Page 68 of The San Marco Heist

I leaned close to keep my volume down, waving a hand toward the light well. I needed to know. “What was all that?”

“What wasthat?” Her gaze fell to the front of my pants, accusation instead of excitement all over her face.

“Don’t flatter yourself.” I hauled the tiny drone out of my pocket, sure to maneuver my hands so she couldn’t see the truth, then tucked it away again. “Let’s get to the stairs.”

“One sec.” She took my hand, pulling me against the wall inside the door. No kiss, no fondle, but a brief continuation of our act to cover further discussion. “How’s it going up there, team?”

“There’s more cameras than we knew about,” said Brie. “I need to knock them out, wipe the history, and cover my tracks. I can’t work on the biometrics, too.”

“I’m getting there,” said Will. “But I don’t know how long it’s going to be.”

“Alright, Lucius and I are on the way in case we need to redirect any security guards.” She pulled me around the corner, and we stepped into the glass-walled lounge.

The room was occupied by five women, admiring the art and sculptures in the display shelving across the room, while the lower-level garage contained as many men. Probably couples splitting off to appreciate their different obsessions.

The stairs—so close—were roped off. Crossing this barrier with so many people in the room would be obvious. There weren’t any other stairs we could use. How would we get up? What was the next plan?

“I’ll distract them,” whispered Scarlett. “You go upstairs and if security comes, do the drunk act again. Let me know if you need help.”

I nodded and pulled her close, planting a kiss on her cheek. Unlike the one outside, it was a mock-inebriated kiss. “You’re the best, sugar lips.”

She separated from me without a second look and wandered over to the women. “Evening, ladies. What are we…”

Four of the women faced the artwork with her. The other smiled at the rear door of the room as a man returned from admiring the cars. Could Scarlett distract all of them? All at once? And could she do it before too much of the party made their way inside with Hugo Albrecht?

Scarlett held her clutch behind her back, her free hand moving toward her opposite wrist. She moved slowly. Deliberately. What was she—

She snapped her fingers three times before gripping her wrist.

It wasn’t a casual gesture. That was the danger count. “What a beautiful jewelry display. That gold ring, though? It looks…”

Oh no. It couldn’t be.

This was bad.

“It looks positively medieval.”

Chapter 27

Scarlett

TheChalcisRingsatdirectly in front of me, alongside three other pieces of gold jewelry with the same soft, worn edges. They all looked as though they’d been buried for centuries. A golden broach with red enamel, a small box with cloisonne in blues and greens, and a belt buckle with granulated gold beads covering it.

All behind a layer of glass.

My world went silent, the chatter over my earpiece fading into the background. We’d spent all week making plans, discussing alternatives and mitigations, deciding on abort points. None of those plans had included me standing in front of the ring with a group of women.

“It wasn’t there Wednesday,” said Will. “I’m reviewing the feed, and Scar didn’t look directly at the shelves long enough for a clear shot, but—which shelf is it on?”

I’d willed it to be in the safe room. Didn’t want to negotiate a delay with the kidnappers or risk them making a show of Emmett, to prove they wouldn’t be crossed.

“There’s a camera in there,” said Brie. “Patch into the feed with me.”

A blond woman in her forties next to me said, “Camilla has the most amazing jewelry collection. She loves showing them off at her parties.”

Another of the women said, “Were you here for the Christmas party? Did you see the diamonds she had on display?”

The blond shook her head. “No, that was the New Year’s Eve party. The Christmas party was the Chinese Jade.”

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