Stolen Goods (To Catch a Thief Book 2)

by Kay Marie

  Oh, God.

  He’s going to shoot me.

  I don’t know where Thad is. I gave him the painting. I’ve seen his face.

  I’m of no use anymore.

  He’s going to shoot me.

  She reached for the scissors beneath her shirt.

  If I’m going to die, I’m going to die trying. I took out a Russian with a rolling pin. At least this time I have something sharp to work with.

  Addy took a deep breath and thought of burning amber stone, sparkling sapphire skies, and a carpet of evergreen forest. She thought of cool air and bare skin and Thad’s searing hands all over her body. Her only adventure. But it was one more than she’d had a few days ago when her life flashed before her eyes barren of color. Now it was bright. It was vibrant and painted with all the brilliant hues Thad had taught her to see. Maybe one adventure was enough for a lifetime. Maybe it would last her an eternity.

  The moment stretched.

  She kept the image strong and gripped the plastic handles.

  Three.

  She forced her body to still.

  Two.

  She took a deep breath.

  One.

  Tires screeched on asphalt as a car careened around the bend. A hand gripped her elbow and yanked. Addy let go of the scissors, leaving them hidden in her waistband as she stumbled back into a broad chest. His forearm came around her throat, tight enough to suffocate. She wheezed, eyes going wide as the car skidded to a stop. In the exact same moment Thad rolled smoothly from the front seat, icy steel pressed against her skin.

  “Don’t move or I’ll shoot,” the Russian growled.

  “Go ahead,” Thad murmured with a shrug. Her heart stopped beating in her chest as he lifted his own gun. “I only came for the painting.”

  - 27 -

  Thad

  Her eyes dimmed with gutted disbelief. Thad fought to keep a blank expression on his face. Don’t believe it, Addison. Don’t believe it. But, of course, she did. That was the sort of man he was—the sort to care more about a painting than a person’s life.

  Thad didn’t meet her eyes.

  It was better this way. Better for her to think the worst.

  He kept his gaze locked on the Russian. The man’s eyes narrowed and he clutched Addison tighter, trying to call the bluff. Thad was good at this game. His gun had no bullets, yet he pointed it straight ahead, hands lethally steady. The best thing he could do for Addison right now was pretend she didn’t exist, and make the Russian believe it too.

  “Step away from the painting.” Thad paused to lift the corner of his lip, eying the art tube lying on the ground by the Russian’s feet. “Carefully, if you don’t mind.”

  The man frowned. “Drop your weapon or I’ll shoot.”

  “Fine. You shoot her, then I’ll shoot you.” He shrugged, keeping calm. “Either way, I walk out of here thirty million dollars richer.”

  Mobsters understood money. It was their primary motivation. They lived and breathed dollar signs. This Russian was the exact sort of person to care more about a painting than a person’s life. Thad wasn’t at all surprised when the man shoved Addison to the ground and pointed the gun at his chest instead. It was all part of the plan—the plan to make sure Addison was safe. I, on the other hand…

  Okay, yes. His odds weren’t looking great. What to do… What to do… Why the hell did I leave all those bullets in the drawer? I could’ve slipped one in my pocket for posterity’s sake. But he and Jo had never been big on guns. They were for criminals and cops, not cons. If a heist ended in gunfire, it was a shitty, ill-conceived plan. And, well, he and Jo simply didn’t do those. At least, they didn’t use to.

  “The Feds will be here any minute,” Thad said, buying time. What he wanted to say was, Run, Addison! Run! He had no idea what the hell she was doing just sitting there on the ground by the Russian’s feet, hunched over and clutching her midsection as though frozen with indecision. Don’t worry about me! Run! He didn’t look at her. Even one glance might give the ruse away. He kept talking, waiting for her to get the hint. “If you let me take the painting, we can both get out of this as free men. I’ll slip over the border. I’ll vanish off the face of the earth. That money will be enough for a lifetime. And you’ll be the hero. You can tell your boss he’ll never have to worry about me or my testimony ever again. But if the Feds get here, it’s over. For both of us.”

  Inside, Thad’s heart thundered, but outside, he was at ease. If you were smart, you’d shoot me right now, take the painting, and run. Three birds, one very large stone.

  The Russian swallowed. His eyes hardened, sharp as a blade’s edge, a murderer with no remorse and no qualms about committing his crimes again. His finger tightened on the trigger. “Or I could just shoot you.”

  Touché. You figured it out. Good thing Thad was already two steps ahead. Mental warfare he could do. “I’ll shoot you at the same time. And, no offense, you’re a much larger target. I’m willing to take those odds, if you are.”

  Let’s see if you can figure that one out, big guy.

  On the ground, Addison finally moved. Relief flooded through him. There was only so long he could keep this up before the Russian got bored and finally shot him. Standoffs always came to an end, one way or another.

  She inched backward on her hands and feet, keeping her gaze up. Thad watched out of the corner of his eye. The Russian didn’t bother.

  Go.

  Go.

  She got behind the oaf, out of his eyesight.

  Run, Addison!

  Run!

  But she didn’t. She stood in the grass and pulled something from her waistband.

  Oh, God, what are you doing?

  What is that?

  He couldn’t quite see. Why wasn’t she running? The Russian was letting her go. He didn’t care. She lifted her hands high above her head, and Thad broke, shifting his focus just enough to meet her resolute eyes. That wicked gleam he remembered was back and brighter than ever. Metal glinted in the sun. He had one moment to question—Are those scissors?—before she slammed her arms down.

  The gun fired wildly.

  Thad charged.

  Mother of God. Running into the Russian was like charging headfirst into a brick wall. The man was pure muscle. And huge. It took everything in Thad to force him off his feet. Addison jumped out of the way with a yelp as the two men fell to the ground and the gun skidded across the front walk and into the grass. While the Russian was dazed, Thad used the butt of his empty Glock as a club and whacked it straight into the man’s forehead. He grunted, confused. Thad hit him again.

  “Run, Addison!”

  She stared at him, eyes wide, holding the bloody scissors in her hand like an offering of some kind as she shook her head.

  “Where’s Jo?” he asked, trying a different tactic to break through her shock. “Is she safe? Did she get away?”

  “I think so,” Addison whispered, voice scratchy and raw. Relief flooded through him. “Our plan was to separate them.”

  “Go find Jo, okay?” Thad said, forcing his voice to remain calm for her even as his panic spiked. The Russian stirred beneath him. “Go find Jo, now!”

  The Russian blinked the stupor from his eyes. Thad brought his hands to the man’s throat, trying to suffocate him before he regained strength. But it was too late. Two beefy hands shoved into Thad’s chest, tossing him like a rag doll across the lawn. Luckily, he was spry. He rolled to his knees and scampered across the dirt, heading for the discarded gun. They reached it at the same time. The Russian was strong, but Thad was nimble. When the man pulled, Thad twisted under and around, rolling his legs over the Russian’s arms. He bent the man’s wrists until he thought they might snap, but the man didn’t let go. The Russian slammed his head into the base of Thad’s spine. He saw stars.

  “Go, Addison!” he yelled, holding on for dear life as metal slipped slowly through his fingers. The man’s head came down again. Thad groaned and fell forward, using his weight as
leverage to hold on just a little while longer. “Run!”

  Feet slapped on stone.

  A door creaked open and slammed shut.

  She was gone. She was safe.

  The Russian pounded his spine a third time and Thad’s fingers went numb, letting go. The gun clinked to the ground. A fist found his gut. Then his cheek. Thad stumbled back. A foot hit his chest and he went down, landing hard against the grass. Another kick struck his abdomen, sending him rolling. Thad blinked, trying to see. In blurred shapes, the Russian bent toward the ground and rose. He heard the man spit.

  Suddenly, Thad was back in that Brooklyn apartment building, one foot in front of the other, walking to his death. But this time, Jo was safe and Addison was free. He’d faced his mother. He’d met his sister. Maybe this was how it was always supposed to end for him. Maybe these past three weeks had been a gift, a way to tie up loose ends, and now he was right back where he started, at the wrong end of a gun.

  He was tired of being alone.

  He was tired of running.

  Everyone would be safer without him.

  Thad closed his eyes and imagined a different life as he waited for the bullet to strike. The life he maybe could have had if his mother hadn’t left, if his father had truly retired. He’d be an artist. Jo would bake. They’d still be best friends, because nothing could change that—partners in life, instead of in crime. On the weekends, he’d watch his sister cheer. He’d be in the front row of her high school graduation, like she was in the front row when he got his degree in fine arts. And one day, Jo would invite him to come meet her other best friends who were also pastry chefs. Addison would be there, looking at him with those clear, Caribbean eyes. He’d drown in her, the same way he had now, but it wouldn’t feel like that. Instead of all the walls closing in, a new world would blossom, because they’d have a chance, a future. It would feel as if he’d fallen in love.

  The shot fired.

  His ears rang.

  He waited for the pain. One second stretched into two.

  Am I dead?

  He didn’t feel dead. Every inch of his body ached. The shiner on his cheek was starting to puff. His toes tingled from the injury to his spine. Thad wiggled them, just to make sure he could. Then he did the same with his fingers. They moved. Can you wiggle your toes in hell? Because surely that’s where he belonged. Where he’d go.

  “Thad!”

  He blinked. Was that Addison?

  She shouldn’t be here.

  “Thad!”

  Warm hands came to his cheek. He blinked, clearing his vision. It was Addison, backlit like an angel by the sun, short hair a floating halo around her head. She was smiling and crying and looking at him as though she didn’t want to come up for air.

  “I’m alive?” he murmured.

  She bit her lower lip and nodded eagerly. “You’re alive.”

  “I’m alive,” he repeated, because the truth hadn’t quite sunk in. “How exactly?”

  “Me, you idiot,” Jo crooned from the side, holding a gun between two fingers, as far away from her body as she could. The quiet was all he needed to hear—she’d taken out the Russian with one quick shot to the head, down before he knew what happened. Jo walked around Thad to the body splayed out on the grass and took the other gun, shuddering visibly. She gently set both down by the front door, clicking the safeties into place. “There were only two of them, and the other guy is unconscious inside. I tied him up and gagged him in case the Feds wanted him for questioning.”

  The Russians must’ve underestimated their strength against two women—a rookie mistake. As soon as they’d split up, Jo pounced, and as he always expected of his partner, she won.

  “Where’s Nate?” Jo asked, hugging her arms around her midsection. “Why were you alone?”

  Thad swallowed and struggled to rise to a seated position as he fought to find the words. “Well, I—”

  She gasped and turned on him accusingly. “You were running!”

  He offered a sheepish grin.

  Jo charged down the sidewalk, taking obvious advantage of his injured state, and punched him thoroughly in the shoulder.

  “Ow. I think I have a back injury.”

  “You deserved that,” she growled. “I can’t believe you were running!”

  “Well, I didn’t, obviously. I came here.”

  “Only because you must’ve heard my call.”

  Thad pursed his lips. Because, well, she was right. His attention slid to the car resting on the side of the road, door open and inviting. The Degas sat in the grass a few feet in front, ripe for the taking. Miraculously, the Feds weren’t here yet. He must’ve been driving faster than he’d realized. Or they’d gotten caught in every single one of those red lights he’d blazed through.

  “I still could run.”

  “Thad—”

  “No. Hear me out, Jo,” he interrupted and turned toward her, resolutely sliding his gaze over Addison without pause. He was too afraid that if he met her questioning eyes, all his willpower would wither away. “Everyone is safer if I just disappear—everyone. If this doesn’t go to trial, the Russians will have no reason to go after you, or Addison, or Emma, or anyone. There’d be no reason for scare tactics. I’ll be gone, and they’ll be free, and it will all be over.”

  All the anger in her face melted away, replaced with a tender sort of sadness. “You don’t really believe that, Thaddy, do you?”

  “I do, Jo.” His voice was even, firm. There wasn’t an ounce of deceit in his body in that single moment. “The only person who benefits from a trial is, well, is…”

  “You?”

  Thad dropped his gaze to the ground, watching as the stalks of green grass that had been flattened beneath his body rose slowly back to standing. If only it were so easy. “I don’t deserve a second chance. Not at everyone else’s expense.”

  There it was.

  The truth he’d been trying to outrun. He was a virus to everyone who got too close. The only cure was to be alone, somewhere far enough away the curse wouldn’t spread. He didn’t need a judge or a jury—he’d sentenced himself to a life of isolation.

  A warm hand enveloped his.

  He’d recognize it anywhere.

  “Everyone deserves the chance to be a hero,” Addison whispered, so sincere and so compassionate he had to turn away. She rubbed her thumb over his skin and squeezed his fingers tight. “Whatever that means to you.”

  The gentle hum of sirens filtered through the air.

  “Listen, Thad,” Jo cut in, getting straight to the point. “These men are evil, and now you have a chance to stop them. Seems pretty black and white to me. I trust Nate, and if he tells me the Feds can keep everyone safe, I believe him. Don’t use me or anyone else as the scapegoat to keep punishing yourself.” She paused to swallow. The sirens wailed louder. It was now or never. “I won’t make this decision for you. If you want to go, go. I won’t get in the way. But if you want to stay, and finish what you and my father and your father, and hell, even I started, I’ll be right by your side to help you every step of the way. We’re not just partners in crime, we’re partners in…partners in…partners in—”

  “Partners in life?” he offered, words bringing him back a few minutes before to the moments he thought would be his last.

  “Yes! I love that. We’re partners in life too. Partners in justice. We could be a new age superhero duo or something. Well, I’m not sure I’d go that far, but…”

  While Jo rambled, Thad’s gaze slid to the fingers woven tightly through his, dainty and feminine yet firm as an anchor to the shore, as though the power of Addison’s touch alone could keep him there. Maybe it could, because he had no desire to leave, no desire to run. He wanted to stay. He wanted to live. Not a half-life. Not a ghost-life. But a full one.

  “Ryder!”

  Thad flinched. Well, the peace was nice while it lasted.

  “Why does Nate look like he wants to kill you?”

  “I don’t
know.”

  Jo deepened her tone. “Thad.”

  He shrugged.

  “Thad.”

  “I may have judo-chopped him in the throat.”

  “What?” she snapped.

  “And put him in handcuffs.”

  She gasped.

  “And thrown him out of his car. Oh, and”—Thad reached into his pocket—“stolen his phone. Though, that last one probably wasn’t such a big deal, in the grand scheme of things.”

  “Ryder!” The ground practically shook with the Fed’s pounding footsteps.

  Thad sighed.

  Jo groaned and jumped to intercept.

  “Don’t worry, Jo Jo,” Thad called after her. “I’ll win him over with my charm. I always do.”

  But he knew he wouldn’t—not this time. The jig was up. He had a few seconds left, and he didn’t want to waste them. Thad looked up and met Addison’s warm gaze. Deep within her eyes, he saw freedom. Not the kind he expected to find, but the sort he now wanted more desperately than anything.

  There was so much to say.

  Too much.

  He didn’t know where to begin, so he started simply. “Thank you.”

  Addison tilted her head to the side, shaking it slightly. Her lips parted.

  “Thank you for saving my life, Addison,” he whispered before she had the chance to speak. If he didn’t get it out now, he might lose his chance forever. Boots thundered over his shoulder, an imminent storm. Thad pulled their clasped hands to his face and pressed a soft kiss to her inner wrist, thrilled to watch the fire in her gaze spike. “And I don’t just mean today. These past few days, everything that happened—you saved me. You—”

  But time was up.

  Hands grabbed his shoulders and his arms, then pulled him to his feet.

  Cuffs bound his wrists.

  Thad stumbled back, straining to keep his head turned, but the Feds yanked him across the grass, gruff and uncaring. He’d already slipped through once, and they had no intention of letting it happen again. This time he was taken to a patrol car and shoved headfirst toward the back seat.