Page 24 of The San Marco Heist

“He never mentioned you. How close could you possibly be?”

“Like I said, he got me out of a jam.” I held the cup under my nose, inhaling deeply. I didn’t do commitments, which was exactly why Emmett and I were good friends. We simply kept running into each other, fate bringing us together a few times every year, and we got along. No promises, no plans todo somethingtogether like buddies. “This is about repaying him.”

Her gaze roamed over my face and my arm with the coffee. If it was any other woman, I’d think she was checking me out. With Scarlett Reynolds, the look was cataloging my strengths and weaknesses. “No favors left on the table for someone to call in later?”

Should I shift to sound more empathetic or worried?No, any show of weakness might give her an excuse to force me back to New York. Maybe tell her how I recognized the painting in the meeting room? No, that was my ace in the hole if everything else failed. Go slow, hold the big details back until they were needed. “Something like that.”

“My head of security’s going to have a chat with you. He’ll decide whether or not you come with us.”

“So you’ve decided to get the ring?”

She lifted her cup to her lips and drank slowly, not responding until the cup sat on the table again. “My team’s safety is my top priority. I don’t think one week is enough time to do a proper job, but if everybody puts their heads together and we can come up with a plan, I’m willing to try.”

“You kind of have to, don’t you?”

A chime sounded, likely a door notification.

“The team’s arriving.” Scarlett stood with her coffee and headed for the hallway toward the main office. “Come with me.”

When I rounded the corner, I had a view of the front door. The first one coming in was a behemoth. To the uninitiated, he might look like a soldier. Tall, muscular, walking with an almost unnatural level of confidence. But his dark, shaggy hair was just a little too long. His posture a little too relaxed. His eyes, though, told the real story. This was a man who had not only seen death but caused it. Sniper? Special forces? Whatever he was, he was no doubt the head of security I was going to chat with.

Scarlett detoured into the meeting room and waved us in.

As requested, I followed.

She cradled the coffee mug and nodded toward me. “Rav, this is the guy you need to talk to. He’s apparently a friend of Emmett’s, and I’m debating whether we should take him. The team’s down by two, and we don’t have time to bring in—”

“Call Zac back in,” he said in a voice that invited nightmares. Deep, ominous, lethal.

“Until his hand heals—let alone his thick skull—he’s of no use. Malcolm’s a PI, so hopefully he has skills we can leverage. Either way, I want your opinion on whether he’s an asset or a liability.”

“Of course.” He swung the door shut, then sat and gestured to a seat across the table. Unlike Scarlett, he had an accent. French. French-Canadian, more specifically. “We’ll only be a few minutes.”

The chime sounded again, and Scarlett headed for the door. “Don’t kill him unless you have to?”

My heart thunked against my ribcage.That was a joke, right?

“I’d prefer to be out there with Scarlett, making a plan to bring her brother home. Instead, I’m stuck in here with you. What questions do you think I should ask?”

I got to lead my own security interview, too? Or it was another test, like Scarlett asking what she should do about Emmett. “You should ask if you can trust me, and I’ll say that you can.”

He nodded. “That seems reasonable. What do you think of Scarlett’s ass?”

I shook my head to clear it. That must’ve been his accent. That wasn’t an actual question.

“Because my priority is to keep it safe. Do you understand that if you betray her or this team, I will kill you?”

Again, that couldn’t have been an actual question.

“And if not me, I have a list of men who will receive your name, and if I’m not able to do it, one of them will happily do the job for me. Are we clear?”

Emmett had always seemed like an easy-going guy. Granted, there was usually alcohol and cards involved, but his family company was far more intense than I was expecting. “Clear. And I can’t say I blame you. But the truth is, I want to help.”

He nodded and stood, crossing the room to open the door. “Come on in. Malcolm’s joining us.”

Was it really that simple? Or had the two wonder kids done some more research into my background? They couldn’t have gone too deep, otherwise that meeting would’ve gone in a different direction. Either that, or the threat against my life was genuine and he trusted that I valued my skin.

It was probably a combination of both.

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