Home.
New York.
Kat felt her heart beat faster as she looked first at Gabrielle and then at Hale.
“So…what?” Hale asked slowly. “I guess now we steal an emerald?”
There was a room at the top of the stairs that had white eyelet curtains and two twin beds with matching quilts. There was a small dresser, a wicker hamper, and a bookshelf full of dusty, fraying Nancy Drews. That room had never belonged with the rest of the house, Kat had always thought. Stepping inside was like walking into another world—one with a pink rotary telephone and a music box. A tiny alcove in a man’s world, a place made entirely for girls.
Someone, sometime had embroidered the name Nadia on a pillow, and Kat held it in her arms as she lay, staring up at the ceiling but not sleeping. She felt too small, lying on her mother’s bed, still trying to fit inside her footsteps.
“So, Hale…”
Kat turned and saw Gabrielle silhouetted in the door, watched her walk to the other bed and lie down atop a pillow with the willowy script that spelled the name Irina.
“What about him?”
“What’s going on with you two?”
“Nothing,” Kat said, a little too quickly.
“Yeah, and why is that exactly? I thought you two were getting all relationshipy. But now you’re gone half of the time and he’s…angry.”
“No, he’s not.”
“Yes, he is.” Gabrielle gave a short laugh. “He doesn’t like you going off, doing these jobs on your own.” Kat drew a breath to protest, but not before her cousin lowered her voice and added, “And he’s not the only one.”
Kat honestly didn’t know what to say, so she turned onto her side and closed her eyes. She didn’t even know that Gabrielle had crossed the room until she felt her cousin’s weight plop down on the mattress beside her. “So why are you doing it?”
“I…” Kat stumbled, looking for the words in the dark. “They’re easy jobs, Gabrielle.”
“Maybe in the beginning, but Rio wasn’t easy.”
“How do you know about Rio?”
“Everyone knows about Rio. Everyone would have helped.”
Kat’s throat was suddenly too dry. “I didn’t need any help.”
“And what about Moscow?” her cousin went on. “Maybe you didn’t need help, but whenever you start going up against the KGB, you should probably get some—just in case. So the question is…why didn’t you?” Gabrielle rested her elbows on her knees and tapped her chin, thinking.
“Gabrielle, I’m—”
“Drunk!” Gabrielle exclaimed, bolting upright with the realization.
“I’ve never been drunk in my life,” Kat shot back, but her cousin only laughed.
“Oh, you’re heist-drunk, Kitty Kat. And you have been since the Henley.”
Kat tried to push herself up and out of the bed, but Gabrielle was perched atop the covers, pinning her in.
“Tell me you didn’t feel a rush when we carried those paintings out of the museum’s front door.…Tell me there wasn’t a high when you swiped a Cézanne under the noses of half the KGB.…No wonder you aren’t taking Hale with you.” She shook her head. “Sometimes boys are far easier to deal with when they’re on the other side of the world.”
“Hale and I aren’t…” But Kat trailed off, completely unsure how that sentence was supposed to end. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Gabrielle,” she started again, but her cousin shook her head.
“Yeah. I do,” Gabrielle said, insulted. “Our world is built on adrenaline and getting away with it. Different cities, different names. It’s a far simpler life to lead when there’s no one around to tell you when you’re being stupid. Believe me, dear cousin”—Gabrielle stood and stretched—“I know better than anyone.”
Kat had often wondered what really went on inside Gabrielle’s totally beautiful head. More than met the eye, she was certain.
“Look, Gabrielle. These are my jobs—my call. There’s nothing in it for anyone—no paycheck—so there’s no sense asking anyone else to take the risk. I’m not on some kind of bender here.”
“Sure,” Gabrielle said, nodding slowly. “And six months ago, you went off to the Colgan School and swore you were never going to steal again.” She crossed the room in two long strides. “You’re off the wagon, Kitty Kat. And the least you can do is admit it.”
Kat rolled over and stared at the ceiling again. It seemed to take forever to say, “Hale…how mad is he?”
Gabrielle crawled into bed and looked at her cousin across the shadowy space. “For a genius thief, you really are a stupid girl, aren’t you?”
“Yeah.” Kat closed her eyes. “I am.”
CHAPTER 6
“My name is Ezra Jones.”
Kat took her time studying the face that stared back at her from the other side of the dusty sitting room that she could never remember anyone actually sitting in. The man had white bushy eyebrows and dark brown eyes, and the smile that peeked out from behind the perfectly trimmed goatee was devious at best.
“I’m going to need to see some ID,” she told him.
“Of course,” he said with a laugh. He stepped forward and handed her a business card that read Chamberlain & King Insurance and Underwriters, London, England. When he added, “Here you go, my dear,” and flashed a British passport, the picture was off, Kat thought. The accent, however, was spot on.
“So how do I look?” the man asked.
“Old,” Gabrielle said, leaning closer as she applied theatrical makeup to the corners of his mouth. “But not old enough. And blotchy.”
“But you sound good to me,” Kat told him.
Only then did Hale smile. “I’m going to remember you said that.”
“Sure thing, Ezra. Just tell me this: the real Mr. Jones is…”
“Ecstatic.” He looked again at the man’s wallet. “It seems someone from Hale Industries met him at the airport this morning and offered him his dream job in the Cayman Islands. In fact, he called London from the Hale Industries jet and quit his old job just a half hour ago.”
“Shame his company’s not gonna get the message,” Gabrielle added.