Page 18 of Stolen Goods
Thad glanced at her one last time, taking note of the easy rise and fall of her chest, the way her plush lips were slightly parted. She was fast asleep, body and mind overwhelmed by the evening as her adrenaline gave way to exhaustion. Her cheeks still glistened with tears.
Thad reached across the car and wiped them off, unable to stand the sight of a woman crying, especially because of him. She shifted in her seat and her face rolled toward him, following the path of his fingers as he pulled away. A mix of citrus shampoo and sugar filled the small space of the car, sweet and tangy and somehow intoxicating—the iridescent fizz of freshly corked champagne mixed with a little dash of something naughty, like a hidden shot of whiskey that burned on its way down.
Thad looked away.
But the thought remained.
At first glance, she’d seemed so predictable. The sweet Southern belle. The girly girl. Decked in pink. A permanent smile on her lips. But there’d been a moment, quick and fleeting yet undeniably stuck in his mind, when he’d seen beneath the façade. Rolling pin still in her hands and the Russian out cold by her feet, in that moment just before the shock took over, he’d seen a fire in her eyes—unexpected and scorching, a determined grit that was undeniably sexy in its ferocity. And he wanted to see it again.
Not a good idea.
He shook his thoughts clear and eased the car into drive, trying to focus on the road, on the plan, anything to take his mind off his unwitting passenger. If they were lucky and no one reported gunshots already, they probably had about seven hours to get as far away as possible before the news broke. As soon as morning hit and the bodies were discovered, they’d be on the clock. The FBI would come sniffing. The mob too. Thad would have to ditch this car in case the plates were caught on a security camera, steal another one, find some food, and keep Addison from screaming bloody murder the second she woke up.
But all of that was doable.
The real concern was how the hell had the Russians found him in the first place? If they’d been following him for two weeks, surely he would’ve seen them? Or they would’ve acted sooner? He’d been sure he’d lost them when he’d sailed away from New York in the dead of night, so how—
They weren’t watching me.The realization hit hard and fast. Thad looked sharply at Addison, black curls covering half her face as she slept peacefully in the passenger seat, none the wiser.They were watching her. They were watching her shop. Because they knew. Somehow they hacked through Jo’s private files and saw her conversations. They realized Addison was my way to Jo.
Thad groaned and ran his palm over his face, then slid his fingers up into his hair and rubbed the crown of his head in frustration. He’d walked right into a trap. Right into it! And now, all that time spent planning was wasted. Absolutely wasted. The Russians could be tracking Addison’s phone. The Feds could too. He would’ve been better off calling Jo through a pay phone two weeks ago and running like hell—he probably would’ve been over the border already! In Brazil. Toes digging into the sand. Surf splashing over his feet. Paintbrush in hand.
Dammit!
Thad squeezed the steering wheel so hard his arms trembled. The leather whined in protest. A sign for the highway zipped in and out of view as his foot grew heavier and heavier on the gas. But this wasn’t the time for anger or frustration, or worst of all, doubt. He needed to stay sharp. Thad took a long, slow breath and forced the rising tide away. Compartmentalization was key. Bury the emotions. Don’t think about them.
There was no going back, only forward.
The same way he always did.
Atlanta, he thought with sudden clarity.It’s about a five-hour drive. Big city. Lots of people. Lots of cars. Too many roads in and out to blockade them all. We’ll go to Atlanta.
The whole plan wasn’t wasted—just shifting. He’d still use Addison’s phone to secretly contact Jo, with the code word neither the Russians nor the Feds would understand. They’d figure out a way to talk—pay phones most likely. Then he’d do what he needed to do, say what he needed to say, and disappear.
The very idea calmed him.
Having a plan settled him.
Thad sank back into his seat, one hand on the steering wheel as the other flipped through radio stations, keeping the volume soft. The road ahead was dark. Stripe after stripe of yellow paint flashed beneath the headlights. Time ticked slowly by. At first, the monotony was soothing. But after a while, his mind wandered…right over to the one thing he wished it wouldn’t. Addison, and the image razor sharp in his mind’s eye—her big, trusting eyes. She was beautiful, no question, but it wasn’t the way she looked that had made an impression. It was the way she’d lookedat him.
As though he were someone worthwhile.
As though he were worthy.
Thad wasn’t sure anyone had ever looked at him like that, not once. Women tended to look at him like an object, a sense he fostered to his advantage, a tool to keep people at bay. The few he’d let close usually examined him like a broken toy they wanted to fix, full of cracks and fissures that needed to be sewn shut. Jo had come the closest, probably, to giving him any sense of true value. But the love shining in her eyes had always been more like that of a sibling, the sort with the serrated edge of someone who knew too much, a devotion that continued in spite of his flaws, not because of them. The one person who was supposed to love him unconditionally had walked out of his life when he’d been eight years old, and the look on her face—the one that silently whispered,You’ll turn out just like your father—well, it hadn’t been particularly adoring. That sharp glint had cut deeper than any blade, a scar that still bled, refusing to heal. Especially when he knew, deep down, the sentiment had been true.
Addison was different.
He couldn’t quite pinpoint why. There’d been a light in her eyes, so bright it was blinding, the Hope Diamond on display, glittering and sparkling, filling him with a gut-deep desire to snatch it for his own. There’d been kindness when he’d showed up at her door, admiration as she’d watched him paint, faith as he’d come to her rescue, and most of all, the one that simmered to the top, awe and a magical sort of wonder as he’d held her in his arms and carried her to safety.
Of course, that’s all gone now.
Because you kidnapped her.
You asshole.
He winced, yanking his hand back from where it had misguidedly crept—close enough to graze the silken edge of hers. Those soft glances had been before Addison knew the truth, knew who he really was. They’d been based on a lie. And that last look in her eyes, full of panic, fear, and loathing the moment before she’d fainted—that was the truest one of all.
Thad closed his eyes and sighed.
