But there was one member of the family for whom no call or note or message would do, so that was how Kat found herself in Venice.
Spring had already come to St. Mark’s Square as Kat walked alone that morning. Warm breezes blew off the Mediterranean, carrying tourists from cruise ships and exotic ports of call. But Kat couldn’t let herself be distracted, not by the high-end boutiques that lined the narrow alleys, not even by the smell of pasta or massive displays of fresh fruit that filled the stalls of the open-air markets. She wasn’t there as a tourist, and yet she was far from a native. So Kat walked into the cathedral, trying to find some peace.
Venice was sinking—everybody knew it. The tiles on the floor of St. Mark’s Cathedral rose and fell like the waves in the bay, unwilling to give up without a fight. Overhead, a beautiful mosaic of apostles and saints smiled down. It was a house of miracles, so Kat said a silent prayer, needing one of her own.
A group of tourists passed by, snapping pictures, and Kat stood silently, taking it all in. She saw a man leaving the confessional, his dark robes billowing behind him as he walked, and she chased after him.
He was already in the square when she summoned her courage and yelled, “Father!”
The priest stopped and turned, then smiled when Kat said, “Hi, Daddy.”
“So it’s true.” He draped an arm around her shoulder as they walked. “My baby girl is setting up her first Big Store. You’re growing up.”
“What can I say? It was this or a Sweet Sixteen. I’ve always been sentimental.” She leaned back and gave his robes a once-over. “Maybe I shouldn’t walk so close to you. I don’t want to get hit by lightning.”
“Hey, don’t blame me,” her father told her. “I’m not the one who built a jewelry store behind a cathedral.”
She couldn’t deny he had a point.
“So”—Bobby gave her shoulder a squeeze—“I assume you’ve spoken to Uncle Felix?”
“He’s in.”
“What about Irina?”
Kat shrugged at the sound of Gabrielle’s mother’s name. “She’s already working on something.”
“Ezra?”
“He’s the one who told me how to find you.”
Bobby stopped short. Kat, not expecting that, walked past him a little, and had to stare back into the sun when he said, “You can always find me, Kat.”
“I know.”
“So are you going to tell me what’s really wrong?”
Was he able to see through her so easily because he was a great grifter or a terrific father? Kat couldn’t really tell. But that was just as well. It didn’t really matter.
They walked together down the crumbling, sinking sidewalks of Venice, and Kat took a deep breath. “Hale needs your help, Daddy.”
“Oh, Hale does, does he?” her father asked, then went on before she had the chance to answer. “What is the job?”
“We’ve got to do the Anastasia.”
Bobby gave a deep whole-body laugh, then suddenly stopped. “You aren’t serious.… Wait. Are you serious?” he asked, like she must be trying to con him.
She pulled a copy of the Times from her bag, pointed to a headline about the return of the long-lost Reginald Hale, and said, “We are. Uncle Eddie’s already inside.”
From the look that came next, Kat couldn’t tell if her dad was proud or scared, or possibly a little of both.
“How’d you talk him into this?” Bobby shook the paper at Kat, pointing to the blurry picture of the old man with the cane.
“He’s a man who appreciates family.”
“And a share of the Hale family fortune?” Bobby guessed.
“That’s not it.” Kat tried and failed to pull the paper from her father’s grasp.
“Oh,” Bobby said as he slipped the paper under one arm, “I bet that’s a little bit it.”
The thought had crossed Kat’s mind, of course. But this wasn’t the time to linger on it.
“We need you, Dad.”
“And by we, you mean…”
“Hale and I need you,” Kat grudgingly admitted.
“So the rumors are true.… It’s ‘Hale and I’ now, is it?”
“Hale’s my best friend.”
“He’s a little more than that, from what I hear.”
“Dad…” Kat said. “He’s Hale. You know Hale.”
“Oh, I know Hale. Once upon a time I was Hale.” He studied her, then smiled. “I bet your Uncle Eddie is over the moon about this. He just loves it when his nieces bring boys home.” He sounded as if at least a little part of Kat’s new romantic status was giving him some pleasure. But not much.
“Dad…”
“And I should help my daughter’s boyfriend because…”
“Technically, you still owe him for Taipei.”
“Taipei was an exception. Taipei has no business being brought up in relation to—”
“He needs me, Dad.” Kat let her gaze drift across the square. Her voice was soft as she finished, “He needs…us.”
“What’s wrong, Kat?” Bobby asked. He’d seen through her, past her own personal guards and walls to the frightened girl who lived inside the seasoned thief’s tough exterior.
“He’s…different. Hale’s different.”
“He’s a boy, Kat. I hate to break it to you, but we are fundamentally different.”
“That’s not it,” she said. “It’s like…I can feel him slipping away. Like the other night when he got drunk at the launch and—”
“Hale was drunk on the job? I’ll kill him.”
“I don’t want him dead, Dad. I want him back.”
“I thought you two were…together.” The words sounded like they pained him, but Bobby said them anyway.
“We are. It’s just…he’s so sad. And so alone. It’s like…I think he feels like I felt when we lost Mom.”
“Then we’ll get him back.” Her father pulled her tightly toward him, placed a kiss on the top of her head. “We’ll steal him if we have to.”
“So you’ll help me run my Big Store?” she asked, voice breaking, wiping tears from her eyes.
“Deal.” Her father’s arm fell gently around her shoulders.
“Oh.” Kat stopped suddenly short. “There is one other thing.”
“What?” Her father gave her that wide, easy smile—the one he never gave to marks and women, the one he saved just for her.
“After we set up the Big Store, I’m going to need you to help me rob the Superior Bank of Manhattan.”
Bobby’s jaw dropped. The cathedral bells chimed. Kat’s father squeezed her shoulder tighter, and the two of them continued across the square.
“Oh, sweetheart, you are your mother’s daughter.”
“So you’ll do it?”
“Yeah. But you’re going to owe me.”
There was a sidewalk café, and Kat stopped. “Fine. I’ll buy you a cup of coffee.”
He laughed. “Save your money, kiddo.”
Kat pulled out a credit card that Hale had given her once for emergencies. “Then Hale can buy you a cup of coffee.”
“Deal.”
And in that moment, everything was okay. It was going to be fine, Kat thought as her father took his coffee, gave her a quick kiss on the forehead, and said, “See you in New York.”
She watched him walk away, lost in thought. Planning. The pieces were right on the board in front of her. All she had to do was see what play Garrett was going to try next.
“Signorina, I’m sorry,” the teller told her. “Signorina,” the woman said again, pulling Kat’s attention back to the café. “Your card,” she said, reaching behind the counter for the largest, sharpest scissors that Kat had ever seen. “It is no good.”
And then the woman cut, plastic pieces falling onto the counter, as Kat’s mind drifted back to the crazed look in Garrett’s eyes after the launch, the haunting threat that he was only just beginning to bring the fight to them.
Kat looked down at Hale’s ruined card and muttered to herself, “Oh, boy.”
The 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.