“Hale, this life . . .” she started slowly, still practically speechless. “This . . . what we do—what my family does—it looks a lot more glamorous when you choose it.”
“So choose it.” He handed her another envelope. Smaller this time. Thinner.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“That, darling, is my full confession. Dates. Times.” Hale leaned against the antique table. “I thought the crane rental receipt was a particularly nice touch.” Kat looked at him, speechless. “It’s your ticket back into Colgan. If you want it.”
“Hale, I . . .”
But Hale was still moving, shrinking the distance between them. He seemed impossibly close as he whispered, “And I didn’t choose it, Kat. I chose you.”
Kat stared at the envelope in her hands, maybe because of what it represented—her second chance—or maybe because she didn’t know where else to look, what else to do.
“The delivery is set?” Hale asked, and something in his tone told her she didn’t have to say anything—anything at all.
“Yeah.” She nodded and fell into step beside him. “No turning back now.”
“No guts,” he said.
She looked at him. “No glory.”
“We’re in way over our heads.”
One Day Until Deadline
Chapter 30
When Katarina Bishop emerged from her room that Monday morning, she wasn’t hoping for sun. She wasn’t dreading rain. And yet, as she looked out the circular window at the top of the stairs, there was something about the snow that filled her with dread. Her breath fogged the ancient glass, while all around her she heard the sounds of a crew preparing for a hard day’s work, and she knew they’d come too far to turn back.
“Kat?” Hamish’s voice was higher than usual. The sight of him elbowing Simon as they stood at the bottom of the stairs was disconcerting. The fact that Simon turned and looked at her and dropped a ridiculously expensive electronic gadget made her panic.
“What?” Kat asked.
But the Bagshaws kept gaping, and Simon kept staring, while Hale simply walked into the foyer and leaned against the railing like he’d just made a very large bet against very long odds—and won.
“What?” Kat asked again as she rushed down the stairs, through the foyer, and into the formal dining room.
The boys followed, but no one spoke.
“Are you guys freaking out on me?” she asked, turning on them. “Because today is not the day for freaking out!” She heard her voice rise, felt her hands tingle. “What is going on? ” she finally yelled when the staring and the silence became too much.
“Now, isn’t this role more fun than a nun?” Gabrielle sauntered into the room, casting a sideways glance at the skirt she had personally hemmed.
Hamish nodded. “Kat . . . you have . . . legs.”
“And boobs,” Angus added, staring quite directly at the section of the white blouse that Gabrielle had made a bit too form-fitting for Kat’s personal taste.
“Seriously, Kat,” Simon said, inching closer, “when did you get boobs?”
Hamish looked at Hale. “The boobs are new,” he said as if that point hadn’t already been thoroughly made.
“Is that padded?” Simon held out his hand as if to cop an oh-so-scientific feel.
“Hey!” Kat said, slapping his hand away.
“Her dad’s gonna get out of prison one of these days, boys,” Hale added. Kat thought she saw the faintest smile on his face as he said it, but then again, it was early. And she was stressed. And there were obviously other things on her mind, especially when the kitchen door swung open and Nick walked in, fresh from the shower and completely unfazed by the scene before him.
He didn’t stare at Kat. His hands didn’t tremble. He didn’t fidget or sweat. There was nothing at all about him that looked as if it were anything other than a normal day.
He walked toward her. “Are you ready?” he asked. Was she ready for the biggest job of her life? Was she ready for it to be over? Was she fully prepared to be the only thief in history to ever successfully remove something from the Henley without permission? “You’ve got everything?”
She nodded, grabbed a scone from the tray in Marcus’s hand, and started for the door.
“Kat,” Hale called after her.
Hamish whispered something that sounded suspiciously like, “What do you think? C-cup?”
Hale pushed into the foyer and caught Kat by the arm, stopping her. “Kat . . .” he started, but when Nick appeared in the hall behind him, he turned. “You mind?” he said in a tone Kat had never heard him use—not playful but not threatened, and Kat didn’t know how to read him.
Nick looked at Kat, who nodded. “Just give me a second.”
She heard Nick walk a few feet down the hallway, but her gaze never wavered from Hale’s. The Henley and the crew and her father felt a million miles away.
“Kat.” He stole a quick glance at Nick, then put his right palm on the wall behind her. She felt the warmth of it on her shoulder as he leaned even closer and whispered, “I have a bad feeling about this.”
“It’s a little late to stop now, Hale. As you can see, I’ve already broken out my boobs for the occasion, so—”
“I’m serious, Kat. I don’t trust him.”
Kat studied the way he looked at her. She found herself reaching out, the tips of her fingers skimming the sides of his starched white shirt.