Free To Catch a Thief by Christina Skye

kitchen, ignoring her completely.
    â€œWhat are you doing?”
    â€œGetting some water. It’s been a trying night.”
    â€œI said, I want you to leave or I’ll—”
    â€œTake one.” A water bottle flew in her direction. Nell caught it by instinct.
    â€œGo get packed.”
    â€œPacked for what? Why should I?”
    â€œWe’re leaving. Together. In ten minutes.”
    Oh, sure she was.
    He stared at the luminous dial of his watch and pushed a button that changed one of the sets of numbers.
    Nell had never seen a watch do that before. The fiber of his turtleneck seemed strange too. Heavier than cotton, it looked smooth and tensile; it also appeared to shed water. Nell stared at the drops that dotted his sleeve.
    Dotted, but didn’t sink in.
    She watched more letters scroll over the face of his watch. “Who are you?”
    â€œSomeone you’ll have to trust,” he said flatly. “Whether you like it or not.”
    â€œI don’t like it, Navy. And I’m going nowhere with you.” She didn’t bother to explain that trust wasn’t part of her vocabulary.
    But she wanted answers about the thugs who had followed her into the alley and what her father had to do with them. Clearly, this man knew what was going on. It was equally clear that he assumed she knew too. “Look, let’s talk.”
    â€œLater.” He walked past her down the hall toward her closet. “Where’s your suitcase?”
    When he saw that she hadn’t moved, he took a long drink from his water bottle and pulled a file from the backpack angled against her antique coffee table. “Okay, I’ll spell it out. I need you to do a job.” He spoke curtly, as if he wasn’t happy about the prospect. “It’s all there in the file. You can read it on the way.”
    â€œThis is a joke, right? I barely know you, and I have a full schedule of restoration commissions for the next six months. Even if I didn’t, why would I consider—”
    â€œBecause you don’t have any choice. And because those men in the alley won’t be the last ones who come looking for you. Most of all, because this is the only way you can help your father.”

    H E WAS EITHER GOING to strangle her or pin her against the wall and tear off all her clothes, Dakota thought grimly. Right now the odds were running about fifty-fifty.
    He never lost his calm, never broke a sweat. Not during a mission and definitely not with a woman. But for some reason Nell MacInnes punched through his detachment and hit raw nerves he didn’t know he possessed. She hadn’t fallen apart in the alley, and she’d surprised him when she’d climbed up that rain gutter, all edgy grace and fearlessness.
    Her move up on the roof had scared the hell out of him. He knew she was an excellent climber, but the fool could have lost her grip and landed on her head. End of story.
    And now he was stuck with her.
    Dakota cut off a curse. Things were starting to get complicated and he hated complicated. If he had a choice, he’d let Izzy handle Nell while he took over the backup surveillance, but asking for a reassignment would be admitting failure, which was not a word in his vocabulary.
    He could handle one smart woman with a bad attitude.
    What he couldn’t handle was the way this whole mission was starting to feel wrong. Everyone from the FBI to the head of Foxfire assumed that Nell’s father was back at work, orchestrating a complex theft within days of his release from prison. They also believed that his daughter was involved. The local FBI team had made that much crystal clear in their reports.
    It just didn’t feel right.
    He had watched Nell cross an icy ridge in Scotland, showing quick judgment and courage. She had herded the teens and gotten them to safety at considerable risk to herself. No whining, and no backing down. She was many things—prickly, stubborn and