Page 73 of Stolen Goods
He blinked. Was that Addison?
She shouldn’t be here.
“Thad!”
Warm hands came to his cheek. He blinked, clearing his vision. It was Addison, backlit like an angel by the sun, short hair a floating halo around her head. She was smiling and crying and looking at him as though she didn’t want to come up for air.
“I’m alive?” he murmured.
She bit her lower lip and nodded eagerly. “You’re alive.”
“I’m alive,” he repeated, because the truth hadn’t quite sunk in. “How exactly?”
“Me, you idiot,” Jo crooned from the side, holding a gun between two fingers, as far away from her body as she could. The quiet was all he needed to hear—she’d taken out the Russian with one quick shot to the head, down before he knew what happened. Jo walked around Thad to the body splayed out on the grass and took the other gun, shuddering visibly. She gently set both down by the front door, clicking the safeties into place. “There were only two of them, and the other guy is unconscious inside. I tied him up and gagged him in case the Feds wanted him for questioning.”
The Russians must’ve underestimated their strength against two women—a rookie mistake. As soon as they’d split up, Jo pounced, and as he always expected of his partner, she won.
“Where’s Nate?” Jo asked, hugging her arms around her midsection. “Why were you alone?”
Thad swallowed and struggled to rise to a seated position as he fought to find the words. “Well, I—”
She gasped and turned on him accusingly. “You were running!”
He offered a sheepish grin.
Jo charged down the sidewalk, taking obvious advantage of his injured state, and punched him thoroughly in the shoulder.
“Ow. I think I have a back injury.”
“You deserved that,” she growled. “I can’t believe you were running!”
“Well, I didn’t, obviously. I came here.”
“Only because you must’ve heard my call.”
Thad pursed his lips. Because, well, she was right. His attention slid to the car resting on the side of the road, door open and inviting. The Degas sat in the grass a few feet in front, ripe for the taking. Miraculously, the Feds weren’t here yet. He must’ve been driving faster than he’d realized. Or they’d gotten caught in every single one of those red lights he’d blazed through.
“I still could run.”
“Thad—”
“No. Hear me out, Jo,” he interrupted and turned toward her, resolutely sliding his gaze over Addison without pause. He was too afraid that if he met her questioning eyes, all his willpower would wither away. “Everyone is safer if I just disappear—everyone. If this doesn’t go to trial, the Russians will have no reason to go after you, or Addison, or Emma, or anyone. There’d be no reason for scare tactics. I’ll be gone, and they’ll be free, and it will all be over.”
All the anger in her face melted away, replaced with a tender sort of sadness. “You don’t really believe that, Thaddy, do you?”
“I do, Jo.” His voice was even, firm. There wasn’t an ounce of deceit in his body in that single moment. “The only person who benefits from a trial is, well, is…”
“You?”
Thad dropped his gaze to the ground, watching as the stalks of green grass that had been flattened beneath his body rose slowly back to standing. If only it were so easy. “I don’t deserve a second chance. Not at everyone else’s expense.”
There it was.
The truth he’d been trying to outrun. He was a virus to everyone who got too close. The only cure was to be alone, somewhere far enough away the curse wouldn’t spread. He didn’t need a judge or a jury—he’d sentenced himself to a life of isolation.
A warm hand enveloped his.
He’d recognize it anywhere.
