“You went off script today,” he snapped.
“We were blown.”
“And you got in an elevator with that woman. Alone.”
“I’m a big girl, Hale,” Kat said. “Besides, she’s not going to hurt me.”
“We don’t know that,” Hale shot back. “We don’t know anything about her.”
“Yes.” Kat had to laugh. “We do. I’ve known her my whole life. Sure”—she added before he could cut her off—“I met her two weeks ago, but I know her.” Kat thought about Maggie at the age of nine, pulling a diamond heist at Harrods. “I know her very, very well.”
Angus looked at Hamish. “I hate it when Mom and Dad fight.”
Hamish smoothed his brother’s messy hair. “Me too.”
It was then that Marcus appeared in the room. His dark suit coat was gone, and he wore the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up to just below his elbows. Kat might have joked about the display of skin were it not for the neat apron he wore and the sense of purpose he exuded as he walked to the wide stove top and took the cover from a large Dutch oven. Steam billowed from the pot, and Kat closed her eyes. Instead of the smooth cool granite, her fingers felt rough old wood. They were at sea on the other side of the world, but with one deep breath, Kat was sitting at her uncle’s table.
The child who had never had a house felt homesick. The thief who had robbed the Henley wanted help. And the girl who’d walked away from her family business came to realize that, no matter what she did, she never could leave the kitchen.
“So…someone stole the Cleopatra,” Hamish said, as if he couldn’t take the silence one minute more.
His brother gave a low whistle and shook his head. “Wish we’d been around for that.”
“No.” Gabrielle repositioned her ice pack. “You don’t.”
“Angus,” Kat said, turning to the brothers. “Hamish, her real accent is British. Do you know her?”
The two brothers stared, each daring the other to speak.
“No,” Amish said softly.
“How bad is it?” Hale asked her.
“Bad,” Kat said. She stared down at the granite, trying to find a pattern in the specks of light and dark, but there was no sense to be found in it. “We’re blown. She knows both of you.” She pointed between Hale and Gabrielle.
“She doesn’t know me,” Simon said.
Kat laughed. “I think we should assume she knows everyone. It would be like…” She shook her head, tried to bring her mind back into focus.
“Uncle Eddie,” Gabrielle finally finished for her. “It would be like trying to con Uncle Eddie.”
“Yeah,” Kat said. “She knows…everything.”
“Like what?” Gabrielle asked.
“Like who we are…Like why we’re here…Like every con we could possibly run to get the emerald back…”
“So?” Hale asked.
“So she’s better than I am!”
Part of Kat hoped that at least one member of her crew would exclaim, Of course not ! Another part of her presumed that someone might say, Don’t be ridiculous. But no one quoted her résumé. Not a soul mentioned the Henley.
“We can’t do it,” Kat admitted slowly. “We just can’t…win.”
Hamish smiled and rubbed his hands together. “Sure we can. What do you say? Pigs in a Blanket?” He leaned over the cool counter and raised his eyebrows at Gabrielle.
“The only way I’ll get under a blanket with you is if both of us are on fire,” she told him.