Page 58 of The Eagle's Vault

A small urge to take a selfie and send it to Finn flashed through my brain. I mentally composed the text to go with the photo:I do have the kind of body for clothes like this, asshole.

This was about more than clothes and fine appearances, though. Giovanni’s conditions for the meeting required the thieves to accompany Scarlett and Rav. Not Jayce. Just Declan and me.

The thieves.

I swallowed hard, still not confident with the plan. “Scarlett, are we sure about this? Apologies are hardly magic erasers. And we’re not dealing with an ordinary retiree.”

Scarlett twisted in her seat, her face far too calm for the situation. “Giovanni might be out of the game, but respect holds value. Especially for a man like him.”

“But his guy came after us.” Racing down the street, through the store, changing taxis over and over to be sure we were clear. I wasn’t built for this.

“That was before they knew we were involved.” There was a certain courage in her, a raw determination that inspired me, almost enough to stop the tremble in my legs.

Declan’s hand, wrapped around mine, felt right. A snug fit, like two puzzle pieces, finally finding their place. Yet, there was a familiar tinge of guilt as my thoughts flew back to Isaac. I’d spent more time over the last week with the Reynolds crew than my own brother, a strange shift that unbalanced me.

A quick look at Declan’s hand, steady and assuring around mine, and I reconsidered. In this whirlwind of chaos, he was an anchor. I felt a smile, small but genuine, creep up on me. Maybe I was glad to be here with him. He was far from the polished, predictable men my stepmother usually envisioned for me. Like smart and cleaned-her-gutters jackass Finn.

How shocked would she be if I brought Declan home? Her perfectly coiffed hair would go haywire. She’d fumble over her words, staring wide-eyed at the rugged safe cracker who’d stolen her stepdaughter’s attention. A delicious bubble of glee expanded within me at the thought.

“Scarlett will take care of negotiations.” Declan’s deep rumble broke through my daydreams. “We just have to sit back, stay quiet, and nod.”

“Is there going to be some sort of deal?” The borrowed clothes weren’t decoration for me as a sacrifice, were they?

“What, you think we’d trade you in like some sacrificial lamb?” Declan’s tone was light, teasing, but how close it hit to my doubts made my stomach clench.

My hand twitched in his grasp, a jolt of fear reverberating through me. “That’s not what I…”

My words faltered as the car eased through an archway, emerging into an open courtyard. Four men, armed with automatic weapons, stood at attention. Two watched our arrival from atop wide marble steps, the other two scanning the sky and the entrance from the pebbled driveway. Their nonchalance with the big guns strapped over their chests sent chills down my spine. My reflex was to retreat, to pull my hand away from Declan, but he held on with a viselike grip.

“The worst-case scenario,” he said, his tone even, “is that we have to do a job for Giovanni. Pro bono. Can you trust me with that?”

I looked at him and nodded. “Yes. I trust you.”

A soft smile tugged at his lips, a quiet promise underlying his words. “Then you have nothing to worry about.”

The car ground to a halt, the hum of the engine replaced by a heavy silence. Thick white columns supported a roof over the stairs. Its underside was painted, and all I could make out were cherubs and the sky. Opposite the stairs, a multi-car garage housed a few black SUVs.

Two men appeared from the double doors at the top of the grand staircase, their figures dwarfed by the enormity of the dark-wood doors. Giovanni Ferraro’s home was designed to impress and to intimidate.

A knock on the window startled me. The men who’d been watching our arrival, their faces hard, had approached the car.

My heart took another jump.You’ll be all right.

“Everyone, keep your mouths shut. You only talk if I say so.” Scarlett hardly had to tell me that—I couldn’t have spoken if I’d tried.

The terrifying reality of where we were, who we were dealing with, swallowed my words. A weight pressed down on my chest, making it hard to breathe.

Declan leaned closer to whisper in my ear. “You trust me, remember?”

A memory came back to me—his hand, gentle yet firm, cupping my face in the vault. His gaze had softened the steel of the vault we were trapped in. It was a reassurance I yearned for now, more than ever.

I nodded, taking strength from him.

He leaned closer and the fantasy about his hands on my face switched to his lips on mine. I wanted to shut everything else out. Forget the world, the insanity, and give over to something better. He was so close, the spice of his cologne enveloped me.

I gave in to the fantasy and pressed my lips to his cheek.

He paused, neither separating from me nor moving closer. Not even breathing.

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