Frowning, I sweep a handful of the real stones into my palm. “No. That’s resin.” I examine the fractured pieces. “A good smuggling technique. Makes everything silent. Solid.”
“I don’t even want to know how you know that.”
Our eyes meet over the scattered fortune between us. A question lurks in her gaze, one I can’t answer yet. Now that we triggered the alarm, a different world—my world—presses in on us. Someone knows we’ve found the diamonds.
We’ve got to move.
“We need to grab this shit and get out of here.” The enforcer in me takes command, pushing the lover aside.
I whip out my phone and call Kirill. “Found them. Chloe’s house. Back entrance.”
“Coming.” The line goes dead.
I tuck the phone away. “They’ll be here in three minutes. Maybe less.”
Chloe nods, no questions asked.
Just like that, we’re a team.
Ignoring my injuries, I drop to my knees and begin scooping diamonds into piles. Chloe grabs a tote bag from a hook by the door—an absurdly bright yellow one with a sunflower pattern—and joins me on the floor.
We work in frantic, efficient silence, sweeping handfuls of valuable stones and sharp resin shards into the bag. Her fingers move with the same precision she probably uses to sort crayons and alphabet blocks, gathering up more money in diamonds than most people can even fathom.
Every stone we collect is a victory. Every second we linger is a risk.
My mind catalogues the threats. Whoever set the alarm knows we discovered the diamonds. Neighbors might’ve heard Chloe’s fury raining down all over that globe, too, so the police could arrive at any minute to investigate. Falcone men could still be on the lookout.
The clock is ticking.
As we work, my gaze keeps returning to Chloe. There’s a focus to her now, a purpose that has nothing to do with forcedcheerfulness and everything to do with survival. Blood smears her palms where she’s cut herself on the resin—we both have—but she doesn’t complain. Just continues gathering diamonds like they’re pebbles on a beach.
Eventually, the last diamond goes into the bag. It’s heavy now, the weight of twenty million dollars pulling at the canvas fabric. I take it from her, my free hand grasping for one of hers so I can examine the cuts on her palm.
“It’s nothing.” She pulls away. “Just a few scratches.”
Before I can respond, the back door swings open. I pivot, placing my body instantly between Chloe and the entrance while I reach for my weapon.
Kirill enters, followed closely by Max and Vanya. They stride in with the meticulous coordination of men who’ve worked together for years, checking the room for threats before their attention settles on us.
In any other situation, their expressions as they absorb the scene would be comical. The wrecked living room, Chloe in clothes from Vanya, the weirdly lumpy sunflower tote bag.
Max lifts a brow. “Holy shit, dude. You figured it out.”
“She busted it open with the fire poker.” I point to Chloe, giving credit where credit is due.
He studies her and almost smiles. It’s the closest thing to approval I’ve ever seen from him. “Let’s go.”
Vanya, never one to be outdone, offers Chloe a bow with a wild flourish. “Nicely done, darling. If kindergarten ever loses its charm, I think you’ve found your calling in demolition.”
Chloe inspects the destruction she wrought. “This was fun, but I’d prefer to keep my day job. Cleaning a classroom decimated by five-year-olds in the blink of an eye is enough excitement for me.”
Kirill says nothing as he surveys everything. The destroyed globe, the tote bag, the blood on Chloe’s hands.
“The alarm will have notified someone.” I’m already rushing toward the door. “We have to leave. Now.”
Vanya nods toward the window. “Car’s waiting. Alexei’s on standby. Roman’s expecting us.”
The blood whooshes in my ears.
