Stolen Goods (To Catch a Thief Book 2)

by Kay Marie

  Was she joking?

  Addy didn’t know real from fake anymore, so she stayed quiet.

  “I won’t actually murder him…” Jo murmured, as though sensing Addy’s hesitation. “I’m not a murderer! I swear! I’m just your everyday expert hacker and, well, art thief turned FBI informant…” Jo swallowed audibly on the line. Addy had never seen Jo’s face in a photo before—Guess now I know why!—but she imagined she was currently scrunching her nose in dismay. “I’m not helping, am I?”

  Not really. “Um…”

  Jo sighed through the phone, loud and rumbling, forcing a strong breath of air through her lips. “Did Thad explain anything?”

  Addy flicked a quick gaze in his direction, but looked at the floor as soon as she met those burning gray eyes, like hot charcoal smoldering on a grill. “Um, no.”

  “Of course not,” Jo said, words coming out like an audible eye roll. “Basically, I’m Jo, the same Jolene Carter I’ve always been, and, well, now you know why I never talked very much about the family business I didn’t want to be a part of. My father is—” She paused for a moment, a heavy silence. Addy closed her eyes, fighting to remember anything she’d seen on the news. The truth came back at the same time Jo continued, voice a shade darker than it had been before. “My father was an art thief, a very infamous one, and that’s all I thought the business was. Turned out, I was wrong. There was a whole big thing with Thad’s father, and the Russians, and arms deals, but, well, it’s too much to go into it now. What it boils down to is five years ago, some very evil men threatened to kill me if Thad and my father didn’t do what they said. To keep me safe, they made a stupid, idiotic, completely reckless deal, and now it’s fallen apart. Hence, the current shitstorm. Are you following?”

  Jo was a thief. Thad was a thief. Her father was a thief. Something with the Russian mob. And now the poop had hit the proverbial fan.

  “I think so…”

  “Okay, good, here’s where it gets complicated.”

  It’s not complicated yet? Addy stifled a groan.

  “I made a deal with the FBI—which is another long story I can’t get into, but remember that neat freak I moved in with?” Jo’s tone shifted, gaining a warmth it hadn’t had before. “He’s a federal agent.”

  Addy nodded, sighing internally as her body melted at the idea of a love story. Even in the most trying times, the hint of romance made her swoon. Just my luck, the one part of the story I might actually like to hear is the one part we don’t have time for.

  Jo rushed on, sentences tumbling out like one jumbled thought. “When the Russians realized I turned, they went after Thad and my father, though I think that was probably their plan all along. Anyway, they murdered my father and tried to murder Thad too, but he got away. In the past two weeks, the Feds have started making arrests and rounding up the men mentioned in the files I gave them access to. But when it comes time for trial, the whole case might hinge on eyewitness testimony, and Thad is the only eyewitness.”

  Addy swallowed, subtly peering through her peripheral vision, watching as the man in question stalked back and forth across the small room, eyes staring at nothing yet somehow laser focused, fingers rubbing the sexy bit of scruff covering his chin—

  Wait, sexy?

  No, not sexy.

  Dirty and, um, unkempt?

  She looked away, shaking her head as she whispered, “But didn’t he, um— I mean I overheard, well— Isn’t he running away?”

  She’d tried to be quiet, but Addy didn’t miss the snort that traveled across the small expanse of the room. She refused to acknowledge the sound.

  “He’s not running,” Jo said in an exasperated voice. “I mean, he thinks he’s running, and he said he’s running, but he’s not running. I know Thad better than he knows himself, just like he knows me, and he’s a much better man than he gives himself credit for. He’ll do the right thing. He just needs a little push in the right direction. Or, you know, an all-out shove. Same thing.”

  Addy dropped back down onto the edge of the bed, sinking into the mattress. “So where does that leave me? What am I supposed to do now?”

  “You need to stay with Thad.”

  A rush of fiery panic, and maybe something else, shot across her chest. “What? I can’t go home?”

  “The safest place in the world for you to be right now is next to Thad, trust me. For one, no one else in the world has better incentive to help you steer clear of the Russian mafia—since if they find him, he’s dead. And two, he’s good at what he does. He won’t get caught. I don’t care what anyone says, the police, even the Feds, can’t provide better, or more motivated, protection than that. And you need protection, because as soon as your face hits the newsreel today, you’ll be involved. There’s no stopping that now.”

  Jo was right. The realization came sharp and fast, like falling off a cliff into the unknown, no way to turn back. Addy thought of her small-town police force—men she’d known her entire life. Big John, whose belly was showing the effect of spending all his nights off at the bar, and Fred, who was nice, sure, but spent most of his time handing out speeding tickets or chasing down drunk teens. What would he have done in the face of murderous hitmen?

  Before Addy could stop it, visions from the night before flooded back. The bullets. The evil gleam. The blood. The bodies. She shook her head, clearing the images as her panic spiked, but the question remained. Would Big John or Fred have kept her safe, the way Thad had already proven he could? The Feds maybe, she would trust. Surely the FBI was more capable than any local police force—but how long would it take for them to get here? And what would happen in the meantime, while she was waiting all alone?

  Addy swallowed, head creeping slowly to the side, attention drawn inexplicably toward a man who was unquestionably dangerous, yet in this moment, in this situation, felt trustworthy. Her mind jumped back to the night before, as he’d held her in his arms and carried her to safety, promising she’d be okay. In her heart, she’d believed him.

  For some insane reason, she still did.

  “Okay,” Addy murmured, then took a deep breath, trying to make her voice stronger than she felt. “Okay, I’ll stay with Thad.”

  “Nothing is going to happen to you, I promise,” Jo said, earnest. Yet the words did little to calm Addy’s racing heart. “I know that might not mean much, but I trust Thad with my life. He’s saved it more than once. And I trust him with yours too.”

  Addy nodded, then promptly realized Jo couldn’t see.

  It didn’t matter. Jo jumped in to fill the silence, voice bubbling and lively once more. “You know what helps calm me down? Baking! And talking about baking. Did you finish those buttercream flowers last night?”

  “Oh, yeah. Yeah, I did.” The words popped out, requiring no thought at all. This was a topic she could talk about all day, no matter the circumstances. It was comforting to know Jo, her Jo, still felt the same. “Actually, they came out great. They’re in the fridge, cooling, before I—” But she wouldn’t be taking them out to decorate the cake for the wedding on Saturday. Come to think of it, would Edie? When her boss walked into the shop this morning, there would be at least one dead body and a messy paste of blood-soaked flour staining the floor. Edie would scream. She’d call the cops. Addy would be pronounced missing, likely dead. And—

  “Addy?” Jo asked softly, as though sensing the turn in her thoughts. “This might cheer you up! Your use of the code brown situation inspired me.”

  “What?” Addy shook her head, dispelling the image of Edie’s horrified face and her mother’s tear-filled eyes. “That inspired you?”

  “I’m going to make a coopie called the code brown! It’ll be great. I’ll nestle a gooey brownie inside pie crust, and then I’ll dip the whole thing in a chocolate glaze, and maybe top it with a little swirl of ganache in the shape of that poop emoji—just to be cheeky. It could be a social media hit! It might put my food truck on the map.”

  “Jo, that’s—that
’s genius!” Addy smiled despite herself. Jo had a way of always making that happen, no matter how dour the situation.

  “I thought you’d think so. McKenzie might have a fit but, well, we can’t all be fancy French-trained pastry chefs.”

  A little giggle slipped through Addy’s lips. “Well, we both know her favorite dessert looks like a turd, just don’t tell her I said so.”

  “Which one?” Jo said, then gasped.

  At the same time, they both shrieked, “Eclairs!”

  Addy laughed—a real, loud, throaty laugh—and a smile widened her cheeks, stretching her muscles in a way that felt good, that felt normal. Even as the sound died away, the sensation of lightness remained, the hope that somehow she’d get through this.

  “It’ll be okay, Addy,” Jo said through the silence.

  “I know.” And that time, she actually believed it.

  “Tell Thad I said, It’s not over, in your most intimidating voice. He’ll know what I mean. And shoot me email updates if you have a chance, so I know you’re okay. I showed Thad how to scatter an IP address ages ago. He should remember. He better remember—”

  “I will,” Addy cut in, not wanting to know more than she had to about the criminal activities she’d somehow been wrapped up in. Her mood was better now, amazingly hopeful, and she wanted to keep it that way. “When all of this is over, I demand a coopie. Actually, I demand the first code brown, baked fresh, by you.”

  “Done.”

  Addy hung up and turned to her new protector, not exactly full of confidence when she found him leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching her with dubiously raised brows. She wiped the smile from her face and adopted her most stern expression. “Jo says, It’s not over.”

  He rolled his eyes and pushed off the wall, not acknowledging the warning in the slightest. “We need to do something about your look.”

  “My look?” Addy glanced down at her polka-dot skirt, the apron she hadn’t realized was still on, the bubbly pink flats. “What about my look?”

  “It’s too…” He waved his hands around absently.

  “Too what?”

  “The pink, the hair, the whole girly-girly vibe…” He frowned. “It’s too obvious.”

  Addy arched a brow, not sure where all this indignant attitude had come from, but relishing it all the same. Normally, she was shy, one to shrink back and avoid confrontation at all costs. Yet here, with Thad, for some reason she was itching to finally give someone a piece of her mind. “Excuse me? What’s that supposed to mean?”

  The edge of his lip quirked in amusement, digging that flirtatious dimple back into his cheek. “It means, if we don’t want to get noticed by the cops or by the bad guys, we need to change your look. How do you feel about being a blonde?”

  Addy shot to her feet with a gasp, palm gripping the top of her head. “I am not dyeing my hair!” And in the back of her mind, Is Emma blonde? Is that his thing? I don’t care!

  “I thought girls always wanted to be blonde?”

  She crossed her arms. “Not this one.”

  “Okay, fine. I can compromise. How about a cut?” He stepped forward, pulling at one of her curls and wrapping the end around his finger. Addy held her breath, chest turning tight from his nearness. “Ten inches should do the trick.”

  “What?” She put both her hands against his chest—trying not to notice the firm muscles beneath her palms and failing miserably—and shoved him away. “You’re crazy. I’m not letting you touch my hair.”

  Thad sighed, and a little flicker of something other than amusement passed over his irises. “Look, I’m not trying to be a jerk. I promise. But bad people are looking for you, for us. This is real. This is happening. And I’m guessing you’ve had the same hair, the same clothes, the same look for your entire life. So, we have to change it. Because when Jo talks to her Fed, and they realize you’ve gone missing, your face will probably be on every news channel in America. You need to look a little less like, well, you. At least for the next few days.”

  Addy petted the top of her head, running her fingers lovingly through her carefully maintained curls. He was right. She had had the same hair and the same clothes and the same look for her entire life. And she’d thought about cutting her hair before, but every time she’d gone to the salon with the intention of changing it up, she’d chickened out. She was Addison Abbot—book nerd, helpless romantic, cake maker. She wasn’t one of those daring, confident girls who could strut around rocking a short bob, or a plunging neckline for that matter. A-line skirts and long, loose curls were sort of her thing. It was silly, maybe, the sort of thing a man wouldn’t understand. But she wasn’t sure if she was ready to change.

  “I have to?” she asked softly.

  “Yup.” Short. To the point. Leaving no room to argue. “Luckily,” he continued, drawing out the word as he knelt, reached under the bed, and retrieved a small bag, “I have scissors.”

  “No,” Addy demanded and shook her head, backing away.

  He grinned the most mischievous grin she’d ever seen in real life, like the Grinch right after he’d stolen Christmas, and stepped forward.

  “Absolutely not.”

  He opened and closed the scissors twice. Snip. Snip.

  “There’s got to be a salon—”

  “No way,” he interrupted, closing in. “Takes too long and we’d be in close contact with too many witnesses. I’m all you’ve got.”

  Her heart thundered.

  The panic set in.

  Addy wasn’t sure how much more she could take.

  “I’ll be gentle,” he coaxed. “And quick.”

  Lord help me. “Okay.”

  His brows shot up as though he’d expected a bigger fight. Before she had the chance to change her mind, he put his hand against the small of her back and led her into the bathroom. A little pressure on her shoulder and Addy sank to a seated position on the edge of the tub. The mirror across from her was too big, too bright. It took up the whole expanse of the wall, and all she could see was her face and the utter terror written across it.

  “I can’t watch,” she groaned and spun, placing her feet in the basin and presenting him with her back. It’s going to be okay. It’s going to be okay. She clenched her hands together in her lap, staring as her fingers turned white. What does it say about me that I think I’m more terrified now than I was yesterday, surrounded by gunfire?

  “Ready?”

  “No.”

  He wrapped his hand around her hair, bundling it into a ponytail, and—snip!

  “You can’t cut it all at once!” Addy shrieked, about to spin around, but he grabbed her shoulders and kept her where she was.

  “Now the worst is over,” he offered cheerfully, as though somehow that would make her feel better.

  “Oh my God,” Addy moaned as she reached up to her shoulders, finding nothing but empty air. “Oh, it’s so short. Oh no. Oh God. Oh—”

  “Shh,” Thad whispered, face close enough that his breath tickled her now-bare neck. “It’ll be okay. I’ve done this for Jo before. I have some idea of what I’m doing.”

  “Why didn’t you say that before?”

  An amused puff of air escaped his lips. “Maybe I like to see you squirm.”

  Addy’s nostrils flared, but she kept her mouth shut, refusing to give him the satisfaction. Thad returned to her hair, running his fingers through the strands, snipping and shifting and snipping and shifting. Addy sank into the monotony, taking deep breaths to remain calm, though secretly, she was annoyed. Because he was right. It was a little easier now that the hard part was over, now that most of it was just—poof!—gone. Without that fear, other feelings crept out of hiding. Between his quick touches and the pressure of her curls being pulled, tingles slowly spread from the base of her neck up her scalp, reminding her of slumber parties and gossip and late nights with her sister (before she’d become Lee). Familiar, and yet, entirely new. Because this wasn’t a girlfriend or a sister. It was a fles
h-and-blood man, which made the whole thing unnervingly intimate. Her skin burned where his fingers grazed. A flush rose up her cheeks. The pounding of her heart shifted. The room shrank as a sweltering heat closed in around her. Every nerve in her body screamed when he leaned close and blew the loose strands from her shoulders, sending a wave of pleasure down her spine to pool somewhere deep within her gut.

  “All done.”

  Thank God.

  Addy jumped to her feet, needing the distance, and slipped a little on the tub. Thad caught her, grabbing her biceps in his firm hands and holding her steady. She spun, ready with a thank you on her lips, but froze when she caught sight of the mirror.

  Holy crap! Is that me?

  Addy swallowed. Thad stepped to the side, giving her room to see, a satisfied smirk on his lips, but she hardly noticed. She was too transfixed by the girl she hardly recognized staring back at her, bright turquoise eyes larger than they’d ever seemed before, lips fuller, features more striking now that they weren’t hiding behind a curtain of voluminous hair. Addy tilted her head from side to side, amazed to find how much lighter, freer, she felt without all that extra weight.

  “Ready for phase two?”

  “What’s that?”

  She tore her attention from the mirror to look up at him, forgetting how close they were, how imposing he was. A current snapped to life between them, electric, pulsing across the small space separating their faces. Was she going crazy? Or did he feel it too? His stormy eyes were inscrutable, giving nothing away as they held her gaze. He wet his lips and swallowed. The fingers of his right hand continued to grasp her arm, almost unwilling to let go.

  “What’s phase two?” she murmured, voice hardly more than a breath.

  “Wardrobe.”

  He coughed and turned away, exiting the bathroom before she had time to blink. The rush of cold air in his wake was like an ice bath as it shocked her back to life. Addy sprang through the door, watching as he hastily zipped the duffel bag and shrugged the mystery tube over his shoulder. Then he opened the door and stepped outside, not bothering to wait, but clearly expecting her to follow. What other choice did she have? None that instilled much confidence.