Perfect Scoundrels (Heist Society #3)(45)

Katarina 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.





When 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.