Page 73 of Hot Pursuit
Jo shook her head, dispelling the words. There was no time for that, not now. She put her hand to his forearm, stopping him, as she took to her tablet again, this time to breach the second layer of the security—a backup circuit for the safe she knew was hidden in the office upstairs, the specialized cabinets in the master closet, most likely holding jewelry, and the discreet sensor attached to the back side of the Degas, hidden, she assumed, in the edge of the frame. It had taken her nearly four straight hours two nights ago to figure out an undetectable way in, but now, it only took a few seconds to type the pathway and deactivate the alarms.
Jo tapped Thad twice, his sign to move.
He took a small flashlight from his pocket, no bigger than a pen, and pressed his cheek against the wall, parallel to the frame. There was no more than a centimeter of space between the back of the painting and the wall, but it was enough space to see if there was a third sensor they’d need to disarm. This was the biggest wild card of the entire operation. Some people, the smart cynical kind who didn’t trust big security firms to actually do their jobs, sometimes employed a third line of defense. Something as simple as a cheap battery-operated magnetic alarm was oftentimes the most difficult to get around. Jo couldn’t hack her way in. They couldn’t plan for them. And unless Thad was careful, even touching the frame could flip the switch. Because this job was about insurance fraud, she doubted the homeowner had gone the extra step—he did, after all, want to be robbed—but they couldn’t be too sure.
Thad spent thirty seconds checking every shadow for a hidden sensor, a lifetime in this sort of setting. Satisfied, he slipped a small scanner out, one which should effectively desensitize any magnets in range, and slowly passed the small beam around the edge of the frame—just in case.
He found Jo’s gaze.
She moved to the opposite side of the frame, hands hovering over the gilt wood, waiting for the signal.
He held up his fingers, counting down.
Three.
Two.
One.
In a swift motion, they lifted the hefty frame from the wall, stepped back, and froze.
No alarms.
No sirens.
No nothing.
Jo exhaled slowly, finding Thad’s gaze again as they gently dropped to their knees and set the painting facedown on the floor. Crinkles formed at the corners of his eyes, letting her know he smiled beneath his mask—a devilish grin, she was sure, filled with victory and ecstasy and sin, the sort of high he only got from one of two things. She’d seen it many times before.
Jo stood and walked to the window, checking the time on her tablet. They’d been inside for less than five minutes, but the hard part was over. Behind her, Thad was painstakingly detaching the canvas from the frame so he could roll it up and store it in the tube secured to his back. If they damaged the art, it would instantly lose value, and since he was the artist, this was his area of expertise. But she wasn’t worried. He was as meticulous as he was mischievous. He had it under control, especially with her standing watch, allowing him to focus without having to look over his shoulder, trusting her to have his back. Just as she’d always trusted him to have hers—a promise she desperately wished he hadn’t broken.
Her mind went to the flash drive. Her hand instinctively found the purse dangling by her waist. Was the bag hot to the touch? Or was she only imagining that phantom heat—a panicked sort of burning to match the one simmering under her skin, an inferno closing in around her?
Asnapbroke her from her thoughts.
Their signal. The only sound they ever used on a job to catch the other person’s attention—speaking was too risky given that the homeowner was asleep down the hall.
Jo turned.
Thad secured the cap on the tube. She caught a flash of white from the canvas now resting inside.
That was it.
Months and months of planning, and they were done.
In. Out.
Easy.
Jo stepped back from the window but stopped cold as a flash of light flooded the room. Headlights. She pressed her back to the wall and peeked around the edge of the molding until she could see the street. A car pulled to a stop two doors down. Far enough away to be coincidence. But she knew in her heart it wasn’t.
Jo snapped twice.
Thad froze.
Another car pulled to a stop outside. Then one more.
Jo signaled to the window on the other side of the room, and Thad crept over to peer outside. He held out his hand, signaling the number two.
