To Catch a Thief--A High Stakes Romantic Suspense

by Sloane Steele

  When the door opened, she stepped into the hall looking like a woman on a mission. “Mia,” he said. “You ready?”

  “Yes.” She was fully shut down, no hint at the connection they’d shared.

  “This way.” He led her to the conference room, where he pointed at each agent. “I believe you know Agents Halloran and Lewis. This is Agent Stokes. Please take a seat.”

  “Hello.” She wheeled a chair out and sat, keeping her purse on her lap.

  “Ford tells us you’re willing to help lure your father out of hiding and into custody,” Lewis said.

  “I am.”

  Halloran huffed.

  Mia pinned him with a glare. “Look, Agent Halloran. I know you don’t like me and you trust me even less. Forgive me if I’m wrong, but I’m the best chance you have of catching my father after five years. If I was part of his scheme, I wouldn’t be here now. I wouldn’t have come to you when he called. That was my choice. And if you don’t want my help, you can go to hell.” She stood, sliding the chair back and nearly into the wall.

  Logan stood and put his hands out. He leveled a look at her, reminding her of their deal. If she walked out, he wouldn’t be able to do anything to save her. “Now, hold on. We know you didn’t have to come to us. I’m sure you can understand Agent Halloran’s frustration. As you said, your father has eluded the FBI for five years. Please, sit. I think what Agent Halloran is questioning is why now? You’ve never offered help before.”

  She pulled her chair back and sat again, avoiding making eye contact with Halloran. “I have. They know I spent my own money to find him. But now I have a way. He’s told me that he has artwork scattered all over the city as his contingency. Keaton Bishop’s painting isn’t the only one. Randall Scott’s and Max Ingram’s paintings also belonged to him.”

  Everyone around the table stared at her slack-jawed.

  She pressed on. “Those forgeries are making him panic. He’s asked for my help in selling what he has. He’s flat-out asked me for money.”

  “Where do the forgeries come in?” Stokes asked, knowing that Halloran and Lewis probably wanted to know. “That’s the piece that doesn’t make sense.”

  “My father thinks Keaton Bishop was trying to cheat him and got caught.”

  “What do you think?” Lewis asked.

  She pressed her lips together. “Bishop knew what my father was doing. They all did and they profited from it. They’re all crooked, so I wouldn’t put it past them to screw my father over. Serves him right after what he’s done.”

  Logan smiled. This woman was a formidable opponent. Not one lie passed her lips. She would outsmart her father. No way would the man come out unscathed.

  Halloran actually laughed. “So how do we catch him?”

  “He said he’ll meet me. Where can you get him?”

  “How do you know he’ll show if we set the trap?” Halloran pushed.

  “He’ll come if he thinks I’m bringing him money. He needs to be just the right amount of desperate. Rash enough to risk meeting me, not so hopeless that he burrows deeper out of sight. I’m the key to that. He believes I’m on his side and I’ll help him.”

  “Why the hell should we trust you?” Halloran asked.

  “I know you think my mother and I knew what he was doing. I have no way to convince you otherwise. But understand this—we’ve been paying for his crimes. Our reputations have been called into question constantly for five long years. Not a day goes by where I don’t have to wonder if the person I was expecting to hear from isn’t calling because of my last name. Or worse, if they want to befriend me because of it. If he’s locked up, then the victims will have closure and I can go on with my life without having to worry about him popping up and causing another mess.”

  Stokes reached across the table and slid a picture to Mia. “This is a supposed grad student who was interning at the Carlisle when the Devereaux was there and found to be a forgery. Does she look familiar?”

  Mia studied the photo. “It’s a very poor photo. Should I recognize her?”

  “She was there less than a week and no one has any record of her. Name appears to be phony. University of Chicago never heard of her.”

  “We routinely have grad students working at the Art Institute, but I don’t meet them all, and I’ve never headed the program that organizes them, so if we ever crossed paths there, I don’t recall.” She handed the picture back to Stokes.

  “What about Jack Russo? Do you know him?”

  Mia’s forehead wrinkled. “I don’t believe so.”

  “He goes by the name Dodger.”

  Logan couldn’t be sure, but there seemed to be a flicker of something in Mia’s eyes.

  “Silly name.”

  “He was the one who called in the tip about the real Devereaux.”

  “I knew nothing about any of that until I saw it on the news.”

  Still no sign of a lie. Either she was getting better at hiding her tell or she was speaking the truth. It didn’t add up. Not if she really was behind all the thefts and forgeries.

  “You inspected Randall Scott’s Mathis painting when Atlas told him it was a forgery, right?” Stokes was definitely leading Mia down a path.

  “He called me. He said the appraiser was wrong and he basically wanted a second opinion. I reminded him that contemporary art is not my area of expertise, but he was sure I could at least help him contest the appraiser’s findings.” She shrugged. “But I couldn’t.”

  “Why would he call you?”

  “My father’s friends are all wealthy businessmen, but art is not in their wheelhouse at all. Ever since I was in college, they would ask my opinion on some purchases. It’s the equivalent of having a friend who’s a carpenter. He might not be able to build your house, but you’d ask him questions to guide you. In the past, they would ask my father, who would then rope me into attending a dinner party so his friends could ask me questions.”

  “I assume you can’t get him on US soil,” Logan said.

  “I keep trying, but he knows if he comes home, he’s going to prison.”

  “What about a new identity?” Lewis said. “If you offered to get him and your uncle new passports and IDs, would he take them?”

  “Maybe.”

  “If he does, we can trace him and nab him at whatever airport he’s at.”

  “Next time he calls, I’ll offer it up and let you know.” She stood, gave Lewis and Halloran a quick nod, looked at Stokes, and said, “Nice to meet you.”

  “I’ll walk you out,” Logan offered.

  * * *

  Mia was surprised Logan accompanied her. She figured he couldn’t wait to get her out of his sight. He was silent on the way down in the elevator. She looked up at him in the lobby, but he kept walking, so she followed him outside.

  The humidity was oppressive after yesterday’s storm. Logan stood for a moment, hands in his pants pockets, face solemn in a way she’d never seen.

  “So you’re working with the blonde who pulled the Devereaux job for Dodger.”

  “I told you that I don’t know this Dodger character.”

  “But you know the blonde.” He shook his head. “Don’t say anything. I don’t want to hear another lie.”

  “I haven’t lied to you.” Had she? She’d omitted information obviously, but she didn’t think she’d outright lied. Her heart felt heavy and her lungs couldn’t quite expand. She was so torn between protecting her team and protecting him. She was every bit the disaster her father was.

  “Was I always just a mark to you?” He asked the question while staring out at traffic.

  The heaviness in her chest squeezed tighter, but he deserved the truth. “Not at first. Once I figured out you weren’t really an insurance agent, yes. I wanted to gauge how much you knew, how close you were. But I would be lying if I said it stayed t
hat way. I have feelings for you I hadn’t counted on and that’s what led us here. You were the first person in years I felt comfortable enough to completely be myself around and it allowed you to see past my defenses.”

  “Do you regret it?”

  “Slipping up and getting caught? Yes,” she said with a smile that broke his heart a little more. “But I don’t regret being with you for a second. If I wasn’t who I am or you weren’t you, I would’ve fallen deeply in love with you, Logan Ford.”

  She didn’t wait for a response because she feared he hated her for using him. As she turned and walked away, she blinked back tears and focused on her mission.

  She called Nikki on her way to work.

  “What’s up?”

  “The FBI does, in fact, have a picture of you at the Carlisle. You’re blonde and it’s a bad photo, but it’s you.”

  “You only recognized me because you knew it was me. I told you Wade’s glasses fucked with facial recognition.”

  “They also have your father’s name. They’re trying to piece it together, but they don’t have it yet.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “The agents in charge of my father’s case were there. They neither like nor trust me, so they would absolutely withhold details. But the information about you came from another agent. Stokes was her name.”

  “Yeah, that’s the one who cut a deal with my dad. I met her when I went to visit my dad with his lawyer. She didn’t recognize me, so I think we’re good.”

  “You might want to ditch the wig and come up with a different disguise.”

  “Will do. How did things go with Logan?”

  “About as well as could be expected.”

  “Anything I can do?”

  Inspiration struck. She might not be able to repair her relationship with Logan, but she could offer him something. Make things right in her own way. “Actually, I can use some help. There’s a Camille Hurley painting titled Farm Girl Dreams that I want you to steal.”

  “London hasn’t mentioned that one.”

  “It’s not one of my father’s. This one is a straight-up theft and it belongs to Logan’s family.”

  Nikki barked out a laugh. “Now we’ve done it. We have pulled you fully over to the dark side.”

  Mia disconnected with Nikki’s laugh echoing in her head. She might spend a little more time in the criminal world these days, but her heart still wanted to make things right.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Later that night, after Logan had worked to develop documents for Mia to show her father, he went home to see Mae. She hadn’t been expecting him, but whenever he was in trouble, home was where he went. He walked through the back door and yelled, “Who’s home?”

  Mae turned the corner, clutching her chest. “Boy, if you don’t stop doing that, I’m going to hurt you.”

  “Sorry, Mae. Old habit.” He bent and kissed her cheek.

  She looked up at him with narrowed eyes. “What’s wrong?”

  He didn’t even try to bullshit her. She saw through everything. “It’s Mia.”

  “You broke up already?” She shook her head. “Have a seat and tell me what you did.”

  “What makes you think I did something?” he asked as he sat at the kitchen table.

  “I know you, don’t I?”

  “I’m innocent this time. Mia, on the other hand, isn’t.”

  Mae poured them each a cup of coffee. “What is she guilty of?”

  “Why is it so quiet around here?” The house was unusually quiet, and it was a little disturbing.

  “Joe took the kids to a baseball game.” She pinned him with a look. “What did Mia do?”

  “She’s a thief.”

  “What? Like a real thief? Someone who belongs in cuffs?”

  Logan nodded. “It’s a little more complicated than that. The case I’ve been working on—the art forgeries? She’s involved in that. She’s been stealing art and replacing it with counterfeit pieces.”

  Mae stiffened. “Did she target you?”

  “I don’t think so. But when I showed interest, she used it to her advantage.”

  “You have feelings for her.”

  He nodded.

  “But she’s on the other side of the law, something you’ve been working most of your life to uphold.”

  It wasn’t his place to tell Mae Mia’s secret, but he needed someone to guide him. “There’s so much going on, Ma. The art she’s stealing actually belongs to her father, who is a criminal. She’s doing it to draw him out to bring him to justice.”

  “Well, that doesn’t sound so bad. Still breaking the law, but for a good reason. Kind of like when a cop on TV lies to the perp to get him to confess.”

  Logan chuckled. They’d had numerous conversations about how his job was nothing like what she saw on TV. He blew out a heavy breath. “And the money she gets from the art she gives away to people her father screwed over.”

  Mae full-on laughed. “That girl is definitely going to give you a run for your money. She’ll keep you on your toes.”

  “It’s really not funny. She’s breaking the law. In fact, she’s the person I’ve been searching for, and she knew it.”

  Mae hummed. “Are you mad that she’s a thief or that she fooled you?”

  “Both. How could I let her sucker me like that?” He drank his coffee in an attempt to swallow down his own bitterness.

  “You were falling for her. There’s no shame in that. What happens now?”

  “She offered to help us bring her father in.”

  “That’s good. You said he was a big case.”

  “That’s in exchange for me looking the other way on her crimes.”

  “Cops make deals all the time.”

  “I know.” For him, the problem was that he wasn’t sure if he’d agreed to her terms because it was the best decision for the case or because it was personal.

  “Then what happens?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “If she helps you get her father, then what? Will she keep stealing?”

  “I don’t know.” He didn’t think so, but he’d been wrong about so much.

  “If she stops, is this something you could get past?”

  “I’m not sure. That’s why I came home. I’ve always found answers here.”

  “Honey, I stopped telling you what to do years ago.” She sipped her coffee and leaned back in her seat.

  “You taught me lying is bad, yet you sit here with a lie on your lips without even blinking. You love telling every one of us what to do.” But he hadn’t truly expected her to make life decisions for him. He just needed the comfort of home to try to get his head on straight.

  “I could tell you that no one is perfect. We all make mistakes, some bigger than others. Sometimes the choices we make are difficult. Seems to me her intentions were good. Is she a good person?” Mae stood and grabbed the coffeepot to top off their cups. She also slid a tray of cookies in front of him.

  “I thought so.” He picked up a chocolate chip cookie and bit into it. It tasted like childhood. “Realistically, if the FBI had kept her father in custody, I don’t think she would’ve become a thief. And she’s protecting her crew. I know she’s not working alone, but when I mentioned I wanted her crew, she said she’d walk away from the deal and I could arrest her.”

  “Loyalty matters.”

  Mae made excellent points, as always. Unfortunately, it didn’t give him a direction. He had feelings for Mia, but her criminal activity could cost him his career, no matter how noble she thought she was being. And she didn’t say the stealing would end with her father’s arrest.

  “The last questions I have for you about this are whether you believe she also has feelings for you. Were you part of her plan to steal art? Did she put you at risk?”
/>   “I don’t know what to believe.”

  “Well,” she said, standing again. “You have to figure that out before you can make a decision. Or you can cut her loose and go on your way. You haven’t known each other long, so walking away is still doable.” She moved around the kitchen to prep dinner. “Unless you think the relationship is worth fighting for.”

  “Still not helping, Mae.”

  “What can I say? I like her. Are you staying for dinner?”

  “Of course. Who would be dumb enough to say no to one of your meals?”

  “Then wash up and go chop the vegetables.”

  * * *

  For the next two days, Mia kept her head down and focused on her work at the museum. She felt so isolated, which irked her because being alone had never bothered her before. She’d stayed away from the apartment, and obviously far from Logan. She was lonely in a way she hadn’t expected. Nikki and Audrey had called, but she’d ignored them. She was pretty confident the FBI didn’t have the number to her burner phone, but she didn’t want to take any chances. Right now, her team was clear, and she intended to keep it that way.

  Of course, dodging them meant red flags to Jared, so it wasn’t surprising that he was waiting for her to get off work. He’d texted to let her know he’d ordered dinner, so she wouldn’t freak out about someone being in her house. Although he had a key, her cousin rarely used it without warning.

  When she arrived at home, he had sushi from her favorite restaurant spread out on her dining room table. She looked at the food and then at him. “I’m fine.”

  “No one said you weren’t.”

  “Yet you’ve come to my house uninvited and brought my favorite meal.” She set her purse by the door and strode across the room to pour herself a glass of wine.

  “We both know that I haven’t been invited because you’re hurt and sulking. You tend to push everyone away when you’re feeling vulnerable.”

  “Then maybe you should take a hint.”