And yet Hale didn’t smile. In fact, it seemed to Kat as if he hadn’t even heard. She wondered how many miles they’d logged so far, how many more they had to go. But somehow it had only been thirteen days since they’d stood in Hale’s upstate house, and he’d said the words she couldn’t forget.
“You’re right. Taccone is a whole different kind of bad.”
Hale stood and stepped toward her. “Yeah.”
“Why are you doing this, Hale?”
“Why do think?”
Kat looked at the ornate room. The gorgeous moldings, the polished table. The empty chairs. It was in every way the opposite of Uncle Eddie’s kitchen, and somehow Kat already knew the answer to her question.
“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.