Page 19 of The Scarab's Game

“I need to do this, Rav.”

“That’s the problem.” He put a big hand on my shoulder and dipped his chin, the hair falling onto his forehead. “But I understand.”

At least one person did. Because I was fairly sure I didn’t.

Chapter 8

Jenn

I towedmy suitcase into the suite, walking ahead of Emmett, who carried my laptop bag. Apparently, the team had swept my bags, as well, in case whoever had broken into my room had done something to them. As the door closed, leaving us alone in a two-bedroom suite in Monte Carlo—how was this my life?—I asked, “Why does your team have equipment to check for bugs and… and stuff?”

He ushered me toward the room Rav had hastily vacated. Housekeeping had already been through to clean up. “We did a job once, where we recovered some jewelry a woman’s ex took. It turned out he’d hidden a GPS tracker inside the box we recovered everything in, because she’d been hiding from him.”

“Did he go after her?”

“Yes, but we’d found the tracker and suspected the ex was coming. Rav was there when he showed up.”

“And Rav took care of him?” I entered the bright bedroom, which had a huge bed and a view of the water. My room downstairs had been a standard single—queen-sized bed with a desk and chair. Here, I had all that, plus my own private terrace overlooking the harbor, including a lounge chair and small table. Space to walk around the bed and stretch out.

“He did.” Emmett stopped behind me, giving me privacy in my new room. “She never heard from him again.”

I abandoned my suitcase and pulled open the terrace door, inhaling the scent of sea air. The sun would go down in an hour, but the evening was still warm.

“Do you like the room?”

“I was fine downstairs.” All the same, I stepped out onto the terrace, leaning on the thick stone railing. The terrace faced southeast, and I could even see part of the Casino to my left. Five stories below, diners ate under large beige patio umbrellas. Beyond that, the avenue that made up part of the Monte Carlo Grand Prix course, parks, the yacht club, and then the water. People milled about, touring the city’s grandeur, oblivious to the chaos erupting around me.

“This is for me, not you.” He was closer now, his voice a low rumble that settled deep in my stomach.

This was a silly idea. I should have taken Jayce and Drew’s sofa or even Em and Rav’s. There was no need for Rav to leave.

“What does that mean?” I turned, resting on the railing.

Emmett leaned against the wide terrace door frame, hands tucked casually in his pockets, one leg crossed over the other. He was effortlessly cool, like always. “The way you reacted downstairs when I took you into your room. I think that scared me more than anything else.”

“The painting has me stressed out, that’s all.”No, that’s not all, Jenn.

Memories of his strong arms around me. His cologne. His warm breath on my ear.

The way he made me feel protected. Safe.

“Drew’s going to handle the part of our investigation I was scheduled for tomorrow, so I can go with you.”

I shot up from the railing. “You what?”

“Jean-Philippe was going to show me some Egyptian pieces, and if he doesn’t have what I’m looking for, we’re going to look through the inventory.” Right. He’d made his plan while we were at the gallery earlier. It felt like a lifetime ago. “I know you don’t need a chaperone, but I’d like to walk with you. We can grab some coffee on the way?”

Damn right, I didn’t need someone following me around all day. “That would be nice.”

“Speaking of food, do you want anything now? You haven’t eaten since we left the gallery, and it’s almost eight—dinnertime around here.” He smiled, but it wasn’t a full Emmett smile. The skin around his eyes crinkled, and the lines deepened around his mouth. But it was missing… What? The sparkle in his eyes? Something in his posture?

Was he stressed?

“How were you so calm earlier? The way you acted, sneaking around my room to find out if someone was there—the call to your team, who was there instantly?”

“Keeping calm is part of my job.” He pushed off the door frame, the smile transforming from stressed to forced. “I’m lucky when someone willingly hands over what I’m here to collect, but it rarely works out that way.”

“You’re expecting a problem with Jean-Philippe?”

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