Page 26 of Stolen Goods
Thad rubbed his hand over the back of his neck, not sure what to say, how to explain. He’d never forget the day his world turned upside down—the day his future shattered like broken glass, leaving only fractured pieces of him behind. Thad had been a senior in college, a few weeks from graduation with a fancy degree in the fine arts, ready to take on the world. The pain of his father’s passing had bolstered his creativity—life had become canvases and paint and losing himself in the process. But the work was good, really good, good enough his teacher had agreed to show it to a friend who owned a gallery downtown. One buyer could be the start of everything—of all his dreams coming to fruition. Looking back, he should’ve known it was too good to be true. After a particularly long day in the studio, he’d opened the door to his dorm and stopped cold, senses tingling. Someone was there, hiding in the folds of darkness. Before Thad could react, a hand grabbed his shirt and pulled him against a hard chest, then the icy barrel of a gun pressed to his forehead.
Don’t make a sound, came a guttural voice from the shadows.
He’d been a different person back then—a boy, not a man. Up until that day, life-or-death situations had been stories his father and Robert shared across the dinner table, memories of the good old days. He and Jo had listened, rolling their eyes, making faces that spoke volumes. They learned how to con and how to thieve, how to pick locks and sneak across a room in perfect silence, how to hide in plain sight or spot the ideal getaway, but it had been a game. It had never been real, not until that moment, with a gun to his head and true criminals looking at him with murder in their eyes. Thad froze, too afraid to breathe as the man slowly closed the door, turned on the light, and proceeded to ruin his life.
Apparently, his father had never given up the life of crime, the way he’d told Thad, Robert, and Jo he had. They had millions in the bank, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. Not even his own son was enough to replace the high of a good heist. So when Robert decided to slow down, Thad’s father went behind his partner’s back and started working with the Russian mafia instead. He got in deep, too deep to get out. When he tried to run, they killed him—messed with the brakes in his car, causing the crash that left him brain dead. Thad listened, heart pounding, as these men explained with no remorse, no emotion, that they would do the same to Jo if he didn’t finish what his father had started. The image of her in a hospital bed, fingers limp, chest rising and falling solely because of the ventilator tube snaked into her lungs, was impossible to process. Thad dropped out of school that night. He caught the first plane to the Bahamas. When he got there, one shared glance with Robert was all it took. They would do this thing, together, to keep Jo safe. Nothing else mattered.
I guess my mother was right, Thad thought, remembering her parting words from so many years ago, etched onto his heart.My father left me a legacy of death and destruction. He built the bars that caged me in. And I turned out no better.
He blinked.
Slowly, the musty room and the soft breathing in his ear came back into focus. Only a few seconds had passed, but the world was different. Because Jo knew everything—all the horrible things he’d been a part of, the evil men he’d helped—and she would never look at him the same way again.
“I’m not sorry, Jo,” he said slowly, turning his back to Addison, as though somehow that might stop her from hearing. “Things were never supposed to go this far. You were never supposed to be involved, and I’m sorry for that, I’m sorry for dragging you in and I’m sorry for lying and I hate what happened to Robert, you know I do, but I’m not sorry for what I did. I’d do it again to keep you safe. And I know your father would say the same, if he could.”
Jo hesitated for a moment. She swallowed and then paused, but he knew what was coming. He could perfectly imagine the scowl passing over her always emotive face. “You’re an idiot.”
He snorted into the receiver. Classic Jo, straight to the point. But he was grateful for the response—grateful for the way it told him, so casually, that nothing had changed.
“You were both idiots,” Jo continued, undeterred. “What you were doing with the Russians, why you got involved, why you made that ridiculous arrangement. I can’t believe you were both so stupid, so naïve, so…so…so—”
“Downright noble?”
She growled over the line. “I could throttle you right now.”
“I know,” he teased gently, rolling his shoulders. This was easier, better—the banter, the play. This was them, Thad and Jo, partners despite it all. “That’s why I made the call from four states away instead of sneaking into your cushy new apartment to deliver the news in person.”
“What news?” she asked. “And how do you know about my apartment?”
“The paparazzi might be pains in the ass, but they’re good for one thing,” he drawled, sparing a moment to glance at Addison again. She was sitting on the bed, palms patiently folded in her lap, mouth pursed as she tried to follow the conversation, even as her head was turned slightly to the side as though to hide her eavesdropping. He couldn’t blame her. If Thad were in her shoes, he’d be grasping at every hint of information. “Or have you not been watching the evening news?”
Jo sighed. “I try my best to avoid the TV.”
“According to whatever radio station I was listening to, you and a Federal Agent Nate Parker are secretly engaged and plan to elope once the trials are over. When’s the big day? Can I send a gift?”
“Oh, Thad, I know you don’t believe that crap,” Jo snapped. The little bit of patience she possessed had clearly worn thin. “What are you not telling me?”
Hmm…where to begin?
He decided to start on the path of least resistance. “I accidentally kidnapped your friend.”
“Youwhat?”
“Here me out,” he interjected before she could shriek into the phone again. “I knew the Feds and Russians would be watching you, waiting for me to initiate contact, so I thought the best way to stay under the radar would be to establish communication through a third party.”
“Naturally,” she muttered in agreement.
“I had to flee New York, so I couldn’t try to get to your other friend who lives in Manhattan. What’s her name?”
“McKenzie,” Jo and Addison said at the same time.
Thad tossed Addison an amused glance. She shrugged back, a delightful challenge in her gaze, no longer pretending indifference now that the conversation was clearly about her. “Right, so I came south instead to find Addison, but there was a little hiccup—”
“What’d you do?” Jo cut in.
Thad rolled his eyes. “It wasn’t my fault. I swear.”
“Thad.”
