Page 86 of Hot Pursuit
Jo recognized the voice immediately. Only one person called her by her full name. She spun, finding her father hastily rushing through the crowd, gaze locked on her. “Daddy?”
As soon as the word passed through her lips, Jo heard the naiveté laced through it—the youth and the innocence she’d tried desperately to hold on to ever since her mother passed away. Jo had wanted to remain fourteen forever, wanted to stay that little girl who didn’t need to face the fact that her mother was gone, that her father was a criminal, that her typical, normal, simple life had been nothing but a sham.
But her eyes were open now.
She was seeing things clearly for the first time. And she was a woman, not a girl, who needed to make things right. “I mean, Dad, what are you doing here? I thought I was supposed to meet you at home? Who’s watching the island?”
His eyes were dark with worry as they shifted left and right. A deep wrinkle was etched into the curve of his forehead. Not pausing for a beat, her father walked to her side and gripped her biceps hard, tugging her to the side. “We have to leave, pumpkin.”
“My bag—”
“Not now,” he said, yanking her behind as he pushed through the crowd.
The hairs on the back of her neck stood with the sudden sense of being watched. Jo let her father pull her forward as she glanced behind, finding the face of the man who had been sitting beside her on the plane, still studying her carefully. Only now, she took note of the awareness in his deep-set hooded eyes, the lack of bags, the fact that she hadn’t heard him speak.
Is he one of the Russians?
Are they watching us?
Jo tripped over her feet and stumbled forward. Her father helped her right her balance, and this time, they moved as one through the crowd. Jo didn’t argue. She did as he’d taught her, not needing him to say when to duck into a store, when to cut a corner, when to hide around a bend or take a route that led in circles. They eventually made it to the parking lot. Her father hot-wired a car and they jumped in before easing onto the street, doing the same thing on the road as they’d done on their feet. In about twice the time it normally took, they made it to a boat dock—a different one than her father typically used. But Jo recognized the yacht at the end of the slip.My Susanna.
What would her mother say to see them now?
If she’d known what they’d become?
What Jo had become?
She shook her head—those thoughts were better left for another time—and followed her father onto the gleaming white deck, hastily making for the helm. He took the captain’s seat, as expected, and Jo filled in as first mate, a spot she’d taken many times before.
But never again.
“What’s going on, Dad?” she asked as they glided out of the port and into open sea. For the first time with her father, Jo’s voice was stern and demanding, not childish and carefree.
He kept his gaze locked on the horizon. “Don’t you worry, pumpkin. I’ve got it all under control.”
Ten days ago, that might have worked.
Now, it wasn’t nearly enough. “I said, what’s going on?”
He looked at her then, scrutinizing the thin line of her lips, the hard edges carved into her face, the unspoken demand. Something shifted in his features. One instant he was the commanding, suave, confident man she’d always known. And then he blinked. And swallowed. And suddenly he seemed old. Tired. His shoulders hunched ever so slightly. His eyelids dipped to a droop. He released a resigned sigh.
He knew.
One look and he knew.
But Jo pressed the point anyway. “I know everything, Dad. You, Thad, the Russian mafia. What the hell were you thinking? Why? And what is going on?”
“Thad…” He glanced back at the horizon as he swallowed a tightness in his throat. “Thad called. The meet didn’t go as planned.”
Jo’s heart leapt into her throat, clogging it with dread. “What? What happened?”
“Something tipped the Russians off. Thad sensed a shift in his contact, so he ran before they had a chance to act. Last we spoke, I heard gunfire in the background. But Thaddeus is quick on his feet, as smart as anyone I’ve met. I’m sure he got out. He must have gotten out.”
The repetition of that thought did nothing to quell her nerves. Instead, Jo collapsed into her seat, all her muscles giving out at once.
Thad.
Oh my god, Thad.
