Page 14 of Hot Pursuit
Like she said, easy.
“We’ve got the blueprints for the house,” Jo thought aloud with a shrug. “The blueprints for the security system, and the locations of all the sensors. With a few tricks, I should be able to plant a virus that will give us remote access. Thad and I will be in and out with”—she paused to smile—“no worries.”
Her father pressed his lips into a thin line but nodded regardless.
If there was one thing the two of them had in spades, it was trust. After her mother passed away, they’d only had each other to count on, to lean on, to believe in. The illness had come swift and quick, ruthless in its devastation. Within four months of discovering the cancer, her mother was gone. They’d both been in shock. In anguish. Grief wasn’t a strong enough word to fully encompass the sight of the empty chair at the kitchen table, the absence of her laughter, her smile, her touch. The void had been a thick, palpable thing. A constant lump in Jo’s throat that would have choked her if not for her dad. For his sturdy arms when she was crying. His warmth when she was cold. His silent steadfastness at a time when there simply were no words to say.
Robert Carter was an infamous art thief to the rest of the world.
But to Jo he was simply her rock.
He’d come clean that summer. Promised never to lie to her again. Told her all about his past and his present. Where the money had come from. What her mother had known and surmised. Everything he’d done and planned to keep doing.
She’d only been fourteen, but she’d known what a criminal was. She’d known legal from illegal, but more importantly, she’d known right from wrong. Right was sticking by her family no matter what. Wrong was losing both of her parents in one swift yank. So, they’d moved to the island with Thad and his father. She finished high school through an online course and began her education in other things. More nefarious things. Things she hoped she’d be free of soon.
“So, you leave for New York tonight. The plan is set. Everyone’s ready?”
Jo glanced up, meeting her father’s eyes. They were the color of money. The color of greed. The color of envy. But also of life, of regrowth, of renewal.
“Ready,” she confirmed, voice steady.
“Ready,” Thad agreed, tone deep and rich and thrumming with confidence.
The two of them were going to New York alone to finish the job. Her father’s role for these past few years had been mostly in the setup rather than the execution. Not that he was too old or anything, of course not—at least Jo would never suggest it to him. But it was safe to say that Robert Carter didn’t have quite the getaway skills he once did should the need for a quick exit arise. And he never liked to leave the island unattended, the perfect excuse for her and Thad to convince him to remain home.
Her father nodded once. “Don’t say another word until you get to New York and can establish a safe zone.”
Jo and Thad looked at each other, fighting the instinct to roll their eyes or shake their heads. He’d already told them that about five times in the past two days—they weren’t idiots. The first thing she’d done after walking back into the house was a sweep of the security system, the internet connection, the phone lines, anything and everything, but there were no bugs or viruses that she could find. And if she couldn’t find them, they didn’t exist. Which meant Mr. Stiff and his partner were relying on more limited techniques.
Satellite feeds. Thermal imaging. Long-range mics…Jo paused at that last one, unable to stop the grin tugging at her lips. Toying with the Feds probably sounded like a bad idea to most people. But to Jo, it was too much fun to resist. What was the harm in prancing around in some sexy lingerie at night? Or lounging by her own damn pool in a teeny-tiny bikini? Or going for a run on the beach in nothing but a sports bra and spandex shorts? Or, her personal favorite, belting nineties ballads at the top of her tone-deaf lungs? They didn’t have to watch or listen if they didn’t want to.
Well, technically they probably do.
Jo closed her eyes and shook her head, trying to wipe the smile from her face as she imagined the way Agent Parker must have growled when she spent forty-five minutes in the kitchen yesterday, singing along to her favorite soundtrack,The Bodyguard.
Whitney Houston had the voice of an angel.
Jo had the voice of a dying parakeet. But it was all about confidence, which for some unknown reason, she seemed to have in abundance.
Thad tossed her a curious expression as they got up from the table and made their way back upstairs, leaving her father to who knew what in his studio.
“What’s that face?” he murmured.
Jo shrugged. “What face?”
“That self-satisfied, wicked little grin.”
She hip-checked him and pushed through the door first. “Wouldn’t you like to know.”
Thad sighed behind her. “No, I really wouldn’t.”
“Why?” Jo spun on her heels, stopping so short he almost banged into her. But Thad was nimble. In one move, he grabbed her hand, twirled her around, and laced their elbows together so they could walk arm-in-arm.
“Because, Jo Jo. I’ve seen that face. I know that face. And it means trouble.”
“Thaddy,” she cooed, leaning her head on his shoulder.
“Don’tThaddyme,” he teased, nudging her off as he deposited her at the base of the stairs up to her room. He turned to look at her, expression more somber than she’d expected. “Go pack and do whatever you have to do to get focused. This, this—” He cut off and darted his gaze to the window, remembering the rules. “Thisis important. More important than you realize, okay?”
