Page 116 of The Twilight Theft

Jayce had told me Noah worked for an organization named the Fenix Group.

And apparently, so did Craig. And Vanessa.

I could have been sick.

“They believe the phoenix—whether the actual bird or something about the pieces when they’re brought together—will be capable of curing any disease.” He looked down at the remnants of my phone. “The doctors have only given my daughter-in-law six months to live. Chemo’s expensive, even with good health insurance.”

“So you resort to working with thieves and betraying Gideon’s trust?”

“That’s not how it is.” He clasped the back of his neck and stretched it out. Craig Bishop—CIA legend and my mentor—had fallen for the oldest influence trick in the trade: Approach when someone he loved was sick and needed help. “We could use a skilled operative like you if you’ll let me expl—”

The elevator pinged and the doors slid open.

Craig mouthed,Fuck.

“Bishop?” came a thickly accented voice.

“Give me the key,” Craig whispered, waving a frantic hand. A level of panic flashed behind his eyes I’d never seen before. He then raised his voice. “In here, Enzo.”

Enzo. The Reynolds team had told me one of Noah’s known associates was named Enzo.

A man with deep olive-tinted skin and black hair stalked into the room. His eyes were narrow, shrewd, and a vicious scar puckered his right cheek. He pulled a gun from a side holster and trained it on me.

Shit. I put my hands out in front of myself to show I wasn’t armed. I should have stayed in the hotel room with Jayce.

“Who the fuck is this?” he growled.

Chapter 44

Jayce

Irefreshedmyphonea few times. Still no response from Drew. Not even a thumbs up. The three little dots had started dancing five minutes ago but stopped.

Now nothing.

I’d really thought he was different. Everything he’d said, everything he’d done… I thought it meant more than a roll in the hay.

Get your head out of your butt, Jayce. He could be busy.Drew was the kind of guy who didn’t drop what he was doing for a text. He was serious, intense. If he was talking to you, he’d stay focused on you.Yeah, he’s definitely just busy.

Or I was out of his system.

“I’m going in. Activating stealth.” I long-pressed on the phone’s upper corner, darkening the screen and shutting off the volume. They could still hear me, but the phone would look dead until I woke it.

Two haptic bursts from my watch told me all I needed. Two meantGo forward.

Three would mean danger.

Four would mean I had to wake my phone, no matter what. Four was never good.

I packed my binoculars in my slim backpack, threaded my arms through the straps, and fastened the clips. During my recon Thursday night, I’d discovered the camera at the back door was for show and I’d picked their deadbolt in thirty seconds.

Getting in wouldn’t be a challenge.

I covered my face and hair so the interior cameras wouldn’t be able to identify me—if they were working and recorded anything overnight. If the back camera was for show, the interior ones may have been, as well.

The hardest part would be finding the little statue and lugging it out.

I made my way to ground level, across the dimly lit space between the buildings, and to the back door of the antiques store. Picked in twenty seconds this time.

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