Page 43 of The Eagle's Vault

Leigh.

Damn, she’d been on my mind since we stashed her in a room at the hotel, safe with Jayce. I’d looked into her eyes, saw the spark of fear tempered with trust, and it made me feel more protective than I’d been in forever. I would’ve stayed with her myself, watched over her as she finally slept after the long night.

That would’ve been crossing a line I wasn’t sure I was ready to step over. Or maybe it was stepping close to a line I wanted to cross.

Jayce was more than capable.

It was ridiculous. There she was, the woman who’d literally designed safes and vaults to keep men like me out. She shared a passion with me, one I’d never found in anyone else. But she was the other side of my coin; the builder versus the cracker.

I’d spent a decade perfecting the art of getting into places I shouldn’t be able to, and she’d spent hers perfecting the art of preventing it. But I wasn’t a thief. I didn’t take what didn’t deserve taking. I returned what was wrongfully taken.

Sometimes, we blurred right and wrong, but the ends always justified the means.

Bloody hell, why couldn’t I have met a nice private eye like Scarlett had? Someone who walked the line like our team did. Jayce and I worked together so much we could have watched each other’s backs. Except I’d never been attracted to the diminutive ball of energy.

No, instead I dated women like Daphne, who had a love affair with the dollar figures my family and profession brought. Until it wasn’t enough. Until we got the jet and my frequent flyer miles vanished. Until the way I cleaned the kitchen became a personal affront.

Daphne. Not just hand-selected by my mother, but a mirror of my parents. It was never perfect enough. I was never perfect enough.

Leigh was a different kind of perfect. A genius at the workbench. The way she handled her tools reminded me of an artist in their studio. I couldn’t match her speed, her precision. Another failure to chalk up.

Like trusting Edoardo, and walking the entire team into this mess.

“Thanks for grabbing the notebook.” Scarlett had seen every scraped knee and stolen kiss since I was twelve. She knew I was beating myself up. Was she trying to make me feel better, or did she genuinely appreciate it? Did that make things better or worse?

“Any word from Brie yet?” I asked, clumsily changing the topic.

Scarlett nodded, scanning the square. “Talked to her earlier. She’s almost cracked the encryption on the client database. We should know later today.”

Malcolm said, “Got eyes on Edoardo. He’s coming through the middle, heading for the obelisk.”

The obelisk, an exposed meeting place smack in the center of the grandeur of St. Peter’s Square. At dawn, with the first tourists and the departing cleaners, the square was wide open, an escape route at every turn.

Scarlett said, “See anyone else suspicious?”

“He seems to be alone,” said Malcolm.

“Same from our side of the square,” said Rav. “You two go meet him. We’ll keep an eye out.”

I stayed beside Scarlett, matching her long stride. I wore my easy grin, the casual mask that gave away nothing, learned from years of watching Scarlett. She could blend into the world around her like one of the city’s stone-cold statues.

Seeing Edoardo’s hunched figure, I couldn’t help but bark out, “Look who it is, Judas himself.”

St. Peter, strike me down.

Edoardo looked up at my words, his face pale in the dawn light, lines of worry etched deep into his features. His eyes were shadowed, body language screaming fatigue and desperation. The sight of him, of my friend, twisted my gut.

How the hell hadn’t I noticed earlier? The strained smiles when I’d been tinkering with his home safes, the worried glances over dinner. Even during the tour of Cassaforte, it had been there all along. I’d been too damn blind to see it.

Cursing myself for lowering my guard and leaving him the opening he stole, I steeled myself for the confrontation.

“Mi dispiace, Declan.” Edoardo’s apology spilled out as I handed him the notebook. “I’m so sorry.”

Just as I was processing his words, Malcolm said, “Got a shadowy figure hanging around the pillars. Rav, he’s by the fountain north of the obelisk.”

“I’m moving in that direction.”

My pulse spiked, but I kept my face impassive. Scarlett’s eyes flickered, the only sign she’d heard the message.

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