Page 25 of The Twilight Theft

“Probably. But that’s why I grabbed the oat bars. Emergency stock.”

Drew held the door open for me as he took a sip from his clear cup. I’d expected him to order a simple black coffee. Plain, like his car and his gum. Instead, he’d ordered a cold brew with a dash of cinnamon. Caffeine with no sugar. What was the point?

“Do they seriously add nitrogen to that?” We stepped out onto the pedestrian street paved with red and white bricks. The buildings on either side were five stories high, all glass and stonework, but far enough apart the sun lit the walkway. Shops dotted the lower floors—like the coffee shop Drew had let me detour into—while professional suites lined the upper floors.

“They do. The microbubbles add a faint sweetness.”

“I thought the cinnamon was for sweetness?”

“They complement each other.” He took a sip of his coffee, one hand tucked casually into his suit pants. “It’s not just sweetness, but depth, complexity, and a smooth mouthfeel. The best flavors are about subtle layers and contrast.”

Contrast? Like him in his tailored suit versus me in my T-shirt and jeans? Or how perfectly he carried his cup versus me shoving a croissant in my mouth, with a water bottle stuffed under my arm and my beat-up leather crossbody bag?

Scarlett had told me to wear something nicer to meet with the billionaire, but I’d countered with the very logical ‘What if I need to do some recon?’ and she’d agreed.

Bullet cameras watched the space, providing full coverage from the third floor. Near as I could tell, no doorways were in blind spots.

Raised circular gardens dotted the middle of the walkway, crammed with flowers in whites and reds, surrounding potted trees. We passed a fountain with more stone planters for huge ferns at its edge. I took another big bite of the croissant—not as good as Russo’s at home—and studied the shapes of the buildings. The Mosaic restaurant was still out of sight. It was set back from the large square at the end of the complex, which was dominated by an even larger fountain than the first one.

As far as Drew had planned, our goal was to get a walk-through of Mosaic from Gideon and his wife, Liana. I needed to brief the team on the conversation, but my primary focus was to look for every ingress and egress point. How could a thief sneak in? Where would the chip be? And how could someone make off with it? I needed to look at the roof. Which shop would gain me the quickest access?

Brie had sent me the highest-resolution satellite images she had of this area. The buildings on either side of the walkway connected to each other, simple and straight, but they hooked like crescents at the end—Mosaic was the tip of the crescent on my left. No rooftop gardens and no patios, but plenty of signs of industrial usage. There were vents, air conditioning units, and pipes, which meant someone needed to get up there at some point—to remove snow when it got too thick, if nothing else.

A square shape at the eastern end of the building might have been a bulkhead with a door, but the satellite image wasn’t clear enough.

And what was the camera situation up top? There’d be cameras outside and inside the elevators, for sure. Bypassing them would be simple for Brie, but she’d be tapped into the Mosaic feed. Monitoring a single building in the complex would be easier than watching the whole thing.

“This is the quietest I’ve ever seen you,” said Drew.

I held a hand up to cover my mouth while I chewed. “I’m eating.”

“Has that stopped you before?”

Fine, I was working. Inspecting buildings. Trying to take my brain off Mr. Cinnamon Coffee. The croissant was good, but it hadn’t done that job. Nothing I’d eaten in the last two days had cleared my head.

Try fasting?I snorted. That’s not going to happen.

“Everything rolls right off you, doesn’t it?” He was looking straight at me, eyes shielded behind his sunglasses. At least when he was acting all aloof and moving his head around, I could see his eyes from the side.

“What do you mean?” Obviously, it was about the criticism rolling off me. Growing up as a star athlete, people critiqued me every day. At some point, it became part of how people communicated with me.

‘You need to tuck that arm tighter,’ and ‘You’re too tall to add the half-twist, so stop trying,’ and ‘If you can’t run faster, your roundoff won’t have enough power for the vault.’

The tears stopped by the time I hit eleven.

‘Your leg isn’t healing properly. You can’t compete at this level anymore.’

Then the tears had started again. I took another big bite of my croissant. I should have gotten the chocolate one.

He shook his head and pointed to where the buildings opened to the square. “The restaurant’s down by the river.”

Wide stone steps led to the second fountain, at least sixty feet across its base. It was adorned with modern sculptures with harsh angles, two large plumes of water, and flags. So many freaking flags. A hundred feet beyond the fountain was the Potomac, with trees and more glass buildings on its opposite bank.

The square was full of people enjoying the warm mid-June day, with promises of summer in the air. “They keep the fountain filled in winter for ice skating.”

“Nice spot.”

“The views are spectacular in the evening.” Drew slowed on the steps, an oddly whimsical tone in his voice. “In the warmer months, there’s a water display in the fountain on the hour, and the outdoor patios are lit with tiny lights.”

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