Perfect Scoundrels (15 page)

K
atarina Bishop didn’t like dresses. It wasn’t a feminist statement. She would never judge anyone who felt the call of a twirly skirt or toile-covered confections. But once a girl gets a bow caught in a security gate at Buckingham Palace, it stands to reason that she would be a no-fuss, no-muss, jeans-and-T-shirt type of female. Unfortunately, it was not a jeans-and T-shirt type of night.

“Stand still,” Gabrielle told her. She squeezed the smaller girl by the shoulders and tugged on a string.

“Ouch,” Kat said.

“You’ve got a little waist,” Gabrielle said. “That’s good. At least something’s smaller than your boobs.”

“Well,” Kat said, “that’s a relief.”

Gabrielle shrugged. “Don’t shoot the messenger.”

“Shooting wasn’t what I had in mind.”

Kat wanted nothing more than to take off the gown and burn the high heels that Gabrielle had picked out for the occasion, but every thief knows that camouflage is half the battle, and Kat was standing on the brink of enemy territory. She needed all the help she could get.

“What kind of company has a black-tie-optional product launch?” Kat asked.

“The
Hale
kind,” Gabrielle said, not looking up. “And it’s not a launch, it’s a
gala
. And from what I hear, it’s going to be a huge homage to Hazel or something; so, even without the con, this is a big night for Hale. And you’re going.”

“Are you scolding me?” Kat asked. She had to wonder if this was what it felt like to be a teenage girl with a mother.

“I’m telling you that Kat-the-girlfriend has work to do. Tonight isn’t just about Kat-the-thief.”

“I know,” Kat said.

Gabrielle stepped back and eyed her cousin. “Because you realize you just sent him back into the lion’s den, don’t you?”

Kat thought about the dark look that crossed his face every time he saw a picture of his grandmother, of the loneliness that lived behind those eyes, and said, “I know.”

“With his family.”

“
I know
,” Kat said one final time.

“And old friends…” Gabrielle didn’t finish the thought. She just looked Kat up and down. “I bet Natalie’s wearing heels tonight.”

“Good for her.”

“Come on, Kat.”

“I’m not worried Hale’s going to cheat, Gabrielle.” Kat studied her reflection in the mirror. “I’m just…”

Gabrielle took a step back, but she wasn’t looking at Kat’s dress or her hair. She stared squarely into her cousin’s eyes and said, “Spill.”

“I’m not sure. It’s just… Do you think he’s doing okay?”

Gabrielle considered the question, and when she answered, she spoke carefully, like the words themselves might easily bruise. “I don’t know, Kat. I really don’t. I’m lucky. I’ve never lost anyone. But I am curious—two weeks after your mother died, how were you?”

Kat stared into the mirror and tried hard not to think about the answer.

W
hen Kat, at last, saw the main entrance of Hale Industries, the lobby was filled with towering arrangements of flowers on every table, an orchestra playing near the stairs. But walking through the door with Gabrielle, Kat looked around at the people who filled the party, all decked out in their finest gems, and she realized she’d rather be in the alley with Silas than at the party with these people any day.

She was, however, alone in that opinion.

“Ooh,” Gabrielle said when a woman walked past in a diamond and emerald choker. “I want it.”

“No,” Kat said.

“But did you see the clasp? A simple Bump and Dump will—”

“No more emeralds,” Kat said.

Gabrielle stopped short and nodded. “Right. Good point. No more emeralds.”

Suddenly, Kat couldn’t stand still. Her fingers drummed against her hips, and she shifted her feet from side to side. She would have given anything to stop moving. Or, better yet, to go back to the lab and ask Silas for the millionth time if he was making any progress. They needed that prototype, and they were going to need it soon.

“Stop fidgeting,” Gabrielle spat. “You look like you’re up to something sketchy.”

“We
are
up to something sketchy,” Kat spat back.

“Technicality,” Gabrielle said with a wave, and Kat took a deep breath and tried to scan the room while her cousin started to walk away, calling over her shoulder one last time. “It’s showtime.”

Kat recognized some of Hale’s family members from the funeral. On the other side of the crowd she could see Garrett’s assistant chatting with a member of the board. There were journalists and society mavens, a party crasher or two. But on the far side of the room, between the curving stairs that led to the second story, stood a stage, and on that stage stood a portrait of Hazel and a very faulty prototype beneath a velvet curtain.

Kat was half tempted to charge across the room and storm the stage, grab the prototype, and disappear. But before she could even move, she saw Garrett appear at the top of the stairs. He lingered there, studying the crowd that filled the grand space below, a wry smile on his lips. He looked very much like a man who had bet against the house. And won.

It was a shame he didn’t notice when Gabrielle walked up behind him. She stumbled slightly, and he caught her. He never even felt the tiny bug she attached to the face of his wristwatch.

“Done?” Kat asked when Gabrielle returned to her side.

Her cousin looked offended. “Of course.”

A moment later, Simon’s voice was in Kat’s ear, saying, “Kat, the bug is working. I’ve just got to…”

Simon’s voice trailed off as though he were lost in thought, while another man made his way toward where Garrett stood on the staircase.

“Looks like our friend from Hong Kong made it,” Gabrielle said, then jerked upright and stared at Kat, wide-eyed. “You don’t think Garrett’s going to sell the prototype tonight, do you?”

“Come on, Simon,” Kat said.

“Just a second,” Simon chided back, but the man from Hong Kong was already walking away, and Kat was just starting to relax, to think maybe they would make it, when a woman brushed against her in the crowd. She cut Gabrielle off—actually caused her to stumble—before making her way toward the trustee.

“Who does she think she is?” Gabrielle asked, pouting at the only woman in the room who was possibly as beautiful as she was. Together, she and Kat stood watching as the woman strolled toward Garrett and tapped him on the shoulder.

He smiled like a man completely unaccustomed to the attention of a gorgeous woman, but neither Kat nor Gabrielle could hear a word of their conversation.

“Simon,” Kat asked. “Where’s that audio?”

A second later, Simon must have flipped a switch, because the lawyer’s voice was booming into their ears.

“Hello,” he said, extending a hand. “Ms.…”

“Montenegro.” The woman spoke English with a heavy French accent. “I was hoping to meet you here, Mr. Garrett. When I saw you speaking with our Hong Kong competitor, you had me quite worried. Please tell me I’m not too late.”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean,” Garrett huffed and started to turn away, but the woman was having none
of it.

“Of course you do.” She gave a beguiling smile. “It would be a great pity if Genesis were to find a new home without first considering
all
the possibilities.”

“My dear woman, we are here to celebrate the life of Hazel Hale and the launch of Genesis.”

“Yes.” She looked around the room. “Either that or we are here to prove to all interested parties that the Hale model will not be in production for at least nine months. Maybe longer.” She pulled a flute of champagne from a passing tray, then scanned the crowd. “And let me just say that I represent a
very
interested party.”

This, at last, seemed to catch Garrett’s attention. “Is
that so?”

“It is. What if I were to say that my employer is prepared to take the prototype off your hands as early as…say…the day after tomorrow?”

“I’d say that two weeks is a very short time to wait for a very big reward.”

“Why wait two weeks when we could conclude our business so much sooner?”

“Once we prove the Hale model is defective, I have a buyer who is willing to pay full market value for Genesis—not
black market
value. There’s a difference, Ms. Montenegro. And the difference is worth two weeks of waiting.”

“Oh. What a pity.” Then one elegant hand reached to smooth his lapel and slip a business card into his pocket. “My number,” she said. “For when you change your mind.”

When Kat watched her walk away, the clock that had been running inside her head began to tick louder and louder until she thought her mind might explode.

“Gabrielle?” Kat swallowed hard. “How soon do you think we can rob the Superior Bank of Manhattan?”

Walking through the party, Kat couldn’t help but think that she really didn’t have time for a party. She had things to do, places to see. Prototypes to steal. She was just starting to plan her escape when she heard her name shouted through the crowd.

“Kat!” Natalie screamed and threw out her arms, pulled Kat into a massive bear hug, and Kat remembered why she wasn’t friends with many girls. She was a lot of things, after all, but
hugger
wasn’t one of them.

“Hi, Natalie,” Kat said, prying herself away. “It’s nice to see you.”

The girl stumbled a little, listing like a boat on uneven waters, and Kat knew something was wrong.

“Natalie, are you okay?”

“Kat!” Natalie tried to whisper, but failed. “Can you keep a secret?”

“Yeah,” Kat said. “I think I can.”

“We got into the liquor cabinet.”

“Natalie…”
Kat said, letting the word draw out. “Who is
we
?”

Natalie hiccuped, pulled a hand guiltily to her face, and smiled. “Who knew Scooter could pick a lock?”

Kat’s blood went cold. “I did.”

She wanted it to be part of the con, a trick. But it wasn’t, Kat was sure. She thought about the sad, lonely boy looking at his family’s photos, and she cursed herself for not predicting that something like this was bound to happen.

“Kat?” Natalie whispered again. “Kat, what’s wrong?”

But Kat was already shaking her head and pushing away, saying, “Sorry, Nat. I’ve got to…go.”

Kat wheeled, searching the crowd for Gabrielle. Then her gaze drifted to the boy who was already halfway down the sweeping stairs, in something between a walk and a jog, looking like he was a top hat away from giving Fred Astaire a run for his money.

“Oh, Kat!” Hale’s mother cried out. “Kat, darling, come over here. There are some people I’d love for you to—”

“I’m sorry. I’ve got to…” But Kat couldn’t finish. She was too busy pushing through the crowd, almost willing Hale to catch her eye, give a wink, a smile. She thought that surely he would find some way to see her—just her. But he didn’t.

“Where is he going?” Kat asked when she finally reached Gabrielle.

“I don’t know,” Gabrielle said. “Ooh. Shrimp.” She reached for the tray of a passing waiter, but Kat caught her arm.

“Gabrielle, Hale’s not right. We’ve got to stop him. I think he might be…”

But then Hale stumbled, climbing up onto the stage that held the prototype, and Gabrielle finished for her.

“Drunk.”

The lights went out. A spotlight shone on the stage and the boy the family knew as Scooter. A hush fell over the crowd as he took up the microphone and began to speak.

“I’d like to thank everyone for coming. It’s a very special night, and we’re all here to celebrate a very special woman. My grandmother.” Hale pointed to the oil portrait that had been moved from the upstairs corridor and placed at the corner of the stage. A polite smattering of applause went through the crowd.

Kat couldn’t move. A dozen different scenarios played out in her mind, but Hale was like a runaway train, and she had no idea how to find the brakes.

“My grandmother loved Genesis!” Hale threw up his hands as if expecting the well-heeled crowd to erupt into thunderous applause. “They wanted me to tell you all about Genesis. It’s the future of the company, they say.
It. And me.
Some future, huh?” Hale said, and the forced chuckles morphed into sighs of disbelief. “I’m glad she’s dead. I’m glad she’s not here to see this.”

“Kat,” Gabrielle whispered, “do we stop him? Kat, what do we do?”

But Kat didn’t know. She hadn’t planned for this scenario, and a part of her was too busy cursing herself for that to do anything else. “He wasn’t ready,” she mumbled. “He wasn’t—”

“Scooter.” Hale’s father stepped into the spotlight and reached for his son’s arm. “Scooter, that’s enough.”

“My name’s not Scooter!” Hale yelled, revolting and pulling away. “My name is…” But he trailed off, and Kat could have sworn she finally caught his gaze. “I guess it doesn’t matter what you call me. It’s never mattered. I’m
a HALE
.”

More than before, he slurred his words.

“I’m
the
Hale,” he went on. “Or so they tell me. The great hope—the heir apparent. The—”

“I’m sorry, young man, but I’m going to have to disagree with that.”

An older man was climbing onto the stage, stepping into the light. He didn’t look like Hale or his father. The overcoat was a little too out of date. He leaned too heavily on his cane, as if it weren’t a mere walking stick but a crutch with actual purpose. But when he spoke, there was no mistaking he was an important man, a formidable figure.

A member of the family.

“Hello, Junior,” he said to Hale’s father. “Don’t you have a hug for your favorite uncle?”