder, finding his eyes, holding on to the love and sympathy swirling within them. “I’m okay.”

  “Do you want me to—”

  Jo shook her head.

  No.

  Nate had already done enough. He’d saved her life. He’d convinced the FBI to recover her father’s remains. He’d followed through on his promise of an immunity deal, giving her the opportunity to see all her dreams come true. He’d done everything within his power to ease the pain, to take away her hurt. And this was something she needed to do by herself.

  So she turned and took a step, and another and another, until she felt the cool kiss of water against her toes, and then she kept going until she was up to her knees. The world was different out here, surrounded by bright twinkles and deep shadow, the flow of the river pushing against her balance, the surface rippling, the shore so seemingly far away. There was something magical about it, almost surreal.

  When they’d deposited her mother’s ashes in the ocean outside their private island, it had been broad daylight. Nothing but sun and turquoise water and white sand. The total opposite of this final goodbye with her father, on a small beach at the edge of the Potomac River under cover of night. But it made sense in a way. Her mother had been the serene, graceful beauty of the sunrise, her father the stark, vivid drama of the sunset, but together, they’d made the day complete. And now, they’d be reunited, somewhere in the vast sea, somewhere beyond understanding.

  Jo opened the lid of the urn.

  She gently turned it over, letting the wind and the current carry the ashes out of sight. There hadn’t been much recovered at the scene, so the process was quick and painless in a way Jo hadn’t expected it to be. Oh, her chest burned. Tears slid silently down her cheeks. Her hands shook. And yet, there was something hopeful, a small part of her that thought maybe it was better this way. Her mother was no longer alone, waiting. Her father was no longer alone, wanting. They were both at peace. And the alternative had been the rest of his life behind bars, an atonement he probably deserved, but one Jo was glad to not have to witness.

  He’d come to her rescue.

  He’d apologized for his sins.

  And then he was gone, too fast to feel anything at all.

  The explosion had killed him in an instant, but Jo liked to believe he hadn’t died in vain. The Russians had wired the entire exterior of the house, so all their personal possessions had been completely destroyed. The vault, however, was underground and untouched by the fire due to all the precautions her father had painstakingly taken during its construction. The priceless works and heirlooms he’d stolen were in the process of being returned to the families and museums from which they’d been taken. And thanks to his precise recordkeeping, the bureau had more than enough evidence to begin making arrests, against the Russians but also against a number of shady criminals her father had worked with over the years. Though he’d done a lot of bad things in his life, Jo hoped that in the end he’d be remembered for being good—a good person, a good husband, and a good father. She at least would always think of him that way.

  Jo replaced the lid on the now-empty urn and tucked it against her hip, holding it with one hand, using the other to clasp the rings hanging from a chain around her neck. They’d been recovered in her father’s remains. Two wedding rings, scorched black, but undamaged. The agents on the scene had slipped them into an envelope and kept them off the record, handing them to Nate on the sly so Jo could keep a little part of her past. The rest was gone—lost to the explosion or confiscated by the government. Jo had nothing—at least, that was what a lot of news outlets were reporting, what some people kept telling her, what she kept reading.

  A small smile quirked her lips.

  I have Nate. I have these rings. I have my dreams. I have a future. I have everything—everything I could possibly need.

  Well, except one thing.

  Thad.

  No one had heard from him or seen him. And while the evidence in her father’s vault had been invaluable, Nate said nothing convinced a jury like an eyewitness. So, the bureau was scouring the country looking for him. And Jo was positive the Russians were doing the same. But she held on to the belief that Thad was okay. He was in hiding. And somehow, someway, when it was safe, he’d find a way to contact her. A way the Russians and the FBI would never anticipate. A way only she would understand.

  Jo sighed.

  Slowly, she walked out of the water and up the beach, back to where Nate was patiently waiting, leaning against his crutches for support. The gunshot hadn’t inflicted any permanent damage aside from what was sure to be a wicked scar, but the recovery would be slow. She’d never tell Nate, but Jo was secretly overjoyed to have him stuck in the office and not out in the field, so he could come home to her every night and kiss her goodbye every morning.

  “So how does it feel to break the law, Agent Parker?”

  It was the first thing that had come to her lips, and in typical fashion, she’d spit it out without thinking. But it was easier to joke than to feel. She needed a break from her emotions. And, well, it was the truth—scattering ashes in an inland waterway, especially without a permit, wasn’t quite legal. But just this once, Nate had agreed to look the other way.

  Literally.

  He jolted when Jo spoke and snapped his head around to face her, a grin dancing across his lips. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m just out for an evening stroll on a moonlit beach with my girlfriend. Very romantic.”

  Jo arched a brow and stepped closer. “Girlfriend, huh?”

  “We rule-followers like the use of a label every now and again, to keep things organized.” Even with crutches, Nate was quick. He darted his hand out, grabbing the edge of her shirt, and tugged. Jo fell against his chest, no other place in the world she’d rather be. “You have a problem with that?”

  Though she’d normally retort, Jo melted into his words and his embrace, all the fight and all the bravado gone from her body in one fell swoop. “No.”

  Nate’s features softened, humor turning to empathy in an instant. He lifted his hand and tucked her hair behind her ear, then gently brushed his fingers over her cheeks, wiping the tears away. Words danced in the depths of his eyes. I’m sorry. What can I do? How can I help? Are you okay? Will you be okay? I want to take your pain away. But he didn’t say any of it, because he knew her, and he knew she didn’t want to hear it. Ins
tead, he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and murmured a single word. The perfect one.

  “Home?”

  Jo leaned back and found his eyes. “Home.”

  They made their way to the car, and Nate eased into the driver’s seat. Jo didn’t bother to protest. The last time she’d tried to point out that someone recovering from a bullet to the calf might not be the ideal driver, she’d gotten a gruff, I got shot in my left leg. I only need the right one to drive. And to be honest, all she wanted to do now was hold his hand and zone out until they got home.

  Home.

  What an odd concept. Two weeks ago, the only home she’d known for the past ten years had been blown to smithereens. And now, only fourteen days later, another spot had already claimed the title. But that was something loss had taught her—home wasn’t a place, not really. It was a person. Home had once been a farmhouse in the countryside, until the day her mother’s laughter disappeared and took all sense of belonging with it. Then home had become an isolated island in the middle of the sea. But without her father’s presence, that house would never have felt the same. And now, home was a small one-bedroom apartment in the middle of Washington, DC, a bachelor pad slowly seeing signs of a woman’s touch. But really, home was being wrapped in Nate’s arms, safe and loved and warm. That was all she wanted as they parked and made their way to the front door. To be surrounded by Nate. Loved by him. To escape for a little bit beneath his touch. In her mind, they were already in bed, tangled in the sheets, finding solace in each other’s—

  “What the hell?”

  Jo blinked, dispelling the image as Nate’s blurted words brought her back to reality. “Wha— Oh.”

  She followed him through the front door and winced, taking in the utter disaster that was the apartment. Cardboard boxes and bits of Styrofoam were scattered across the living room floor. Bags of flour and sugar and chocolate chips sat open on the kitchen counters. Butter had melted into a puddle, dripping over the edge and onto the ceramic tiles. Cooling racks were stacked two feet high on the dining room table, overflowing with baked goods.

  “The, um, KitchenAid I ordered arrived today…” Jo trailed off when she realized Nate wasn’t listening but was instead frozen in horror, eyes wide, mouth open, steam practically coming out of his ears. Damage control. ASAP. “I meant to clean it,” Jo started again. Nate still didn’t move. She bit her lip and lifted one of her feet, dragging the tips of her toes back and forth across the wooden boards. “But I was on a roll, creative-wise I mean. And I was so nervous about tonight, about how I would feel, I couldn’t stop. And then you called to say you were out front. And I just grabbed the urn and left and, well, completely forgot to warn you…” Jo swallowed. Was he having a heart attack? A panic attack? A— “Nate?”

  Jo put a hand to his arm.

  As soon as she touched him, he sucked a long, measured breath through his lips, then held it for a few moments before releasing it just as steadily, just as controlled. He gradually shifted his head, turning it toward her in slow motion.

  “Jo.”

  An apologetic smile rose on her lips. Please find me adorable and cute. “I made coopies, your favorite. The brownie ones are brand new. They’re just over there, on the end of the table. Or chocolate chip. A classic. You can’t go wrong with chocolate chip. Or, um, oatmeal raisin? Though, those still need a little work. Ooh! The birthday cake ones are delicious.”

  “Jo.” He drew the O out into a sentence all its own.

  “I know…”

  He turned back toward the mess. “Look at this place.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  Panic sizzled beneath her skin. All she’d wanted tonight was to lose herself in Nate’s arms, to forget the hurt for a little while, to forget it all—and dammit, she would!

  Jo did the only thing she could think of.

  She stripped.

  While Nate was busy darting his gaze around every splotch of dough on the counter, Jo yanked off her T-shirt and pulled down her shorts, then unclipped her bra and stepped out of her panties. She kicked her flip-flops into the center of the kitchen—hell, at this point, it couldn’t be any messier—and said, “Nate.”

  “Jo—”

  “I’m naked.”

  He spun so fast she was worried he might get whiplash, nothing but empty air spilling from his lips.

  “I’m naked.”

  “You already said that.”

  “I felt it needed repeating.”

  “You make a good point.” Nate drank in every inch of her body. Jo smirked. “But you can’t win every argument this way, Jo.”

  She opened her mouth in admonishment. “This is the first time I’ve done this!”

  “I’m just saying…” Nate scanned her once more, then he swallowed, throat tight.

  Jo swayed her hips, sauntering closer, never one to fight fair, especially if her tactic was proving effective. The flames in his eyes turned to an inferno as she leaned into his chest, whispering, “I think I’ll take my chances.”

  Nate stared at her, a war playing behind his eyes. In one fell swoop, he groaned, let his crutches fall to the ground, and grabbed her by the waist to toss her over his shoulder.

  “Nate!” she gasped in surprise.

  He didn’t respond. He just turned and made for the bedroom.

  “Nate, your leg!”

  “I’m fine,” he muttered, even as he started to limp.

  When he grunted and began hopping down the hallway on one foot, Jo couldn’t help it. She covered her lips with her hands, trembling as her entire body jerked in what had to be the least seductive motion in the history of dating. But it was Nate. And she loved him. And she loved this. And it didn’t matter that they fell onto the bed in a jumbled heap. It only mattered that they were there, together, laughing until they were crying, then kissing the tears away.

  ***

  Thank you for reading!

  Don’t miss the sequel, STOLEN GOODS, following the love story of devilish thief-on-the-run Thad and daydreaming cake designer Addison—coming in Fall 2018!

  Sign up for my New Release Newsletter at the link below to receive an email notification the morning STOLEN GOODS goes on sale! You can also sign up for my monthly newsletter for exclusive subscriber content, progress reports, and more!

  bit.ly/KaitlynDavisNewsletter

  Thanks again!

  About the Author

  Bestselling author Kaitlyn Davis writes young adult fantasy novels under the name Kaitlyn Davis and contemporary romance novels under the name Kay Marie.

  Always blessed with an overactive imagination, Kaitlyn has been writing ever since she picked up her first crayon and is overjoyed to share her work with the world. When she's not daydreaming, typing stories, or getting lost in fictional worlds, Kaitlyn can be found indulging in some puppy videos, watching a little too much television, or spending time with her family.

  Join Kaitlyn’s monthly newsletter for exclusive content, updates about her upcoming releases, book recommendations, and more!

  bit.ly/KaitlynDavisNewsletter

  Other ways to connect with Kaitlyn online:

  Website:

  KaitlynDavisBooks.com

  Facebook:

  Facebook.com/KaitlynDavisBooks

  Instagram:

  @KaitlynDavisBooks

  Twitter:

  @DavisKaitlyn

  Bookbub:

  @KayMarie1

  Goodreads:

  Goodreads.com/Kay_Marie

 

 

 
>