Hot Pursuit (To Catch a Thief Book 1) Read online

  And Nate’s.

  Because to him, this wasn’t just business.

  It was personal.

  Personal enough his application for the organized crime unit had almost been denied. Personal enough he’d had to argue his way onto this case. Personal enough he’d caught the way the boss’s attention had lingered for a few minutes before he’d given them this assignment, the question if Nate could control himself circling in those wise, hazel eyes.

  But he could.

  He would.

  “Parker, you seeing what I’m seeing?”

  Nate blinked at the sound of Leo’s voice, clearing his vision and turning his attention back to the house.

  He nearly fell out of his chair.

  “What the…” His voice trailed off as he snatched the binoculars from the table and lifted them to his eyes.

  “Is she coming over here?” Leo asked, flabbergasted. “Should we do something? Should we move?”

  “No, hold steady,” Nate said, blinking rapidly, unable to quite believe what he was seeing.

  Jolene Carter.

  In a bikini—a red string bikini.

  Riding a jet ski.

  Headed straight for their boat.

  With…

  Nate squinted.

  Is that a Ziploc bag of cookies in her hand?

  He shook his head, stifling a smile at the sheer audacity of this woman. And then he dropped the binoculars away and squared his shoulders, trying not to focus on the fact that the grainy pictures in his files definitely hadn’t done Jolene Carter justice.

  Not even a little bit.

  Not even at all.

  - 3 -

  Jo

  This was probably a stupid idea.

  Then again, the best ones usually were.

  Besides, the Feds weren’t exactly being discreet, showing up in a boat outside her very private, very isolated island. Their desperation for information was showing.

  I mean, they aren’t even trying. Not bothering to set up fishing poles off the back? That’s just lazy! Jo thought as she gripped the handles of the jet ski tighter and her eyes slipped down to the bag dangling beneath one palm. And I really do want an unbiased opinion of the coopie.

  A wicked grin spread across her lips as she shifted her gaze, zeroing in on the small boat rapidly growing larger and the two blurry figures scrambling on board. This was going to be fun.

  “Hi, boys,” she called out when she got close, trying unsuccessfully to keep a teasing tone from her voice. Jo whipped the jet ski around and cut the engine, sending a splash over the edge of the boat as she came to a stop parallel to their port side. “You lost?”

  “Morning,” the man in the back drawled, leaning against the control panel, chest hair visible through the gape of his shirt as he offered her a devilish smile of his own. Dark hair. Golden eyes. Bronze skin. A little short, but strong and clearly confident enough to pull it off.

  Yet Jo found her gaze slipping to the man in front, sitting stiff as a board by a small table with his white shirt buttoned all the way to the collar. He had those classic good looks that never went out of style. Sandy brown hair. Bright baby-blues. An all-American type with a strong jaw and, Jo couldn’t help but notice, a rather impressive set of biceps, since he sat with his arms crossed, eying her warily, not attempting to be friendly. Little did he realize his taut lips and standoffish expression only served to present a challenge Jo couldn’t keep herself from accepting.

  “Could you hold this?” she asked, overly sweet, before tossing the bag of coopies right at his face, forcing him to unfold those arms or be smacked in the forehead. He smoothly lifted one hand and caught the bag with hardly any effort at all.

  Nice reflexes, she admired silently. The edges of her lips twitched with amusement as he gently placed the bag on the table and glared a brooding sort of scowl in her direction.

  Before either man had time to react, she hopped over the side of the boat with her jet ski tie in hand and fastened a quick knot. Leaning against the ledge, she folded her arms in just the right place to perk her medium-sized breasts into optimal position.

  Two sets of eyes dropped.

  Then rose.

  Then slipped down for another instant.

  And finally returned to an alert, straightforward position.

  The red bikini was a good choice, she noted, watching Mr. Stiff clench his jaw and take a noticeably tight swallow. Her gaze dropped to the table in front of him, cataloging what she saw—binoculars, notepad, cell phone, map—then darted around the rest of the boat. Another phone. A two-way radio. More papers. A stack of manila envelopes secured with two thick rubber bands. Cameras. And two holsters with handguns piled in the corner.

  Jo pulled her focus back onto those baby-blues. “Two lost fishermen with no fishing poles?”

  He shrugged. “Lunch break.”

  “I see,” she murmured, drawing that last syllable out as though it were its own sentence. The silence stretched while all three of them took note of the clear lack of food, aside from coopies, anywhere on the boat. Both men shifted uncomfortably. “Is oxygen the new fad diet? I must be getting a little out of touch on this isolated island.”

  Neither answered.

  Jo couldn’t stop a light giggle from slipping out as she pushed off the side of the boat and stepped toward the table, snatching her bag of coopies. “Well, boys, maybe we can help each other out. You look hungry, and I have a bit of a conundrum. You see, I’ve just created what I’m sure will be the biggest thing in baking since the mini-cupcake—I’m calling it the coopie, for now—but I’ve got no one to taste-test. At the moment, I’m all by my lonesome in that big old house, as I’m sure you’re well aware, and since I know we’re both waiting on the arrival of the same person, I figured you might have a few minutes to spare to help me out.”

  They kept watching her, unsure. Mr. Stiff drew his brows together, creating a deep and somehow intriguing groove down the center of his forehead, keeping his lips in a smooth line. His friend looked at her, face going a little green as Jo opened the Ziploc bag, pulled a coopie out, and dropped the rest back on the table. Before she could open her mouth, he turned and fled down the stairs, the smack of a closing door the only sound in his wake.

  Hmm…not the reaction I was hoping for.

  “Guess it’s just us,” Jo said and turned back to the grump with what she hoped was an irresistibly charming smile, offering him a coopie.

  He didn’t move.

  His gaze flicked back and forth between the coopie and her face, as though trying to decipher some hidden agenda.

  To be fair, she couldn’t blame him.

  Jo was almost always working some sort of angle. But this one time, no matter how much her words seemed to dance and dart around the unspoken, she really did just want an honest opinion about something she cared more about than almost anything else in the world—her food.

  Her smile drooped for an instant.

  She stretched her hand a little closer.

  “I don’t bite,” Jo commented. His lips softened. His muscles relaxed. He almost—almost!—reached out to accept the coopie, until she couldn’t stop herself from adding, “Unless you’re into that sort of thing, of course.”

  She wriggled her brows and flashed her teeth.

  A pink flush rose on Mr. Stiff’s cheeks as he jumped to his feet.

  Tall, check.

  Broad, check.

  He stepped past her, reaching down to deftly untie her jet ski from their boat. Jo let her gaze drop for a moment.

  Very grab-able ass, check.

  As though he could hear her thoughts, he jerked upright and turned, holding the black rope in his more-than-capable hands and offering it to her. “Have a nice day, Miss Carter.”

  Jo cocked her hip to the side, staring up at him for a moment before reaching her palm forward. She let her fingers linger on his warm, tanned skin as she took the rope from his hands, loving the way her stomach clenched, how a little
flurry of sparks exploded in her chest. Mr. Stiff…hopefully in more ways than one.

  He pulled his hand back, but she clenched her fingers and held on, forcing him to meet her eyes.

  “You can call me Jo.”

  - 4 -

  Nate

  He didn’t want to notice the perfect O her plush lips made as she said her name, but he couldn’t control it…or the immediate reaction his body had at the sight. Nate froze, jaw clenching as he fought to control the blood rush coursing to a very distinct place.

  Jo leaned closer, tightening her grip.

  His gaze darted to those jade eyes staring up at him, vibrant and sparkling with hidden mirth. He’d always had a weakness for green eyes. And women in barely there red bikinis…

  He jerked back, shaking free of her hold.

  Jo folded her lips together for a moment, holding back a smile, before licking them slowly. A single brow arched. “You have a name?”

  Nate frowned, cleared his tight throat, and nudged his chin in the direction of her jet ski. “I said good day, Miss Carter.”

  “No fun,” she sighed with a pout, then smirked. “You know I can find out if I want to, right?”

  She can’t seriously be… Nate shook off the thought and pushed his brows together in question. “You wouldn’t be implying what I think you’re implying, would you?”

  Her smile widened with an unspoken challenge. “What if I am?”

  Nate straightened his spine and crossed his arms over his chest, funneling his disbelief into a stern, scolding expression instead. “Breaking into a government database is a federal crime,” he said calmly, the edge of a threat laced through his tone. “Class B felony, punishable by up to twenty years in prison.”

  The flames in the centers of her eyes brightened. “Only if you get caught.”

  Unbelievable…she’s unbelievable.

  No shame.

  No remorse.

  No…no…

  “Can I tell you a secret, Miss Carter?” Nate murmured, not really sure why he was playing along, but the words tumbled from his lips before he could stop them. Her eager expression intensified. An almost childlike sense of wonder was etched into the grooves of her face as she nodded. He leaned in, just to prove to himself that he could, and forced his rebellious pulse to remain even. Her auburn hair tickled his face as he pressed his lips close enough to feel the heat of her sun-kissed skin. Something in his chest hitched, but he didn’t back down. “Eventually, you always get caught.”

  She sucked in a breath. He leaned back just enough to stare into her eyes, not at all liking the defiant golden sparkles dancing at the centers of her irises, flickering like sunshine through a dark forest, brilliant and burning.

  The air between them was tense.

  A silent battle of wills.

  Neither backing down.

  Both fighting for the win.

  She opened her mouth to speak, drawing his gaze, and—

  Static cracked loudly over the two-way radio.

  “Parker, Alvarez, do you copy? Are you there? Satellite feed says Carter should be in sight momentarily.”

  Nate snapped upright.

  Jo didn’t move except to perk one corner of her plush lips, watching him unflinchingly, victory simmering in her eyes.

  “Parker, are you there? Do you copy?”

  She turned her head toward the sound and shrugged. “You going to get that?”

  Nate took a slow step back, eyes never leaving her for a second. His gun was four feet behind, resting next to Leo’s on the control panel. But his phone was on the table, along with his notes. All within reach of her thieving hands.

  A pulse of static coursed through the radio again.

  Nate lunged for it. Pressing the button to speak, he kept a laser focus on Jolene Carter, trouble personified. “Here, Boss.”

  “Parker, do you see Carter?”

  A small smile danced across her lips as she mouthed, Parker.

  Nate stifled a groan and turned his attention to the horizon. A white spot in the distance caught his eye, bright against the endless blue. “Carter is in sight, I confirm. Carter and Ryder are in sight.”

  Jo spun. Her entire body froze for a moment, and then in one deft move, she flung herself over the edge of the boat and landed smoothly on the jet ski. Her long, toned legs straddled the seat, muscles clenched tight. Her chest was angled forward, fingers gripping the handles. A gust of wind blew her hair to the side, revealing the graceful curve of her neck. She revved the engine once. Nate jolted at the sound.

  “Anyone tell you it’s not polite to stare, Agent Parker?”

  He gritted his teeth. “Anyone tell you it’s not polite to trespass?”

  “Sure. I just don’t care.” She shrugged and flashed him a grin, her gaze sliding down his chest, all the way to his toes and back up, pausing on the collar of his shirt. Amusement obvious, she pulled her lip in and bit down as the corners of her mouth stretched wider. Finally, she found his eyes again. That damn sparkle was back. “That’s the difference between you and me, Agent Parker. I’m fully aware that some rules are made to be broken.”

  Jo revved the engine again, but this time raced forward, completely in control as she circled his boat at a breakneck speed, bouncing over waves, creating wakes that made the floor shift beneath him. But Nate had grown up on boats. On the weekends, his father had taught him how to sail. So, he planted his feet wide and kept his arms crossed, perfectly balanced as she completed the arc and sent a splash over the edge, wetting his feet.

  “See you around, Agent Parker,” she called over her shoulder as she sped away.

  Nate watched her go, drawn like a moth to a flame. Her golden skin was radiant in the afternoon sun, and that auburn hair blazed like the streaks of a fiery comet, flying in the wind. The bright-red bottoms of that barely there bikini goaded him. The sound of her laughter was a soft echo in his ears.

  Dangerous.

  Dangerous.

  Dangerous.

  The snap of a door caught his attention. Nate blinked and shook his head, tearing his eyes away and turning his attention to his partner, the one slowly crawling up the stairs, clutching his stomach.

  “Oh man, that rocking did not help things,” Leo muttered as he stumbled his way to the control panel and collapsed back in his chair.

  Nate jerked his head in the direction of the yacht growing larger on the horizon and then tossed the radio in his hand to his partner. “Carter and Ryder are here. Boss is on line one.”

  After a juggle or two, Leo secured his grip on the radio and turned the wheel to give them a better view of the approaching vessel. He grumbled not so silently the entire time, but a bad round of food poisoning mixed with some seasickness wasn’t enough to stop Leo. The two of them had been through worse together. Much worse than this.

  Nate dropped back into his seat by the table and grabbed the binoculars again, shifting his notepad closer. One quick glance through the lenses told him it would be a few minutes before the yacht was close enough to get a good look at anyone and anything on board.

  A sweet, buttery scent wafted into his nose.

  He sighed and dropped the binoculars to his lap as his gaze fell on the bag of—What the hell had she called them? Coopas?—resting open on the other side of the table.

  His stomach growled.

  The muscles in his abdomen clenched.

  Nate swallowed and frowned.

  No. Stop.

  He shook his head and looked away. This wasn’t a bake sale—it was a stakeout. And those were from a wanted criminal—a brazen wanted criminal. Sure, Carter and Ryder had never been violent. They had no reason to attack an FBI agent, had never hurt civilians, and had never been suspected of so much as firing a gun. Their skills were different, more refined, steeped in subterfuge rather than threats. The mobsters they worked with were the ones who relied on terror, on violence. But there was a first time for everything, a first time—

  A breeze brushed softl
y against his cheek, carrying that delectable fragrance to his nose once more, making his mouth water and his empty stomach ache. It had been a few hours since his last meal, and it could easily be a few more hours until his next.

  Nate’s defenses lowered as his hunger rose.

  One bite couldn’t hurt… he reasoned as he slid his palm over the smooth surface of the table and dipped his fingers into the bag. But he paused, focus darting to the woman in the distance who was now standing at the edge of the dock, watching the horizon. She was bold—that was a given. Curious, maybe. Taunting, definitely. But not threatening. The cookies were nothing more than a way for her to get inside his head, a way to distract him…and apparently, they were working.

  That’s it.

  Nate defiantly grabbed a cookie, determined to meet her silent dare head-on. He was done going in circles, done with the mind games. And if they really were contaminated, then, well, he deserved what he got for not reading the suspect clearly.

  He bit down.

  And groaned, closing his eyes.

  God damn, this is good.

  Not that he’d ever tell her.

  Jolene Carter.

  Daughter of his target.

  Expert hacker.

  Criminal herself.

  Nate sighed as the image of her plump, rosy lips filled his mind.

  Jo.

  - 5 -

  Jo

  Jo held her palm over her eyes to block out the sun as she watched the yacht grow larger and larger on the horizon. It was small enough to be manned by one or two people, yet large enough to still look impressive as it slid slickly through the bobbing waves, gleaming white in the sun. The windows were dark blocks of opaque ebony, but Jo didn’t need to see through them to know who was inside. One glance at the words painted across the outside in crisp cursive was all she needed.