Even though she didn’t give a crap about credit card pins and bank account numbers, she flipped through the book anyway. She broke into places to steal stuff for the fun of it, not to transfer money to a Cayman bank account. She stopped when she came to numbers related to access doors and security systems. Those she memorized. Sometimes it was nice being a freak, like now, when she could store dozens of different numbers in her head like a computer.
In the very back of the book was a long alphanumeric code. There was nothing to indicate what it was for, but it looked interesting, so she memorized that one too. Then she put everything back exactly the way it had been and turned her attention to the real reason she was there—the diamond.
Dreya surveyed the room, taking in the hardwood floors, marble accents, and old paintings mounted everywhere. She sniffed the air, letting her nose lead her to the painting on the far wall—a large, fancy portrait of George Washington sitting on a horse. She leaned closer and inhaled deeply. The scent lingering on one side of the frame told her that Thorn handled the picture too frequently for it to be anything other than a cover for a safe.
She swung the painting aside and studied the exposed safe behind it with a smile. People like Thorn didn’t buy cheap crap, that was for sure. But this same model had been in the last two houses she’d hit, so she knew it well. She shrugged off her small backpack, keeping an ear open for movement from downstairs as she took out her tools.
The safe had an electronic keypad designed to lock out anyone who punched in the wrong combination of numbers three times in a row. Luckily, she had equipment that allowed her to bypass the entire keypad interface and communicate directly with the computer chip that controlled the locking mechanism. Thank God Thorn wasn’t the old-fashioned type who liked those twirling combination dials. Those things could be a real bitch to deal with.
Pulling the electronic safe cracker out of her bag, she attached it to the side of the safe and flipped it on, then let it do its thing. If Rory Keefe—her best friend, mentor, and fence—was right, she’d open the door to find the biggest honking diamond she’d ever seen. That was saying something, since she’d stolen a lot of big diamonds in her time.
After the lights on the box turned green, she double-checked to make sure all the alarms were deactivated, then yanked open the safe.
Inside, there were two black boxes. One was a standard velvet jewelry case. The other was made of plastic. Knowing the diamond had to be in the jewelry box, she took it out and opened it. She almost gasped at the sight of the enormous, pear-cut diamond pendant set in gold. The stone was flawless and had to be close to forty-five carats. Dreya couldn’t imagine what it was worth or how the hell a man like Thorn had gotten his hands on it. Diamonds this size always carried a story with them. She wondered what one this rock had.
Telling herself there’d be plenty of time to look up the stone’s pedigree while she was figuring out how much to sell it for, she closed the jewel case with a snap and dropped it in her backpack. She swung her gaze back to the safe, tilting her head a little as she considered the other box inside. Curiosity getting the better of her, she took it out and opened it. Or tried to, anyway. Frowning, she held it up, inspecting it more closely, and realized it wasn’t a box at all. It was a solid, rectangular piece of metal with a pencil-sized hole in one end and a small, narrow slot that looked suspiciously like a computer connection of some kind on the other.
She chewed on her lip, weighing the piece of metal in her hand and wondering if she should take it. If it weren’t valuable, it wouldn’t have been in Thorn’s safe. And while it wasn’t something she’d probably ever be able to sell, the reality was, she liked taking valuable crap from rich people.
Shrugging, she tossed the funny box in her backpack along with everything else. Then she slipped her arms through the straps, gave the place a once-over, and headed for the door. She could have closed and locked the safe, then put the painting back into place. But why do that? It was no fun stealing stuff if the person you took it from didn’t know it.
Dreya poked her head out the door to make sure the coast was clear, then darted down the hallway to the window. Hopping onto the roof, she climbed up the thin wire she’d left dangling from the eaves, then scampered back across the way she’d come. She was walking down the side of the road toward her motorcycle when she got a strange tingling along the back of her neck. She stopped and spun around but didn’t see anyone along the dark street. But her instincts—and her nose—told her someone was back there somewhere staring at her. And the scent they were putting off was the freakiest thing she’d ever smelled before.
Pulse suddenly pounding, she hurried to her bike and climbed on, then pulled her helmet over her long, blond braid and hauled ass. She glanced over her shoulder as she zipped down Embassy Row but still didn’t see anyone. She always took the license plate off her bike before a job, so no one would be able to track her. Besides, it was too dark for anyone to get a good look at her face anyway.
She slowed down after a few miles. She needed to chill out. Now that she was on her bike, there was no way anyone could catch her—if there had even been someone back there in the first place. It had probably just been her freaky side getting nervous.
But if that were the case, why was her freaky side telling her that something bad was coming her way?
* * *
Layla sat beside Danica in the operations truck, staring at the multiple monitors set up along one wall and trying to keep her eyes open. She’d traveled through the night, getting to Glasgow, Scotland, early that morning and immediately meeting up with the rest of her team. They’d set up surveillance on the warehouse where their mysterious arms dealer, Kojot, was supposed to meet a group of people who wanted to buy some really nasty weapons for reasons that probably wouldn’t make sense to anyone but them. It was nearly lunch and so far, no luck.
Two of the monitors showed the interior of the warehouse, which was fairly dim, even at this time of the day. Two others gave a view of the main streets leading away from the building. The last monitor showed nothing but a blank brick wall at the moment, since the feed on that one was coming from the remote controlled drone currently sitting idle on a nearby rooftop waiting for the coordinates from Layla.
“So, what’s going on with you and Jayson?” Danica asked, sipping her coffee. “I hardly ever see you two together around the training complex anymore.”
Layla stifled a groan. She didn’t really feel like discussing her screwed-up relationship with anybody right now, even if Jayson and that damn hybrid serum had been the only thing on her mind since leaving DC. But if there was one person in the world she could talk to about this—outside of Ivy, of course—it was Danica. At least they were alone. If Clayne or the other two agents on the mission, Foley or Hightower, were in the van, there was no way in hell she’d talk about her relationship troubles. All three men were out checking to see if the DCO had any new intel on why the meeting hadn’t gone down yet though. At least, that’s what Layla hoped they were doing. Considering how poorly Clayne and Foley got along, it was also possible they’d gotten in a fight with each other in the middle of the street and were all in a Scottish jail somewhere with Hightower standing between the two men, trying to keep them from killing each other.
“If you don’t want to talk about it, it’s okay,” Danica added when she didn’t say anything.
Layla shook her head. “I don’t mind talking about it. In fact, getting some of this stuff off my mind would probably help. Sometimes it all seems so complicated that I’m not even sure where to begin.”
“Let’s start with something simple then. Are you in love with him?”
“Yes,” Layla answered without hesitation.
Danica glanced at her. “Is he in love with you?”
“I don’t know.” She swallowed hard. “I know he cares about me, and I used to think that was enough. But as hard as everything has been lately, I don’t know if it is anymore.”
Danica let out a sigh. “He’s pushing you away, isn’t he?”
Layla blinked. “How did you know?”
“Because I’ve seen it before.” Danica snorted. “Hell, I’ve done it before.” At Layla’s confused look, she continued. “When I fell in love with Clayne—I got put into an impossible situation where I thought that being with him was going to hurt him. He wasn’t going to let me go on his own, so I pushed him away. And when he refused to let go, I pushed even harder. I ended up saying some things that hurt him terribly to get him to let me walk away.”
Layla frowned. “But if you loved him, how could you do something like that?”
