Perfect Scoundrels

“After we set up the Big Store, I’m going to need you to help me rob the Superior Bank of Manhattan.”

Bobby’s jaw dropped. The cathedral bells chimed. Kat’s father squeezed her shoulder tighter, and the two of them continued across the square.

“Oh, sweetheart, you are your mother’s daughter.”

“So you’ll do it?”

“Yeah. But you’re going to owe me.”

There was a sidewalk café, and Kat stopped. “Fine. I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”

He laughed. “Save your money, kiddo.”

Kat pulled out a credit card that Hale had given her once for emergencies. “Then Hale can buy you a cup of coffee.”

“Deal.”

And in that moment, everything was okay. It was going to be fine, Kat thought as her father took his coffee, gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, and said, “See you in New York.”

She watched him walk away, lost in thought. Planning. The pieces were right on the board in front of her. All she had to do was see what play Garrett was going to try next.

“Signorina, I’m sorry,” the teller told her. “Signorina,” the woman said again, pulling Kat’s attention back to the café. “Your card,” she said, reaching behind the counter for the largest, sharpest scissors that Kat had ever seen. “It is no good.”

And then the woman cut, plastic pieces falling onto the counter, as Kat’s mind drifted back to the crazed look in Garrett’s eyes after the launch, the haunting threat that he was only just beginning to bring the fight to them.

Kat looked down at Hale’s ruined card and muttered to herself, “Oh, boy.”

Chapter 33

The penthouse on Park Avenue wasn’t as grand as Hazel’s country house. It was significantly less regal than the estate on the outskirts of London. But, walking through its shadowy halls, the one thing Kat knew for certain was that the more Hale family homes she saw, the more she understood why her boyfriend preferred the warmth of Uncle Eddie’s kitchen.

“No one said I had a visitor,” the figure on the other side of the bedroom doorway said.

Kat dangled a pair of needle-nose pliers and stepped into the well-appointed room. “Yeah, well. I didn’t feel like bothering your parents. Besides, the new owner of Hale Industries deserves a top-rate security system. Figured I should test it.”

“And?”

As soon as Hale stepped into the light, Kat knew he’d been in bed. His hair was tousled and his shirt was off, and the smile he gave her was sleepy and lazy and warm.

“Doors and windows are top-notch, but the elevator shaft could use some work.”

“I’ll have my people get on that.”

“Good,” Kat said, and Hale smiled, and for a split second he was there—her Hale. He was laughing and biting back jokes. But just that quickly it was over, and he was the boy at the podium again, sad and lost and stumbling.

“So”—Hale looked down, ran a hand through his hair—“are you here to fire me or kill me?”

“Neither,” Kat said. “You’re not getting off that easily.”

Hale dropped onto the corner of the bed. “I know.”

Kat asked herself what Uncle Eddie would say, what her father might do. But Hale wasn’t just a member of her crew who had messed up. He was Hale. Her Hale. And Kat just wanted him back. So she stepped a little closer and felt Hale’s arms go around her waist.

“I’m so sorry, Kat.” He pulled her tight. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Kat had no choice but to run her hands through his hair. “Hale, look at me a second. I need to talk to you.”

“Garrett cut me off. Credit cards, debit cards,” Hale told her, then looked at her anew. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

“I thought that might be the case when I couldn’t pay for my dad’s cup of coffee in Venice.”

“You saw your dad?” Hale shot up. “What did you tell him?”

“Everything,” Kat said, and Hale huffed, but Kat didn’t let him stop her. “You honestly think he wasn’t going to hear eventually? My family doesn’t keep secrets, remember? Besides,” she admitted, “we need him.”

“Great. Now Bobby’s going to hate me. More. Bobby’s going to hate me more.”

“Dad doesn’t hate you. He just…well, Dad doesn’t hate you any more than he would hate any boy who was…a boy.”

“He doesn’t hate the Bagshaws.”

“The Bagshaws aren’t boys. They are bombs with very colorful fuses.”

“Good to know.”

“So, has Garrett told your parents…”

“The truth about me?” Hale guessed. “Not yet. I rather imagine he doesn’t want to explain where those Knightsbury tuition checks have been going all this time.”

“True,” Kat said, and nodded. “And he won’t want to play all his cards quite yet.”

And then something shifted inside of Hale. Kat watched it come over him like a shadow as he walked to the window and stared out at Central Park. He was older, wiser, and significantly richer than he’d been two years before, but right then Hale looked exactly like the boy who’d stood staring up at his first fake Monet.

“Will you still want me if I’m poor, Kat?”

“What kind of question is that?”

“No. Seriously. You’re the planner. Simon’s the genius. The Bagshaws are the muscle. And Gabrielle is…Gabrielle. But what am I, Kat? I’m the guy who writes the checks.”

“No. You’re the most naturally gifted inside man I have ever seen. And I was raised by Bobby Bishop.” She made him look into her eyes. “I don’t care about your money.”

“What if we don’t get it back, Kat? What if Genesis is gone?”

“Then we keep trying until we do get it back.”

She wanted the words to work, to soothe, but Hale just shook his head.

“When I heard that my grandmother had left the company to me, I was…proud.” He laughed a little. “I didn’t want it. I didn’t need it. I didn’t really understand it…but it meant something to me.”

“I know.”

He moved closer. “I thought I was special. Turns out, I was just an easy mark.”

“No,” Kat snapped. She put her hands on his chest and felt the heat of his skin through her fingers. “If you don’t want to be a victim, don’t act like one.”

It was fairly safe to assume that that was the first time anyone had ever spoken to W. W. Hale the Fifth in that manner. Kat was also fairly certain it wouldn’t be the last.

“I might lose my grandmother’s company.”

Kat gave a smile and held Hale tight. “You won’t lose me.”

Chapter 34

Kat had learned from a very young age never to be surprised by what she found in Uncle Eddie’s kitchen. She’d seen it filled with exotic birds and black-market doctors treating dog bites, and at least once she’d walked in on Uncle Felix slipping into a dress and cursing the lack of women in their family.

But Kat had never seen the kitchen stunned before, and yet that was exactly the scene she found the next morning when she finally made her way downstairs.

“What do you mean Hale is out of money?” she heard Hamish asking as she walked down the hall. “Because, by ‘out of money,’ what you really mean is…”

“Is he going to have to give up the jet?” Angus asked.

“Boys.” Kat’s father’s voice came floating toward her. “I just don’t know.”

“But—”

“Hamish.” Kat rolled her eyes and shook her head, and they all turned sleepily toward where she was ladling herself a bowl of oatmeal. “He’s not out of money. Or, not really out of money. Garrett has just cut off his credit cards. And his bank account. And taken most of his cash. And—”

“But the jet?” Angus asked a little wistfully.

Kat was just about to answer when another voice cut her off.

“I’m officially on the Hale Industries Do Not Fly list.” Hale was there, standing in the doorway, and it felt to Kat like the room went even quieter. “So…hi, everyone.”

There was Bobby and Eddie, both Bagshaws and Gabrielle. Marcus appeared behind Hale’s shoulder, and his presence meant one thing: you simply cannot buy loyalty.

“So this is the young man who has intentions toward my little girl.” Bobby shifted in his seat and crossed his legs.

“It is not so fun on this side of the table, is it, Robert?” Uncle Eddie huffed, and Kat had to remember that once upon a time her mother had been the dark-haired girl in that kitchen, and her dad had been the stray she’d brought home. She watched the two men looking at Hale as if they’d never before laid eyes on him.

“He’s better-looking than the last vagabond I had to take in,” Eddie said, standing and carrying empty bowls to the sink. “I’ll give him that.”

The insult slid off of Bobby like water. “So, you know, kid, according to thief culture, if you’re going to court Kat, you now owe me two dozen goats.”

“It’s a dozen,” Eddie corrected.

“Yeah, but Kat’s worth two,” Hamish said with a wink.

Through it all, Hale said nothing. Then, finally, he smiled. “I’m afraid I’m all out of goats at the moment, but I’ve got some ruby cuff links you can have.”

“No.” Bobby shook his head. “It’s goats or nothing.”

“Sorry, Kat.” Hale shrugged, disappointed. “It was fun while it lasted.”

“Don’t look at me.” Kat threw up her hands. “I’m officially ignoring all of you.”

“Seriously, kid.” Bobby extended a hand, and Hale took it. “I don’t know whether to say congratulations or I’m sorry.”

“Hazel was a great lady,” Eddie added from the other side of the room.

“I wish I’d known her,” Bobby said.

Hale flashed his easy grin. “You would have liked her. Everybody liked her the instant they met her. Isn’t that right, Marcus?”

The butler stepped forward. “It is indeed, sir. Mrs. Hale was, if you’ll pardon the term, a charmer.”

“So she could have been an inside woman, huh?” Bobby asked.

“The best,” Hale said, and for a second, that thought filled the room. Hale wasn’t the boy who’d lost a fortune in that moment; he was the kid who’d lost his grandmother. And that made all the difference.

“So”—Bobby slapped the table—“I hear someone needs to rob the Superior Bank of Manhattan?”

“Yes, sir,” Hale said.

Bobby pulled out a chair. “Have a seat.”

How many times had Kat seen Hale at Eddie’s kitchen table? Too many to even count, she was sure. But right then she was holding her breath, hoping everything was going to be okay.