Bea Skye and the Italian Job

By Holly Hudson

A sexy, sassy novella introducing Bea Skye, a not so ordinary single mom living a double life as a high-end jewel thief. Bea has one more heist to pull off before she can retire from her life, as she prefers to call it, as a Gemstone Reallocation Specialist. When she and her hunky team members--Sebastian, Branson, and Liam-- embark on their mission, which involves gate-crashing the party of a Russian oligarch on the Amalfi Coast of Italy to steal the famous Peacock Brooch, nothing goes according to plan. On either the professional or personal front.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Holly Hudson
• Release date: Sep 26, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393566663

Holly Hudson

Holly grew up in Ohio and a few other places around the world, which instilled in her a wanderlust she still hasn’t been able to outgrow. She’s called Senegal, Tunisia, the Philippines, Mexico, Italy, Germany, Spain, England, and New York home at various points in her life. She graduated from Hampshire College in Amherst, Massachusetts with a degree in Film & Theater and received a Certificate in Screening from UCLA’s Professional Screenwriting Program. She lives in London, England with her teenage son. You can subscribe to her newsletter at http://www.hollyhudsonauthor.com.

Book preview

Bea Skye and the Italian Job

After an inordinately long 23 1/2 minutes where I was sweating bullets, I felt the last digit of the safe's combination drop into place and that ever so satisfying click as it swung open. I reached inside and carefully emptied the contents—a black velvet pouch—and slipped it into my slim backpack. I closed the safe securely, walked briskly out of the penthouse office, turned out the light, and took the stairs one last flight to the rooftop of the building.

It was a stunning view of Amsterdam and the sun was still setting at almost 10 pm. I opened my backpack and pulled out a pair of workman's coveralls, which I slipped on along with a cap. I walked to the edge of the rooftop and jumped down onto the window washer's basket, located exactly where my directions said it would be, flicked on the switch for the motor, which would take me down the 28 floors of the building to the ground. I took out my phone and checked messages while I waited, and avoided looking down. I've never been a fan of heights but sometimes my job calls for me to just get over it.

One text from my mom: Kids are fine but Tom wants to know if he can have a sleepover at Josh's this weekend. I wrote back:  That's fine. Please make sure he flosses every night. Chloe too. Xxx

Then another one from my best friend, Gemma: Bea, it's ladies night at Century Bar this eve. Can you make it? I wrote back: Wish I could. Working. Have one (or two, no more!) for me. Xxx

I'm a gun for hire, though I prefer not to use them unless necessary. To be more precise, I like to think of myself more as a Gemstone Reallocation Specialist, or whatever high-end assets need re-allocating to the more deserving citizens of the world. Most of the time, I don't know who I'm working for. The less I know the better. But my main contact remains the same. I'll get to him in a bit.  I'm sort of a modern-day Mrs. Robinhood. Even though I'm a single mom with kids to support back home in Ohio, I like to add the Mrs as I'm a fan of old movies like The Graduate, as well as younger men, when the opportunities present themselves. And the Robinhood reference means I enjoy giving away a large chunk of my take-home pay.

My current mission, which I just concluded, is going to help me not only fund my 401K and off-shore bank account, but I'm hoping to make a serious dent in sex trafficking in the Midwest. Interstate 75 cuts a long swathe from Florida to Michigan and is known to be a hotbed of movement for the trafficking of children and teenagers. Not for much longer if I have anything to do with it. I'm planning to donate several hundred thousand dollars to various organizations working to fight it. And if I have to take out some pedophiles and depraved individuals myself along the way too, I'm happy to aid the cause.

My girlfriends are always trying to get me to sign up for one of the dating apps. They gently remind me that 40 is staring down the barrel at me and I've only got a couple of years to 'get in there' again. I'm not jaded or anything but I do think marriage is highly overrated. A couple of weeks ago, we had a girls' night out. It was five of us—three of us are single, Gemma, Trace, and me, and the other two, Talia and Val, are still married. I say still because you never know. The three of us single girls call ourselves, The Single Ladies of Smythe Street because we all happen to live within three blocks of each other on the north side of town. Maybe there's something in the water out there. According to the history of the village of Two Gorges, that part of town was always known as Froggy Bottom because it used to be swampland originally. I think maybe it was some kind of omen that all of us kissed a frog that never turned into a prince.

At least as a single mom, I don't have to consult anyone about my every move or decision I make regarding the kids, which is liberating. Sometimes it's just easier to go it alone, than with a partner. But maybe that's a sign that it's just too late for me and I'm not marriage material or maybe never was. Stephen walked out when Tom was 2 and Chloe was 4. He claimed that he just wasn't a nuclear family life kind of guy and he needed to find himself. Like having kids was just supposed to be some plug n' play operation. I remember saying to him, I've found you—you're here. Then of course he wasn't.

We were supposed to be a team to be able to get through the tough early years together. But he claimed that he 'would just get in my way' and I was better off on my own. So off he went to find himself on a winding trip through Mexico and Central America. Can you say narcissist much? I can't even. It's difficult for me to even to this day separate the searing betrayal from the deep disappointment that I chose such a half a man to be my children's father. But as I always say, at least I got two beautiful kids out of it. And it's a crying shame he's missing their childhood but frankly, I'm glad he's not around at this point. Because I have moved on without him. I don't need any