Page 69 of The San Marco Heist

I couldn’t rip my eyes off it. I was the planner. The boss. I was the one in control of everything. But all I could see was Emmett’s bloody face on the video Malcolm had brought to me last Saturday night. There was a way to fix this. I just had to figure out what it was.

The women continued talking. The ones who frequented the Albrechts’ parties spoke about the jewelry, the art, and the paintings. If she was a collector, maybe she didn’t know it was stolen? The ring wasn’t particularly remarkable to look at. If she had other medieval jewelry pieces from roughly the same time period, maybe she bought it at auction. Maybe whoever stole it sold it to someone who then sold it to her?

We always researched our jobs. We only recovered stolen items for their actual owners. Even if it had originally been stolen, if she’d purchased it under good faith, she was a legitimate owner. Then it would be up to the legal system to get it back for the museum, not us.

But what did that matter today? This wasn’t about my ethics and principles. It was about my brother.

Think, Scarlett.

Think and don’t talk because you’re surrounded by strangers.

Malcolm. Where was Malcolm? Did he make it up the stairs like he was supposed to? Or was he waiting for me to distract everyone?

“I can’t see it beyond all the women,” said Will. “They’re blocking the camera.”

Malcolm whispered, “Where?”

The whisper and the brief response told me he was still in the room with me. If he’d gone elsewhere, he could’ve spoken more freely.

“From the angle of the shot,” said Brie, “I’d say the camera’s in the wall. Maybe in a painting or hidden by a sculpture or something? On the side opposite from where Scarlett’s standing.”

Malcolm said, “And you’ll be able to wipe it all?”

“That’s my job,” said my little sister.

Cameras mattered tomorrow. Today, it was people that mattered. The layer of glass. There were no obvious hinges, so I couldn’t pull it open and take the ring. The women would raise a stink, the men in the car gallery would join them, then all the people milling about the pool. Someone would grab Hugo Albrecht from the wine room, and then security would come for me. It wouldn’t be a matter of getting tossed for making out or being drunk. This would be an arrest.

I didn’t have time for this.

“Jayce, Declan?”

“Yeah, Malcolm?”

“You two need to get out. The ring isn’t up there, so we’ll abort your part of the mission. Can you get out without Scarlett and I there to watch?”

Jayce had been a cat burglar when I first met her. She knew how to sneak. Getting out was easier than getting in. Every step was another one closer to freedom. Declan was a specialist. My engineer. If nothing else, he was a runner.

“Scarlett?” said Jayce.

I couldn’t get either of them down here. The plan hadn’t included hiding a ball gown and tux under their clothes. There was no way to clear everyone out of the lounge, unless we called in a bomb threat or something. Although, if we did that, I’d wait for everyone else to leave, smash through the glass, and take the ring.

So long as I did it before I had to deal with security or a bomb squad.

Still too many variables.

A big hand slid up my arm, and the scent I’d been craving by the dance floor hit me. Malcolm whispered in my ear, “Just say yes, sugar lips.”

I pivoted my face to look at him—handsome, charming, and intense. “You’re right, honey.”

Chaos erupted on the line. Jayce and Declan were busy removing fingerprints, closing the safes, and ensuring Will had a backup of his progress on the standing safe’s biometrics. If we had to come back and the Albrechts moved the Chalcis Ring up to the safe room, that would speed things up. Rav was counting things down, minutes and seconds, keeping everyone on pace with Plan I-couldn’t-remember-which. The plan we were to follow if the ring wasn’t in the safe.

Brie and Will went back and forth about the security system, the cameras, and wiping the data.

My team was doing what they were good at. And what was I doing? Staring at the goal of the clown’s mission, completely useless.

Malcolm pulled me away from the display and the chattering women. It was probably overwhelming him, with all the voices in our comms and all of them chatting. Not to mention the echoes of voices coming from the pool area just outside the lounge.

We stopped by the rear door, the entry to the lower-floor garage. Keeping up pretenses, he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me close. His voice remained barely above a breath. He was hard to hear over everything else. “Can we get it?”

---