Stolen Goods (To Catch a Thief Book 2) Read online

Thad turned curiously in her direction. “What?”

  “Nothing,” she chirped, shaking her head.

  “What?”

  “Nothing.”

  The edge of his lip quirked. Challenge accepted. “You know I won’t stop until you tell me.”

  Addison remained silent.

  “I’m annoyingly persistent.”

  “It’s nothing, really.”

  “Then tell me.” He shrugged.

  She sighed. “It’s just…”

  She’s starting to crack. “Come on,” he urged. “I know you want to tell me.”

  “I…”

  He leaned toward her, ear first, keeping his eyes on the road. “I can’t hear you…”

  “Fine,” Addison said, speaking the word like a groan. “You said strike while the iron is hot?”

  He met her eyes in the rearview mirror, enjoying the little sparkle firing to life, like the sun glinting off a cresting wave. “I did.”

  “Well,” she said and tilted her head, not looking away. “Do you think, maybe, we could go to the Grand Canyon?”

  “The Grand Canyon?” he repeated, mulling over the idea.

  Addison plowed forward. “It’s only about seventy-five miles north of our exit off I-40, so it would probably be, I don’t know, maybe an hour and a half out of the way? We could camp there overnight and head toward Scottsdale in the morning, which would be about, hmm, maybe four or five hours south? Something like that. Unless you were planning to get to Scottsdale in the middle of the night, it wouldn’t be too far out of the way. And I’ve always wanted to go.”

  “Okay.”

  “Besides,” Addison continued, voice growing firmer as she wrung her hands in her lap and straightened her spine. She was so focused on convincing him to say yes, she didn’t realize he already had. But the road provided so few sources of entertainment, he kept his mouth shut. Watching her get all worked up over nothing was the definition of amusing. “You dragged me onto this little road trip. I deserve to get something out of it too. We’re going to be right there. It’s the least you can do, really. And, oh, can’t you just imagine it? The sun bouncing off those red rocks? The sliver of river snaking through? The vistas must be breathtaking. It’s been on my bucket list for ages, but I never— Wait a second.” Addison snapped her head in his direction, mind finally catching up. “Okay?”

  “Yup.” Thad shrugged. “Okay.”

  Her entire face lit up, a firework exploding in broad daylight. “Really?!”

  Just like that, Thad knew the delays, the extra time, the risk—it would all be worth it. “Sure. I’ve never been. I’d love to go.” Before I’m banned from re-entering the United States. He kept that little side note to himself. “And like you said, it’s not too far out of the way.”

  “Oh, thank you,” she gushed, and then bit down, pulling her lower lip into her mouth to try to hide her ever-widening smile, but her cheeks pulled taut regardless. Joy was as much in the eyes as it was in the lips, if not more so, and there was no dimming that bright beam.

  “Bet you’re wishing you had that pencil now, huh?” Thad teased, fully expecting Addison to bury herself back in the maps.

  Instead, she turned to him with a devilish grin that intrigued him to no end. “No need.”

  He pushed his brows together, waiting for an explanation.

  “Confidence breeds success, right?” She lifted the map to show him the thick black line running through it. “I already sharpied it in.”

  Thad paused, cataloguing every detail of this moment. The curve of her lip. The sunlight glittering against her hair. The slight flush to her cheeks. The blur of trees framing her face. He committed it to memory, in case he wanted to paint it later. Because right here, right now, with Addison throwing his own words back in his face, Thad felt a joy so pure, a feeling so light and bubbling and beautiful, all he could do was put his head back and laugh.

  - 16 -

  Addison

  Turned out life on the run was a little, well, boring. As the views outside the window shifted from thick forests to grassy plains, they played Twenty-One Questions, I Spy, and The Movie Game. They listened to music, fighting between country stations (Addy’s choice) and classic rock (all Thad). Addy told him about the first time she’d seen snow as a girl, a few days before Christmas. Her father tied an aluminum garbage can lid to the back of his car and dragged her and Gracie around for ages so they could “sled.” It was one of her favorite memories with her sister—the two of them hugging and screaming and laughing as they clutched each other and the sled for dear life. Thad told her about the first blizzard he could recall, when the private acres around his family’s estate had been coated with three feet of snow. Jo and her parents had come over to weather the storm, and Thad had spent most of the evening running away from her as she tried to pin him down to put ponytails in his hair while their parents all sipped cocktails by the fire. Addy asked him if he minded being an only child, to which he replied he wasn’t, not really, and that Jo had always been like a sister to him. Addy didn’t know what to say after that, her mind going back to Gracie, and in her silence, Thad grew contemplative too. So they strayed from the personal, and returned to a game, which was, at the moment, Favorites.

  “Favorite musician?” Thad asked.

  “Ooh, um… Garth Brooks.” The name of the game was to answer quickly, first thing that came to mind. Rapid fire for the most honesty. “Favorite band?”

  Thad rolled his eyes. “You can’t ask that. I just asked that. New questions, always.”

  “Well, I didn’t know that,” Addy huffed. “Answer it anyway.”

  The edge of his lip pulled up and he sighed dramatically, but those dimples gave him away. “Steve Miller Band. Favorite cake?”

  “Oh, come on, you said you were going to start easy!” Addy crossed her arms, tossing him a glare. Thad shrugged like, I thought that was easy. But it wasn’t to a pastry chef! “Red velvet with cream cheese frosting. No—wait. Chocolate with buttercream. No—apple spice with pecan caramel filling. No—ah! Okay, fine. I’ve got it. My grannie’s coconut cake. Simple but the best.” She nodded a few times, confirming the choice to herself. Yeah, yum. That’s the best. Now, time for a taste of your own medicine. “Favorite painting?”

  “Really?” he scoffed.

  “You went there first.”

  He shifted his head back and forth like, Okay, I guess I did, and then dropped it heavily against his headrest.

  “It’s a tie,” he finally said, as though that were the most difficult decision in the world. Addy wanted to interrupt and snarkily remind him, Those aren’t the rules, but there was a tightness in his expression that made her pause, a sense that she was peeking through the cracks. “Wheatfield with Crows by Van Gogh, and Dance at Bougival by Renoir. The first is sort of ominous with a dark, cloudy sky and a scattering swarm of crows, with dramatic brushstrokes and that element of madness that was so quintessentially Van Gogh. And the other is the complete opposite, bright and light and airy, two dancers that ooze pleasure. For a second, just looking at that painting, you understand what love feels like, even if you’ve never experienced it on your own. It’s that powerful.” Thad licked his lips and swallowed, darting his gaze in her direction before returning it to the road. He cleared his throat. “So, favorite cake you designed?”

  “Oh, that’s easy. You see, for me, it’s not so much about the cakes, but about the story behind them. And my favorite couple ever was the Henleys—they were lovely human beings. The moment they walked into Edie’s shop, I could tell how happy, how in love they were. One of those couples that you knew, just by looking at them, was going to make it to forever.” Addy sighed wistfully. “Anyway, they were high school sweethearts. At eighteen, he was deployed to Iraq, and on the morning they said goodbye, a butterfly came down and landed on her hand. She believed it was a sign from God that everything would be okay. He would see butterflies occasionally while he was serving overseas, and they made him think
of her. A week before he was supposed to come home, his family got a call that he was wounded, in serious condition, after his unit got hit by an IED. When she got the call, a butterfly landed on her windowsill, and she knew he’d survive, somehow. He did, after losing his leg. They postponed their wedding until he’d be able to walk himself down the aisle, but while he was in physical therapy, she found out she had a lump in her breast. Butterflies appeared magically, all over the place, giving them hope through every struggle. And they decided, life was too short. They didn’t want to wait any longer. So they came to us for a cake, and it was the first one I designed on my own. The bottom tier was a field of buttercream wildflowers, the second and third tiers were peppered with butterflies of all kinds, and the top was simple, just a little bit of piping around the base of a dancing couple molded from white chocolate.”

  A tear pricked at the corner of her eye just remembering the smiles on their faces when they saw the final product on the morning of their wedding. To some people, baking was maybe a silly or unimportant profession. But to Addy, on that day, nothing could’ve been further from the truth. Her work had touched someone else’s life—and that had been everything.

  “Anyway,” Addy murmured, fighting through the sudden clog in her throat. “Two days before their wedding, the doctors officially declared she was in remission, and he did manage to walk himself down the aisle. Now they have a little boy who’s two, so everything turned out okay.”

  “That’s—” He paused, letting out a deep breath. “That’s beautiful.”

  Addy glanced to the side as a tingling sixth sense fluttered over her skin and met the gaze she already knew was turned in her direction. His eyes were bright, intense and yearning, though for what she couldn’t quite tell. She looked away before she had a chance to find out. They seemed to keep doing this careful dance, getting close to something personal, then backing away and spinning around the hidden meaning, almost like a tide, rolling in, then seeping out, then rolling in a bit closer, then retreating. She wasn’t sure what would happen when the water rushed forward next.

  “Favorite movie?” Addy asked, changing the subject, letting the wave recede.

  Thad grinned. “The Thomas Crown Affair.”

  “Really?” Addy sat up, turning toward him in surprise. “Isn’t that a little, well, cliché or something?”

  He shrugged, continuing his thought as though he hadn’t heard her. “Both versions are great, but I prefer the remake with Pierce Brosnan. He was my idol for a while there. And well, Rene Russo, I mean…” He shook his head, as though there were no words. “Favorite author?”

  “Jane Austen,” Addy answered quickly, no doubt in her mind. “Favorite food?”

  “Burger and fries, the greasier the better. Favorite TV show?”

  Addy paused. “Promise you won’t laugh or judge?”

  He forced his lips into a thin line, fighting a smile as he nodded.

  “The Bachelor,” she confessed. What could she say? She loved love, even the cheesy, manufactured kind. True to his word, Thad remained silent, but his nostrils flared with the force of holding back a response. “Favorite holiday?”

  “Christmas. Jo always bakes this cinnamon-bun cake thing that’s insanely delicious, and we always take the day off from real life to watch movies and drink this mulled cider she makes, like a normal family. Or, well, we did.” His brows pinched together for a moment, but Addy didn’t press as he forced a tight swallow down his throat. “Favorite season?”

  “Spring.”

  And the game went on, dappling into the serious, but never staying there too long. Her favorite sport was football, as any true southerner’s was. His favorite cocktail was a whiskey neat, though he said he didn’t drink much because he couldn’t afford to dull his senses. Her favorite city was Charleston, close to home with everything she might need. His favorite hotel was the Caesar Augustus on the isle of Capri—apparently, the views of the bay of Naples were incredible, only surpassed by the impeccable service.

  They went back and forth, and back and forth, for Addy didn’t know how long. All she knew was that she found herself dozing off as the roads turned black. The glare of headlights created a dull ache behind her eyes, so she closed them. When she woke sometime later, it was at the sound of her own name traveling softly through static.

  “A news update for all of our late-night listeners—Addison Abbot is still missing and believed to be in the clutches of dangerous con-man Thaddeus Ryder. The FBI say they have no leads and are asking people with any information to come forward.”

  Thad sighed and turned the volume down a little. Addy remained perfectly still, keeping her face toward the window as she strained to hear. For a few hours, she’d forgotten why they were together, what they were doing. She really had believed they were just two people on a road trip, two people who needed a little break from reality. But the truth had a frustrating way of always coming back around and reminding her of the target on both of their backs.

  “But the breaking news earlier today wasn’t about our elusive man-on-the-run and his unwitting victim. In what some are calling a stunning victory for the FBI, Russian mob boss Nikolai Sokolov was denied bail at his hearing this afternoon. His lawyer cried foul play, citing the weak evidence against his client and pointing out the clear lack of eyewitnesses. But the Feds had a different opinion. Here’s the statement Agent Nathaniel Parker read to reporters on the courthouse steps.”

  Thad inhaled sharply.

  The volume on the radio went back up.

  “Hello.” A deep voice came on the radio, firm and oozing conviction, the sort Addy might’ve imagined for the hero of her favorite story. “Nikolai Sokolov leads one of the most dangerous criminal organizations in the United States, and while the judge’s decision this afternoon was a great first step toward justice, the fight is far from over. Our investigation into his heinous acts against the innocent civilians of this great country is ongoing, and we ask anyone who has borne witness to this man’s, or his organization’s, monstrous crimes to step forward. It’s the American thing to do, but more importantly, it is the right thing to do, as anyone with a moral conscience would understand. Thank you.”

  Thad exhaled derisively, mumbling something under his breath. Addy didn’t quite catch what, focused as she was on remaining still and silent even as her heart thundered in her chest.

  “To anyone who couldn’t read the hidden meaning,” the radio host came back on the mic, “the Feds have a weak case against one of the worst crime lords this country has ever seen, they’re desperate for an eyewitness, and this reporter has one guess who that specific message was meant for. Thaddeus Ryder, if you’re listening—”

  Bang!

  The radio went dead. The only sounds filling the car were the hum of tires on pavement and the whine of skin on leather, torqueing the material far beyond its ability to stretch.

  Addy stared out the window and watched shadows pass aimlessly by, wondering what it said about her moral conscience that she wanted Thad to go free. Only two days ago, she never could’ve imagined a thought like that passing through her mind. But now that she knew him, knew the reason he’d done what he’d done—not for money, not for fame, but to save the life of a woman who was like a sister—well, she couldn’t entirely blame him. If someone threatened Gracie, or Edie, or her parents, Addy didn’t know what lines she might cross to protect them. And if he went to jail, she wasn’t sure he’d survive. Oh, physically, she was sure Thad would come through just fine. But the artist’s soul he’d slowly revealed, lonely and aching and wanting, that part of him would be gone. Maybe it made her selfish or naïve, but she wasn’t convinced a sacrifice like that should be called justice.

  The ticking of the blinker filled the car. Addy used it as an excuse to exhale heavily and stretch her back, pretending to awaken from a deep slumber.

  “Where are we?” she asked, throwing a yawn in at the end of her words.

  “Somewhere in New Mexico.
I just turned off an exit for a campground,” he murmured softly, voice giving nothing away. If he knew she’d been listening, he didn’t say. “We should be there in a few minutes.”

  “Great, I’m exhausted,” she said, trying to lighten the tone. “I never knew sitting around in a car doing absolutely nothing all day could be so tiring.”

  He lifted the corner of his lip in a half-hearted effort for her benefit. Silence settled again, but the quiet was okay. It was comfortable rather than awkward. They pulled into the campsite and got out of the car, each taking a role without needing to say. Addy went over to the water-fill station under a bright fluorescent light to refill some of the bottles they’d emptied earlier that day. By the time she was back, Thad had the tent set up and the car secure. She crawled onto the nylon floor and he eased in after, taking the spot by her side. Instead of getting herself all worked up, Addy decided to simply reach behind and grab his hand, not bothering with an excuse as she pulled him close.

  They fit, so why fight it?

  In two days, they’d be in Scottsdale and she had the sense that after that, he’d be gone. Soon, she’d be back home in her small life and her small town and her small bed that was cold far more often than it was warm. So, Addy decided to forget the past, ignore the future, and enjoy these fleeting moments of feeling wanted while she could.

  - 17 -

  Thad

  Addison was the first one awake the next morning. Thad stirred to the feel of her head resting on his shoulder as her finger casually drew loops across his abdomen. How the hell did she get the jump on me?

  He blinked, trying to snap out of the daze. It took a moment for him to realize the brain fog wasn’t from sleep, but a lack of oxygen. His blood supply had fled his brain to gather in an extremely conspicuous location, and his mind had ceased to function. His entire body was on fire, acutely attuned to that finger dipping closer and closer to the waistband of his pants, then rising up his chest, then sliding back down, teasing and taunting and—