Lockpicks in my pocket.
It’s just after two in the morning, so the guards will be tired.
Along with the cloudy night, the new moon, and a diversion to pull them away?
This will be my only chance.
I squint at the screen of my analog watch—another thrift store find—then up at the house. The shadows shift slightly, and, yup, there they go, the guards pushing away from the wall, suddenly on high alert before they take off running.
I move before they disappear around the corner, knowing I have to risk it or I’ll be unable to clear the wide expanse of lawn, get inside, and grab what I need before they come back.
As it is, I barely make it before the floodlights turn on, bathing the spot where I’d been standing in bright fluorescent light.
Heart pounding, I slide between two hedges and try to slow my breathing.
My hands shake, but I clench them into fists, tightly enough to cut off circulation. Tightly enough to bruise. Tightly like I used to hold on to Brooks?—
Move.
I pop out of the hedges, cursing internally when the leaves rustle.
It’s not a breezy night. There isn’t a lot of sound to disguise my movements.
I don’t stop, though. Just continue moving until I reach the shadows of the fountain and gazebo. Only then do I breathe. The cameras are focused on the entrance and exit of the maze I’m currently navigating. I can take a second, catch my breath, allow my eyes to adjust to the growing darkness.
There.
Another gap in the hedges, just wide enough for me to squeeze through.
I suck in another silent breath.
Release it.
Move.
This one is tighter, and I have to inch my way through, holding my breath at every rustle, every branch, every crackle of a leaf.
But then I’m out.
And my quarry is just ahead, the French doors of the office dark, hiding the interior of a space I know is painted a rich blue and filled with deep brown, buttery-soft leather furniture and a huge glass and mahogany desk, its gleaming surface always somehow completely free of fingerprints.
Even though Brooks isn’t one of those men who pretends to work.
Heworks.
Hard.
That was never in doubt.
Only, the man has to sleep sometime.
Hence why it’s two o’clock in the morning and I’m making my approach.
He’ll be in bed and?—
I glance at my watch, realize I’ve nearly missed the next interval and burst forward out of the shadows of the hedges, sprinting for the huge potted palms that adorn either side of the entrance.
Not approaching the door—that will be watched on the cameras.
