Perfect Scoundrels (17 page)

T
he 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.”

K
at 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.

“Just to back up a moment…” Hamish said. “So that I’m clear, we are supposed to run a dead con on someone who knows that we’re conning him.…”

“Well, not him, exactly—my family,” Hale said. “But pretty much. Go on.”

“And we’re supposed to set up a Big Store with no money,” Hamish said.

“And rob the Superior Bank of Manhattan with no time,” Angus finished.

“And then break into the U.S. Patent office to swap out the fake plans for the real plans…” Hamish said. “Or something like that.”

Kat looked around the room. If she could have chosen any crew in the world, it would have been them, but she didn’t feel any peace.

“You’re right, Hamish, I don’t have any money,” Hale said. “But I have some things we can sell.”

“No, sir,” Marcus chimed in. “I have savings, which I will happily contribute to—”

“No!” Eddie’s fist banged against the table. “You think this is supposed to be easy? In my day we had to work for what we stole. We didn’t fly around on private jets. No one wrote us a check and bought us a Big Store. We made our own luck with our wits and our hands. Now, you two.” He pointed at the Bagshaws and shuffled toward the door. “You boys find me a Big Store. You find it fast.”

“But…” Angus started.

Eddie glared. “Go.”

And with that, Angus and Hamish were up and out the door.

Eddie looked around at the rest of them. “Why are you sitting here? We have work to do.”

“W
ell, what do you think?” Angus squinted through the bright sun, staring up at the big abandoned building behind him. There were boards on the windows, a rough patch on the roof. Even in spring, the wind felt straight from the North Pole, and Kat shivered on the high bluff with the view of the icy Atlantic waters.

“
This
is the place?” Gabrielle asked. “We’re supposed to believe a member of the Hale family has spent the last fifty years living…here?” She followed Kat through the front doors, past crumbling stairs and dirty windows, and didn’t try to hide her disgust. Birds nested in the rafters. A squirrel ran across the floor.

“Is it cheap?” Kat asked.

“It’s free.” Angus gave a self-satisfied grin.

“Then it’s perfect,” Kat told him, and walked on.

“Hey, Kat!” Hamish yelled from the second story. “Don’t worry about the lights. Dad had a…uh…
supply
of generators. We’ll have the whole place lit up by tonight.” He was running down the stairs, but then he hit a loose step, stumbled, and fell the rest of the way.

“We’ll fix that,” Angus told Kat.

“Good idea,” Gabrielle said.

Kat walked on through the empty foyer. “What was this place again?”

“I don’t know exactly.” Angus shrugged. “The really old house of a really old rich dude, I guess. Felix found it. He ran the Monte Cristo here once. No one comes this far up the coast this early in the year, so we’ve got twenty square miles to ourselves.”

“Good.” Kat nodded her approval and headed down the hall, past someone carrying a massive stack of board games. “Is that Guido Romero?” Kat asked.

Angus shook his head. “Guido’s having a little Interpol situation, so we got Antonio.”

“Hey, Antonio!” Kat yelled, and she and Gabrielle and Angus walked on, past Uncle Ezra and Uncle Felix, who were engaged in a serious argument regarding a pair of fuzzy slippers.

“Do I want to know what that’s about?” she whispered.

“No,” Angus said, then led them into a room equipped with an upright piano, three Ping-Pong tables, and a massive aquarium. Angus took them through a library, which had been recently outfitted with every textbook Uncle Marco had stolen from the Cornell Medical School in 1983. There was a commercial-grade kitchen being cleaned by the Bagshaws’ cousin Buster, a dining room being transformed into a parlor by the two DiMarcos who weren’t currently in jail, and two Hungarian sisters who owed Uncle Eddie a very large favor were arguing over the best way to apply bars to the exterior windows.

“What’s upstairs?” Gabrielle asked.

“Bedrooms,” Angus said. “We’ll try to keep them off-limits, but we’ll have one ready to go if we need it.”

“Good,” Kat said.

Everywhere they walked, Kat smelled fresh paint and new two-by-fours. There was the constant humming of drills and banging of hammers, and Kat imagined she was backstage on Broadway, but judging by the butterflies in her stomach, she wasn’t ready for the curtain to go up.

“Can we do something about the smell?” Gabrielle asked.

“We’re running fans twenty-four hours a day, and in the morning we’ll hit the whole place with that.” Angus pointed to a pile of cleaning supplies in the corner. “We’ll have it lemon-fresh by showtime, don’t you worry.”

“If they ask for paperwork?” Kat asked.

“Uncle Charlie is forging it personally,” Angus said. “Should have it here by tonight. It’s a shame we couldn’t get him to bring it himself. We could have used the help.”

“He’s Uncle Eddie’s identical twin, not his clone,” Kat reminded him. “The paperwork will be enough. I hope.”

They were almost back to the front door, and Kat was almost satisfied, when Hamish yelled, “Fire in the hole!” from somewhere on the second floor. Lights flashed. The roof shook. A fairly large bird’s nest dislodged from the rafters and hit Gabrielle on the head.

“That’s it,” Gabrielle said. “I’m out of here.”

“There may be a few kinks still,” Angus admitted.

“Will you be ready?” Kat asked.

“Not a problem, Kitty,” Angus said with a defiant nod.

“Angus…” Kat said, the word a warning.

For the first time since Kat had known him, Angus grew serious. “We won’t let Hale down.”

“Thanks.”

“But, Kitty…” Angus ran a hand through his hair. Whatever he wanted to say was a struggle. “About ol’ Hale…I was thinking that after what happened at the gala, maybe Hamish and I could keep an eye on him.”

“Hale will be fine.” Kat tried to wave the worry away.

“Will he?” Angus asked.

“Of course,” she said, remembering that the biggest lies you tell are for yourself.

Kat wasn’t surprised when she wasn’t able to fall asleep. There was the stress, of course. Gabrielle’s snoring never helped. But more than anything, Kat couldn’t turn off her mind. There were too many things that could go wrong, and they kept playing one after another on a perpetual loop through her mind, so finally she gave up and went downstairs.

The thick railing was smooth beneath her hands, the rugs lush and soft beneath her bare feet. And Kat was content to creep through the big old house, just another ghost, right up until the point when she realized she wasn’t alone.

“Some tea, miss?” Marcus said as soon as Kat stepped into the kitchen.

“Marcus, I didn’t know you were here.”

“Your uncle and I had a…cram session.” He struggled over the slang, but didn’t let it stop him. “I will be accompanying him in the morning. It is a very big day.” He reached for the kettle and brought two cups to the table. “Cream or sugar?”

“You don’t have to wait on me, Marcus,” she told him. “Technically, this time, you’re the client.”

He smiled but didn’t agree. “If you’ll forgive me, miss, it is either work or worry. Work feels far more natural.”

Kat found her favorite chair. “I know the feeling.”

Marcus busied himself with the kettle and the cups. His hands shook a little in a way Kat had never seen before. He didn’t face her when he asked, “Can he do this?”

“Uncle Eddie once pulled the Anastasia on a duke in Edinburgh. Trust me. If anyone can—”

Marcus shook his head. “Not your uncle.”

Kat read his eyes, the set of his jaw, and she knew that Marcus’s worries went far beyond his sister. She thought about the teenager who had gotten drunk and risked everything at the gala, the angry kid who had stormed into Garrett’s office without a plan. She’d tried to tell herself that Hale was fine—he was good. But then there were the flashes of sorrow and rage, and Kat knew that he wasn’t okay. He was just trying to con himself into thinking that he was.

“I’ve never seen Hale like this.”

“If I may, miss…” Marcus gestured to the seat beside her.

“Please, Marcus. Sit. Talk to me.”

He took the seat, but never really rested there. His back stayed straight. His hands stayed folded. Marcus was a man clinging to honor and responsibility, to family pride and the satisfaction of doing something very few people in the world still did well.

Kat totally knew the feeling.

“Has Mr. Hale ever told you how I came to be in his employ?”

“Yes.” Kat laughed a little. “About a hundred times. I’m still waiting for the truth, though.”

“I was the personal valet to Mr. Hale the Second. Marianne, of course, was a ladies’ maid for Mrs. Hale. The two of us had been in those roles for as long as we could remember. I didn’t know any other life.”

“What happened?”

“When young Mr. Hale was six years old, his parents decided to sail around the world. Two days after they left, the nanny resigned and the cook quit. His parents knew this, of course, and yet they stayed away for six months and they left that child alone with a gardener.”

He drew a deep breath, then talked on. “When his grandmother heard, she sent me to the country house to find him, and then she asked if I would consider caring for the boy myself. And that was where I stayed until the day you came for him.”

“Technically, I didn’t come for
him
,” Kat said. “He’s just what I left with.”

“And I, for one, believe you got the better of that trade.”

He stood and pushed in his chair.

“Marcus,” Kat said, stopping him at the door. “If we fail—”

“I don’t care if we lose the company, miss. But I would care a great deal if we lost the boy.”

Kat nodded and let him go. There was nothing else to say.