Page 58 of Stolen Goods
“Addison, there’s…” He paused and licked his lips, glancing away to run a hand through his hair before turning back toward her. Bed head was a distractingly good look on him. Then again, it seemed like everything was. “I’m leaving soon, and I need to make sure you understand the world you’ll be returning to.”
Addy swallowed, trying to clear the lump in her throat, but it stayed there, stubborn, making her chest burn. It took all her effort to get out a single hoarsely spoken word. “Okay.”
“The Feds are immediately going to bring you in for questioning.”
She shook her head repeatedly. “I won’t say a word.”
“No.” He turned to her sharply. “Tell them everything. Everything. Even what I’m saying right now. Don’t give them any reason to think you’ve lied. Any reason to think you might be covering for me. That’s important, okay?”
She couldn’t speak, so she just nodded.
“But it’s more than the Feds,” he kept going, staring at her now, intently, studying her reactions to make sure she heard every word he was saying. The scrutiny made her flush after being ignored for so long. “Reporters are going to stalk you for a little while. Take pictures. Follow you around. Shout out questions. Talk shows will call. Radio shows will call. Magazines and newspapers too. And when they do, you’ll have to talk to them, but you’re going to have to lie. And it’s going to have to be convincing.”
“What do you mean?” Her voice was hollow. Her lungs felt the same, as if there was no air to breathe. “Lie how? Why do I have to say anything?”
“Jo will coach you,” Thad went on as though he hadn’t heard her, talking faster than ever before, as though he were in a rush for the first time in his life. “She’ll tell you what to say and how. She’ll know what to do. Tell the world I kept you tied up and gagged. That I hardly gave you food and water. That I was an asshole and I barely spoke two words to you. That I’m a monster. Tell them—”
“But,” she cut in, unable to believe what he was saying. He would never have done any of those things, not in a million years. “But, Thad—”
“No,” he interrupted and grabbed both of her hands in his, forcing her to listen. “This is important, Addison. The world wants me to be a villain, so they’ll believe you. They’ll eat up every word of your story, and it will keep you safe. No one except the Feds and Jo can ever know what actually happened between us—not your family, not your friends. If the Russians suspect you might mean something to me, they’ll— They might—” He squeezed his eyes and shook his head. “No one can know. To the rest of the world, I kidnapped you, kept you tied up and blindfolded for a few days, and used you as leverage to gain access to Jo, and that’s it. That’s everything. Okay?”
Addy was trembling. She clenched her fingers into a fist, but her arms still shook. She flattened her palms against her thighs. Finally, his steely eyes softened, warm as a downy fur in a frozen winter tundra, a look she was used to. He lifted his hand to her face and brushed a stray hair behind her ear, letting his fingers linger on her skin.
“I wish it didn’t have to be this way. I wish—” He paused and his gaze slid to something over her shoulder.
Addy wanted to turn, but she didn’t, because she knew the moment she did it would be over. Whatever this was, just like that, it would end. Instead, she reached up and covered his hand with hers, holding his palm against her cheek. Thad’s eyes found hers again, expression torn.
“I’m sorry I got you involved in all of this, Addison,” he whispered and stroked her skin with his thumb. “But I’m not sorry we met. I don’t think I ever will be.”
Thad tightened his hold and pulled her face across the distance, kissing her with a brief yet potent hunger, one that lit a fire in her veins. The spark went out too soon. He broke away and in one deft move, rolled right out of the car, too quick to change his mind. She stared at the empty space for a moment, feeling as though he were a Band-Aid that had been yanked off without warning, leaving her raw and burning. Addy hadn’t been prepared for goodbye. Not yet. Not so abruptly.
A knock on the window startled her.
Addy jumped in her seat and spun, lifting a hand to her heart as though to keep her spirit from flying right out of her chest when her eyes landed on a strange woman instead of on Thad. He watched from a few feet away, gripping the back of his neck with a grimace on his face. Addy blinked a few times and waited for her mind to catch up.
Emma?
But that didn’t make sense. This woman was waving and smiling, shifting her weight from one foot to the other in an excited sort of bounce, as though she knew who Addy was, as though she couldn’t wait to meet her.
And then it clicked.
“Jo?” Addy gasped. The woman nodded enthusiastically, a wide grin across her lips. They’d been internet friends for years, but Jo always cropped her face out of pictures—probably because she was a wanted criminal, but that was a thought for another time. Right now, all Addy felt was a relief. A warm, rushing flood of gratitude that she had friendly arms to fall into. “Jo!”
Addy pushed the door open, or maybe Jo pulled, but a second later they were wrapped in a tight hug.
“Addy!”
“Oh, Jo!” She closed her mouth before a sob could escape. Her body was overwhelmed, moving from one extreme to the next.
“It’s okay. You’re okay,” Jo whispered soothingly. “I promise.”
“We should get inside,” Thad’s deep voice cut in. “Before anyone sees.”
Jo nodded, but kept her arm around Addy’s shoulder, guiding her down the front walk of the small house and through the open front door. Thad closed it softly behind them. They stood in the foyer for a second, unsure what to do next. Addy didn’t know if she was allowed to look at Thad or speak to him. Jo was one of her best friends, but was also in so many ways a stranger. And, well, Thad and Jo clearly had their own issues going on between them. With the three of them standing in such close quarters, all that unspoken tension built, almost static in the air.
Jo broke the silence. “You know, you both kind of stink.”
Addy cracked like an egg down the center and laughter came spilling out. When she tried to breathe, it just came harder. Because Jo was right—they did stink. She hadn’t showered in days. Neither had Thad. They were completely disgusting. Yet somehow, up until that moment, she hadn’t realized. Not even a little bit.
